Chapter 13 #2
“I have a question befitting your area of expertise,” I told him. “If there was a powerful fae known to live in a certain region a thousand years ago, what are the chances it’s still kicking around that same place today?”
“It’s possible. Powerful fae are territorial. I’ve only known them to permanently relocate if they were forced out by a stronger rival.”
The stupid idea percolating in the back of my brain was feeling a bit less stupid. “Do you happen to be familiar with any ancient, powerful fae in the Middle East?”
“I’ve never been to the Middle East.”
Oh well. It’d been a long shot. “Assuming there is an ancient, powerful fae in the Middle East and I happened to know the approximate area where it lives, how would I go about talking to this fae, if I felt so inclined?”
“However you want. The fae will kill you immediately, so it doesn’t matter how you approach it.”
I grimaced. “Let’s back up. How would I find the fae?”
“You can’t. You’re not a Spiritalis mythic.”
“What if we were talking about a hypothetical witch friend of mine?”
Zak let out an exasperated sigh. “If this fae is a powerful one—by fae standards, which is a different scale than whatever you’re imagining—its territory will include a crossroads. Locate the crossroads, and you can locate the fae.”
“What’s a crossroads?” I asked, finding myself at the very back of the shop, where a large table filled with sewing machines and other tailor-specific supplies I couldn’t name spanned the entire width of the room.
“They’re points of power in the fae demesne that intermingle their realm with ours, and they’re incredibly dangerous.
It’s easy to get lost, accidentally wander into the fae demesne, or become a snack for the fae who live there.
Many crossroads link to other crossroads, meaning you can suddenly find yourself face to face with a fae that wasn’t there a moment before. ”
I picked up a pincushion speared by about a hundred pointy pins like a reverse porcupine.
“So an ancient desert fort with a reputation for lots of Spiritalis action where you keep getting lost because the rooms and halls are changing—that would be a crossroads? Also some weird architecture that shouldn’t have been there and creepy telepathic voices trying to lure you in the wrong direction? ”
“An ancient desert fort?” Zak echoed, and I could clearly imagine the suspicious squint of his green eyes.
“Hypothetically,” I reminded him.
“What moronic witch is trying to convince you to enter a crossroads and chat with a fae lord?”
That’s “moronic archmythic,” please and thank you.
“The fae might know something I need to know,” I revealed.
“For fuck’s sake.” The clunk of a door closing filtered into my ear before Zak continued.
“Listen, Shakespeare. Entering a crossroads is dangerous, but with a competent witch to guide you, you could probably figure it out. But drawing the attention of a fae powerful enough to hold a crossroads in its territory is suicide. You have nothing to bargain with. It’ll kill you for the fun of it. ”
I blew out a silent breath, trying to expel the cold spot of unease gathering in my gut. Returning the pincushion to the table—it was reminding me of the assassin’s poisoned needles—I started toward the front of the shop.
“Sometimes we have to take risks,” I said quietly. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve, but if you have any tips, I’m all ears.”
“Ki—” Zak cut himself off, cursing again. “Your ‘tricks’ won’t work. You have no idea the kind of power you’d be going up against. It’s not something you can fool, charm, or fight. Fae that powerful make their own rules. Once you draw its attention to you, your life is forfeit.”
Hadn’t my life been forfeited the moment I killed Jayce Tyrian? What about the Consilium’s escalating attempts to capture me and Lienna—or more likely, eliminate Lienna? I had trouble imagining a fae more powerful than a secret worldwide cabal controlling the MPD from the shadows.
At the front counter, Lienna pulled the USB stick out of the computer and met my gaze, her eyebrows arched.
“I’ll be careful,” I told Zak. “Very, very careful. Thanks for your help.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Shakespeare.”
I really didn’t like the way his voice had sharpened, like he wanted to reach through the phone and physically restrain me.
“I’ll do my best,” I said. “I need to go.”
I disconnected the call and pocketed my phone, my nerves still prickling. Zak didn’t know about my archmythic-in-progress abilities. I had more firepower than he realized.
Lienna circled the front desk and passed me the USB stick. “The mole is doing more digging on the SI assassin. We arranged another meeting soon.”
I nodded. “Did you ask them to look up anything related to your keychain?”
“I didn’t know what to ask.” Taking my hand, she drew me toward the door. “We need to leave—this shop and this country.”
“Right. About that.” I dropped a fresh invisi-bomb as I slipped through the door into the quiet street. “There’s one more thing I need to do before we say goodbye to the land of the jinn.”
Lienna closed the tailor shop’s door, then turned to me and planted her hands on her hips. “What’s that?”
“According to Zak, get myself into a lot of trouble.” I raised my hands in a shrug. “But it might be my only chance to find out how to become as powerful as Bodil and the Sha’ir.”
Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
I looked east as if I could see through the darkness to the walls of the ancient fort. “I’m going to ask someone who’s actually seen an archmythic wield that kind of magic: the Sha’ir’s fae familiar.”