Border, KS

“And then there is the scary red one with yellow circles around the border.” Lacey finally finished her accounting of all the unexplained doors she knew of in Border.

“I think they’re the moon or planets, because it looks like they have phases. And it’s yellow for a reason—I think it might be Venus?” Monica filled in with a shrug. “That one is near a dance club that’s been around since the nineties called ‘Hope’.”

“So that’s five.” Antigone held up a hand as if to demonstrate, all of the fingers extended. “Five spooky doors in town, and no one knows where they go.”

“Because they’re locked.” Siobhan added thoughtfully. “Except when they’re not, and they decide to terrify innocent schoolgirls.” She said, glancing back down in to the school as if she could see from the roof to the basement and the door contained within it.

Lacey snorted and then giggled, and Monica just smirked. “Well kind of. You set a record, Annie—you saw a door open.” The blond girl said with a grin. “We’ve never seen that happen before.”

“Does anyone in town know anything else about them?” Antigone asked curiously, shaking her head. “This town is too freaky and there is too much weird crap going on for me to be the only one who knows about them.”

Monica shrugged. “If there is they aren’t making a big deal about it, so I can’t think of any. It isn’t exactly something you talk about, you know?” She laughs. “I know if I had ever had one of them open for me and take me to hell or whatever, I wouldn’t tell anyone about it afterword.”

Lacey blinked at that, considering the taller girl. “Would you be able to tell anyone if you’d been dragged down to hell? Do Satan’s play-things get cell phones, or do you think Skype works down there?” She asked, and then laughed when she was shoved by her friend. “I’m just trying to think about logistics, you know. My dad’s an attorney, and he says there is a case where a man sued Satan but the judge threw it out because they didn’t know how to get the lawsuit down to him.”

“I’d have thought we had ways of getting people down to serve process,” Siobhan pointed out, “I’m just not sure we know how to get someone back afterword.” They all laughed at that, and then sighed as they considered the school.

“We shouldn’t try to open them.” Siobhan said, drawing a raised eyebrow from Antigone. “I can be sensible from time to time, you know. I’m not saying we’re not going to try, just that we shouldn’t. Someone needs to say it, so that the record can accurately reflect we knew we were being dumb.” She sighed, looking out over the city, and the school bustling beneath them. “At this point we’re just skipping first period, right?”

“Yeah, who needs math, right?” Antigone offered with a little bit of a grin. “Not like we’ll ever use it or anything.” She offered, sighing. “The roof is the oddest place I think I’ve ever ditched.”

Now it was Siobhan’s turn to snort. “You only ditch when you think it’s expected, or you’ll keep up a reputation.” Lacey and Monica both raised eyebrows, and then shared a look as they ran through the record in their heads.

“You know she’s right. You’ve never suggested it, and you’re the one who knows exactly how many days we’ve missed.” Monica pointed out. “So as long as we’re spilling secrets—why?” She asked, her dark eyes peering at Antigone like they could probe the depths of her soul. And Antigone thought that Monica might just be able to, if she put her mind to it.

Antigone glared at Siobhan before she sighed and leaned back, shaking her head and staring up at the sky. “I…” She began before she trailed off. She quirked an eyebrow up and looked at the three of them, as if hoping they would let her get away with just that. When no one said anything else she sighed, and went back to staring at the sky. “I want to fit in, that’s all.” She explained, kicking her legs a little bit. “I never seem to make it, I never seem to get it right. I’m always just a little bit off, always just a little bit weird and on the outside. And I hate it, and I want to make it work this time.”

Lacey laughed at the explanation, smiling at the younger woman who had become a friend and confidante.. “Have you ever thought that maybe there is something to being cool that is effortless? Like…confidence in yourself?”

“Well…maybe, but if you’re too confident then you’re a bitch, and if you’re not confident enough you’re a doormat. So everyone does a balancing act.” She responded. “Or have you never been called a ball buster, Monica?” Antigone asked. When Monica laughed and nodded in confirmation. “Everyone makes the calculations I do. Even people trying to consider how much black to put on without a little bit of color. I’m just more honest about it.” She offered. “At least with my sister. Or I was honest until now.”

