The Undead Pool (22 page)

“She is my associate in this matter,” Trent said, the soft threat in his voice making Ellasbeth sniff. “If you don't explain the workings of the Goddess, I will.”

Bancroft thought that over as Quen silently cleared the table. It was Bancroft who looked away first, and I drank my tea like a victory draft.
Point to me.

“The Goddess is both one being and a thousand,” Bancroft said sourly. “A communal mind. Usually she's in concert with herself, but as I prayed in Cincinnati this afternoon, I sensed a division. She is two. The subset of mystics being held from her is beginning to separate and take on a new personality. She's beginning to become insane.”

“I think
insane
is a somewhat strong term,” Trent said, and a flash of annoyance crossed Landon's face, fleeting and almost not there.

“She can't be balanced anymore,” Ellasbeth said dryly, leaning back in her chair with her glass. “Think of a group of people marooned on an island. In a few generations, the lack of genetic diversity begins to show itself.”

“Just so,” Bancroft reaffirmed, reaching for more wine. “When an elf petitions for attention and help, he—”

“Or she,” Ellasbeth interrupted, gently bouncing Lucy on her lap.

Bancroft inclined his head politely. “Or she,” he consented, “is not communicating with the entirety of the Goddess, but only the parts of her that are sympathetic to the petitioner's aims. The more the prayer resonates with the Goddess, the stronger the connection.”

So the more the Goddess agreed with you, the more likely you were to be heard? “That doesn't sound very fair,” I said, fiddling with my drink. “What does this have to do with wild magic leaking from my lines?”

“I'm getting to that,” Bancroft said, and Landon coughed dryly. “We call her individual thoughts mystics. They roam freely in reality, leaving her by way of the lines and bringing ideas and concepts back to her, though not usually in the concentrations you've been witnessing lately. Several species host them in minute amounts, such as pixies, leprechauns, and Weres. It enables them to access their magic naturally without a connection to a line. It's the concentration of them in the wave that is unnatural, not their presence.”

I nodded, remembering Jenks once telling me that he was “magic, baby!” I bet it burned the elves' cookies that they weren't hosts to their own Goddess when pixies were. It was starting to make sense, and I tapped the table in thought. “Then the wild magic is what's in the line that witches, elves, and demons get their strength from?”

Either warming up to me or the wine he was slamming down, Bancroft raised a hand for patience. “Only elves can access it directly from the Goddess. Energy collects between spaces naturally, sort of pools up. Witches and demons siphon it off through ley lines.”

As long as I didn't think about it too hard, it made sense. Little bits of sentient energy combining into one mega Goddess, the entirety of Inderland magic running on the energy she gave off, much like vampires existed on the energy given off from the soul. “Seems like a lot of trouble for such a tiny bit of energy.”

Bancroft fiddled with his glass, watching the red wine swirl. “The amount in the waves is tiny, but it can be used to great destruction. It's like the sun. In space where it belongs, it warms and protects, but even a half-second burst on earth is devastating.”

A sudden thought broke over me, and I sat up. Ellasbeth started at my quick motion, but Trent was smiling. “Newt!” I exclaimed. “That's what she was doing yesterday.”

“Ah . . .” Bancroft said as he and Landon exchanged worried glances. “Newt? She's the insane demon, right?”

“Not all the time. She was catching mystics,” I said, looking at Trent for confirmation. “Remember? Right before that last wave we got caught up in.”

“She was decidedly not!” Bancroft huffed.

“She was! I have some in a jar on my windowsill.”

Trent leaned across the table, almost shouting to be heard over Bancroft's loud and continuous denials that anyone could catch the Goddess in a
jar
. Lucy was right there with him, shouting and banging as she sat on Ellasbeth's lap. “You kept it?” he asked, his eyes alight.

“Duh. You think I'm going to trash anything Newt gives me? The woman is crazy, not stupid.”

Bancroft shut up when he realized no one was listening to him, and I gathered my hair back and let it go in thought. This had possibilities. “Do you think we can talk to the Goddess directly?” I asked, and Ellasbeth gasped. “Maybe tell her what's going on so she can maybe, I don't know, stop parts of herself from wandering off?”

