Flicker (33 page)

“Filo,” Nasser said suddenly. “She
was
one of his. When I was at the
Bluewood
revel,
the dryad said she
didn’t understand why Umbriel liked Lee so much. I didn’t think anything of it then. I didn’t recognize the name. But now
…
”

Lee bit her lip. She didn’t like being talked about like a pet, an object, a thing. The fact that she actually
had
been a pet angered her. “Does this have anything to do with why the dryad is poking around? Do we even know anything about her?”

“She had
green hair
,” Nasser supplied. “
Her wings were
like leaves.
Her eyes were green
, too
.
”

Sitting down, Lee grabbed a pencil off the desk and turned to a fresh page in her sketchbook. Nasser’s description was familiar, but the mental image it triggered was hazy around the edges, smudged. She needed to draw it out. Things always made more sense on paper.

Lee began to hum softly to herself—something by $5 For Valentines—and relaxed her mind as she began to sketch. She felt herself sinking deeper into the act of drawing, but nothing seized control of her. Instead, Lee continued to move her own hand over the page, outlining a head and set of shoulders.
High cheekbones, a sharp jaw, pointed ears.

So seamlessly that she almost didn’t notice, Lee’s vision shifted, and she was seeing
the room from everywhere at once
. Still,
she
was in control.

“Bree,” Lee muttered, still sketching. The name was here somewhere, locked away in her memory. Lee could almost feel its presence as she added detail to the drawing.
A strange clarity illuminated her mind.
“Bray? Bry?”

Lee closed her eyes and set her pencil down, concentrating. She could see the dryad clearly now.
She
could even remember meeting her.

It was the dryad who
had found Lee
and led her to
the willow tree, where Umbriel and his group had whiled away their days. And they’d been close, Umbriel and the dryad.
Lovers.
Lee remembered their smiles, the way they whispered to each other
, the way they
kissed and danced. But what did it have to do with Lee?

She could hear the dryad in her head, speaking softly, enticingly.
Come and sit with us, little one.
Come and sit with us.

“Byrony!” Lee cried. Her eyes snapped open. “Byrony! That’s her name!”

“That’s nice,” Filo drawled, “but what does that tell us about anything?”

Lee glared at him.

“We can work this out later,” Nasser said. “
We
ought to get going.”

“Yeah. Right.” Filo grabbed Jason’s sleeve. “I’m going with Jason. Nasser, you take Lee. Anyone got a problem with that?”

No one said anything. The air was heavy with graveness as they followed Filo down the narrow hall, through the shop and out into the Halloween night.

* * *

The street was bright with faeries, and the air tangy with music. Magic flowed down from the moon, coating everything with pearly light, and Byrony breathed it in.
The magic in the air helped mask the stink of iron and decay.

A
rowdy group of
hobgoblins
glamoured to look like human children
scampered past, jostling her
. She’d seen many faeries like
them
, playing at being humans for a night of wicked fun, and for once, Byrony didn’t blame them. This was a ho
liday, after all, a celebration.

Each time she passed a storefront, she was surprised by her reflection
—for once, undisguised by glamour as she walked among humans
. It had been so long since she wore her autumn colors
that the sight of them was almost alien.
Her new pale skin looked vulnerable, lifeless.
Whole patches of her hair were missing, with orange and red stubble
already
growing in across her scalp. Even her wings were turning from their usual green to a dark, rich red that would fade to brown as
winter approached
. She would have to fashion new clothes for herself, as well; her dress of summer leaves wouldn’t last long in these temperatures.

She turned a corner,
reading
the sign hanging above the shop’s door:
Sandpiper
. Per
haps she’d have some luck here.

It was a quaint shop, all warm wood and low lamplight. The place looked comfortable, lived-in. The air was heavy with
the scents of herbs.
As she passed through the shop, Byrony could
feel the plants all around her, both the dried bundles and the potted ferns and flowers that shifted toward her, hungering for her life-giving energy.

A
female elf with brown skin and dark hair appeared at the counter. She was dressed simply, in a sleeveless green top and brown skirt. Loops of bead-threaded twine dangled from her wrists and neck.

“We were just about to lock up
for the night
,” said the elf.
She eyed Byrony almost suspiciously, no doubt because of her disheveled appearance.
“Conall likes to go out on Samhain.”

“Before you do, would it be possible to speak with the owner?”

“
Certainly
,” said the elf, starting toward a door behind the counter. “
Just a moment.
I’ll get him.”

A minute later, the elf returned with a tall, broad-shouldered man—Conall, she presumed. He had wise, dark eyes. Short, curved horns jutted from his temples.
His magical energy exuded into the air around him.

Byrony almost drew back from him as he approached. She had only ever met a few of his kind—ages ago, when solitar
ies regularly passed through her
forest—and they had been beautiful and terrible indeed.

Conall was one of the Tuatha de Danann, those ancient ancestors of the Daoine Sidhe who were driven underground and into the sea. There was no mistaking it. Some of his people still roamed the human world, but she had never expected to encounter one in this city, much less in a tiny apothecary.

