Ashes of Honor
Page 37
Bridget appeared in the doorway a few seconds later. She beckoned us into the house. Once we were inside, she shut the door and demanded, “What are you doing here?”
“What were the police doing here?” I countered. “We said we’d help.”
“I called them when I was still trying to believe the faeries hadn’t come and carried my little girl away,” she said, glaring at me. “I couldn’t stop them coming in when they finally deigned to show up.”
I took a deep breath, counting to ten before I said, “Okay. I’m sorry they took so long.”
“I’m sorry you took so long!”
Counting to ten wasn’t going to be enough. I was actually grateful when Quentin stepped up next to me, scowling at her, and said, “We had to make sure we could catch Chelsea when we managed to find her. Unless you just wanted us to wave while she went teleporting by? Because we could do that, I guess.”
“Your parents aren’t going to thank me for what I’ve done to your manners,” I informed Quentin, not bothering to hide my amusement. Finally calm enough to turn back to Bridget, I said, “Look. We are doing the best we can. We are calling in every favor and every ally that stands even the slightest chance of helping us out here. But we’re not miracle workers.”
“Then what’s the point of being magical creatures?” asked Bridget, still glaring.
“We get a discount at Starbucks,” I said. “We’re going to find your daughter, Bridget. You need to start believing that, and you need to tell me exactly what she said when she called.”
“She said she was in Seattle.”
Sweet Oberon preserve me from the blindness of mortals. “Yes,” I said. “You told us that. But what, exactly, did she say?”
Bridget took a shaky breath, clearly forcing herself to calm down. Then: “She said she was in Seattle—Seattle, Washington—and she’d managed to get away, but only by going as far as she could in one jump.” There was a quaver in her voice. I couldn’t blame her for that. “She said they were chasing her—”
“Did she say anything about who ‘they’ were?”
“Just that there was more than one person. Not all of them can chase her—that’s how she was able to get away at all. They thought she was asleep and left her with people who couldn’t follow when she opened a door.” Bridget gave me a stricken look. “How many of you are there? I thought Faerie was fading.”
“Sometimes I want to shake J. R. R. Tolkien for that one,” I said. “Faerie never ‘faded.’ That was something Middle Earthy. The citizens of Faerie just got tired of being used for our pots of gold and magic shoes. We disappeared for our own good. There are more of us than you think.” Not as many as there used to be but, from the look on Bridget’s face, a lot more than she was comfortable with.
“So you can take our children whenever you want, and there’s nothing we can do to stop you?”
I took a breath. “I’m going to skip the part where you never told Etienne you were pregnant—which was sort of you taking his chance to be a father away, the way you’ve been afraid Faerie would take your chance to be a mother—and go straight to saying no, there’s not. There never has been. Some fae befriend the mortals; some play tricks on them for fun. Some of us steal children. Some of us get them back. Now, please. Did she say anything else? Anything she might have seen, or smelled…?” Chelsea wasn’t accustomed to being around other fae. The scent of their magic wouldn’t be background noise to her yet.
“She said she was scared.” Bridget straightened. She was still glaring at me. I was starting to think of that as her default expression. “My little girl is scared. If you’re not going to bring her home to me, what good are you?”
The fact that I was being lectured by an angry human woman who’d already hidden a changeling from her fae parent once wasn’t escaping me. I just didn’t know what I could do about it. I looked at Bridget as calmly as I could and said, “If you have information, call. We’ll do whatever we can to be sure that Chelsea is found safely, but we’re not here for you to abuse.”
“Don’t challenge me, Fair One,” she said sharply.
I sighed. “I’ll challenge you all I want. What are you going to do, call the police and tell them the faeries took your kid? You’ll wind up under psychiatric evaluation, and Chelsea will still be missing.”
“I can tell the police you took her.”
The threat was made with absolute calm. I had to pause, considering the nerve it took for her to stand in her living room, with no one to save her if she screamed, and threaten me. She didn’t know what Quentin and I were capable of. All she knew was that we weren’t human. And that didn’t change the part where she was threatening me. One unfortunate downside of my continuing involvement in the mortal world: I’m actually vulnerable to threats in a way that, say, Tybalt isn’t. If the police wanted to come for me, they knew where I lived.
Quentin started to open his mouth. I signaled him to stop before he could say something we’d both regret. Instead, I said, “You could do that. Hell, they might even pick me up, make my life difficult for a few hours. But since there’s nothing to tie me to Chelsea before she disappeared, they won’t be able to hold me. All you’ll manage to do is endanger her further by taking me away from my work and guarantee that when I do find her, I won’t be feeling that charitably toward you. Is that really how you want this to go?”
Bridget’s face fell, bravado dissolving as she started to cry. “I just want my daughter back,” she said. “Please. Please, get me my daughter back.”
I sighed. “I’ve already told you I’ll do what I can. That’s all I can do. And you need to stop treating me like the enemy, okay?”
Mutely, Bridget nodded.
It was hard not to feel bad for her. When I played faerie bride, I always knew my child might not be human enough for the mortal world. The threat of a lifetime spent in the Summerlands was something I considered, seriously, before I slept with Cliff. Bridget didn’t have that. She thought she was going to have her child forever, and once she realized there was a risk—once she realized Chelsea wasn’t human—she took the steps she thought she needed to take in order to protect her daughter.