Morgan reached over to a squeeze Antigone’s shoulder a little bit. “Yeah, you’re a little bit neurotic about it, but you aren’t wrong. Everybody has to make those kinds of considerations, especially women. But you’ve made at least two friends here, and we like you for the person that you are underneath all the concerns. Kind, and loyal, and quick thinking under pressure. There is a lesson there, although we’re not expecting you to have that much personal development so quickly—have to save something for graduation speeches. Wouldn’t want to take that from you.” They all laughed again and sighed.

“Things are going to be weird and scary for a long time, aren’t they?” Siobhan asked. “I mean even after Dad and Morgan and Tania deal with all of this Faerie crap—do you get the feeling that things can’t possibly get less messed up after that, no matter how it shakes down, just keep getting more weird?”

No one agreed with her outright, but in the companionable silence on the roof that morning, no one spoke up to contradict her either.

Walter leaned back in his chair, considering that proclamation seriously for several long moments. After maybe thirty seconds, he shook his head. “No, I don’t buy it.” He said with a shrug.

“It wasn’t an offer.” Morgan said seriously. “It wasn’t a debate—you want information. We can give you some on this, but if I bring you in to the…fullness of everything then you are going to be in danger.”

Walter nodded, as if he were considering the point. “And I’m not in danger right now?” He asked seriously. “Right now I don’t have people fairly regularly trying to kill me? Because the number of stitches in my last twelve months rivals some pretty intense periods of my life.”

Tania shook her head now somewhat aggressively. “There is a qualitative difference in the danger to your person if we start telling you about the dark and dangerous things in the world.” She said, and for once she seemed genuinely concerned for Walter. “You have two daughters and a son, Walter; and you were of woman born, so you have some family who presumably can at least stand you. We’ve seen good people die for half the information you have now.”

“Trust me, I get that. You don’t think they worry about that kind of thing the more classified information you know? There’s a reason they teach us survival, resistance, and evasion.” Walter sighed. “I know it’s a danger.” He conceded, waving his hand to quiet the rest of the room down as all three—including Ryan—wanted to interrupt. “But Andre told me something interesting right after my first Three Stripes killing. Border is the unsolved murder capital of the United States. And you know how many of those have been cops?”

No one responded for a long moment. “A lot?” Ryan supplied helpfully.

“We are also the unsolved crimes against police capital of the world, it turns out.” Walter confirmed with a nod. “Honest to God, I am in danger tomorrow walking down the street just minding my own business. The veil of ignorance is no protection in Border, Kansas.” Walter leaned forward. “And that is completely ignoring the fact that, and I cannot believe I am having to say this again, but my children are in danger on a regular basis, and that is unacceptable.” No one had any response to that. “How many people on the police force are clued in to what is really going on here? Ballpark it for me, those people with at least a big chunk of information.”

“Those people with a big chunk of information?” Morgan considered. “Inclusive of the people who have now been brought in on what we are, and who is really beind the Three Stripes killings?” When Walter nodded, she thought for a moment. “Let me see. Carry the one, move the digit, uh…four.”

“Four?” Walter parroted, stunned. “Four people? Including me?”

“Well yes. Siobhan and Antigone are not on the police payroll unless you’ve snuck something past accounting, and I am technically a county employee in my capacity as medical examiner.” Morgan explained. “So that leaves you, William and Andre Alexander, and Leah Silverman. Some other people might have bits and pieces, but there is no one else conclusively in the know.”

Walter shook his head and leaned back against the chair, tipping it back for a moment before letting it settle. “That’s mind-boggling and irresponsible.”

“It’s the only way for them to be safe, for us to be safe, and for the city to be safe.” Tania leaned in as Walter leaned back, leaving them staring each other much more in the face. “There is a very tenuous bond that keeps the shadows and wild places of the world from outright terrorizing the human population with their predations. More than they do, rather. And that is secrecy; none of us run to the humans and tell them what goes bump in the night, and we all keep about our business as best we can.”

Walter wasn’t too ashamed to admit that the intensity of Tania’s gaze leaned him back, and he tried to cover it by crossing his legs like he had planned to do it from the beginning, all a part of a cunning master plan. “It isn’t working. I dont know about you, but I feel predated upon.” His words were light but his tone grew in heat. “We are not safe, and you are not keeping us that way. So if that was your goal, congratulations—it isn’t working. Police go missing, men and women go missing, and children go missing. I probably can’t change all of it, but I damn well want to. And I want to make sure that the people who are supposed to protect the people of this crazy ass little town know what they’re doing.”

