Still Not Dead Enough , Book 2 of The Dead Among Us (24 page)

“We can be ready at dusk tomorrow, Your Excellency. We’ll leave from the garden in the back of this house. The back of my property is an old boundary between districts in the city.”

Cadilus stood. “Well, then my business here is concluded. I won’t impose upon you further.”

McGowan stood also. “I’ll see you to the door.”

Cadilus was closer to the door, and in a few casual steps drew near Paul, reached out his hand. “Young man, it’s been a pleasure—”

Colleen did one of those moves of hers that seemed casual, didn’t give an impression of quick or hurried movement, but in fact crossed the length of the room in a heartbeat, stepping between Cadilus and Paul. She shook his hand warmly. “Good friend, until we meet again.”

Cadilus smiled knowingly, and Paul realized they were playing a dangerous little game. They all knew it was a game, they all knew the rules, they all knew everyone would attempt to cheat, and they all pretended it wasn’t so.

McGowan escorted Cadilus out the door. Paul started to speak, but Colleen held a finger to her lips.

They waited perhaps five minutes for McGowan to return. He paused half way through the study door, shouted down the hall. “Clark, can you join us?”

Paul asked both of them, “Was there a whole lot going on there that I couldn’t read?”

McGowan grinned. “Oh yes, kid. But I got the information we really needed while I had him alone.”

Devoe slipped into the room, closed the study door quietly and slipped into the shadows nearby.

“Anyone want a drink?” McGowan asked. He splashed whiskey into several glasses and passed them around.

McGowan looked at Paul. “First, you need to know that the Sidhe never lie, but are masters at getting you to deceive yourself. They are rarely direct, seem to take great pleasure in approaching everything from an obtuse angle. So realize that almost nothing I tell you was offered openly. But the picture is fairly clear.”

Colleen said, “They’re nervous now that the Winter Court has Katherine, aren’t they? They’re worried Ag can use Katherine in some way to bind Paul.”

“Exactly.” McGowan paced back and forth across the room. “Magreth’s actions regarding Paul are more defensive than offensive. She doesn’t feel any great need to have Paul bound to the Summer Court.”

Paul interrupted. “What do you mean by
bound
?”

Colleen answered him. “Take oath with a Sidhe, enter into a formal agreement, and it is binding unto your life. Break such an oath and your life is forfeit. Though they might not necessarily kill you, instead they might enslave you. If they can trick you, or coerce you into an oath, then trick you into breaking it, then you are bound in a way you cannot imagine.”

“And they’re good at structuring oaths with lots of hidden loop-holes in them to their advantage,” McGowan added. “So be careful not to agree to anything with a Sidhe.

“The one thing Magreth does want is assurance Paul won’t be bound to the Unseelie Court. She will be content if Paul is strong enough to remain a free agent. On the other hand, if he’s not, and if she can’t bind him to the Seelie Court, she’ll want him dead.”

“So she wants to look me over, see if I’m strong enough to remain unbound? That’s why we got the invitation.”

McGowan smiled and nodded. “You’re beginning to understand the rules of the game. But it’s not an invitation, though it may be couched as such, it is nevertheless a command. And she’ll be looking at much more than your own capabilities as a practitioner. She’ll also be looking at your support structure, your allies.”

“Like you and Colleen.”

“Yes, and Clark too. The Sidhe have great respect for Clark, even fear him a bit.”

Colleen nodded her agreement. Paul finished his drink, let it burn its way down his throat and warm his stomach. Devoe and his mysterious abilities were a constant revelation to Paul. “So what’s next?”

