Chapter Nineteen.

It seemed like a fairly complicated problem to Lethe- how to reconcile the idea of an allegedly dead woman, more than seventy years gone from the world, with that of her still breathing and camped out in the forest. Will, however, a.s.sured her that it was really quite simple.

"Magic," he said. "Belonging to a creature so old, she cannot remember whether she was born or made."

They stood on the edge of the woods facing a wall of leaf and bark that was endlessly dense and impossibly green. Autumn, it seemed to Lethe, had not affected the woods in this place quite as much as the rest of Indiana, and though she could see almost nothing of the interior, she caught glimpses of shadows just beyond the foliage that heaved with more size and strength than any mere squirrel could account for.

"We will not enter the wood," Will said. "Our Lady claims to dislike guests but manages to keep more than her fair share of them-far beyond what a polite host should."

"In other words," Rictor said, "she's f.u.c.king dangerous."

"And how do you know?" Lannes asked him. "Personal experience?"

His green eyes glinted. But he did not say a word.

"You keep your distance, too," Will said to Koni. "She's p.r.i.c.kly about shape-shifters."

Shape-shifters, thought Lethe, wondering when the madness would end. Gargoyles, men who flew as crows, dead women filling her brain...

She could not say she was surprised or puzzled by anything, anymore, but it was still surreal And unaccountably familiar-on a gut level-same as she knew music and history. As though all of everything that had happened-all these people-were part of some inescapable truth.

Koni said, "I'll be fine."

"Try not to look like you're p.i.s.sing yourself when you say that, and maybe I'll believe you," Rictor replied.

Will frowned. "Are all of you usually this contentious?"

"It keeps the love alive," Koni said.

Lethe's stomach churned. "You're certain Runa is in there?"

Will sighed, stooping to pick up some rocks in the gra.s.s. Despite his appearance, he had to be almost one hundred years old, yet he still moved with complete grace. "The Jesuits who found her body thought she was dead. Her heart had stopped beating, so technically she was, but technical is not the same as actual-and she was not really, really dead."

"What's the difference?"

"The difference," Will said, juggling the stones, "is in the soul. If the soul resides, then something-however drastic-can be done. If the soul has fled...well, as they say, you're dead."

Lannes was rubbing his eyes. "So Runa's soul remained, and you-what? Shoved her into the forest?"

Will stopped juggling, catching the stones in one hand. "Our Lady of the Wood had a special affection for my mother. I suppose one could say they were friends. Helping Runa was born of that friendship."

And then he turned and threw the stones into the forest. Lethe did not hear them fall but instead heard the chime of bells, small and delicate. The sound cut through her. But no more so than the sight that parted the brambles like silk.

A white stag appeared in the shadows. Its body glittered as though covered in starlight, its hooves gleamed like pearls, and in its eyes she saw a wild light that flickered as though lightning ran through its blood.

Behind the stag, a woman appeared. Pale and slender, she had hair so long it touched the ground. White furs caressed her body, surrounding and lifting round naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s painted in pale lines that could have been words or an ill.u.s.tration of wings. When she moved, she seemed to float, and everything about her shimmered like moonlight on ice. Her eyes were cold, flat and hard and a.s.sessing.

Inhuman. So far beyond human that Lethe hardly knew whether to be terrified senseless or utterly in awe. She was afraid to look away, though she wanted, desperately, to see Lannes' reaction. Instead she fumbled with her mind, reaching for his thoughts, and found herself met halfway in a tumble of emotion and one brief word: Faery.

Both the woman and the stag stopped just at the forest's edge, and to Lethe it was like being caught on the other side of a wall-a wall through which she gazed upon another world, whose wonders the mind could not dream.

But Lethe might very well have been a smashed flower for all that the woman seemed to notice her presence in return. She had eyes only for Lannes, and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s flushed a rosy pink, their pale nipples hardening.

"Now this," she whispered, "is a first in a great long time. I have not seen your kind in years, gargoyle. Come a little closer, so that a Sidhe queen might look at you beneath your mask."

Lannes straightened. "I am not here for games. Or for you."

"You would deny me?" she asked softly. "Even just a word?"

"I have no time for words," Lannes said. "I think you know that. I'm certain you know why we're here."