“So that every new officer, or corporal looking for a buck up, can try to beg a Jianshi to make a name for themselves?” Morgan asked, equally heated. “Because I guarantee you that is going to be what happens sometimes, and then we’re going to have to deal with the fact that we put him there.”

The room fell in to a tense quiet as the four people in it considered one another. They were weighing words, both those that had been said and the ones that they wanted to say next. Finally Morgan spoke up again. “And it isn’t your call. This is what we have worked out with every Marshal of Border since the town was founded, and it is the agreement we have with Marshal Alexander.”

“It is not my call.” Walter agreed, sighing. “But I want it noted on the record that I think it is bullshit.”

“Ryan?” Tania said, looking to the man.

“So noted.” Ryan intoned seriously.

Walter was quiet again for a moment before he looked to Morgan with a raised eyebrow. “Jiangshi?” He asked.

“Chinese hopping vampire.” Morgan explained. “Repelled by fire, a roster’s crow, mirrors, and vinegar. As dangerous as it is silly, and it is very, very silly.”

“And that’s seriously a thing that exists that I have to worry about?” He asked.

“We had a Jiangshi in…1994?” She raised an eyebrow, and looked to Tania who nodded in confirmation. “Chinese diplomat ended up with one in his retinue, it ended up roaming from where it was in Kansas City. There is so much here that you need to be scared of, and even we can’t tell you everything. The dark is ever changing, the wild ever growing, and this town too important to be guarded by the uninformed.” Tania blinked as she started off so strong and normal, and then veered in to that.

“What?” She sputtered.

“We will tell him.” Morgan said with a serious look to her sister. “Tell him some, not everything…but he is right. And maybe we can stop having this conversation if we tell him just a little bit more.”

“So let’s get to it.” Walter said, jumping in before Tania could try to change her mind.

BEGIN CHAPTER 11: PLANS

“I’m sorry M, but among other things I am a goddess of lust. I am as I was born to be.” Tania proclaimed breezily as she walked out of Morgan’s palatial shower wearing one of her bath robes, followed by Ryan Aquino. Walter’s brother-in-law had been the other of the two people caught in flagrante, and he at least had the decency to look suitably embarrassed as he stepped out of the shower, and started toweling himself off. “And come on.” Tania said, gesturing to the handsome man. He made Walter, who was in exceptional shape, look like he had been slacking off.

“Sure.” Morgan allowed with a nod. Her exterior was serene, but her eyes were roiling with anger. It was like watching a snow covered volcano begin to smoke, and knowing all the ice and snow would soon boil away in the inferno. “And, among other things, I’m a goddess of death. And that was my new couch. To which a bucket of Febreeze will be applied or, with God as my witness, I will reupholster it with your hides.”

Tania looked like she was going to argue until she fully saw the look on Morgan’s face. The red haired woman sighed at the serious waves of displeasure her sister was sending her, and looked away to wrap the towel around her head for her hair. “We’ll take care of it.”

“Also you’ve known him since he was born.” Morgan said, looking over to Ryan now who was doing his best to look like a particularly athletic ghost. He offered a weak smile.

“Yes, but fortunately he’s long since legal now and able to make whatever bad decisions he wants.” Tania pointed out with a shrug that indicated how bothered she was by that fact. “An age disparity is an age disparity, doesn’t matter if I changed his diapers.”

Morgan just shook her head, and sighed. She looked over to Walter for support, but he was forced to shrug. “Not a problem I’ve ever had to deal with, honestly. I didn’t marry anyone I’d known in childhood. Do women just instinctively know how to make the hair turban thing on a genetic level, or are there secret meetings?” He asked curiously. “I swear my daughters were born knowing how to do it, and the one time they had me try to do it I nearly hanged myself on accident.”

Tania gave a grin. “Magic.” She offered, which only drew a grumble from Walter. Unlike Ryan, who was unobtrusively pulling back on his pants and shirt, Tania walked over to sit down on the couch that Walter had to now call ‘broken in’ wearing nothing but the robe. “So what brought you in here blustering so rudely?”

“It’s. My. House.” Morgan responded angrily, stalking over to the only part of the apartment that wasn’t in a more modern style. It was an over-stuffed leather armchair that looked like it had survived many loving years, and she sat down in it angrily. “I cannot bluster, rudely or not, in to my own damn house. I never should have given you the key! Not like it would stop you. What was wrong with your own apartment?”

