Tailtiu’s position caused the cat’s interest to focus on her with an air of quiet menace. The Cath Bawlg knew the others well, but she could easily sense the danger represented by the fae woman.

  “Evie, this is Tailtiu. She’s a friend—family, actually.” Seeing the shield around Emory and Sammy, he waved at them to dismiss it. “You both know Evie already. She’s just bigger at the moment.”

  Emory dropped the shield, his eyes never leaving the feline. Meanwhile Sammy’s initial reaction had already vanished, replaced by fascination as she stared up at the giant cat. “Evie? This is Evie?”

  Slowly shrinking, Evie was already down to the size of a brown bear, which simplified the introductions. It took several minutes for everyone to fully relax, except for Sammy, who had already begun making overtures toward the cat. As before, Evie allowed her a brief contact, but once Sammy started attempting to pet her, she moved away, circling to stand on the other side of Will.

  Will could see the disappointment in his cousin’s face, and he felt sad for her. She had been the goddamn cat’s favorite before his death, but she was now merely tolerated. Evie was not Mr. Mittens. He was grateful that Sammy didn’t know the relationship between Evie and her prior incarnation.

  Once things had settled down, Emory asked, “So, what do you want us to do?”

  “First, I’d like you to help me clear away the snow and ice. Evie and I started, but some help would be appreciated,” said Will. The cat, now her usual size, looked up at him and Will could almost imagine her thoughts: I did most of the work.

  Evie sat in the center, quietly observing them as they worked, and Tailtiu stood somewhat apart, also doing nothing. Will’s aunt knew little of human magic, and her wild talents were ill suited to melting ice. That left the bulk of the work up to the three wizards.

  Emory showed Sammy a simple spell for starting fires, one that converted turyn into flame that could be directed and sized according to the user’s input, and the three of them got to work. With the boundless energy of the ley line intersection beneath their feet, they didn’t lack for power; the job was merely an application of will, time, and attention to detail.

  Two hours later, the rest of the old platform was clear, and Sammy had already begun making her way up the stairs. Will noticed that at some point she had stopped using the spell she had learned and was now working with the available turyn in a more intuitive manner, converting it directly to heat and shaping the energy to just the places that needed it.

  Wild magic, thought Will. He’d done similar things during some of his early fights with sorcerers, but that had been mostly just redirection, taking offensive fire spells and returning them as an unfocused blast. As far as he knew, his cousin had never attempted wild magic before, and she was currently converting an entirely different type of turyn into the sort needed for heat and fire, then applying it where she wanted it to go.

  Emory had also noticed Sammy’s success and was attempting to emulate her. As a graduate of Wurthaven, the noble already had extensive experience with spells and spell theory, but wild magic was something that had never been encouraged. He managed to do something similar, but his efforts were much cruder. He saw Will looking at him and shrugged.

  Will wondered if Sammy’s prowess indicated a predilection for fire. It was far too soon to expect a greater talent to appear, but she clearly showed more control over the flames than her fellow student. Imitating her, Will found himself capable enough, but it took a lot of concentration and required more will than just using a spell. He could see that Sammy’s face was relaxed, her attention entirely on the stone steps in front of her as she slowly ascended. It’s definitely easier for her, thought Will.

  The sun was down, and the light was rapidly failing by the time they finished, so Will asked his students to take note of the circles before suggesting they retire for the day. “It will be more comfortable at Rimberlin. We can go over the plan and return in the morning to start setting up. It will be good practice for you.”

  “Practice for?” asked Sammy drowsily; the lids of her eyes were beginning to droop with fatigue. The work had taken more out of her than she realized.

  “I’ll explain at home,” said Will. “One of us needs to remain here so I can teleport us back tomorrow.” He looked at Tailtiu.

  “Me?” she asked. “I’m not spending the night here.”

  “The cold doesn’t bother you,” Will remarked.

