A Risky Proposition (24 page)

I nodded, my heart leaping at her words.

“The death djinns had something to do with Patrick’s parents’ deaths?” Sunny asked sharply.

“King Moab did,” I said with a nod.  I pulled a squashy throw pillow into my lap and pulled absently at the fringe.  “Sparrow’s father was killed in a battle to subdue an uprising of the Unseelie Court.  His mother entered into a contract with King Moab thinking she could wish his father back to life.  She never intended to use her third wish and give up her soul.  But she had already wished for death when she realized that Moab couldn’t bring back Sparrow’s Dad. 

“Moab tried to seduce her into completing the contract, and when she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to resist him any longer, she killed herself.  Sparrow found her.  He was only six years old.  After that, he was raised by his father’s sidhe relatives.”

“Poor Patrick,” Sunny murmured.

“Yes, that is very sad,” Angelica agreed sympathetically.  “Was his mother a spell caster or would she simply have become one of the harem King Moab keeps to satisfy his sexual desires?”

“Uh, she wasn’t a spell caster,” I answered delicately.

“He desired her sexually then.”  Angelica nodded, oblivious to my discomfort with the topic.  “As I was telling you before, some of my kind will also use their powers of seduction to convince mortals to give up their souls in return for pleasure.  It is a nasty business.”  Angelica wrinkled her nose.

“Do your people have a contract for taking souls like the death djinns do?” I asked.

“No!” Angelica exclaimed, sounding horrified.  “My people consider the soul trade to be an abomination.  It is only those living on the fringes of our society—who would deal in dark magic and perhaps even align themselves with the Unseelie Court—who engage in the taking of souls.”

“What do they
do
with the souls, anyway?” Sunny asked, frowning as she took a sip from her blue ceramic mug and tasted coffee that must have gone cold. 

She replaced it on the table, careful not to disturb Lorien.  “I mean, I know that death djinns use humans as sex slaves or for any spell casting ability they have.  But it sounds like anyone in the faerie realm can buy or trade for spells, and I’m sure there’s a pretty much endless supply of humans who would be willing to exchange sex for wishes.  So why take on the responsibility of owning a stable full of souls and having to keep up their human hosts for eternity?”

Angelica shrugged and shook her head sadly.  “The death djinns have created an entire societal structure where owning souls is a symbol of power and status.  Those from other races who engage in the soul trade generally do not hold onto the souls that come into their possession for very long.  They merely keep them until a suitable opportunity to trade them presents itself. 

“But for the death djinns, the more souls they acquire, the higher their status within their society.  They will trade souls to gain goods or services that are of greater value to them—but above all, they are collectors.  The more valuable a soul is, either because of the host’s spell casting power or their sexual desirability, the more the other death djinns will covet possession of it for their own stable.”

“It’s about control,” Lorien added softly.  “A death djinn trading something of their own for a spell or for sex wouldn’t give them anywhere near the sense of power they gain from the possession of a human who can provide it for them.”

Angelica nodded.  “And even if they choose to be kind to their charges, death djinns are still nothing but slave masters.  Choosing to bestow kindness instead of cruelty makes the slave master no less powerful—and although a kind master may seem more pleasant than a cruel one, it makes the charge no less a slave.

“That is why you must not give in to the seduction of the death djinn to complete your contract, Sydney,” she said, giving me a sober look.  “Better to choose death, as your friend’s mother did, and return your soul to the Sea of Souls so that it will remain free to be reborn.”

“We’re not going to allow it to come to that,” Sunny insisted, crossing her arms and extricating herself from the indention she’d made in the tawny cushions.

“What exactly is the Sea of Souls?” I asked.  I didn’t even want to consider having to make the kind of choice that Sparrow’s mother had made.

“It is the natural resting place of unaligned mortal souls,” Angelica answered.  “It is my understanding that when a mortal dies, their soul is returned to the Sea of Souls until it is time for the soul to be reborn.  This happens over and over, throughout a soul’s many lifetimes, until the soul has progressed beyond the bounds of mortality.” 

