Chapter 11

11

EVANGELINE

I t was hard to feel like you were setting off on an important quest when joggers kept passing you by. It was just past seven thirty, and as I headed to the spot where I'd told Gabriel to meet me, people in brightly colored athletic wear kept running past me, greeting each other with nods, waves, and the occasional breathless, "Hey!"

It was a bright, cool morning, with just enough of a breeze to send the clouds scudding across the sky. The northern entrance to the woods was a wide, friendly path that led to a handful of hiking trails. A few of them were easy enough to be popular with people looking for a decent morning jog, and there were plenty of people walking their dogs as well. I knew from experience that over the summer there would be flocks of little kids there, being herded down the paths by frazzled-looking camp counselors.

The stone archway was set off from the main path, surrounded by birch trees. It was old, and the weathered stones were overgrown with moss and vines. A few of the vines were sprouting delicate flowers with long, thin petals that were such a vibrant orange they almost didn't seem real.

The flowers were much better to focus on than my dream last night, which I was doing my best to not think about at all. And failing pretty badly. It would have been one thing if it had just been a simple sex dream. Gabriel was distractingly handsome, and if it had just been my brain throwing together the image of us in bed, I would've been embarrassed, but not, if I was being honest with myself, all that surprised.

But that wasn't what it had been. The version of Gabriel I'd dreamed up had pretty much been falling over himself to tell me how great I was. He'd seemed like the human—well, vampire—embodiment of the hand clench in the Pride and Prejudice movie Isabella and I watched together whenever one of us was having a real shitty day. Gabriel was hot, sure, but why would my subconscious dream up a version of him that was practically in love with me? I could barely admit to myself that I kind of enjoyed his company sometimes.

"You're early," said a familiar baritone.

I turned around to find Gabriel standing a few yards away, holding an incredibly ugly backpack.

"So are you," I pointed out. Then I processed what he was wearing and stared at him blankly. "Is that a tweed blazer?" It was made of dark green wool, with a large leather patch coming down over one shoulder.

Gabriel sniffed, tugging his blazer straight. "It's a shooting jacket," he said tightly. "It's intended for outdoorsmen."

"Right," I said. "Outdoorsmen. Okay. And the boots?" The boots were shiny black leather that came up to just below the knees.

"Riding boots," he said. "I had planned on getting myself a pair of hiking boots, but I thought that trying to break them in on a trip that's going to take multiple days would be unwise. And I used to go running through the woods in these, so…"

"Very practical," I said, biting the inside of my cheek to keep myself from grinning. "Thanks for dressing up for the occasion."

"Don't be absurd," Gabriel said, shaking his head a tiny bit. "I'm not even wearing a tie."

"Right, of course. Silly me." Something was off. Gabriel wasn't quite making eye contact. Every time I managed to catch his gaze directly, he looked away. I would've sworn the first time it happened, he flinched.

I'd spent a lot of my time over the past few years trying to get people to tell me things they didn't want to tell me, and there were two methods that worked best for me. One was silence. People got twitchy if there was too much quiet in a conversation, especially if I kept all my focus on them. They started to talk to fill the silence, and more often than not the thing they were trying their hardest not to think about was what popped out of their mouths. The other method was throwing a lot of spaghetti at the wall. Pulling someone into a conversation, keeping them talking until something slipped out. Gabriel struck me as the type who was used to silence, which left me with option number two.

"That bag is, uh… interesting," I said.

"I had to purchase some supplies for this expedition. The shopkeeper told me this bag was the ideal option for carrying them all. It shrinks down the objects placed inside."

"The shopkeeper told you that, huh?" I frowned. "And how much did you pay for that thing?"

Gabriel named a number, and I let out a startled laugh. His brow furrowed. I crouched and ran a hand over the surface of the backpack, letting the vibrations of the magic show me their shape. I looked up at Gabriel, and only then realized that I'd basically just knelt at his feet. He took a half-step backward, his purple eyes going wide.

"You got scammed," I said, getting to my feet. "The enchantment on this thing is a mess. That spell is fine for something stationary, but it's fragile. If you cast it on something that'll be jostled around, or something that might get damaged, it can get really bad really fast."

"Bad in what sense?" Gabriel asked.

"Bad in the sense that if this thing catches on a branch and tears a few stitches, everything inside it will return to its normal size all at once. Explosively."

I got the sense that if Gabriel had any blood flow to his face, he would've gone pale. As it was, he just grimaced slightly. "Ah," he said faintly. "I can see how that would be an issue."