For one moment, Lethe was sure something terrible was about to happen. She felt the weight of a great force, much like the one in her vision of the dome, only colder and wilder, as though one word from this queen could unleash a thousand needles made of ice. Fury flashed through her eyes, which were a startling shade of green and filled with a hunger that chilled Lethe to the bone.

But the moment pa.s.sed. The queen's emotion subsided, though her gaze was sharp.

"I saw, and I heard," she said, "And if it were not for the memory of one mortal woman, you would be mine, gargoyle. I would take you. And I would never let you go."

Her gaze left him, traveling to Rictor, who tensed slightly. A cold smile touched her mouth.

"Half-breed," she whispered. "They still let you live?"

"My lady," he said quietly. "Still singing in your cage?"

Her mouth twisted in displeasure. Will stepped in front of Rictor, facing down the inhuman woman with calm and quiet dignity.

"Please," he said. "For my mother."

The queen's gaze darkened, but she glided back into the shadows, the stag moving with her. Where she'd stood, the brambles began flowing like silk, tree branches heaving aside, and it was as though distances flowed like water- here, there, everywhere. A small clearing appeared, filled with a silver brook and a shaft of sunlight that pierced the canopy just so, striking the base of an enormous oak. And at the base of the oak, tangled in its roots, lay a woman.

A woman wearing Lethe's own face.

She hardly knew her own face, but the resemblance was unmistakable. Runa could have been her twin. Her eyes were closed and her chest was slowly moving, as though she were deep in sleep. Her skin looked as if it had been dusted with gold powder, and her hair resembled roots, twisted and draping past her hollow face. She was naked, but moss had crept over parts of her body, and a delicate fern grew between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Violets blossomed around her toes.

"Runa had several sisters," Will said quietly, glancing at Lannes. "Only one of them had a heart. The rest hardly had souls."

Lethe forced herself to breathe. "Did any of them have children?"

"Just one. I suppose you look like her, too."

"Blood," Lannes said heavily. "That was how Runa did it. You had a blood connection."

Blood. Lethe stared at the golden-skinned woman, and felt no joy, no sorrow-nothing but dread. Here was a connection, a root to her past, and she wanted nothing more than to run from it with all her strength. Or destroy it.

"I gave her a choice," said the queen, drifting into view inside the clearing. "A fair one. She agreed to stay here and feed my tree, and in return I gave her immortality. Until she avenges her daughter's death. And then she is free." The queen smiled. "It is a lovely tree, is it not? So full of human dreams."

Lannes' hand brushed against Lethe's arm. "Why has it taken Runa so long to seek out her daughter's murderers?"

"She had her obligations to fulfill. And I lost track of time." Her smile grew colder. "Better late than never."

"Is she awake?" Lethe asked, afraid it would show too much weakness in front of the queen to take Lannes' hand, even though she needed his comfort, ferociously.

I am here, he whispered, his arm still touching hers. You're not alone.

The queen nudged the woman's foot. "My sweet fertilizer has ears. She can hear you, if you desire to speak."

Lethe gathered up her courage and crept forward, trying not to allow the ferociously bizarre quality of the moment to incapacitate her with fear. Lannes held her arm, and when she was within a foot of the tree line, he refused to let her go further.

"Runa," she called, straining against his arm. "Runa, I'm here."

"Speak louder," said the queen, smiling. "Reach into her dreams."

Lethe shivered. "Runa."

A hum filled the air, as though the bark and leaves and roots of the forest had a voice soft and strong as spider silk, clinging to her mind, coating her heart with a heaviness that felt like death or sleep. She felt Lannes join her side, his thoughts trying to push against her, but it was impossible to respond.

The queen said, "How short-sighted. You left nothing of your mind."

And just like that, the world disappeared.

You're going to die, you're going to die, you're going to die.

Right now.

Hold on.

Alice. Alice, you dirty girl. Look what you made me do. Now be still. This will be over soon and never mind that man oozing s.h.i.t beside you because he's dead gone anyway, soon enough, and it's your blood that matters, and your pretty little face. Little girl. Sweet little girl. My favorite grandniece.

Lethe could not open her eyes, but she did not want to. All she could hear, all she could feel, was that voice-sly and sibilant-filling her up as though there was a hole in her brain attached to a running hose. It was drowning her mind.