Angelica looked to Lorien for confirmation.

“That’s pretty much what I was taught as well,” Lorien agreed.  “Each soul’s progression toward immortality is determined by the wisdom it gains through its interactions with kindred souls throughout its mortal lifetimes.  Family, lovers, friends, enemies—all of these relationships provide opportunities for the soul to progress.  And certain souls are fated to experience specific relationships together before either of them can progress.”

“Yes.”  Angelica nodded.  “This is the main reason why the soul trade is such an abomination.  Not only is it a slave trade, but it inhibits the progression of mortal souls.  A soul that is prevented from returning to the Sea of Souls by an unnatural immortality cannot progress.  Nor can any of its kindred souls progress to immortality while they yet await a shared lifetime with the captive soul.”

Sunny whistled.  “Wow.  You guys just calmly sat there and explained what a lot of people would consider to be the meaning of life.”

Angelica grinned.  “Maybe so, but the knowledge of it does not necessarily make the lessons any more easily learned.”

“Wait, I’m confused,” I cut in with a frown.  “If a soul’s value is based on the desirability of the human it’s aligned with, then what’s the point of owning an unaligned soul?”

“The soul would need to be realigned before anyone could make use of the host,” Angelica clarified.  “This forcible stripping and realigning would leave the mortal at the beck and call of whoever held the soul.  But without the soul contract, the holder would not be required to grant anything in return.”

Lorien nodded.  “Claiming supposedly ‘willing’ slaves through a soul contract is bad enough.  But taking them this way is truly horrendous.  Stripping a mortal of their soul without granting them immortality puts them into an unconscious state of limbo until their soul is realigned.”

“So that’s why the woman in the hospital is in a coma,” I realized.  “But why can’t they just realign her soul?”

Lorien winced.  “Sparrow told me they tried.  But whoever stripped her soul botched the spell too badly.”

I sucked a sympathetic breath through my teeth.

“So for every unaligned soul they’ve found, supposedly there’s a human out there, lying unconscious somewhere, waiting for their soul to be restored?” Sunny asked with a scowl.

Lorien nodded in puzzlement.  “But according to Agent Sparrow, the woman we saw is the only human they’ve found so far with a connection to one of the unaligned souls.  And they believe they would have eventually been able to trace her soul to her body, even without Balthus’ help.  That’s why it’s so odd that they haven’t been able to trace any of the other souls to their human counterparts yet. 

“They’re still working on identifying the magic used to strip that woman of her soul, but haven’t come up with anything helpful so far.  They need to find the other victims in order to compare magical signatures and look for more conclusive evidence.”

“And how do they plan to find these people?” asked Sunny.

“Well, they’re still hoping to figure out a way to trace the magic.  But detectives have also been visiting hospitals all over your world to look for other coma patients without their souls intact.  Nothing so far, but the investigation is ongoing and it takes time.”  Lorien shrugged helplessly.

“It does seem strange that none of the other souls have been traceable to their owners.”  A small crease marred Angelica’s smooth forehead.  “And the Seelie Police must be under a time constraint as well.  If they are unable to restore those unaligned souls soon, they will surely be required to return them to the Sea of Souls.”

“But…that means they’ll all die,” I said.

Angelica gave me a sad little smile and a chill of unease shivered through me.  “It is unfortunate, but still better than living as a slave.”

Lorien nodded in confirmation, and a morose hush fell over us.

As if in protest of the uncomfortable silence, Jasper got to his feet and leapt to the floor.  He fixed his unblinking gaze on Lorien, and she cooed at him half-heartedly, and sprinkled him with green faerie dust.  He purred and flexed his paws against the textured carpet.

“He is a very sweet creature,” Angelica said, her contagious smile helping to lift some of the gloom.  “His coloring is quite unusual.  I noticed it the very first day I met you, Sydney.  Did you know that there are certain spells that can only be completed with seven hairs from the white-tipped tail of an all black cat?”

