Bailey Morgan [2] Fate (22 page)

Annabelle took a breath, and I swear that other than the one she'd used to facetiously clear her throat, it was the first breath she'd taken since starting to explain the questions written in bullet-point form on the chart. If she'd held her breath that long under water, I would have checked her for gills.

“The final question on the table right now revolves around our necklaces. We know they show us things we normally couldn't see, but that's it. Digging deeper might give us important insight.” Annabelle paused, waiting for comments, but the rest of us were kind of dumbstruck and didn't manage so much as a single word.

Annabelle was undeterred by our silence. “I started with the first question because crossing over seems to
relate to what happened to Jessica and maybe even to what our necklaces—or possibly just Bailey's necklace— can show us, if they can really be used to see the Other-world in this one.”

“What did you find?” I was almost afraid to ask, but I wanted Annabelle to get to the point. Surprisingly, this time when she started speaking, I found myself understanding what she said.

“I actually found a lot,” Annabelle said. “There are a lot of different stories about beings from some kind of Otherworld crossing into ours. The gist of it seems to be that there are certain places and certain times when the barrier between the worlds is particularly thin. Equinoxes and solstices, for example.”

“Days of power,” I said softly. Those were the words Adea and Valgius had told me when they'd called me from study hall to the Nexus. “Mabon's tomorrow,” I added.

Mabon was an equinox. A day of power. A time when, according to Annabelle, the barrier between the worlds was thin.

“And if what had happened with Jessica today had happened tomorrow, that would make perfect sense, but an almost-equinox isn't a day of power. So that leaves special places where the worlds come together.”

“Like the bridge,” I breathed, doing the math and for once coming up with four when I added two and two.

“Exactly. There are all kinds of stories about magical places that serve as doorways between the worlds.

The fairy mounds of Old Britain. Circles of flowers or mushrooms.”

Zo wrinkled her forehead, as confused as I was about that last one, but Annabelle just held up her hand. “Don't ask.”

“Are there any other places?” I settled for another question instead. Was the bridge I'd seen that afternoon really the key to everything, or were there more?

“There might be other places,” Annabelle replied. “There's a theory.”

Delia, Zo, and I exchanged looks. Annabelle saying
theory
was the equivalent of Delia stumbling across a fifty-percent-off sale or Zo finding an all-you-can-eat buffet.

“This theory posits that the places and times where the barrier between the worlds is thinnest follow a unifying principle called liminality.”

“English, please?” Zo prompted.

Annabelle obliged. “The theory of liminality says that there are certain places and times where you can cross from one world to another. These places are
liminal,
which basically means they have a quality of inbetweenness to them.”

“English, please?” I echoed Zo's request.

“A liminal state is something that exists between two other states. It's a transition. Doorways exist between one room and another, so they're liminal. Same goes for windows. Midnight is liminal, because it exists between two days. Twilight is liminal, because it occurs between daytime and nighttime.”

This was almost making sense to me. Key word: almost.

“Bridges,”
Annabelle emphasized the word, her eyes locked on mine, “are liminal, because they're literally the connection between here and there.”

Bridges. Like the one Alec had taken me to.

“Ding ding ding,” Zo said dryly. “We have a winner.”

Annabelle nodded. “Think about it. Bridges are liminal. So is an equinox—it's the time when day and night are the same length, which means it's between the time when days are longer than nights and the time when nights are longer than days.”

Mabon.

The bridge.

Doorways. Hadn't I felt something weird when I'd stepped through the door to study hall that morning?

All of this led me to just one question. “What about shadows?”

Annabelle leaned back against the wall. “In everything I read about liminality, I never saw a reference to shadows, but if you use a loose definition, it fits. I mean, isn't a shadow what exists between light and dark?”

I thought of James telling me about how in the Otherworld, nothing is lukewarm. Things are hot and cold at the same time, light
and
dark. There is no in between.

Except for me.

I wasn't human, and I wasn't Sidhe. I was in between.

“So if the Sidhe can use shadows to cross over, why
aren't they here all the time?” Zo's question was one that probably should have occurred to me. “I mean, it's not like there's a shadow drought. If they work as some kind of portal, isn't that pretty much a free pass to the mortal world?”

“That's the problem with this theory,” Annabelle acknowledged. “If you take a loose definition, liminality is everywhere, and if crossing over was really that easy all the time, then why does all of my research suggest that it happens a lot more often on certain days?”

“Maybe something has to be
really
liminal to work,” Delia said. “If you think about it, it's kind of like popularity. Everyone's popular with somebody, but not everybody has the power that goes along with being really popular.”

“That is a good, albeit disturbing, analogy, Delia,” Annabelle said.

Delia preened. “Why, thank you.”

“But if only really liminal things weaken the barrier between the worlds enough for the Sidhe to cross over into ours, why do I keep hearing voices in the shadows?” I very carefully did not mention that the voices had taken to telling me things other than to stay away from Alec. “Why did whatever mojo they pulled on Jessica actually work?”

Annabelle inclined her head toward me, acknowledging my questions with a tiny bow. “Nice segue into Question Two, Bailey. Can you tell us exactly what happened to Jessica?”

Now it was my turn to talk without breathing. I
told the story quickly and in gruesome detail, but I did leave out a few tiny bits of information. My friends didn't need to know about the mind games the Shadow People were playing on me. I didn't want to talk about it, and I didn't want them to think that I doubted our friendship—and them.

I didn't.

Not really.