“If you require a potion,” Conall said, “I hope it’s something we have already made, because I’m not brewing anything more tonight.”

“I don’t need a potion,” Byrony assured him, pulling the book out from under her arm and offering it to him.
She eyed him warily.
“I need your expertise. What can you tell me about this book?”

His hands were large and calloused, but he handled the book with care, turning the pages gingerly. “A book of Seer magic,” he mused. “A rare find for a dryad.”

“Do you recognize the insignia? From which shop does it come?”

Conall turned to the first page and ran one finger over the
insignia
stamped
in black ink:
two
crows in flight,
their
wings outstretched,
bound by a circle.

“This is the symbol of
Neman
and
Morgan
,” Conall told her.
“They own a
Seer
shop on the western side of the city,
past the park. It’s called Flic
ker.” Conall paused
, considering. “You’ve chosen a bad day to seek audience with them
—though seeking them at all is usually unwise. They are unpredictable at the best of times
.
They’ll almost certainly be out
tonight
,
and there’s no telling w
hen they will return
.”

“It’s no matter,” Byrony said. “I do not seek the masters, but the apprentices. Human children with
the Second
Sight.”

“Ah,
he will be out as well. If your business can wait, then you ought to give it a few days. This is a busy time of year for the
Seer shops
.”

“He?” Byrony asked. “Is there only one?”

Shaking his
noble
head, Conall passed her the bo
ok.
“I have told you enough, and with nothing in return.”

“What do I owe you?”

“What can you offer?”

“I have naught but this book.”

“I have many books.”

For a second, Byrony didn’t say anything, just sifted silently through her options. “I dislike
owing
anyone anything,” she said finally
. “That said, I offer you a
boon.
Whatever you ask of me, when we next meet.”

“
If
we next meet,” Conall sighed. “A poorly disguised
trick. But better than nothing. I doubt you have anything else that I want.”

“Name the terms of our bargain.”

Conall paused, thinking.

“Upon our next meeting,” he said, “whenever that may be, you, dryad, will grant me a
single favor
. You will
do what I ask without question
. In return, I will ask only something equal in worth to the knowledge I have given you. Do you agree?”

It was a lopsided bargain—on Conall’s end, at least. He had no idea how much the information he had given her was truly worth. It was enough to put her on the throne beside Umbriel.
But he didn’t need to know
that.

“I agree,” she said, aware of how lucky she was to get off so comparatively easy with one of the Tuatha de Danann. Of course, whenever the
y
met, she would be magically compelled to do what he asked. She just
had
to make sure they did not meet.

“Then we have a bargain.”

Conall extended his hand and she shook it, feeling threads of magic spool out from each of them, binding them together. It was the sensation of a magical contract.

The elf appeared, her skirt and bare feet replaced by brown pants and sandals. At Conall’s nod, the elf politely ushered Byrony toward the door, locking it behind her.

So Nasser Ethan Rew was roaming the city. No matter. Byrony didn’t need to
hunt
for him tonight, not when she could
find him easily tomorrow.

* * *

Lee glanced around, her eyes dry. It was if she’d been standing in a hot wind with her eyes wide open. Costumed people whirled past in all directions on the sidewalk, and Lee couldn’t
always
tell who was human, who was fey, and who was something else entirely, even with her locket. She would have to refine her eye, she supposed.

“Is it like this all the time?” Lee inquired
, looking at up at Nasser
.

“What?”

“Seeing. Is it always so beautiful?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Nasser replied. “I’ve always seen this way. I can’t imagine what the world looks like to normal people.”

“Dull,” Lee said, admiring the shimmering colors all around her. Everything gleamed: the shadows, the sidewalk, the very air. Everything had a thousand layers to sift through, each one pulsing with magic. “And kind of dirty.”

“Is it?” Nasser looked thoughtful. “You know, when I was a kid, I would have given anything to see like you do normally. Anything.”

“It’s scary, isn’t it?
” she realized.
“
To see all these things that no one else can when you’re just a kid.”

“It was,” he admitted.
“I didn’t understand what I was seeing.
For a long time,
I thought I was crazy.”

“But you know better now.”

“Knowing makes it even scarier sometimes.”

Glancing at him sideways, she asked, “Would you still give anything to be normal?”

“I— ” He shrugged
. “I don’t know.”

They fell into silence, walked.

Something swooped past Nasser’s head, then looped around and headed for him again. A paper airplane. Nasser stepped back and timed his strike. On its next pass, he
snagged
one of the plane’s wings and
shook the enchantment from it,
unfolding it.

“Huh. It’s from Rodney,” he
reported
. “Nobody’s been to the cemetery tonight. He’s asking us to check it out when we get the chance. Not a bad idea. The redcaps are always pretty bad on
Samhain
.”

“The
cemeter
y?
”
Lee echoed, trying to keep the horror off her face. “Where’s that?”