“Gosia had a personal interest in the case. Her mother had been courted by the man—the fae—who later became her captor when he discovered she was Melusine.”
Alderose groaned, curled into a tighter ball, then planted one hand on the ground followed by the other. With great effort, she sat upright. I curled my arm around her back and offered her my shoulder. She stiffened when she saw Rémy.
The mage continued. “Gosia couldn’t break her cover. She’d warned me before she accepted the mission that it might take her a long time to construct an airtight persona. I had no idea a long time meant years, not months.”
“Maybe she didn’t know that either,” I said. “But something must have made you suspicious that things had gone wrong.”
“Jadzia. She showed up one day, said she was half-Melusine, half-fae, said Gosia had found her and recruited her. Said they were getting close to blowing the case open. It was Gosia’s birthday. I couldn’t bear the thought of another day passing without letting her know how much I missed her, how much I—I loved her. I asked this Jadzia to bring my love a gift, a raw diamond on a simple chain, something she could have easily hidden.
“Jadzia reached for the box and for a split second, her true self shimmered below the surface of her skin.” He tapped his thumb against his fingertips. “What I glimpsed wasn’t the Magical I was expecting. This being had metal blades instead of fingernails, a sign of true fae. She grinned. She knew I had seen her. And because I feared for Gosia’s life, I said nothing.”
Silence. Rémy’s tale gave me a lot to absorb, especially this new piece of information detailing the kind of being we would be going up against. I had to break the tension, move us from eulogizing to strategizing.
“So, all we have to do is swim through cold water in the middle of the night and hope that we can find Jadzia. Then we have to get her to drop the disguise, show her true face and confirm she is indeed the enemy, then rid Gosia of whatever spell or glamour she’s under.”
Alderose lifted her head off my shoulder and gathered her hair into a topknot. “First, Rémy has to convince me he’s telling the truth.”
The water mage lurched onto his knees and got right up into Alderose’s face. “I don’t have time for your doubts, and Gosia doesn’t have time for you to figure out if I’m a good guy or a bad guy.”
My sister reached into my pocket, withdrew her knife, and waved her hand at me for the matching blade. I slapped the handle on her palm and watched as she brought the tips of her blades to the base of Rémy’s throat and his crotch.
“Back. The fuck. Down.”
“She’s serious. We all need proof,” I said.
“Your mother made something for me.”
“Show us.”
“It’s in my backpack.”
Alderose withdrew, keeping her knives at the ready. Rémy held eye contact with her while he shrugged off the straps and passed the pack to Laszlo.
“Inner pocket of my coat,” he said before sitting back down. He crossed his legs, kept his hands in sight, and never wavered his gaze off my sister.
Laz shook out the wadded up fabric. I spied more than one pocket on the inside of the voluminous garment. “You stash anything in here that bites?”
Rémy shook his head. I ran my hand down the lining fabric and stopped when I came to the shape of a doll. Before I slid my fingers inside the pocket, I softened my gaze and searched for remnants of my mother’s magic. The thinnest of threads tacked the layers of fabric together, keeping the pocket’s contents secure. I withdrew one of Alderose’s knives and used it to slice the knotted ends.
The doll inside had been made by my mother. The simple female form ended with an elaborately beaded, embroidered, and sequined fish tail. I dipped my fingers into the pocket of my coveralls and felt for the beads I had transferred from the pockets of my mother’s shop coat.
What originally caught my eye were the unusual shades of iridescent pinks and oranges. The beads matched. The doll’s hair and body color were the same as Gosia’s, and the story threads weaving their way around the figure and my hand were saturated with love and trust and longing.
Gosia’s longing for Rémy, Rémy’s longing for Gosia.
“He’s telling the truth about him and Gosia being mates,” I said. Rémy’s chest rumbled with a thunderous growl. He leaned forward again, only to find the knife tips pressing at his throat and inner groin.
“Wait.” The story threads had more to say. A trio broke away and swam through the air to Rémy, coiled themselves around one of his chains, and lifted the attached vial. The mage sucked in his breath and froze.
“What’s in that vial?” I asked.
“Gosia’s tears. Legend says Melusine tears burn the liar and bless the truth.”
I palmed the vial. The small bit of liquid contained inside was pink-tinged and luminous. “Hold out your hand.”
Rémy hesitated before extending his arm toward me. I ran my fingers over the chain, found the clasp, and released its weight into my hand.
“Before you open that, Clementine, you must ask him a question and it must be worded such that his answer cannot be distorted.” My sister spoke to me while keeping her gaze and knives pointed at the water mage.
I stared into the vial and invited my mother’s magic to guide my words. The sensation was familiar, natural, as though I had performed the action a hundred times before. When the question came, I wasn’t surprised by its arrival. I was surprised by its content. I asked it anyway.
“What is the one thing Gosia would be willing to sacrifice her life for?”
Rémy’s determined expression crumbled along with his defiance. He swiped his cheeks, and said, “Our daughter. Zazie went missing this summer.