McGowan looked at his watch. “It’s getting late. You’re properly warded, and you’re carrying?” Paul nodded. “Good. Go home, get a good night’s sleep, return here first thing tomorrow. We’ll spend the day briefing you on Sidhe court etiquette. If we pass this test, we may gain a strong ally in our efforts to get Katherine back.”

~~~

Paul stepped out of the cab in front of his apartment. The sun had long ago set and clouds obscured the moon so the night was dark, though streetlamps and the background light of the city lit the street well. Paul had learned to be paranoid, looked around carefully as he paid the cabbie. He was alone on a clear and empty street.

He retrieved his key, was about to insert it into the lock on the door of his building, when a strong, male voice behind him said, “Good evening, Young Mage.”

Paul jumped and turned. At the bottom of the steps a tall, handsome man dressed in jeans, loafers and a pullover sweater stood on the sidewalk. Shadows from the streetlights obscured his face. Paul reached for his gun, but the man said, “You won’t need that. I’m not here to harm you, just to give you a message.”

Clearly the man was Sidhe, and while Paul had become reasonably adept at recognizing which Court, this one left him with the confusing impression of both Seelie and Unseelie. Paul didn’t draw the Sig from the waist holster, but kept his hand near it. He did draw power and checked his personal wards. “I’m listening.”

The man at the bottom of the steps looked up and let the streetlights illuminate his face. There was something familiar about him, but Paul couldn’t place it and he wondered,
Why do they all have to be so damn beautiful?
The man smiled as if he knew Paul’s thoughts. “Tell the Old Wizard,” he said, “Anogh’s oaths bind him so he must serve at the pleasure of Ag, and he may not betray the Winter Court to the Summer. But the binding is only that, and no more.”

“And from whom should I say this message came?”

“Tell the old man the Summer Knight sends his regards. But there is also a message for you, Young Mage, a private message, for you alone.”

Paul knew this Sidhe from somewhere, but if so his recollection of it was locked away in some distant memory, and try as he might he could not recall it. Paul said, “I’m still listening.”

The Sidhe’s eyes narrowed, and now he seemed almost angry. “The love for which you grieve must be avenged. And when you learn of love’s betrayal, remember this lesson . . .”

Paul waited to hear more, stood staring at the Sidhe, marveled again at how he wore beauty like a veil. Even a man could be attracted to such beauty. Paul stepped down a step, realized he was getting an erection and didn’t care. He approached the Sidhe without caution, wanted to kiss him, and not merely on the cheek, fantasized about the two of them in bed together. He touched the Sidhe’s cheek and his heart ached, fearing he would lose this beautiful man, that his desire for him would never be satisfied. At that moment he would have done anything for this incredible creature. He leaned forward to kiss him, but a wave of dizziness overcame him and he stumbled back a step, then sat down on the steps in front of his building.

He shook his head. What had he been thinking? The compelling attraction had disappeared, switched off like a light, and he recalled McGowan’s words about their ability to beguile humans. To hear it spoken of was one thing, to experience it first hand was . . .

He looked up. The Sidhe was gone, had said something as he left, though Paul had been badly distracted at the moment, something about . . .
she could not have resisted him . . .

~~~

Paul slept poorly that night. He couldn’t put the encounter out of his mind, kept replaying it again over and over, trying to make sense of the second message, the message for him. And too, he kept trying to remember where and when he’d encountered the Sidhe before, but it wouldn’t come to him.

The next morning when Paul stepped into McGowan’s kitchen, the old man sat at the breakfast table nursing a cup of coffee. He looked up at Paul and said, “You look like shit, kid.”

“Ya. Didn’t sleep well,” Paul said. “Had a little visit last night before I got home. Is there any more of that coffee?”

“Sure. Help yourself. Should I get Colleen in here to hear about this visit?”

“Ya, I think you should.”

Paul rummaged in the cupboards, found a mug, filled it with coffee, sat down at the table and recalled again the previous evening’s encounter. He was so engrossed, staring at the steam rising from the mug, he didn’t realize McGowan had returned with Colleen until they both sat down at the table across from him.

“Something’s disturbing you,” she said.

Paul described the encounter with the Sidhe, relayed the message for McGowan. He didn’t tell them about the second part of the message, the part meant for him. And he wasn’t about to tell them he’d gotten a hard-on for another man. Colleen asked, “You said Anok. Did he really say it that way, or did he say Anogh, with a guttural
gh
on the end?”

Paul nodded, “Anogh, with the guttural
gh
. Who’s Anogh?”

“Oh, my boy!” Colleen said. It was the first time he’d ever seen her composure slip. “Anogh is the Summer Knight, but he is bound to the Winter Court. It is rumored that about six or seven hundred years ago he fell in love with the Princess of Winter, and she with him. I believe her name was Taal’mara. They carried on a secret love affair for about a century, very Romeo and Juliet: two lovers from houses that are mortal enemies. But apparently Ag found them out, tricked Anogh into an oath, and tricked him into violating that oath, which bound him to the Winter Court for as long as Simuth, the Winter Knight, shall live. But Simuth is royal Unseelie, so he is immortal.”