"I've seen it happen," I told him. "Well, I've seen the aftermath. I had a case where a witch cast that spell on a bag, gave it to the person cheating on her, and then paid off someone to snip the fabric of the bag. And it was a fanny pack, so, you know, right around the…" I gestured vaguely at my own crotch, and Gabriel's grimace got much more pronounced.

"That seems, ah, effective," he said weakly.

"Very," I said. "The owners of the bar where it happened had to clean the ceiling."

"Yet another crisis that could have been averted by refusing to wear a fanny pack," Gabriel said, making it sound as though he was repeating some piece of sage advice. I laughed, and his grimace faded.

"Let's put all the stuff you packed in my bag," I said, holding out the bottomless tote. "Today's going to be long enough without worrying about exploding."

Once everything had been transferred over, Gabriel grabbed the bag before I could and slung it over his own shoulder.

"Let me," he said. "Vampiric strength, and all that."

One time I'd borrowed the tote to help with a move, and when I'd packed my entire apartment into it, it still weighed about five pounds. But, hey, if he was going to insist on being a gentleman, I would let him carry it.

"Come on," I said. "We should head out. We have a long way to go."

The path we took wasn't one the joggers and dog-walkers went for. It was heavily shadowed, with the trees growing close together. The markings on the birch bark made it look as though there were hundreds of ancient eyes staring down at us. Their leaves were turning, but instead of the fiery orange of most birch trees, they were golden yellow.

"That's odd," Gabriel murmured, brushing a hand along one thick trunk. "I thought this species of birch was extinct."

"You recognize these?" I asked.

Gabriel shrugged, still examining the tree. "When you live for hundreds of years, you tend to pick up a lot of hobbies. For a while, I was very interested in the study of forests. These are blind man's birch. The wood is an exceptionally good conduit for magic. Soothsayers would pay a fortune for a set of runes carved from these trees. The wood was used for magical prosthetics at first, but soon people began to use it for toys. Diversions for the rich and powerful. Dollhouses with dolls that would move on their own, carved dragons that would actually fly… that sort of thing. I'd thought that all the trees were gone."

His voice had taken on a wistful note. I watched him smile slightly to himself as he looked up at the golden canopy of leaves far above us.

"I'm glad I got to see these," he said, turning that small smile on me. "Thank you."

"I'm glad I got to have an impromptu history lesson."

The path grew more and more shadowy as we went deeper into the forest. The tall, straight blind man's birches gave way to twisty, dark-barked trees with tangled branches. The underbrush was thick and reached up so far it began to grow into the leaves of the trees. It felt as though a hedge maze had grown all on its own, making a twisting path through the forest.

"Careful," I said, grabbing Gabriel's arm just before his sleeve could snag on a thorn-covered branch. The muscle of his bicep was very solid beneath the soft wool of his jacket. His eyes flicked down to the spot where my hand was resting on his arm, and I let go like I'd been burned.

The landscape became more and more unwelcoming, with pathways through the brush that got narrower and narrower. I wasn't a very claustrophobic person, but anxiety crept up the back of my throat.

"Maybe we got turned around," I said. "We should backtrack."

Gabriel shook his head. "We're almost through," he told me firmly. "I can hear running water nearby, and once we find that we can follow it out of this part of the forest."

"You're sure about that?" I asked. "What if it's just a little stream or something? It might not even reach out of this area." My nervousness was getting worse as the pathways got narrower, and they were getting so small that we had to turn sideways to squeeze through.

Gabriel looked directly into my eyes for the first time that day. "Trust me," he said. "There should at least be some clear ground around the water, so yo—so we can catch our breath. If it doesn't lead us out, I'll climb a tree to see how far it is to more open ground, and if it's necessary then, we can make our own pathway out."

I took a deep breath and nodded. "All right. All right, fine. Lead us to the water."

We pushed our way through a few more twists and turns in the path. I could hear the water now, too, and it helped more than I would've expected. It reminded me that the horrible forest maze wasn't completely impossible to get out of, and that was a reminder I desperately needed just then. After what felt like about a million years, we finally broke through into open air. I gasped in a grateful breath, and the claustrophobia began to fade.

In front of us was a river of sparkling water so clear that I could make out every single pebble on the riverbed. The flickering, silvery shapes of tiny fish darted through, each one barely the length of my thumbnail. The bank was shallow, sloping down toward the water invitingly. Reeds grew along it in small clusters, and they were so brilliantly green that they looked like something from an over-edited photo.

"It's beautiful," I said, barely loud enough to be heard over the sound of the rushing water.

"It is," Gabriel agreed.

I watched the water flow. Something was bothering me—something slightly wrong about what I was seeing. I huffed out a quiet laugh when I realized what it was.