“What were the police doing here?” I countered. “We said we’d help.”
“I called them when I was still trying to believe the faeries hadn’t come and carried my little girl away,” she said, glaring at me. “I couldn’t stop them coming in when they finally deigned to show up.”
I took a deep breath, counting to ten before I said, “Okay. I’m sorry they took so long.”
“I’m sorry you took so long!”
Counting to ten wasn’t going to be enough. I was actually grateful when Quentin stepped up next to me, scowling at her, and said, “We had to make sure we could catch Chelsea when we managed to find her. Unless you just wanted us to wave while she went teleporting by? Because we could do that, I guess.”
“Your parents aren’t going to thank me for what I’ve done to your manners,” I informed Quentin, not bothering to hide my amusement. Finally calm enough to turn back to Bridget, I said, “Look. We are doing the best we can. We are calling in every favor and every ally that stands even the slightest chance of helping us out here. But we’re not miracle workers.”
“Then what’s the point of being magical creatures?” asked Bridget, still glaring.
“We get a discount at Starbucks,” I said. “We’re going to find your daughter, Bridget. You need to start believing that, and you need to tell me exactly what she said when she called.”
“She said she was in Seattle.”
Sweet Oberon preserve me from the blindness of mortals. “Yes,” I said. “You told us that. But what, exactly, did she say?”
Bridget took a shaky breath, clearly forcing herself to calm down. Then: “She said she was in Seattle—Seattle, Washington—and she’d managed to get away, but only by going as far as she could in one jump.” There was a quaver in her voice. I couldn’t blame her for that. “She said they were chasing her—”
“Did she say anything about who ‘they’ were?”
“Just that there was more than one person. Not all of them can chase her—that’s how she was able to get away at all. They thought she was asleep and left her with people who couldn’t follow when she opened a door.” Bridget gave me a stricken look. “How many of you are there? I thought Faerie was fading.”
“Sometimes I want to shake J. R. R. Tolkien for that one,” I said. “Faerie never ‘faded.’ That was something Middle Earthy. The citizens of Faerie just got tired of being used for our pots of gold and magic shoes. We disappeared for our own good. There are more of us than you think.” Not as many as there used to be but, from the look on Bridget’s face, a lot more than she was comfortable with.
“So you can take our children whenever you want, and there’s nothing we can do to stop you?”
I took a breath. “I’m going to skip the part where you never told Etienne you were pregnant—which was sort of you taking his chance to be a father away, the way you’ve been afraid Faerie would take your chance to be a mother—and go straight to saying no, there’s not. There never has been. Some fae befriend the mortals; some play tricks on them for fun. Some of us steal children. Some of us get them back. Now, please. Did she say anything else? Anything she might have seen, or smelled…?” Chelsea wasn’t accustomed to being around other fae. The scent of their magic wouldn’t be background noise to her yet.
“She said she was scared.” Bridget straightened. She was still glaring at me. I was starting to think of that as her default expression. “My little girl is scared. If you’re not going to bring her home to me, what good are you?”
The fact that I was being lectured by an angry human woman who’d already hidden a changeling from her fae parent once wasn’t escaping me. I just didn’t know what I could do about it. I looked at Bridget as calmly as I could and said, “If you have information, call. We’ll do whatever we can to be sure that Chelsea is found safely, but we’re not here for you to abuse.”
“Don’t challenge me, Fair One,” she said sharply.
I sighed. “I’ll challenge you all I want. What are you going to do, call the police and tell them the faeries took your kid? You’ll wind up under psychiatric evaluation, and Chelsea will still be missing.”
“I can tell the police you took her.”
The threat was made with absolute calm. I had to pause, considering the nerve it took for her to stand in her living room, with no one to save her if she screamed, and threaten me. She didn’t know what Quentin and I were capable of. All she knew was that we weren’t human. And that didn’t change the part where she was threatening me. One unfortunate downside of my continuing involvement in the mortal world: I’m actually vulnerable to threats in a way that, say, Tybalt isn’t. If the police wanted to come for me, they knew where I lived.
Quentin started to open his mouth. I signaled him to stop before he could say something we’d both regret. Instead, I said, “You could do that. Hell, they might even pick me up, make my life difficult for a few hours. But since there’s nothing to tie me to Chelsea before she disappeared, they won’t be able to hold me. All you’ll manage to do is endanger her further by taking me away from my work and guarantee that when I do find her, I won’t be feeling that charitably toward you. Is that really how you want this to go?”
Bridget’s face fell, bravado dissolving as she started to cry. “I just want my daughter back,” she said. “Please. Please, get me my daughter back.”
I sighed. “I’ve already told you I’ll do what I can. That’s all I can do. And you need to stop treating me like the enemy, okay?”
Mutely, Bridget nodded.
It was hard not to feel bad for her. When I played faerie bride, I always knew my child might not be human enough for the mortal world. The threat of a lifetime spent in the Summerlands was something I considered, seriously, before I slept with Cliff. Bridget didn’t have that. She thought she was going to have her child forever, and once she realized there was a risk—once she realized Chelsea wasn’t human—she took the steps she thought she needed to take in order to protect her daughter.