And then the voice shifted into something softer, kinder.

You're going to die. Don't know when or where, but just the how. A knife in your eye. Oh, G.o.d, I'm sorry.

Light bloomed on the other side of Lethe's eyelids. More voices.

The gallery is going under, darling, but don't worry, I'll take care of it. I just want you to smile again-and please, please, tell me where you were all that time. I don't know why you won't talk about it, and now with so many of us dead- Dead, not all of us are dead- We're monsters- Not all of us- I don't want to die, I wish I never knew, I can't live like this, I can't live- So don't, whispered another voice; Runa, familiar and old. Give yourself to me. Help me. You must. I will not let you go.

I will cleanse you of your pain.

Lethe felt gra.s.s against her cheek. She opened her eyes, or tried to do, but her eyelids felt sticky and there was a bad taste in her mouth.

I'm here, Lannes spoke inside her mind, words followed by a torrent of desperate concern. Stay with me.

She managed to peel open her eyes, just a crack, and was nearly blinded by the color of the gra.s.s and the sky. Every line, every detail, was crystalline in its perfection, as though she was seeing the world for the first time.

Lannes crouched beside her, and his irises glinted with veins of blue light. For a moment she saw past the illusion, her vision filled with lavender skin and sharp bone, but the mask faded back into place, though his eyes remained the same. He folded her into his arms, pulling her up so that she leaned hard against his chest.

I was with you, said Lannes grimly, his voice soft inside her mind. I heard everything.

The Sidhe queen stood at the edge of the woods, the vision of the oak, and Runa, fading into darkness behind her.

"Green eyes," the queen murmured, meeting Lethe's gaze. "That blood always runs true."

She glided back a step and looked at Will. "You continue to keep strange bedfellows."

"I like to keep you amused," he said, smiling faintly. "And you are, as always, exquisite to behold. My Sidhe queen."

She inclined her head, then pa.s.sed her gaze over the rest of them, lingering last on Rictor.

"Do not come here again," she said quietly. "I do not wish the a.s.sociation. Not if someday I am to be free."

Rictor said nothing. The queen waited, as if she expected him to speak, and when he did not, her frown became dangerous. But she remained silent and drifted back into the forest, fading like a ghost, disappearing into the gloom.

"I don't know about all of you," Koni said, after a long moment of silence, "but I don't feel any better."

It was late in the afternoon. Lethe was quite certain that the amount of weirdness her brain could handle had reached its limit, and so she found herself seated at a battered kitchen table feeling numb, suffering an odd disconnect between the mundane and surreal, as she watched William Steele don an ap.r.o.n covered in faded cherries and start whistling "Lavender Blue."

The kitchen was small, with hardwood floors, large airy windows and a giant fireplace at one end, currently unlit. Lannes stood behind her shoulder. No chairs were large enough to support him. Koni lounged at the table, running his fingernail through some old grooves. Rictor was nowhere in sight, though Lethe had a sense that he might be as close as the hall. He seemed like the kind of man that needed isolation but not distance.

"So you see," Will said suddenly, pushing sandwiches in front of them, "things are complicated here."

"Why haven't you told the others in the agency about this place?" Koni replied.

William picked something invisible off his ap.r.o.n. "Because there are some things that must not be told. Not yet. Perhaps, not ever. This place, what it holds, is one of them. Not even my own grandchildren know of it, though that will have to change soon enough."

"Are you referring only to the Sidhe queen?" Lannes asked. "Or are there other secrets?"

"There are always secrets," replied the old man. "Now eat. Then rest. Not much else can be done at the moment."

Lethe disagreed, but only out of principle. It was her mind on the line, not his. Her life that had been rocked to murder and magic, with no end in sight.

Her stolen life. A life she had stolen from herself, with help.

And what she had left behind, those voices in her head...glimpses of memories...

Her sandwich tasted like sawdust. She remembered Runa sleeping in the forest, and rocked slightly in her chair, overcome with a feeling of pure futility. There was no way she could go up against that. None.

Lannes laid his hand on her shoulder, and she reached back without thinking, sliding her fingers against his warm skin. She felt sinew and bone and recalled again her brief vision of him in the dome.

This is a fairy tale, she thought. But what am I? One of the monsters?

A princess, Lannes spoke inside her mind. A lost maiden.