Whiskey and Water (52 page)

Yes," Carel said. "Everybody
asks Morgan. I suspect that's how she knows all the answers. Every question is
the answer to someone else's dilemma. What's Morgan got that you haven't?"

Magic," the Queen answered, pacing
slowly. "Beyond the Willmagic I won't use, and the glamourie that any fool
can see through. And experience. Fifteen hundred years of that. Age and
treachery, so they say—"

Morgan le Fey is the woman who has
mastered her own stories,"

Carel said. "She's alive and herself,
after all these years, because she's taken charge of it. Tended her myth like a
garden, pruned and fertilized. A good trick. Takes a thousand years. Live that
long, and they'll say the same of Elaine."

"Damn me, I'd better. There's not
much to choose from when it comes to Elaines. And
you
didn't answer my
question."

"Because I don't know the answer. A
silver bullet?"

The Queen actually laughed. "A silver
blade. Perhaps Keith would kill her for me." "If he weren't in
Hell."

"There's that little problem. Silver
then. Self-sacrifice."

"Why Àine? Why all of a sudden,
now?"

"Whiskey killed her pet in New
York," the Queen said. "And something else."

"Something secret?" Kadiska
asked, appearing from the shadows near the throne. "I'd better run along
then." Teasing, her narrow braids held off her scarred cheeks with one
hand.

"Where's Whiskey?"

The Seeker shrugged, and tossed her hair
over her shoulder. "He went on. You cut your hair. Where's Gharne?"

"I was getting to that. I set him
after Cairbre."

"And?"

"Cairbre went to Àine," the
Queen said, pushing Kadiska's braid oft her forehead. "Straight from Hell.
And has not left her palace. What fate befell him, I have no idea. Go keep an
eye on Ian for me, Kadiska?

When the Seeker smiled, her teeth
resembled the blade of a saw. Her shadow flared and swayed behind her, so the
Queen almost heard the hiss. "Do you want the bard dead?"

"No," the Queen said. "But
I may yet change my mind."

The house seemed more hectic in Carel's
absence. You wouldn't think removing a person from the group could make a place
seem
more
crowded—but so it did, and there they were. As if Carel's calm
enlarged the space around her, like the calm of ancient trees.

Other than Jewels and Gypsy, Jason had
been the first to arrive. Autumn hadn't reached Lily, but Christian had said
he'd get in touch and pass the message, so Autumn let it lie. Kids had so
damned much energy for falling in and out of love.

Autumn had pretty much given up on falling
out of love, anyway. She was still grinning to herself over that when Moira
rang the doorbell. It had to be Moira; anybody else would either let herself in
or come around to the kitchen door and shout through a window cracked to let
the heat out.

"Coming," Autumn called, and set
her knife down again. She dried her hands on a kitchen towel as she walked down
the hall. Moira usually had her hands full.

Today was no exception. Four bottles of
sparkling cider and two of Pellegrino jostled for space in her arms, and she'd
pushed the doorbell with her hip. Autumn hastened to unload her. "I'll put
these in the fridge," she said, as a blue Honda crunched over the broken
asphalt at the top of the drive. "And that's the last of the stragglers
except for Michael, I think. Come on. Everybody's in the kitchen."

Christian parked while she was getting
Moira settled in with Jason and Jewels around the big table, so they could
heckle Gypsy while he cooked. He took it good-naturedly, his grizzled ponytail
swishing across blue flannel-covered shoulders as he stood at the stove and
stirred, and shook his head from side to side. The beard couldn't hide his
grin.

Jewels had gone very quiet, smiling shyly
while Moira tried to draw her out. Interview questions, as if Jewels were
applying for a job, and no matter that Autumn had already told Moira that
Jewels had thought better of joining a coven just now. Autumn sighed, and
intervened with cookies.