  “What about the cat?” suggested his aunt. “She’s got plenty of fur.” Evie glared at the fae woman, and a growl rumbled from her tiny body. Rolling her eyes, Tailtiu quickly acquiesced. “Fine. Leave me behind. I won’t stay here, though. I’ll return at dawn. Look for me then.”

  With that settled, Will took them back to Rimberlin, making two trips: one for his passengers, and a second one for the moose. Although the sweetmeats were gone, and part of the body had been torn away, there were still at least a couple hundred pounds of good flesh that could be harvested. The cat hadn’t touched the head, forelegs, or shoulders.

  That necessitated some discussion with Jeremy, who had understandable questions. “Did a bear do this?” asked the cook.

  “Not exactly,” answered Will vaguely.

  They ate the meal Jeremy had already prepared while the puzzled chef butchered the moose and prepared some of it for use at breakfast. Then Will retired to his study with Sammy and Emory in tow.

  Chapter 37

  “Everyone in the house knows you’re here,” commented Sammy.

  “My whereabouts aren’t as important to hide anymore,” said Will. “I don’t want to confuse people in the city, of course, but as for the main enemy, he’s already caught on.”

  “What’s changed?” she asked, glancing over to see if Emory was paying attention. She wasn’t the only one who was sleepy.

  The young nobleman straightened up in his chair, then Will began to explain. The story of his meeting with Lognion brought them both to full wakefulness, though it could only hold their attention for so long. As he started getting into the details of what he had discussed with Aislinn, they were beginning to wilt once more.

  “Go to bed,” he told them.

  The next morning, he awoke feeling refreshed, though he had to remove Evie’s entirely too bushy tail from his face. After rinsing the hair out of his mouth and eating a quick breakfast, he met with Sammy and Emory again to finish explaining his plan.

  His cousin was enthusiastic in her support, but Emory had reservations. “Are you serious?”

  Will’s expression remained flat. “You’ve known me long enough already. You should expect such things.”

  The young nobleman shook his head, then ran his fingers through unruly brown hair. He hadn’t had time to use a comb, much less tie it back. “I’m not objecting, but it seems unreasonable to expect Samantha to participate.”

  Green eyes focused on Emory. “Why?” she asked calmly.

  Turning to her, Emory tried to sound reasonable. “He’s talking about magic on an entirely different level from what you’ve dealt with before. The complexity alone—I don’t even know if I can learn this in the time allowed, and the power involved—one mistake could burn you to ash.”

  Sammy tipped her head up in a gesture of confidence, then nodded toward Will. “He thinks I can do it.”

  Will hurried to correct Sammy’s statement. “I think the two of you can do it together.” Mentally, he added, I hope. Summoning his notes, he laid a large sheet of parchment across the top of his desk. “This is the primary layout for the runes, and you’ll become more familiar with them when I mark them out today for you to see.” His finger traced the circle, then tapped a point to one side. “The main pattern repeats, so it isn’t as hard to remember as you might think. Over here is where the blood key will be scribed.”

  Sammy nodded. “Simple enough.”

  The man sitting beside her seemed baffled by her confidence. “No, Samantha, it most decidedly is not simple. He’s talking about a gate. Such magic hasn’t been seen since—I don’t know when. No one has used magic like this since the Wayfarer Society went extinct. It requires a damned ley line just for the power needed to activate it, for Mother’s sake!”

  “Don’t swear at me,” she growled.

  Will intervened. “He isn’t wrong.” Emory looked at him with relief, while Sammy started to open her mouth in protest. “Wait!” Will held up one hand. “Listen to me, both of you. I don’t want you to do it as a simple spell invocation. With the circles and a tiny bit of extra preparation, you can do it as a ritual. That will make handling the power easier.”

  Emory glared at him. “I never studied ritual magic, aside from the brief explanations they gave us in Spell Theory, and that’s enough for me to know you can’t just wave your hand and make this a ritual. Are you suddenly an expert?” Seeing the two of them argue, Sammy’s own irritation faded, and she turned curious eyes toward her cousin to see what his response would be.