Bancroft's face was white. “It would take a huge fraction of the Goddess's attention to even attract her awareness of you. You can't talk to her as if she was a . . . a . . . person. And you can't catch her in a jar!”

“Someone is,” I said, and the man put a hand to his chest, sputtering. “The same group of people pulling them out of my line,” I added. Trent glanced at Quen, and the man stood, quietly taking Ray and then Lucy. “Otherwise the mystics would be circling the globe.”

Bancroft stood, the cuffs of his robe shaking. “You cannot capture the Goddess! Who told you that?”

“A demon,” I said flatly, ignoring his conniption fit. I was tired of arguing with people who couldn't see over the edge of the box they lived in. “The FIB—a human-run institution—figured out how to monitor for the waves yesterday. It's how we got the misfires under control. Someone is collecting them.”

Spinning, Bancroft threw a hand up into the air. Beside me, Landon was still in thought. Trent was massaging his forehead, and Ellasbeth looked as if I'd spit on the Goddess, not offered up that she was real and touchable. My God. To actually talk to the divine?

But I'd already done that. I just hadn't believed.

“This is appalling,” Bancroft spouted, face red. “I do
not
have to tolerate this!”

Trent shot me a look as he stood, but had he seriously expected me to sit here with my mouth shut? “Bancroft. Please. Rachel's theories often draw on a multitude of practices—”

“They are outrageous and counterproductive!”

And they usually get the job done,
I thought, taking a sip of iced tea.

“And because of it, they have a tendency to appear outrageous, but they often lead to flexible solutions,” Trent finished. “Please. Nothing she's said is false. Don't end the discussion because you don't like it.”

I couldn't help but feel good that Trent had stuck up for me, but my smug smile vanished when Landon noticed it. Bancroft finally sat down, grumbling as he tugged his ceremonial robe straight while Trent opened a new bottle of wine and filled Bancroft's glass.

“Thank you,” Trent said, adding a drop to his own glass before giving me a tired look. “We've determined that the waves
are
attracted to Rachel. She's not a mystic magnet. It's simply because she made the line that they're escaping from and her aura resonates at the same frequency.”

Still Bancroft frowned, his arms over his chest as he refused to take the drink Trent had topped off. From inside, I could hear Lucy singing, loudly and off-key.

Trent met my eyes and looked away. “I suggest that there's a high likelihood that the Free Vampires knew that Rachel created the Loveland ley line, hence their choosing it and Cincinnati as their test case.”

Seeing Trent do his boardroom shuffle was kind of cool, and I tried to look more professional. “Which brings up something that you have all avoided like the emperor's new clothes. Would a vampire faction risk humanity freaking out and attacking
all
vampires just to further their belief that the undead existence is a blasphemy to the soul? The stuff the living are doing right now without the masters to curb them is as bad or worse than what the masters do themselves. I'm not buying it. Free Vampires are involved, but they don't know how to work with wild magic. Someone is helping them, and it's not the witches or demons.”

Bancroft took a long swallow of wine. He looked up, and I could see the first hints of inebriation in his rummy eyes. He was tired, and I couldn't tell what he was thinking as he played with the stem of his wineglass.

“Meaning . . .” Trent said into the silence, taking Ellasbeth's hand above the table and giving it a squeeze when she reached for him in worry.

“The elves would benefit greatly from an end to the vampires,” I said, point-blank.
And when diplomacy fails, you shoot first and run like hell.

Bancroft's gaze darkened. “I don't see that at all.”

“I do,” I said, and Trent shifted uncomfortably. “You're balanced on species recovery, and taking out the vampires would solidify your foothold tremendously.” I sipped my tea, ignoring Ellasbeth's shocked stare. “It's no secret you met the masters dollar for dollar in the economic arena when you were hiding and almost extinct. The undead worked hard to make the ‘almost' part go away on more than one occasion. The waves are putting those pesky witches in their place, too.”

Bancroft was incensed, sputtering like a boiling pot, but it was Landon's cool lack of expression that struck me as being dangerous.