“So, to summarize, Jessica made fun of some girl's hair this morning, and then the Sidhe in the shadows brought her words back to haunt her this afternoon. And after all that happened, you changed everyone's memories but ours so that they remember nothing of aforementioned event.” Annabelle condensed my five-minute-long story into fifteen seconds.

“Pretty much. Got any light to shed on this?” When I said
light,
I found myself glancing around the room to look at each and every shadow. Nothing. They were all just shadows. We were safe.

For now.

“Given what you said about the voices mentioning punishment in particular, I do have a theory about who they might be mythwise.” Annabelle's words broke into my thoughts. “But I need to check up on a few things before I'll know for sure.”

“Hallelujah,” Zo muttered. Secretly, I kind of agreed. I loved Annabelle to death, we all did, but I wasn't mentally prepared to take on another theory just yet. This liminality stuff was about as much as I could reasonably handle.

“Hey, Zo. Can I have some carrots?” Delia didn't bother with segues. It just wasn't her style.

Zo shrugged and threw Delia the bag. Their exchange reminded me that I had an uneaten Twinkie in my hand. Without another word, Zo handed Annabelle a Twinkie and grabbed one for herself. She held it up like she was toasting with fine wine. “Bon appétit.”

And with that, the four of us ate our snacks and got down to work.

Annabelle always seemed to take charge when the situation called for organization, planning, or alphabetical order, so I wasn't at all surprised when she started doling out assignments. All three of my friends could lead our group given the right circumstances, and we always seemed to collectively know whose turn it was to take the reins. I was the lone exception to the leader rule, though, because I was either in perpetual follower mode, or I was actually the real leader no matter what. I couldn't tell which.

In any case, Annabelle began by assigning me a job, and I knew without question that I'd take it, even though in this case, following orders felt almost sacrilegiously unproductive. While the rest of my friends were hard at work researching and whatnot, my job was to
sleep. Obediently, I lay down on Zo's bed and tried to clear my mind, but the ridiculousness of the situation did not escape me. Still, as much as I hated to admit it, when it came to solving Otherworldly mysteries, I was worth more to the group asleep than awake. I couldn't hold a candle to Annabelle's research prowess, and I'd already caught the others up on everything I'd seen and felt, from study hall right on through my date with Alec.

“Delia, do you think your bald-is-beautiful search could wait a few minutes?” Annabelle asked. I sent out a mental probe to figure out what she was talking about and realized that in the approximately three minutes since we'd eaten our Twinkies, Delia had co-opted the computer to run a search for information she could use to comfort Bald Jessica, once Jess had rediscovered her new hairstyle. It was official: Delia Cameron had twisted priorities and a heart of gold. And right now, based on the vibes I was receiving from A-belle, she was about to get an assignment.

“I've got a job for you.”

“What kind of job?” Delia was rightfully suspicious. When A-belle assigned you a job, there was at least a ten percent chance it had something to do with color coding.

“While I'm trying to correlate what happened at school today with aspects of Greek and Celtic mythology, I need you to see what you can find out about our necklaces. Do an internet search on mirrors, magical pendants, anything you can think of.”

“Delia Cameron, accessory sleuth.” Delia smiled brightly. “I like it.” With those words, she refocused her Googling skills on our necklaces, and I made another attempt at blocking out the noise and making my way to the land of slumber.

“You asleep yet, Bay?” Zo asked.

I groaned. At this rate, I'd be better off leaving the rest of them here at Zo's and trying my luck with my bed at home.

“Zo, leave Bailey alone.” I could tell by the distracted tone in Annabelle's voice that she hadn't even bothered to look up from her notes to issue the order.

You asleep, Bay?
Zo tried again, silently this time, and as always, she was able to work her way past my shields just by concentrating her thoughts in my direction.

Not yet,
I said silently back.
I'm starting to think I might never fall asleep again.

Does this help?
Zo asked, leaving me wondering what she was talking about in the split second it took for her to continue her train of thought.
You are getting sleepy. Veeeerrrrryyyyyy sleepy. Listen to the sound of my mind-voice. Hear the waves of the ocean.

The waves of the ocean? I
asked. If my eyes had been open, I would have rolled them.

Go with it, Bay. Embrace the hypnosis. Count backward from one hundred. Things are starting to get fuzzy. Your eyelids are heavy. So heavy.

My eyelids were already closed. It was official: Zo was definitely not allowed to watch late-night television
anymore. This had two a.m. public access channel written all over it.

We could always have Annabelle tell you about the themes of
Beowulf, Zo offered silently.
Puts me to sleep every time.

I snorted, and even with my eyes closed, I could feel Annabelle look up from her papers.

Is she mind-talking with you?
Annabelle asked me.
She is, isn't she?

I wonder if these things have matching bracelets …

Now all three of them were in my head. On one level, it felt good and familiar and like something I knew I would miss. On another, it was starting to give me a headache, and I had to get to the Otherworld ASAP. Annabelle's liminality theory was great, but it didn't tell me exactly what had happened to Jessica today, and it didn't tell me how to stop it from happening again. We were on the cusp of something big, and I couldn't take it lying down. Even if my way of figuring things out involved, you know, lying down.

“Here, Zo. I have a job for you.”

I opened my eyes. Delia's assignment fit her talents so well that I wondered what our resident strategist had in mind for Zo.

“Does my job involve color coding?” Zo asked suspiciously.

“Yes,” Annabelle said, staring Zo down. “Yes, it does.”

Zo stared back, but after a few seconds, she sighed and accepted a highlighter from A-belle's outstretched hand.

“It could be worse, Zo,” I said. “You could be on bald-celebrity detail.”