Chapter 11 #2
“The enslavement or extinction of all higher-intelligence beings on this planet.”
Well, shite. I look over at Alistair again, and he nods slightly. Either this elf is able to completely control their own biochemistry or they believe what they just said strongly enough to cause no change to their scent.
“Why do you believe we are enemies of Tish, and thus of éibhear?” Although we’d have to be pretty feckin’ dumb not to be enemies of the person who wants to eradicate us.
“He…” The elf trails off. “Is he still here? The one who opened the door?”
“I’m here,” Alistair says.
“You were there today, near the place where éibhear and Tish are. I sensed your energy when I was scouting.”
“I was” is all Alistair replies, and it clicks. An elf who opened a portal in the middle of nowhere, then just stayed still… as though assessing a strange and potentially hostile environment.
“The living force surrounds you strongly. It protects you; protected you today. It showed me clearly that you are an ally.”
I groan. I am so fucking stupid.
“Aidan?” Alistair sounds on edge.
“I’m fine. Just… hang on.”
I open myself completely to the magic, but I don’t need to.
Ever since the magic chose me to be species leader, it’s looked out for me.
It’s warned me every time I’ve been in danger and guided me to make the right decisions.
Not once since I woke up ten minutes ago has it given any indication that this elf is a risk.
It didn’t even wake me—as far as the magic is concerned, this elf is nothing to worry about.
Reaching out, I feel the familiar warmth of it around me. Can we trust this elf?
All I get in return is assurance and confidence.
Still… I’m not willing to risk Alistair and, ultimately, the lives of all my people so lightly.
“Wait here,” I instruct and run back up the stairs to find my phone.
Percy answers on the second ring. “Aidan?” he asks calmly, and that’s an instant reassurance. It’s a call from someone in a potential danger zone at three in the morning—you don’t answer it calmly unless the existential magic that makes up the universe has assured you there’s no problem.
“Sorry to wake you, but we have a situation here, and I need your take. You have a closer bond to the magic than me.”
He hesitates. “I’m only getting reassurance and positive vibes. What kind of situation? Is everything okay?”
“Well…” How to put this? “What does the magic tell you when I say there’s an elf downstairs with Alistair right now?”
Percy makes a startled noise, and there’s a clatter—him dropping his phone, maybe. It’s followed by a very un-Percy-like curse and a scrabbling sound, then he’s breathlessly demanding to know if I’m still here.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“There’s an elf with Alistair?”
“They knocked on the door about ten minutes ago,” I confirm.
“I was not expecting this,” he mutters.
“Neither were we. Alistair’s only wearing underwear.”
He chuckles. “Well, the magic is still all happy about this, even if it’s not giving me any more information. The surprise is purely my own. Has the elf said anything yet?”
I give him a quick rundown on the story so far, and he makes a thoughtful sound. “I think it’s safe to treat them like a tentative ally for now. The magic doesn’t seem concerned at all, so I’m guessing our motives and goals at least partly align.”
“I’ll tell Alistair we can turn on the lights, then,” I say dryly, aware that Alistair’s listening to everything I say. Sure enough, a moment later a light switch clicks. The elf makes a startled sound, and through the bedroom doorway, I see the faint glow of light reflecting up on the landing.
“I’m going to wake everyone up and brief them,” Percy continues. “Do you think there’s any value in you and Alistair staying there?”
“I’m… not sure.” Even if Caolan can’t tell us exactly what Tish’s plan is, they can give us information about the elves’ capabilities and potentially lend us a fighting force…
well, maybe. We really know nothing about them except their name and that they’re on the other side from Tish right now.
For all we know, they might be acting completely alone.
“Let us ask Caolan a few more questions. I don’t think we’ve got anything further to gain by talking to the local pack, so it’s really just if we need to ferret out more information on the elves. ”
“I’ll expect to hear from you in the next couple hours, then,” he concludes. “Depending on what you learn from… what name did you say?”
“Caolan,” I repeat. “Sorry for waking you so early.”
“My alarm is going to go off soon anyway,” he says, and my tired brain remembers the time difference. “Once I hear back from you, we’ll decide what to do next.”
“Thanks, Percy.”
We end the call, and I take an extra second to pull on a shirt and grab Alistair some clothes and his phone before heading downstairs again.
Neither Alistair nor Caolan has moved, although now Caolan can see Alistair and is staring at him with a slightly furrowed brow.
“Catch,” I tell Alistair while I’m still halfway across the room and toss his shirt and pants at him. He dutifully catches and begins to get dressed.
“May I ask…?” Caolan begins hesitantly, and we both look at them.