  “I’m not working alone,” Will responded. “We have an expert to make the changes and teach us how to perform the ritual.”

  “But you won’t be the one doing it,” reiterated Emory. “We will.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’d rather just do it myself and avoid making risky changes,” exclaimed the young noble. “I don’t know if I’m capable of it, but at least we can avoid risking Samantha.”

  The lady in question bristled at the remark. “I can help.”

  “As much as I love you, Samantha, you’re still a novice. I have confidence in your intelligence and future skills, but you aren’t ready for this, and I won’t see you hurt for no good reason!” declared the young wizard next to her.

  Will blinked, and Sammy went still for a moment, then asked, “What did you say?”

  “It’s the truth. You are still a novice. I won’t apologize for the truth when a lie could kill you,” said Emory earnestly.

  His cousin was still processing what she’d heard, so Will intervened. “A ritual, properly designed, will be easier and Sammy can play her part perfectly well without advanced knowledge. She can serve as a conduit while you manipulate the currents. Besides, we need her or it won’t work.”

  “Why?” demanded Emory.

  Pointing at the parchment, Will answered, “The blood key; without her blood, the gate won’t have a destination.”

  “Your teleport spell doesn’t need blood,” argued Emory, “and you’re planning to do the same thing as a spell without blood. Why do you need it for this, and why hers?”

  Sighing, Will tried to explain, “I’m astrally sensitive. Most people require a beacon or line of sight to teleport. I’ve been using my connection to those who are closest to me.”

  Unfazed, Emory asked, “You’re telling me you have a bond with a demon?”

  “No, but I’ll have a beacon to use; you won’t. Sammy’s blood will serve that purpose.”

  “How?” The young noble was clearly exasperated.

  Will pointed at himself. “Neither of you are astrally sensitive, so Sammy can’t use our connection, but we do share blood in common. You’re going to open the gate for me. If you don’t, I’ll be trapped.”

  “You’ll be in hell?” asked Emory.

  Will nodded.

  Sammy lifted one hand. “Are we done debating this?” Emory stared at her, but Will simply nodded. She turned to her cousin. “Can we have a moment alone?” Emory started to rise, but Sammy took his hand. “Not you.”

  Will was already making his way toward the door, though he paused a moment to smirk at Emory, who clearly believed he was in trouble. As he shut the door Will could hear Emory’s defense beginning. “I wasn’t trying to insult you—”

  “Shhh,” Sammy cut Emory’s protest short with a gentle finger against his lips. “We need to talk about what you said a minute ago. You said something I wasn’t expecting, so a little clarification is required to avoid any misunderstandings.”

  Will spent some time with Blake and Jeremy, letting them know when they would likely return as well as packing a filling lunch for everyone. When Emory and Sammy reappeared half an hour later, they both seemed calm for the most part, though the young nobleman had obviously received a shock of some sort.

  “Are we ready?” asked Sammy, trying slightly too hard to sound relaxed.

  “Almost,” said Will. “I forgot one thing.” He led them back up to the study and spent another half an hour giving each of them the limnthal they had earned, apologizing as he did so. “I should have done this weeks ago, once I was sure you’d completed the third compression, but…” Will held his hands out to either side.

  “You’ve been a little busy,” agreed Sammy.

  He had already finished his explanation of the spell, so he handed over copies of the rune construct for them to keep. “Add these to your journals so you can do the same for your students someday.” When he saw the expression of dismay on Sammy’s face, he added, “No one expects you to be able to cast something like this today, but you will, years from now. Of that I have no doubt. Before we leave, you should both go find your books and journals and store them. The same goes for anything else you want to make sure you never lose.”

  “How much can it hold?” asked Emory.

