Magic and Loss

including Bartho, Lukas, and Lafo.

Seamus O’Fae stepped forward, holding his Kelly green homburg in his hands as he spoke. “The news of the kidnappin’ is all over Golgotham, Serenity. We have come here to offer our help.”

“Centuries ago, our ancestors swore fealty to the Throne of Arum,” Giles Gruff said solemnly. “That oath still binds us, by blood and honor, to aid the Royal Family in its time of need.”

Lorelei Jones nodded her seaweed-green head in agreement. “When the humans’ atomic tests drove us from our native waters in the South Pacific, your grandfather, Lord Eben, welcomed my people into Golgotham without a second’s hesitation, giving us a new home and new hope. The merfolk owe his bloodline much.”

“And I’m sure my son appreciates the council’s show of support,” Captain Horn said firmly. “But the PTU is already on the case. I’ve got my best officers out there looking for the woman responsible for the kidnapping. . . .”

“I don’t mean any disrespect, Cap’n,” the leprechaun countered. “But ye only have so many men. The way we see it, the more eyes ye got lookin’, the more likely she’ll be seen.”

“Seamus is right,” Hexe agreed. “We need as many boots on the ground as possible.”

Skua, the querent for the GoBOO, stepped toward me. Although I knew her to be unsympathetic toward humans, I saw none of her previous disdain in her deep green eyes. In her hands she held a multifaceted scrying crystal the size of an ostrich egg. “I know all too well what it is like to have a son disappear,” she said sadly. “Picture the face of the woman who took your child and exhale onto the crystal.”

As I closed my eyes, the face of Erys flashed across my mind and I quickly exhaled. When I reopened my eyes, the scrying crystal was filled with a swirling, multicolored mist. Within moments the image of Erys appeared, replicated within each individual facet, like the eye of a fly.

Skua placed the crystal on the coffee table and made a couple of passes with her hands, causing the crystal to disassemble into dozens of smaller shards, each holding the image of Erys at its heart.

“Take these with you,” the querent said as she handed the crystals to the others. “This way you will be able to identify who you’re looking for.”

“Be careful—this woman is very dangerous,” Captain Horn warned. “She is also wanted for questioning in the murder of Dr. Moot. If you see her, don’t approach her or attempt to apprehend her! Instead, simply contact either me or Hexe or Tate, and let us know where you saw her and if she’s travelling with anyone.”

After Hexe and his father succeeded in eliciting a grudging agreement that no one would do anything stupid if they spotted Madam Erys, the assembled volunteers filed out of the house, each carrying the image of the kidnapper in their pockets. After the last one was safely out the door, Hexe turned to look at his father.

“I noticed you didn’t tell them that Erys is, in fact, Esau.”

“I decided your mother is right,” Horn replied. “Revealing Esau’s involvement in this isn’t going to help. It’ll only make matters worse.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner—you deserved to know,” Hexe apologized.

“Damn straight I did,” his father grunted. “But, what’s done is done. To tell you the truth, I already suspected Esau was somehow connected to the SOA. It just seemed like an awfully big coincidence that the Sons of Adam disappeared the exact same time he did. I know your mother loved him—after all, he was her brother—but as far as I was concerned he was always a manipulative conniver, not to mention an elitist snob.”

“It seems you don’t have a great deal of fondness for my uncle,” Hexe observed wryly.

“I loathe the man,” Horn replied flatly. “And I’ve done so ever since he slapped my mother for not serving him a meal fast enough to suit him, when he was fifteen years old. Syra may have known a different Esau, but I never have.”

Hexe frowned. “Your mother worked as a cook for the Royal Family—?”

Before Horn could reply, Hexe’s cell phone ringtone began to play, alerting him that he’d received a text message.

“Who’s it from?” I asked anxiously.

“It’s from Bartho. He says, ‘I think I found her!’ There’s a JPEG attached. . . .”

Syra, Horn, and I crowded around as Hexe opened the file. Although the screen wasn’t very big, I could make out what looked to be Erys, dressed in the traditional multicolored skirt and patchwork vest of a Kymeran witch-for-hire, standing in front of the Stronghold, the secured pier belonging to the Maladanti, and pointing at its locked gates. It took me a moment or two to realize that parts of her were transparent.

“Is that Erys?” I asked, frowning in confusion.

“No. It’s Nina,” Lady Syra replied. “And it looks like she’s trying to tell us something.”

Chapter 32

“Are you ready to do this?” Hexe asked his mother. Lady Syra nodded, her mouth set into a determined line. “Here goes, then.” Taking up a pen, he flipped over the ransom note and wrote “We agree to your terms” on its back, and signed it. He then moved aside, allowing his mother to add her signature.

Lady Syra picked up a stick of sealing wax and snapped the fingers of her left hand, summoning a tongue of flame, which danced atop her index finger. Once the sealing wax was melted, she plunged her signet ring into the warm red puddle, leaving the mark of the Royal House of Arum: a pair of intertwined dragons.

Hexe took the parchment and placed it on the parlor grate. The tongue of flame flickering at the tip of Lady Syra’s finger leapt into the fireplace, and within seconds the note was ablaze. The smoke from the parchment briefly took on the silhouette of a man, and then fled up the chimney with an unnatural speed and purpose.

“Well, that’s that,” Hexe sighed. “What’s next?”

We didn’t have long to wait, as there came a familiar tapping on the parlor window frame, signaling the return of Esau’s familiar, Edgar. This time the raven flew in and perched on the mantelpiece. Beanie charged forward, stiff-legged, barking furiously at the feathered intruder, until Edgar cawed loudly and flapped his soot- black wings in consternation, sending Beanie scampering behind Scratch, who spread his own, leathery wings in challenge.

Edgar clattered his beak in what passed for laughter, and then turned his beady, ruby-red eyes to Hexe. The voice that issued from the familiar was that of Madam Erys, but the intonation and inflection were unmistakably Esau’s: “Midnight at The Lucky Fool. Come alone. No PTU. No familiars.”

“Understood,” Hexe said with a solemn nod of his head.

“We will be there,” Lady Syra promised.

Having delivered his master’s message, the familiar cawed a final time and flew back out the open window, but not before soiling the hearth on the way out.

“You know it’s a trap,” Horn said flatly. “He plans to kill you both—possibly even the baby—and paint the portal’s lintel with your blood.”

“Of course, but Esau isn’t aware that we know about his plan,” Hexe replied.

Horn glanced at me. “And you’re good with letting them do this?”

“It’s not just them. I’m going, too.”

“But you’ve just had a baby!” Hexe protested in alarm.

“Yes, one that is being held for ransom by a murderer!” I reminded him. “And if you think I’m going to stay behind while you try to rescue him, you really haven’t been paying attention over the last year. And for your information, Mr. ‘You Just Had A Baby,’ you’ve just had your hand cut off! So just try to keep me from being in on this!”

“She’s got you there, son.” His father chuckled.

“But—it’s going to be dangerous!”

“If I have learned one thing about dealing with strong-willed women,” Horn said as he slipped a paternal arm about Hexe’s shoulders, “there’s no point in arguing with them once their minds are made up.”