“Of course,” I say. “But we won’t promise to answer.” Percy and the magic may be convinced Caolan is, if not on our side, at least not working against us, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to agree to tell them anything they want to know.
“Are… Do the faces reflect mood?”
For a second, I think we have a language issue, which is surprising because their English has been fantastic so far. Then they gesture toward Alistair’s underwear, still showing a little where he hasn’t zipped his pants, and it’s all I can do not to laugh.
“Ah…” The quiver in my voice is the only giveaway of my amusement, and I’m so proud of myself. Especially when Alistair hurries to zip up and nearly catches himself in the zipper. “No. That’s just a picture. It’s supposed to be humorous.”
Their face relaxes, and they smile a little. I’m relieved to see that they have so many mannerisms like ours—that will make communication a lot easier and prevent us accidentally starting an interdimensional war.
Although, if this éibhear person plans to wipe us out, that war has probably already begun. We just don’t officially know about it yet.
“Why don’t we sit down?” I suggest, nodding toward the couch and armchairs we haven’t used since we got here. I lead the way and gesture for Caolan to take one of the chairs. If Alistair and I sit beside each other on the couch, we’ll be able to speak subvocally without it hearing us.
Alistair seems to have the same idea, because he joins me on the couch without me even having to glance at him, and immediately asks, in a tone too low for anyone but a shifter to hear, “Magic okay?”
“Yes,” I mutter back. “Percy says tentative ally.”
Alistair turns his full attention to Caolan, who’s sitting calmly in the armchair, watching us. When I read the report about Noah’s encounter, his description of the elf he saw frustrated me. Looks mostly human, but not? Like a fantasy movie elf, but not? What kind of description was that?
But now, looking at Caolan, I get it. From behind, with hair covering their ears, they would look completely like a tall, slender human.
But a single glance at their face dispels that idea completely.
Shifters, sorcerers, and incubi/succubae can pass for human without even trying as long as we’re not actively using our abilities.
Vampires need to keep their fangs retracted, and demons need to hide their horns, but other than that, they too can pass for human.
But there’s just no way to mistake Caolan for human.
Aside from the sharply pointed ears, the bone structure of their face is just too different.
Heavier around the brow and eye sockets, extremely sharp at the cheekbones, and almost pointed at the chin.
I try not to stare but study closely. The bottom half of the face, while more dramatically shaped than I’ve ever seen, is not too different from the structure you see in some Celtic and Slavic features, but the top is very clearly other .
The overall result is remarkably attractive, although I’m not really sure why. I’ve always preferred bulkier builds—Alistair ticks all my boxes.
Speaking of Alistair…
“Why are you here?” he asks bluntly.
“For information,” Caolan says promptly. “And to search out potential allies.”
That’s promising.
“Are you here on your own behalf or someone else’s?”
It seems confused by that. “Both?” they ask more than tell. “I serve at the pleasure of my king. It is my will and his.”
There’s a lot to untangle there, but I want to take a different tack for now.
“We understand that you came here from a different dimension, but it seems we speak the same language. How is this so?” If we can believe what folklore tells us, the elves were frequent visitors before the species wars—perhaps even semipermanent residents.
But modern English wasn’t the language spoken then, and Caolan speaks it just as well as we do.
“We do not. I am using a translator spell. It is somewhat awkward now but will learn and attune more as it hears more of your language.”
“Get out. No fucking way!” Alistair leans forward, face alight. “Is that spell something you can only do for yourself?”
Before he demands that the elf from another dimension begin experimenting on him with magic we don’t understand, I step in. Caolan is looking confused, possibly because Alistair told them to get out but also seems to want them to stay.
“Could you, uh, turn it off so we can hear what your language sounds like?” I suggest, and they smile and rattle off something that sounds mostly like gibberish to me, although there’s something familiar about a few syllables.
It might be that the Irish language borrowed from the elven one back in the day.
“Was that acceptable?” they ask, and I nod.
“Thank you. This is a very useful spell.”
Alistair, maybe remembering that this is serious stuff, not a new toy for him to play with, leans back again. “Perhaps you could tell us your story from the beginning. Who you are, who your king is, what happened to bring you here, and why you followed me.”
“Yes, of course. I’m not quite sure where to begin—it’s been a long time since my people had contact with yours. Are you aware of our existence?”
“Your existence, yes,” I tell them, choosing my words carefully, “but not with many details.”
“Our dimensions exist parallel to each other, reachable only through portals. At one time, there was a great deal of contact and trade between our peoples. I am here now to seek information and offer aid.”
Beside me, Alistair lifts his head sharply, and Caolan stops. In the next second, Alistair’s off the couch. “You were followed. Come on.”