Just in time. As she was turning around
with the plate, the back door clattered open and Christian and Lily came
through the mudroom. Christian seemed his usual self—bright-eyed and
blue-jeaned—but Lily, raised beyond the usual extravagance of her clothes,
might have been a prince from a forgotten land. She wore a Renaissance fantasia
of black velvet and beaded embroidery with tights that showed her legs to advantage.

And she blushed and stammered when Autumn
said, "Well, look at
you,"
and then introduced the two of them
to Jewels.

"We've met. Christian brushed past
Autumn, two cookies vanishing into his palm, paid for with a kiss on her cheek.
Tension quivered between him and Lily, and Lily watched him, big-eyed and
guarded, until Autumn broke the circuit and handed her a cookie, half by force.
"Peanut butter," she said. "You look like you can use it."

Lily's fingers were cool where they
touched Autumn's. But the cookie was warm, and she nibbled it while she let
Autumn steer her into the seat next to Jewels. "Tea or something?"

"Tea would be great," Lily said.
She should do something to get Jewels off Moira's hook, she knew. She couldn't
quite muster the wherewithal, though. And thus the stage was set for Jason to
charge to the rescue.

He had been nursing his tea, monitoring
Moira's questions and Jewels' answers without commenting much. Now, he put a
hand on Moira's arm and stopped her midsentence, rising from his chair as she turned
to him and tilted back her head. "Why don't we move this into the living
room," he said, "and give Gypsy a little peace in the kitchen?"

"Why start a new trend?" Gypsy
said, provoking scattered laughter. He didn't interrupt as they rose and went,
but he did turn far enough to catch Jewels on the edge of a wink.

She smiled back, uselessly. Whatever
confidence came to her when she gripped a knife didn't serve her here. She
stepped closer to Lily as they walked down the hall; she at least was clad in
the virtue of familiarity, whatever the history.

But a glimmer of light distracted her, a
flutter of something in the corner of her eye, and it wasn't Lily she bumped
into. Instead it was the red-haired devil Jewels had seen at the ball, dressed
just in a T-shirt now. He steadied her with a hand on her elbow and squeezed,
then ducked his head and murmured into her hair. "Now, Juliet," he
said. "What on earth are
you
doing here?"

She looked at him, surprised, and from her
options selected stupidity. "Nothing," she said, and arched her
brows to make her eyes wide. "What are
you
doing here?"

"Chatting with a pretty lady."
He raised his voice as he drew her aside. "You should see Autumn's trees
before the light's all gone. We’ll catch up in a minute."

Christian led Jewels toward the front
door, and Lily followed them like a ghost, the puffed velvet sleeves of her
borrowed doublet hissing against her ribs. "You can go sit down,"
Christian said over Jewels' head, as Lily reached forward and prevented him
from closing the door between them. Warped wood abraded her fingertips, but
she held on tight and didn't look at Christian at all. Jewels' eyes were clear
and pale.

"I should probably tell you that he's
the Devil, you know."

"I know." Jewels nodded, curtly.
"No one else can help —"

"Look," Christian said, not
unpleasantly, "if we're going to have this conversation now, can we please
have it outside?"

"Sure," Lily said, and didn't
slam the door behind her after she pushed them onto the porch.
"Well?" She waved the back of her hand in the general direction of
the yard, fingers gray in the gloaming. "Are you waiting for the
fireflies? They're not out this time of year."

"Believe me," he said. "I
know it." When they had descended the stairs, he turned to Jewels and brushed
her cheek. "You're not scared of the Devil?"

"On the contrary." She accepted
the touch like a statue, unconvinced and unconcerned. "He might be just
what I need."

"Jewels — "

"Jealous, Lily? I won't steal your
boyfriend."

Lily grabbed Jewels by the elbow and spun
her away from Christian. Lily wasn't any taller, but Jewels was
cagebird-frail, and Lily had solid bones. Sere grass splintered under Lily's
feet as she twisted.

Yeah," she spat. "That's what
you said last time. And look what that got us. Bitch."

For a minute, Lily thought Jewels was
about to bust her nose. And then Jewels settled back in her sneakers and
frowned. "So he was stupid about me," Jewels said.