  Will shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure. I’ve reached the limit before, but I never got around to doing any rigorous testing. It’s somewhere close to the size of this study or perhaps a little larger. I keep all sorts of things in mine: spare clothes, weapons, armor, water jars, food, potion vials, blankets—you get the idea.” Alchemical fire, a desiccated vampire, barrels of wine and troll piss, he added mentally. Not to mention enough raw meat, butter, herbs, and other food stuffs to prepare a dozen feasts. He reminded himself he needed to reexamine the foods he had stored since he no longer had the need for so much. Jeremy would be delighted by some of the cuts of lamb and beef Will could offer him.

  Another half hour passed before the two returned and signaled their readiness. Without further ado, Will teleported them, along with Evie, back to where Tailtiu waited. Will’s aunt seemed mildly irritated.

  “Dawn was hours ago,” she groused.

  Emory responded, “Our preparations took longer than expected.”

  Cocking her hip to one side, the fae woman replied, “Perhaps you could make it up to me.”

  At that point Will expected something different, but Emory gave Sammy a strange look without saying anything, to which she responded by gesturing toward Tailtiu. “By all means. No one is stopping you.”

  Tailtiu licked her lips and took a step forward before Will intervened. “That was a jest. Remember, friends, not food.”

  His aunt looked up at him, then winked. “I knew that. I was only going to tease them.” Tailtiu’s eyes conveyed a sense of weariness. “I’m not the same as I once was, but I am hungry.”

  Will took a moment to look at his aunt, to really look at her, and realized he’d let his old assumptions cloud his vision. Being fae, she had always been perfect and without fault, physically unchanged despite anything that might have happened to her previously. Beneath her eyes were dark circles, and on her shoulders were unusual marks. If she had been human, he would have thought them to be signs of tissue damage, slow-healing bruises. “What’s this?” he asked, pressing one hand against her shoulder blade.

  Tailtiu winced slightly. “Nothing. A sore place.”

  “When did you get it?” When she didn’t answer he repeated the question. “When?”

  “At the party, the day you went wild and killed all those people.” She grinned as though he would find her remark funny.

  He ignored the terrible attempt at humor. “Why haven’t you finished healing?” In the past, only a day or two had been required, even for the most grievous of wounds.

  “It takes longer now,” his aunt replied.

  Will nodded. “A lot longer, apparently. You’ve been home, in the fae realm?”

  “Yes. It just doesn’t help much anymore. Feeding would probably help, but…” Her words trailed off.

  “You aren’t part of the accord. You were excluded since it wouldn’t bind you anyway. You know that.” Will hadn’t wanted to think about it too closely, since he’d feared Tailtiu might be secretly murdering people as she had previously done.

  She shook her head. “Remember Dinner?”

  It took him a second, but then he did. She’d adopted a puppy and named it Dinner to annoy Tiny. Elthas, her late step-father, had crushed the animal in front of her during his final confrontation with Will at the end of the war. Frowning, Will asked, “I’m confused. You never really fed on animals anyway.”

  Tailtiu rubbed at her eyes. “Dinner was mortal. Human or dog, it never really mattered to me before. I tried really hard to make sure he stayed mortal after your warnings. I didn’t keep him in my world. After—after what happened, I just didn’t want to do it anymore.”

  He thought he understood, but he had to ask to be sure. “Do what?”

  “Eat people.”

  Her head was down now, hiding her face beneath the cascade of her hair. Will looked around to see everyone watching them and felt a sudden urge to protect her from their eyes. Tailtiu had never learned embarrassment, but he felt it for her. Without a word, he raised a force-dome, using a variation that was opaque to give them privacy.

  His aunt seemed surprised. “What are you doing?”

  The fae didn’t need food; their plane supplied them with everything they needed to survive, vitality, energy, and healing when they were injured. If trapped in the human world, they would slowly starve, unless they fed on the vital energies of mortals. They weren’t equipped to absorb turyn from any other sources. If Tailtiu was no longer receiving the usual blessings of her home, she had only one alternative, one she had been refusing to partake in.

  Opening his arms, Will invited her in. “Come here.”