“I was watering your ficus, and I didn’t want to have sex on my own couch?” Tania said with an artless shrug. “Then I’d have to clean it.

“I am going to kill you one of these days.” Morgan grumbled, kicking off her shoes before she tucked her legs underneath her on the chair. “Your unlawful carnal knowledge distracted me from the reason I’m here. The Earl talked, and we know what Daddy dear is going to do.”

“And?” Tania motioned with her hand, as Walter pulled over chairs for both himself and Ryan once the other man was clothed. “I was supposed to be the dramatic one.” Tania offered with a roll of her eyes.

“He’s going to try to merge Border and Faerie, because if he changes the boundaries of Faerie he can go back in.” Morgan said, her voice losing some of the frostiness it had taken on since she had found her sister

“That will…” Tania said, her mouth moving as her brain raced ahead down the same highways of terror that Morgan’s had earlier. “Kill a rather significant amount of people. Probably in two states, not including the number of people in Faerie it would kill. Like…I think the only reasonable unit of measurement for it is milli-Stalins.” She sounded aghast and a little bit stunned, as if she was still taking in the breadth of his plan. “That’s what all the stolen artifacts is for—he’s going to crack them like eggs and use their power to screw with reality. So it has to be on the solstice.” She looked to Morgan for confirmation, which she received in a nod from her sister. “Jesus Christ.”

“That’s the first time I think I’ve heard either of you curse like a normal person since you told us about your past.” Walter said, choosing a more tactful turn of phrase than ‘Told us what you are’. “What’s the blight? And why is it so important for it to be the solstice?” He then paused for a moment, cocking his head to the side and considering. “And why is it my life has been reduced to ‘idiot mortal asking questions?’” He finished with a scowl and a shake of his head.

“Well let’s go in reverse order.” Tania offered with a charming and false smile. “Because that’s what you are, because it’s magic, and if we told you that your life would be in incredible danger. So I’m all for it.” She offered with a raised eyebrow to Morgan.

“Walter…I know you’ve been asking for a brief on everything creepy and dark in the world, but there’s a reason why we can’t give that.” Morgan said seriously, scowling again at her sister. “Right now you know a little bit about Faeries. Assuming we win and there’s anything left of either Faerie or Border, then you can go back to not knowing anything and no one will want to kill you because of what you know. Or torture you to find out what you know. The more you know about our world, the more likely some faction you’ve never even heard of will shank you in a dark alley.” Her voice was steady, even, and as completely serious as if she was describing the wounds on a corpse.

Walter didn’t actually catch up to Morgan until she got to the sidewalk outside of the Police headquarters. He had to jog the last little bit in order to do it, as she was putting on a lot of speed as she got out of the building.

“Where are you going?” He finally managed to ask as he caught up to her, before he finally noticed that they were walking toward her BMW, which she had creatively parked in front of the building in a handicapped spot. “I would have gotten fourteen tickets by now, incidentally, and I am a police officer.”

“Tania. Ryan. People who I can talk to in short, clipped sentences and they’ll just know what I mean.” Morgan said as she opened the door to the BMW and slid in. “Coming?” She asked then, looking over to him.

“I’m surprised you didn’t just Dukes of Hazzard in through the window.” Walter offered as he slid in to the passenger seat. “And I will require, as part of my ditching work to come along as you explain what the hell is going on, a translator for your short and terse sentences.”

Morgan didn’t answer him so much as she put the car into gear and then proceeded to violate several speeding laws. Walter would also swear that she violated several laws of physics as she swerved around cars and fit in spaces that she shouldn’t have been able to, but he decided he would only investigate that if they actually ever parked safely.

“Where the hell do you actually live?” Walter asked after some long moments of driving that didn’t seem to be going any one direction in particular. “Arkansas?”

“Spenser Gardens.” Morgan explained as she whipped across a double yellow line, going fifty in a thirty and around two passing cargo vans and a tractor, and then back in to her lane—while passing a cop car. No lights, no sirens, no movement from the Crown Vic.

“You know what? Now, I’m beginning to believe in magic, because there is no way you did that without Satan’s help.” Walter said as he surreptitiously reached up to grab the handlebar above the door that he had long ago learned was the ‘Oh Jesus’ bar.

