Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EZRA
Ezra was startled at the appearance of Raum’s father, not because he was off-putting or unpleasant, not at all, but because Nórr looked to be the same age, or even a bit younger, than his own son.
Somehow he’d had an image in his head of a middle-aged, white-haired man with glasses and some wrinkles, and instead he was faced with a youthful-looking man in his prime, with golden-blond hair without any receding hairline or gray hairs, and a face untouched by the passage of time.
It was the eyes that brought the connection to the fore for Ezra—whiskey brown with flecks of gold. Raum and his father had the same eyes.
“Professor, this man claims to be your father, and…” the security guard appeared alarmed, looking around behind him. “Where’s the other guy?”
“My father, yes, thank you for escorting them back. And my grandfather is in the stacks—he likes to see what new books we might have. He’s perfectly safe, I promise.” Raum assured the guard, who frowned but handed over two passes to Raum, who took them with a smile.
“My boss said to give them temporary passes, good to the end of the month. Make sure they wear them.”
“I will and thank you so much,” Raum said, and the guard gave Nórr a sharp glance before turning on his heel and heading back to the access door.
Once the guard was gone, Nórr stepped up to Raum, smiling and squeezing him hard in a massive hug.
Raum returned the hug and Ezra flushed, realizing with a tiny pit of longing in his belly that he had never shared as enthusiastic and carefree an embrace with his own father as Raum did with his.
He mentally shook off the feeling and he stood, wiping his palms on his thighs.
Nórr and Raum broke off the hug. Raum handed the pass to his father, who took it with a grumble and stuck it in his back pocket. “I don’t know why we bother with these pass things, we never have before.” His accent was a bit heavier than Ezra had heard on the phone, and it was definitely Norwegian.
“Dad, mixed company, let’s not spill all our secrets,” Raum lamented, though he didn’t appear all that serious. “I don’t need everyone knowing my family sneaks in for visits on the regular.”
“We won’t tell anyone,” Harlan said. “MERS does not care.” Chase nodded in agreement.
Lilith sauntered over to the newcomer, tail curled at the tip, ears pricked forward, a soft chirp coming from her as she stood beside Raum and peered up at Nórr.
“Well hello, little queen. Who is this?” Nórr asked.
“That’s Lilith, my familiar,” Ezra said, taking a few steps forward. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Ezra.”
“The curse-breaker! How marvelous. Freya shall be so jealous.” Nórr breathed out. He knelt and let Lilith smell his hand before she daintily rubbed her chin along his fingers, asking for scratches. He complied, gently scratching her chin and neck. “My father is here somewhere. Pop!”
Nórr shouting made Ezra jump, and Raum put a hand on his shoulder in sympathy. “Dad, could you not shout for Grandpa like that? He can hear you just fine.”
“Shouting is fun,” Nórr said with a sigh and a shake of his head in mock despair. “My son grew up to be so serious. What happened?”
Ezra ignored the banter and took a glance around the stacks, but no other fae magically appeared. He did have a question, though. “How did you get here so fast? Do you live by the campus?”
Nórr sent him a questioning glance with a bit of mischief, and he wondered what the Elder fae saw when he looked at Ezra.
“You can say we were nearby, that’s the most accurate,” Nórr said, and promptly changed the subject. “Saemund probably found something to read by now.”
Ezra looked to Raum who minutely shook his head once, and Ezra decided to ask about it again later.
Motion in the stacks drew his attention—a tall, lean man wearing a dark-blue leather jacket over a dark-gray cotton shirt and matching pants wandered out into the area around the table carrying a stack of books.
He was more like Raum in appearance—they had the same musculature and height, whereas Nórr was slimmer and slinkier; and this fae’s hair was a honey gold that no human could possibly match except by magic.
His eyes were different, though—these eyes were a rich, vibrant blue, nearly cobalt, a hue that was electric and drove home for Ezra that this person was not human, not in any way.