Yeah, and you weren't the one who had to
watch him die."

I'm doing this for
him."
Jewels
stared at Lily, pale in the failing light, ridiculous ear-tips poking through her
wavy hair. She jerked herself tree of Lily, and turned back to Christian.
"Teach me."

I can't," he said. "You know
that—"

Yeah." She rubbed her forearms and
glanced at Lily, quickly, and then just as quickly away. "I'm
broken.
Gypsy
told me. So what the hell do you want me for?"

"You don't have your own power,"
Christian said. "But there's a power you could put on for a while. Long
enough to start the job, and enough to finish it. But you'd not be the only one
who wanted it, and was willing to do what it took."

The tilt of Jewels' head was a command.

"Matthew Magus," Christian said.
"He's carrying a powerful gift. And the first one who has him — " "Fuck!"
Jewels hopped back a step, her hair falling around her like a collapsing
parasol. "But he's so — "

" — old," Lily finished, and
they looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Christian waited them out.
"Jewels?"

"I don't think he'd want me," she
said, tucking her hair behind her ears. "But I'll do what it takes. Why
should he have all that strength, anyway, and me nothing?"

Lily stepped closer and murmured,
"Let me. You don't need to do this. I have power." She glowered at
Christian. "You tell me it's not enough."

"More when you dress like that,"
he said, with a little grin. "Gender-fuck is your mojo."

Jewels gave Lily's wrist a quick squeeze,
scraping her skin with un-painted nails. "Together."

Lily nodded.
Alt right.
"I'll
be right back," she said, her glare never shifting from Christian, who watched
her with calm mockery. "I need to give Autumn my keys, and see if she'll
take care of my cat."

She was just about to step back when a
headlight painted them, presaging the purr of wheels on the driveway. They all
three looked up as a red vintage Vespa glided onto the narrow line of grass
between Gypsy's Jeep and the walkway. Michael propped it up between her thighs
and pulled her helmet off, her bangs tumbling into her eyes. She wore a denim
jacket that wasn't nearly warm enough, unbuttoned over a white T-shirt
emblazoned with a falling red rocket ship and—in small, plain type—the words SCIENCE
FICTION IS DEAD.

"I'm sorry," Michael said.
"Am I interrupting an argument?"

"We were just finishing," Lily
said, and ran inside.

Michael didn't dismount. She sat there,
her helmet in her hands, and frowned at Christian silently until Lily came
charging back down the stairs, caught Christian's and Jewels' hands, and led
them past the angel, down the drive.

Michael watched them go. When they
vanished in a shimmer of twilight she shrugged, and hung her helmet on the
handlebars of the scooter, and stalked up the stairs.

Hoist That Rag

patrol officers how he came to preside
over the mutilated body of a Fae, the corpse of a boy who was one of the damned
witnesses in
another
ongoing case, a good-sized puddle of human blood,
and absolutely no trace of a white horse and the three or four people spotted
leaving the scene . . . had been a near thing.

The good news was that it wasn't his case
anymore. This was indisputable evidence of Fae involvement, and it went to the
FBI now, and from them to Faerie. The bad news was that Peese was on administrative
leave, having discharged his firearm
and
gotten into a brawl involving
supernatural creatures — and that there was not a hope in heaven of keeping the
shredded remains of the peryton out of the press and off the evening news. The
Post
would have the best headline. Ernie's money was on FAIRY WAR!

He "went home, took a nap, had dinner
on the table to soften the news when Lucy got home from her shift at the
hospital, and fell asleep on the sofa in front of a videotaped episode of
Columbo.
He needed the time off. He might as well enjoy it. There'd be enough catch-up
to play in the cold light of morning.

The phone warbled at five to nine. A
thrill chased the sound along his nerves; he woke with a startle and snatched
the handset off the end table before it finished ringing. "Got it,"
he called, in case Lucy had been hurrying for another extension, and put the
phone to his ear.