“Now you believe.” Morgan said with a smirk as she came around a hill, toward an expensive looking condominium that Walter had never seen before in his life. “Spenser Gardens is the condominium counterpart to the Spenser Hills. It’s rich people homes for people who like views instead of backyards.” She explained as she pulled up to a very ornate but obviously back gate, and rolled down the window to enter a code at the keypad. “Now I just want you to breathe deeply, because the people here are ridiculously rich—and like the ridiculously wealthy they live a very different life.”

The gate swung open, and Morgan showed that she had as little disregard for the lives of her neighbors as she did for the passing citizenry by roaring in. “Very different, and very stupid.” She said as she pulled in to the complex. It was made up of two tall buildings that he had only seen in the distance—or at least tall for Border, pushing six stories each. As they drove along they passed a woman who had a large dog on a leash, which had a smaller dog on a leash attached to it.

“Did that woman’s dog have a dog?” Walter said, a little bit stunned by the sight that had just whizzed by his window. “Why would…” He trailed off.

“Does your dog not have a dog?” Morgan asked, her voice a little bit shocked. “Then what does your dog walk?” She said curiously. When he just gaped she grinned, reaching out to squeeze his cheek. “You’re so cute!”

“Both hands on the wheel, Nascar.” Walter said suddenly as they took a turn very quickly and she pulled her car into a covered, numbered parking spot. The car stopped with a smoothness he wouldn’t have assumed possible with its’ velocity, and he pulled himself out. “I think my kidneys are liquefied, so we might need to look at that. I don’t need those, right?”

“Entirely optional.” Morgan said as she slid out of the car gracefully, and locked it with her remote. They started walking quickly toward the building. “If you are a hagfish or a lamprey. They have fairly simple ones, you might be able to get by if you’re just an exceptionally well dressed slime eel.” She offered as they walked through the door.

“Well, I’ve been called worse.” Walter offered as they went through a very well appointed entry way. It almost looked like a lounge, and he actually did see what looked like a small restaurant off to one side.

“It’s the country club restaurant.” Morgan explained. “We’re on the other side of the golf course from Spenser Hills, and we have the restaurant. Makes it easier to wander down and have a couple of drinks when I’m out of things in the refrigerator.”

“Is now when you tell me about the powers of compound interest, and how it is in fact the most powerful force in the universe?” He asked as they made their way over to the elevators, and Morgan depressed the up button.

“You know it’s undetermined whether or not Einstein actually said that?” Morgan asked. “And before you ask no, I did not meet him. Not every immortal has known everyone impressive or fought in every war.” She said. The doors swung open to reveal an elevator with dark wood and a stainless steel bar running around the inside.

“Did you fight in any wars?” Walter asked as he leaned in against the door, and Morgan pulled out a key-card. Swiping it, she hit the button for the penthouse.

“Kind of. You know I actually am a doctor, right?” She asked. “I’ve been healing people for longer than this country has been…well, a country.” There were another few moments of silence as the elevator went through a stately rise to the penthouse.

“So Tania…” Walter said after a beat.

Morgan smirked. “Has the penthouse in the other tower. I’ve been investing in high quality, illegally modified Nerf guns to try to peg her when she is on her balcony.” Morgan revealed with a wiggle of her eyebrows and a smirk. The door opened and the two of them walked into a large sitting room decorated in a sleek and modern fashion, in which two people were having vigorous and enthusiastically loud sex.

END OF CHAPTER 10

“You can’t destroy Border.” Morgan answered simply, shaking her head. “It’s fixed, it has to be. You might as well talk about destroying continents, or Faerie itself. I’m not saying you’re lying,” She allowed with a wave of her hand, “But that doesn’t mean it’s actually possible.”

The Earl shook his head slowly. “I wouldn’t have thought it was possible either, your Majesty.” He agreed, and Walter had to blink and shake his head at the use of the unfamiliar title. It didn’t seem to fit in a room that was still fairly mundane, despite the mostly exploded table and all of the other weird things he had seen in the Border Police Department.

“Is a Faerie Queen a Majesty?” Walter asked wryly. “I’m surprised the title isn’t ‘Serene Highness’ or ‘Most Radiant Queen’.” He offered with a grin toward her. Morgan simply quirked an eyebrow at him, hiding her smirk as she shrugged.

“Maybe we can expand my titles when we get back, although I seem to remember that even I was bored when they read all my silly titles.” Morgan responded, before she looked back to the Earl. “So how is it that father dearest expects that he can destroy the Border?”