“You’re High Court Sidhe,” Ezra breathed out in awe. Raum had said as much, but to see the Elder fae in person was something of a miracle considering how very rare they were in these modern times.
The Elder fae stopped beside Ezra on his way to the table with his books and met Ezra’s gaze, and Ezra could have sworn he felt a brush of power from the fae before the other man gave him a quirky smile and a short nod.
“I am,” said the Elder fae, “and you’re the curse-breaker, with magic like that.”
“Oh,” Ezra finally clued in that he was being rude, blurting out about what species this newcomer was and staring so intently. “I’m sorry. I forget what’s rude and what’s okay to say out loud sometimes.”
“No harm done,” the sidhe replied. “I am Saemund.”
“Hi. Ezra.” Lilith meowed at their feet. “This is Lilith, my familiar.”
Saemund nodded once in greeting and gave Lilith a huge smile, taking care not to step on her with his leather boots in the same dark-blue color as his jacket.
Saemund was not dressed like a grandfather, nor did he look old enough to have a grown son, let alone grandchildren.
Ezra was twenty-seven, and Saemund appeared to be about the same age, at least physically—if Saemund was truly an Elder fae, a High Court Sidhe, then he could be thousands of years old, and probably was, considering how old that particular fae species was compared to humanity.
“I really hope you can help me,” Ezra said as Saemund gently put his stack of books on the table, the two MERS soldiers watching him with some trepidation.
The High Court Sidhe were more famous in recent months than they had been in hundreds of years, all thanks to an infamous member of their species becoming a serial killer in Boston.
Not to equate that one anomaly with Saemund—the powers of the High Court Sidhe were as legendary as the people.
Nearly extinct, the High Court Sidhe were among the oldest and longest-lived species on the planet, their people rumored to be older than humanity as a whole.
Thankfully, not all of them were serial killers—just the one, so far, as the limited remainder were spread across the world living quiet lives.
“Nórr told me about the skull,” Saemund said absently, perusing the titles of the books already spread out on the table, humming to himself as he read an open page before Raum cleared his throat, making Saemund look up and blink, as if remembering he was talking to them.
“And Freya likely told you about the Black Sea Elder fae with the blue magics. The Vila. She’s probably right. ”
“I need to figure out how to destroy the artifact safely without blowing up myself or the city, or burying Edmonton in a massive blizzard,” Ezra said, slipping his hands in his pockets. “If it remains as it is, some government is going to use it as a weapon before too long.”
“I agree—humans do have a fondness for weapons of mass destruction,” Nórr said, crossing his arms and sending the MERS soldiers a sharp glance.
Harlan waved off Nórr's words with a simple gesture of his hand. “I can’t argue with the truth. Our Major is keeping a tight wrap on information, but we need to move as fast as we can before someone up the chain of command decides that destroying the skull isn’t in the government’s best interest.”
“Tell me everything,” Saemund said, leaning one hip on the table and staring at Ezra.
His gaze was intense, brighter than any summer sky, but Ezra found himself preferring whiskey brown with gold flecks.
Raum
Raum gestured for his father to follow him into the stacks as Ezra recounted everything to Saemund. Nórr followed, curious.
Once they were just out of sight and hearing, Raum turned to his father. “Dad, please tell me you didn’t teleport here with Grandpa.”
“Fine, I won’t tell you, but that’s silly,” Nórr said. “I clearly teleported here with him. Don’t worry, no one saw us, I dropped us in the mathematics reference section. Not a soul in sight.”
“I don’t want you or Grandpa getting kidnapped by some High Council magistrate because of rumors that High Court Sidhe with traveling powers are in Edmonton.” Raum stressed to his father. “Running from the High Council is why you and Mom are in Canada to begin with.”
Nórr sighed and put a hand on Raum’s shoulder, squeezing. “Son, we can’t stop existing out of fear. I am careful, as is your mother. And the High Council is distracted by what’s happening in Boston, you know that.”