I widened my eyes at her in disbelief.  “You’re kidding.”

“No, it is true.  Let me know if you ever need to cure a genital wart, stop a bed bug infestation, or perform an exorcism, and I will find the spell for you.”  

“That’s quite a range of maladies,” Sunny choked, staring at Jasper in wonder.

Angelica grinned as she rose gracefully to her feet.  “But I have abandoned today’s work for long enough.  I will finish up Sydney’s bedroom now, if she doesn’t mind.” 

I nodded my thanks and she stepped into the outer foyer to grab some supplies from her cart.

“She’s on a roll today,” Sunny informed me.  “She even took off all the vent covers and cleaned the vents out.”

“We made her sit down and take a break after that,” Lorien added.

“You’re truly amazing, Angelica.”  I twisted around to look at her as she passed.

“It is something that should be done periodically—I will do the same in your bedroom.”  She smiled and disappeared through the kitchen.

“Did you know about those cat spells?” I asked Lorien.

She shook her head with a bemused expression. 

“Genital warts, bedbugs and exorcisms.”  Sunny shuddered.  “Does that mean we have to worry about demons too?”

Lorien snorted.  “Don’t be silly—there’s no such things as
demons.
But technically any creature that can take on spirit form is capable of possession.”

“Oh sure, like demons are such a stretch from faeries, succubi and djinns,” Sunny grumbled.

I grunted a laugh as I watched Jasper blissfully rub his head against the driftwood base of the coffee table.  Hopefully possession wasn’t on the list of things I’d have to deal with.  He’d probably lose some of his good humor if I started plucking hairs from his tail. 

“Maybe I’ll go pick up my paperwork a little early,” I mused.  “I think the rest of this day’s pretty much shot for work anyway.”

“Ooh—let’s grab an early dinner at that Indian restaurant, and then go for a Starbucks and browse the bookstore,” Sunny suggested.  “I’m almost out of new reading material.”

“Sounds good.  What about you, Lorien?  Do you have any plans for the evening?” I asked.

“As a matter of fact it’s my nephew Obie’s birthday and his party is in a few hours.”  Lorien’s wings fluttered in excitement, sprinkling dust on the glass table-top.  “I was just on my way to pick up his present, when I sensed you wishing and came here instead.”

I winced apologetically.  “Sorry about that.  Like I said—I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”

“Well, maybe I overreacted a little.  You
did
have important information.  And it was worth it just to see the look on your face when Agent Sparrow blinked in here.”  Lorien grinned.  “But next time, all you have to do is concentrate and call my name.”

“Oh,” I said, chagrined. 

“Oh,” Lorien mimicked.

“So what are you getting Obie for his birthday?” I asked, ignoring her sarcasm.

Lorien brightened.  “There’s a woman in North Carolina who handcrafts the most beautiful wooden furniture and toys.  I’ve ordered him a rocking horse and I’m going to pick it up before the party.  He thinks horses without wings are the funniest thing.”  She giggled.

“A woman in North Carolina?  Won’t a rocking horse made by a human be a little big for your nephew?” asked Sunny skeptically.

“Well, no,” Lorien answered, looking embarrassed.  “She specializes in making miniatures.  She trades some of them to faerie folk for garden spells and strengthening spells for the wood she carves.”

“Uh huh.  And what does she do with these miniatures when she’s not trading them to faeries?” Sunny asked with a growing look of understanding.

“Humans buy them for…”  Lorien’s voice dropped to an inaudible murmur.

“For what?” I asked, still not catching on.

“Dollhouses—humans buy them for their children’s dollhouses, alright!  But they’re the perfect size for us,” Lorien retorted.

I let out a helpless titter.  “I’m sorry, Lorien.  I’m not laughing at you, really.  I think it’s sweet that you use dollhouse furniture.”