Walter noted her use of the definite article in the sentence again, and filed it away to discuss later. His file to discuss later, he thought, was getting impressively long. And some day, he thought wryly, I’ll have all the answers I want. And unicorns will fly out of the sky and take me to freedom. That caused him to snort, which drew looks from both the Earl and Morgan. “Nothing. You were saying?”

The Earl looked like he was going to sneer, but then he looked back to Morgan and apparently decided better of it. “Ki…er…Oberon,” he corrected on the fly, “Believes you’ve denied him his birthright by banishing him from Faerie. Regardless of whether he is right,” He said, holding up a hand to forestall an obvious argument coming from Morgan, “that is what he believes. And more than anything, besides punishing his daughters, he wants to re-enter the lands of his birth.”

“He did,” Morgan pointed out wryly, “Wage a war to that effect. We rather suspected that it was the case. But how does he expect to do it? He has been banished from the borders, exiled from the entrances, sent from the seas, et cetera et cetera.” She said in her best Yul Brynner. “It was a very thorough invocation, precisely because we didn’t want him to be able to come back in. If we were binding it in our blood and bone then we wanted to make damn sure it worked.”

The Earl nodded with a sigh. “Yes, I’m aware of that. Trust me, we looked for loopholes for a very long time, your Majesty—it was properly thorough. I always respected that.” He pointed out self-servingly. Morgan did not smile or look proud, instead continuing to stare at him evenly in an an increasingly awkward silence until he continued. “But he believes he found the way.”

“And?” Walter prompted. The Earl glared at him, and Walter gave him his best ‘go screw yourself’ smile. “Cut the theatrics, or I and any constitutional protections we’ve decided you have walk out the door, and I let Morgan relieve some frustration.”

The Earl looked like he was torn between glaring and terror, and settled for glarror where he tried to manage both and failed miserably. He wilted a little bit as he looked at Morgan. “You’ve banished him from every corner of Faerie, so he plans to try to move Faerie. If he moves Faerie, then the corners you’ve banished him from no longer exist. And he will be free.”

Morgan stared at him once again in silence, but this time it was shock rather than anger or an interrogation technique. She radiated disbelief, as if she was trying to come up with the words for how insane that was. Walter didn’t know if it was insane, of course, because he had next to no idea what they were actually talking about.

“That’s impossible.” Morgan manage to settle on after a little bit. Almost immediately she gave Walter a glare, to keep him from saying anything about a Faerie Queen declaring something impossible. “That can’t be done. Faerie is fixed, relative to the Border—and the Border is a fixed space that defines the territories around it. It is bound…” She trailed off, as her mind ran ahead and she thought through different variables.

“It is bound, your Majesty.” The Earl emphasized. “Faerie controls the Border and vice versa, and you know that because you made it so. Of all the realms, it is most closely tied to ours—and that tie goes both ways.” The Earl explained. “As one is set, so is the other. As one is malleable, so is the other.”

Morgan stared at him in horror, and then stood up quickly. “Damn him, damn him to the Blight and back!” She cursed angrily, storming toward the door. “He’s more insane than I thought if he thinks he can make it work, and either way it will kill hundreds of thousands of people. Humans, and our people alike!” She almost shouted now as she moved to tear the door open.

Walter stood up and bolted to follow her out in to the hallway, where they were joined by William Alexander, Andre, and Leah. “Morgan, what the hell does he mean?” Walter asked, calling out to her as he jogged to keep up. “Stop ninja-ing out of here and talk to us!” He reached her, and put a hand on her shoulder.

Morgan spun, and her eyes were wide with fear and anger. Walter pulled his hand back away, and stared at her in shock. He had never seen her so bothered, or so scared. “Walter…I know what he’s doing now, and it’s terrifying. It’s dumb, and worse, it might work.”

“What is it?” Walter asked.

“On the night of the winter solstice, my father is going to slam Faerie down right on top of Border, and make himself ruler of whatever survives.”

Like many High Schools, Dwight D. Eisenhower High School was built in a primarily residential area. Siobhan had always assumed that this was in order to let people walk to them in vaguely defined ‘old days’, although by now she also knew that a lot of the area had originally been farming before the city had gobbled it up as it unfurled across the land. She could see all of those former farmlands in the gentle hills from the third story roof that they rested on now, a land that rolled with autumnal colors and stirred in a gentle breeze.