McGowan added. “If you haven’t figured it out by now, Ag is not a nice guy.”

Paul asked, “And what did his message mean?”

“That’s the interesting part,” McGowan said. “I think he’s telling us the oath’s that bind him to the Winter Court have some loop-holes. He can’t betray the Winter Court to the Summer, but since we’re not Summer Court, maybe he can betray Winter to us. He could be an enormously helpful ally.”

“Be careful, old man,” Colleen said. “It sounds like he
can
help us. But has he? And will he? Don’t forget he’s Sidhe, and with them nothing is ever as it appears.”

Paul still couldn’t put Anogh’s face out of his mind. “Can either of you help me bring back a lost memory?” He looked at Colleen. “Maybe like you did with Judy, or something?”

“What kind of memory?” McGowan asked.

Paul explained about Anogh’s face, the way he’d obsessed about it all night, yet couldn’t make any headway.

“I might be able to help,” Colleen said. “But I need a small mirror.”

McGowan stood. “I’ll get one.” He disappeared down the hall, came back a minute later carrying a small hand mirror.

“That’ll do nicely,” Colleen said. She took the mirror, stood and sat back down in a seat directly opposite Paul, held the mirror up so he saw his reflection. “Look at your own image, Paul. Try to clear your thoughts, then think carefully of Anogh’s face, think of each little detail.”

He had no problem recalling Anogh’s face; he’d obsessed about it since last night: long, dark, shoulder-length hair, strong jaw, the eyes shadowed by a dark sorrow. Colleen muttered something in the background, but it didn’t distract Paul’s thoughts from the beautiful Sidhe warrior. In fact, if the hair were shorter, cut more like a typical college student, the eyes a little less shadowed, less haunted, take off a few years, and remove some of the incredible beauty, he could be any handsome, young college student in the country. And then it hit him. He knew! He knew! Paul gasped out, “Summers Knight.”

“You remember?” Colleen asked.

“Yes. Yes. A friend from college. His name was Summers Knight. Didn’t really know him well, more a friend of other friends, ran into each other at a few parties.” It all came rushing back to him. “My god,” he said, burying his face in his hands. “He sort of introduced me to Suzanna. It was a party, at his place, lot of students there, some with dates, some without. I was without, and so was Suzanna. It was just a quick, casual introduction.
Paul, this is Suzanna
, that kind of thing. And she and I hit it off from there, never looked back.”

“Summers Knight!” McGowan said with almost reverent awe. “The bastard’s been mucking in your life for quite a while, Paul. He must have known Suzanna was a foundling.”

McGowan was clearly stunned. “Anogh is playing at his own game. He may or may not be an ally, or he may be an ally now and an enemy later. But never forget he’s setting something up here. And the only thing we can be certain of is that if it goes his way, it will be to his advantage. Perhaps not to our detriment, but certainly to his advantage.”

McGowan and Colleen spent the rest of the afternoon grilling Paul on Sidhe Court etiquette. He listened, heard what they said, nodded politely here and there, responded a bit with a word or two when necessary, but a piece of him could not leave the issue of Anogh and Suzanna. Anogh had said,
The love for which you grieve must be avenged.

Avenge! Why would anyone avenge an accident? You don’t avenge accidents unless you’re a nut case. Or unless it was not an accident.

“Paul,” Colleen snapped. “Pay attention. This is important.”

“Yes. Yes. Sorry.”

And when you learn of love’s betrayal . . .
Suze would never have betrayed him. It had to mean something else. But then there were so many things he had not known about her. He would never have believed she would betray him. But back then he hadn’t been dealing with Sidhe. Betrayal was in their nature, and she was half Sidhe. Betrayals, innuendo, subtle deceit, the Sidhe were not Sidhe without such. Did that mean Anogh had murdered Suzanna, for some strange reason Paul could not fathom? If so, then the only thing left for him in this life would be to avenge her death. Yes, give Anogh his due, in spades.

Chapter 19: Pass-Fail Time

As instructed Paul dressed that morning in a dark business suit, though since gunpowder didn’t work in Faerie, he left the firearms behind. But a few weeks ago, on his own initiative, he’d gone to a sporting-goods store, purchased a good-sized hunting knife made of quality steel and had a sheath made to conceal it under his arm like a gun in a shoulder holster. He also packed a small duffle with a couple changes of clothes and toiletries.