“Just please, please be more cautious,” Raum begged his father. “I can’t lose you, any of you. Please be careful. Especially with MERS soldiers working on this situation with Ezra.”
“Ezra, huh?” Nórr said, grinning. “He’s handsome.”
“Dad.”
“What?”
“Don’t you dare.” Raum crossed his arms, trying to glare at his father. Nórr merely grinned and shrugged one shoulder.
“You haven’t dated in a while; your mother and I are despairing at the lack of grandchildren.”
“No, you aren’t,” Raum scoffed, shaking his head. “I’m surprised you had any kids at all, even if it was just me. Neither one of you likes kids, as a rule.”
“We just want our only son to be happy,” Nórr said. “You spend so much time alone, and while we share your love of books, you need someone for you. Someone to get you out of your head and start living.”
Raum sighed, looking down at the floor, before peeking back the way they came, where Ezra was. “I asked him out on a date. He said yes.”
“You did? He did? Fantastic!” Nórr exclaimed loudly in excitement.
“Dad, not so loud.” Raum shushed his father.
Ezra
Ezra finished recounting everything to the Elder fae, Saemund now deep in thought, though his reaction to the soul being present with the skull made him briefly emotional.
The soul. Ezra had a question and he was afraid to ask it, merely for the emotions it might bring up in their guests.
“Sir?” Ezra said. Saemund made no response, gaze unfocused as he considered everything Ezra told him. “Saemund?”
Saemund blinked and cobalt eyes turned to him, zeroing in on Ezra with a singular focus. “Yes?”
“I had a thought. Concerning the soul.”
Saemund grimaced, but gestured for Ezra to speak. “What’s your thought, youngling?”
“Would the cycle stop if the soul was removed from the artifact? The conflict arises from the skull trying to heal itself but constantly dying. If the soul vacates the skull, will the process stop?”
“You mean kill the sidhe completely,” Saemund clarified.
“Is it sidhe?” Ezra asked in turn, avoiding saying yes, but Saemund must have heard it, regardless of his tone.
“Of a sort, it is, from what you’ve described.
” He briefly paused, as if thinking hard about what to say next.
“If the sidhe dies and the soul leaves for the Otherside, then in theory, the skull would stop trying to heal itself.” Saemund said, and he sounded so very sad.
Ezra hurt for him, and for the unknown sidhe whose skull was clinging to life.
“From what you’ve said, I think that might work. I…” Saemund paused. “I need to see it.”
“Sir, it’s a weapon of mass destruction,” Chase began, a bit alarmed. “We’ve got it locked down tight so it doesn’t bring a blizzard down on Edmonton.”
“I am very old,” Saemund said to Ezra, ignoring Chase’s warning.
“I’ve known many Elder fae, of various species, not all of them High Court.
I may not remember them all, but knowing this soul may help them cross over.
Letting go may be the only way to stop the artifact—I don’t recommend force, as that may result in an explosion. ”
“An explosion is my fear as well,” Ezra admitted. He wanted the safest route to stopping the skull’s power.
“And whoever they are, they deserve a proper burial, among their people. Not reduced to ash and forgotten in an evidence locker in a government warehouse.” Saemund sounded quite adamant.
Ezra turned to Chase and Harlan. “Can we do this? Take Saemund to see the skull?”
“Would that mean opening the reliquary?” Harlan asked in return, expression serious.
“I…” Ezra turned to Saemund again. He knew some High Court Sidhe had extraordinary powers. “Can you see through a reliquary?”
“I’m not sure,” Saemund answered. “Depends on the type, and size. There are many kinds.”
Ezra only knew of one kind of reliquary, but he was only schooled in the western discipline of magic—and there was no comparison to a being potentially several thousands of years old with exposure to more types of magic than Ezra could imagine.
Ezra turned back to Harlan. “Can you ask the Major, please?”
“I can ask, but be prepared for a hard no,” Harlan cautioned. “It’s under heavy guard on base.”
“Tell her it may mean the difference between a huge uncontrollable explosion or a single funeral.”