CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE #2
“Yeah…” Looking back, that had happened. I had just been trying to leave. Didn’t even look at him.
“Idiot. All that money and all that lying and he broke the spell himself. You would have never known if he never said anything. He was probably so surprised to see you that he couldn’t help himself. Oh, well. He knows the terms and wasn’t even thinking about them when he said something.”
“Other than money, what did a fae get out of this?”
“Identities are powerful magic. Tell me, since you’ve reintroduced yourself to him, has he called himself Henry Abbott at all? Or just Henry?”
I searched my memory.
“No,” I answered. “He’s only said Henry…”
“Because he can’t,” Wren said, smiling, a bit smug, a bit bitter, a bit disgusted.
There was so much emotion in the fae’s face.
“And that seems beneficial at the time to someone like him, but it’s not.
It’s robbed him of a portion of his True Name.
He’ll never be able to reconnect to that part of his life without you or someone else helping him do it.
That piece of his identity is not his to claim anymore.
It’s fueling a powerful fae’s magics, along with hundreds, if not thousands, of other names.
“So, he can’t say the name. He can only hear it from you or someone else.
And if someone knows how to read and use True Names of beings, they would know it’s technically his, and he gave it away.
It will almost never impact his life, but it will one day come back around to bite him.
That fae can call on him whenever it wants. ”
“You don’t like this magic,” I said, wondering if I was reading him right.
“It’s predatory magic that goes after the desperate. I like equal playing fields and small stakes.” Wren shrugged.
“He still calls himself my uncle and the like.”
“The blood relation can’t be erased,” Wren explained.
“So, he is still your uncle. He’s just not allowed to be Henry Abbott anymore, not publicly.
You can introduce him as that; it’s the loophole that will further ruin him.
Hence why, if he wanted this to work for him, he should have kept his mouth shut.
Because now he gets nothing out of it. We can all know he’s Henry Abbott now.
Each person would have to be told by someone who already knows.
A stranger, even with picture identification, wouldn’t see through the spell, but now you’ve told me, I can call him that when he walks in. ”
“It just seems… like bad magic,” I said, making a face.
“It is… for him,” Wren said, lifting one shoulder.
“For the fae… well, they have what they wanted. The power of a given name, an identity, a life to draw from. It’s a lot of power for those who know who to claim it and use it.
The fae like magic around identity, though, to the point that our powers and abilities will actually change us if we’re not careful with our thoughts and beliefs about ourselves.
Did you ever hear about King Brion? Our king once wanted to be the right man for a human woman so badly that he forgot who he was for a time because a king couldn’t wander off to be the husband to a human woman.
” Wren rolled his eyes. “And made a fucking mess of everything in the process.”
“So, Henry fucking up this deal isn’t fae’s problem. They have what they want. He needed to maintain it and go on with his life.”
“And something possessed him to fuck it up.” Wren lifted his hands. “That’s what I tell you. Well, aside from don’t make deals like that with fae because as you can see, it’s almost always weighed in our favor.”
“Oops.” I had just made a deal with him.
“No, you actually played me. I didn’t even think Henry was your relative. I would have charged you triple.”
I smirked as Wren made a face, one of playful dismay.
“You’re cute. No wonder Alexius is fucking you… which makes you untouchable. A pity for the rest of us. He’d take our heads.”
“Well, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Wren.” I started to stand up, and he lifted a hand.
“Why would Henry need a new identity?” he asked, his eyes alight with curiosity. “I’ve wanted to ask the entire time. Obviously, he’s never told me because he can’t tell me who he once was.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He was once a member of Jacob’s nest. You can probably guess that since that’s where I worked. My story is out there, yeah?”
“It is, and I did piece that part together, but certainly you know a hair more than that.”
“We didn’t bargain for that hair more of information, though,” I reminded him.
Wren grinned.
“You’ve got me there. Go on, before I start trying to make a deal for information that won’t make me any money. I think you and Alexius are the only two people on this earth that actually care about this vampire.”
“Probably.” I walked out, leaving the café straight away with the only bit of information I needed. Once in my car, I made a single phone call, and surprisingly, the Tribunal Mistress answered quickly.
“Everly, I assume you need information from the nest.”
“I do. I’d like the nest’s records on James Henry Bishop.”
“We will digitize them and email the collection to Alexius’s work email,” she answered. “I assume you have access to that.”
“I do.”
“Expect them by…” Silence like she was checking a clock or looking at an assistant for quick confirmation. “Midnight seems to be the soonest. Certainly by one, but we’ll aim for midnight.”
That was another hour or two. I could work with that.
“Thank you.”
James Henry Bishop’s entire life was about to be mine to sift through.