“Rachel,” Trent said, caught off guard and trying to keep things together. “I'm a loud voice in elven matters. If it was us, I'd know it.”

Would he?
I wondered, looking at Ellasbeth's utter disregard and wondering if it was her hiding knowledge or simply her dislike for anything that came from me.

“Elves would gain nothing from an end to vampires,” Trent said with a light laugh, but it was for Bancroft and Landon, not me, and I could see a sudden concern trace like a ribbon of muddy water behind his eyes. The thought had occurred to him, too.

Fine.
Lips pressed, I pushed back from the table and crossed my arms. I'd aired my beliefs. Any disaster that happened from here out wouldn't be because I'd played it safe and kept my mouth shut. “Perhaps you're right,” I said sarcastically as Landon's grip on his wineglass tightened and Ellasbeth frowned at me to be polite.
Polite never saved anyone's ass.

“Rachel,” Landon said, voice low and coaxing . . . and raising every caution flag I'd ever had. “I'd be very curious to see one of these FIB devices in action. To be able to track the thoughts of the Goddess would be a marvelous step in finding out who is really responsible. If they are indeed trapping mystics, then all we have to do is follow the trail to where it ends.”

Oh, if it were only that easy. “You don't think the FIB tried that?”

“I have two,” Trent said suddenly, surprising me. “Edden asked me to put them on the outskirts of my property as part of their early detection.” His eyes went to Bancroft. “I'd be more than happy to show you how they work.”

“A pair?” Landon said, the scent of cinnamon growing stronger. “That's even better. With two, we can ascertain if Rachel's aura is glowing from repeated contact with the waves, or if she collects them simply walking about.”

“My aura is glowing?” I said, stiffening, and Trent raised a soothing hand.

“Not like when a wave hits you,” he said, but I didn't feel any better. “It's just got this silvery haze it usually doesn't.”

Bancroft squinted at me. “Has your aura always had that black sheen? Or did that come with the mystics as well?”

Nope. Still didn't feel any better. Ellasbeth made a little noise, telling me she hadn't noticed till now. I took a breath to comment, then smiled as I felt a soft expanding of my awareness. The ley line running through Trent's compound seemed brighter, more scintillating, and I exhaled as the chiming purity of the lines in the greater Ohio area became clearer. Bis was nearby.

“It came with membership to the demon collective,” I said, turning to the pool as, with the sound of sliding leather, Bis dropped out of the darkening sky, his red eyes wide and his pushed-in smile showing his black teeth. Ellasbeth gasped, and Bancroft choked on his drink. If the kid hadn't been smiling, I'd be worried. Jenks had probably told him I might need a jump home.

“Bis. Everything okay?” I asked as Landon rose, going around the table to crouch beside Bancroft as the man whispered something to make Trent unhappy.

“The Hollows and Cincinnati are locked down,” he said, eyes darting between the people behind me. “I came to jump you home when you're ready.”

I stood, wanting to introduce him. “Thanks. I think we're just about done here anyway.”

Bis made the short flight to my shoulder, his bird-light weight hitting me just as I erected a barrier around my mind so I wouldn't pass out from ley line overload. His lionlike tail wrapped round my back, tucking under my armpit for a secure hold that was a hundred times better than wrapping around my neck. He lifted his wings, touching their tips together in greeting as he looked at Trent, and the man smiled, helping Ellasbeth to her feet. “Mr. Kalamack. Ms. Ellasbeth,” he said with a formal stiffness, and Bancroft rose as well.

“Good to see you, Bis,” Trent said. “I'd like you to meet Bancroft and Landon. They study the Goddess.”

Bis nodded. “The lines are singing in step, but the music has changed,” he said, and Bancroft pressed close, intrigued. He could talk to any gargoyle if he cared to try, but getting them to talk back was harder.

Landon stuck out his hand, and the adolescent gargoyle giggled, ruining the solemn air as he carefully shook it. “Pleasure,” the younger man said. “Do you have some time? I've often wondered about the symbiotic relationship some of your people have with demons.”

I was kind of curious about that myself, but I was more concerned about getting home to Ivy. She was watching Nina like a hawk on cheese . . . or whatever.