"The water's flowing uphill," I pointed out. "We're on the right path after all."

We followed the river. Around noon, we took a break at the riverbank, sitting on wide, flat rocks that had been baked warm by the sun. I made myself a sandwich with the supplies I'd packed, and Gabriel, who had insisted on taking a break, examined a mushroom colony he'd spotted. At first, I suspected he'd called a break so I could rest and have something to eat, and the mushrooms had just been an excuse, but when I'd polished off the second half of my chicken caprese, he was still studying them.

I watched him for a moment as I basked on the sunny rock like a lizard. He was wearing an expression of intense concentration, and it looked like he was taking measurements. His eyelashes were so long they cast soft shadows over the curve of his cheeks. I'd learned to pick up on some of his minute expressions, and what would have looked pretty stoic on someone else seemed like boyish excitement on him.

The more time I spent with Gabriel, the more I realized how clenched he usually seemed. Bit by bit, he'd start to relax, and then the next time I saw him it would be like he'd tightened right back up again. Maybe someday I'd be able to find the problem and work it out like a knot in a muscle. If we found the ascendancy array, I would owe him. That would be as good a way as any to settle my debt to him.

I took one last pull from my water bottle, then tucked it away in the tote. "We should probably get moving again," I said a little regretfully. It was beautiful here. "I want to make sure we find a decent spot to set up camp before it starts to get dark."

Gabriel glanced up from his mushrooms and nodded, looking quietly disappointed. I felt a weird little pang in my chest that I decided not to think about too much. He slung the bottomless tote over his shoulder, where the bright blue-and-yellow strap clashed horribly with the leather patch on his jacket, and we set off.

"So, what was so special about that mushroom?"

Gabriel's eyes lit up. "It's actually very fascinating. It looked like a Chorioactis geaster , but we're nowhere near their native habitat, and there was a pattern on the internal part of the fruiting body I've never seen before…"

Gabriel's mushroom facts actually wound up being pretty interesting, which was good because he had a lot of them. It turned out he knew way more about some of the plants witches used than I would have expected, and we passed at least an hour talking about the differences between spearmint and pennyroyal, and how they might change the effect of a potion or a charm.

"How the hell do you know so much about this?" I asked him.

Gabriel's mouth twisted. "I have a lot of free time to read."

"Even with all of your vampire prince stuff?"

The twist was getting close to being a full-blown scowl. "My position is… largely ceremonial," he said. "My parents are the ones with the real power, and unless one or both of them is killed, I'm mostly decorative. A reminder that their lineage will continue, and that they have an heir who's older than many of the other clan heads. It's mostly about pageantry."

"I don't know how you deal with it. If I had to put up with that sort of politics all the time, I'd lose my mind. There's a reason I spend most of my time researching and working on jobs."

"I've learned to live with it. But it's… Some days are easier than others."

The sound of rushing water was getting louder, and as we turned a bend in the river, I could see why. A glittering waterfall flowed up a cliff face. Droplets of water hung suspended in the air, catching the sunlight. Small, silvery fish darted up the waterfall. A frog saw us coming and jumped into the water with a splash. Tiny flowers covered the banks and grew up the cliff. Little dark berries hung from their twisting vines.

"Heyyy," called a voice. "Hey! Pretty people! Hello!" The voice was lovely, silvery, and bright, the sort you might hear from a socialite who made everyone they spoke to feel like they're old friends.

Gabriel and I both stopped short. The waters at the base of the fall parted like a curtain, and someone walked through them. They were tall, with silvery-blue skin and long white hair that cascaded down to their waist plastered to their skin. Every one of their long, elegant fingers sparkled with gems, and their pointed ears easily had a dozen earrings each. They wore sequined booty shorts and nothing else.

"Hello there," they purred. "It's been so long since I've had a visitor, and now two of you come along at once! You can call me Cardamom. May I have your names?" Their eyes were wide and black, their face perfect, utterly symmetrical and unblemished.

I smiled. "You can call me whatever you'd like." I knew better than to give my name to one of the fair folk.

"And you can call me anything as well," Gabriel said cautiously.

Cardamom pouted perfect lips. "No fun, no fun. So lovely to look at, but no fun at all to play with. Boring, pretty people."

"Why do you keep calling us that?" Gabriel asked.

"Because you're both so pretty!" Cardamom exclaimed. They clapped their hands, and a burst of sparkles rippled across the water. "Don't you think she's pretty, Morpgus?"

"Morpgus?" Gabriel repeated, baffled.

"You said I could call you anything," Cardamom said. "And I'm going to have fun with names one way or the other. Morpgus. Pissly. Trevor. Now, stop avoiding the question."

"The—" Gabriel cut himself off with a sigh. "I… Yes. I do think she's… pretty."

"All right," I muttered. "Don't strain yourself. You look like you're about to rupture something."

"Now wait a moment. Wait. Everybody wait!" Cardamom said, striding through the water. Their shape changed fluidly as they moved, sometimes tall, sometimes short. Sometimes there were scales or the suggestion of feathers, or just smooth, flawless skin. When they stood in front of us, they were about my height, covered with a scattering of fish scales that looked like glittering freckles, and bald-headed, with dark blue skin and silver eyes that matched their scales.

"I know you," Cardamom said, leaning in close to my face. They smelled like honey and decay. "You're the detective! Yes, yes, the detective who stole my baby!" They cheered, clapping their hands.

"I didn't—" I glanced at Gabriel, who looked absolutely shocked. "I didn't steal your baby. You stole the baby, and I got her back."

"You returned my poor darling baby to her dreadful, miserable, boring parents. They never took her anywhere interesting, you know," Cardamom said with a sniff.

"She was a newborn," I huffed. "They don't need to get out much."

"Still," the fairy said with a dismissive wave of their hand. "That awful nursery. So many matte surfaces. And pastels! Can you even imagine?" Cardamom shook their head, becoming short and willowy, with curly gray hair that reached the ground, long spiraling horns that dripped with jewelry, and darkly kohled eyes with startlingly golden irises. "Are you here to steal something else from me, Detective?" A tiny lightning bolt flashed in their cloud of hair.

"We aren't here to take anything from you," Gabriel said, quiet but firm. "We're just passing through. As soon as we find a path to the top of the cliff, we'll be out of your way."

"A path that my friend and I can take safely, without being changed in any way," I added. I knew from first-hand experience how easily the fair folk could twist your words.

Cardamom tapped their chin, gazing into space. "I might know a way. But can you afford the price?"

I reached into the bottomless tote, hoping something Marcus had left in there would be useful. The bag's magic pushed three things into my hands. Perfect. Fairies loved doing things in threes.

"I can offer you three gifts in payment for safe passage for the two of us," I said, trying to make my voice dramatic and tempting. Fae enjoyed that sort of thing, which was why so many who lived in the city were involved in the theater. I pulled the items out of the bag and laid them one by one on the mossy ground between the three of us.

First was a small camping radio, the sort with built-in solar panels. "This can play music for you. And it's waterproof, so you don't have to worry about, you know…" I waved a hand at the waterfall.

"This is to, uh, accentuate your beauty," I said, laying down a sheet of the same type of plastic stick-on gem earrings I'd gotten at the mall when I was five.

Cardamom gasped delightedly and clapped their hands.

"And this," I added gravely, laying down the last thing the bag had given me, "is a banana slicer." Why the hell did Marcus have a banana slicer? I'd ask him when I got back to town.

"All right, all right, you've convinced me," Cardamom said, making grabby hands at the banana slicer. "There's a ladder in the cave behind the falls. Now, get out of here. Can't you see that I'm busy?" They started putting the plastic gems on their face, losing all interest in us completely.

The cave behind the waterfall was small and absolutely full to bursting. It looked like a magpie and an insane aristocrat hoarder had decided to move in together, and then they'd robbed a Claire's. There were glittery baubles and scraps of fabric everywhere I looked covering the walls, hanging from the ceiling, piled on the floor. Of to one side was a row of old ladder rungs set into the stone. They'd been wrapped in faded silk scarves, dried flowers, and something that looked like a cobweb made out of tiny pearls. One of the rungs had a wind chime made of broken CDs hanging from it.

I climbed up, and Gabriel followed. When we reached the top, I pushed open an old metal hatch and clambered out into the late-afternoon sunlight. I walked over to the cliff's edge and looked down. Gabriel closed the hatch behind himself and padded after me. Cardamom was dancing wildly in the middle of the river, cradling the radio to their chest. I couldn't hear what they were listening to over the roar of the water.

"They seem happy with their haul," I said.

"I've never seen someone so excited about…" Gabriel cocked his head and closed his eyes for a moment, listening. "The traffic report."

We stared down at the dancing fairy for a moment. Eventually, Gabriel turned to me, looking puzzled.

"A banana slicer?" he asked.

I couldn't help it. I burst into giggles.

Gabriel stared at me, lips quirking, and then he began to smile properly. His laugh was deep, bright, and completely genuine. It just made me laugh harder. Gabriel was grinning so widely that his eyes had scrunched into happy little half-moons. I couldn't look away.