“This is lovely.” Antigone said as she walked over to the edge of the roof and looked across the filling parking lot for just a second, pulling back before anyone could spot them. “Although it boggles the mind they don’t lock the door.”

“Oh it has a lock, it’s just cheap and old.” Monica explained as she went to sit near the edge. “If you turn the handle like three quarters of the way and then hit the door right at the lock, it opens. I think seniors have been passing along that secret for a damn long time.” She shrugs. “Who knows—maybe the Principal thinks of it as population control.”

Siobhan began to edge her way closer to the edge where her friends were, shuffling and moving carefully toe to heel but simultaneously trying to hide it. “Has…anyone fallen off?” She asked with a tone of such forced casualness that it would have taken an idiot not to notice it.

“You’re not…” Lacey said, as she put her backpack in the right angle formed by the lip running around the edge of the roof and then used it as a pillow. She was dressed in a skirt and top of the school colors for some pride week thing Siobhan had so thoroughly forgotten about she hadn’t even purposefully scorned it.

“She is.” Antigone confirmed as she mimicked off the flip flops she was still wearing despite the chill, and mimicked Lacey.

“I am not!” Siobhan protested, getting a little bit flustered. She put hr arms down at her sides, and walked determinedly toward the edge of the roof…and stopped, giving it a healthy two foot buffer as she sat down primly. She was, for reasons obvious only to her, dressed in a prim Gothic style skirt that just skirted—and she had laughed at the pun the first time she thought of it—the length rules in the dress code.

“Really?” Monica asked curiously, looking Siobhan over as if she could spot the point at which the phobia started—like it was a mark on her neck that could be examined and cataloged.

“No!” Siobhan protested, grumbling at the same time that her sister said.

“Yes, she is afraid of heights.” Antigone explained with a smirk. “We went to the Grand Canyon one year when Dad wasn’t deployed and she kind of edged her way close enough to take a selfie with it and prove she had been there. And she got super pissed when I ducked under the railing to get a better selfie.”

“I,” Siobhan declared imperiously, “just didn’t want you to fall over. It’s hard being a creepy twin when one of you is dead at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.” She sniffed. “Besides, I thought the two of you wanted the low down on what was actually happening. I can’t do that if I’m so upset at your cruel bullying that I brutally murder all three of you by throwing you off the roof.” Siobhan’s voice grew more and more deadpan as she spoke, until she ended by simply staring at them intensely with wide and terrifying eyes. Lacey and Monica both actually shivered. Antigone sorted.

“She’s so bothered by it she wants to tell the truth instead.” Antigone pointed out, before she sighed a little bit. “I…at this point I know so much weird crap in this town I don’t even know where to begin. Honestly.” She offered when they both looked at her with a disbelieving look at her statement.

“Faeries are real, and they’re straight up trying to murder us.” Siobhan offered simply, leaning down to idly re-tie one of the shoelaces on her predictably black sneakers.

Everyone blinked at that, and Siobhan preened a little bit at the looks that she was getting from them. “Or you could just be direct, I guess.” Antigone allowed after a few moments. “If you want to be an ass.”

“Wait, so she isn’t joking?” Lace demanded, looking between the two of them with wide eyes. “That’s…”

“As implausible as it is impossible?” Antigone asked with a sigh. “Ludicrous, insane, mad, batshit, and any other words that are synonyms of all those same words? Yeah.”

“But…” Lacey began.

“But it does kind of make sense, as much sense as anything else that we could come up with.” Monica finished with a shake of her head. “I mean…I don’t know. People disappearing, weird crap, magic freaking doors. So we were attacked, huh? That blows.”

“You Borderians—Borderites?—all take this crap so well, I swear.” Siobhan said with a sad little laugh. “Like on some level you knew behind the scenes it was a pretty crap town with scary things in the night?” She asked.

“Something like that.” Lacey agreed with a little bit of a grin, before she looked between the two of them. “So what’s the point? Why are they attacking?”

Siobhan and Antigone both shrugged casually then, sighing. “We don’t know. Dad is probably finding out right now.” Antigone answered.

“Probably blowing up the city or eating all our faces off and impregnating them.” Siobhan supplied helpfully, drawing a round of grossed out looks.

“First?” Monica said. “Eww. Second…what are we doing about it?” She asked. When all three of them blinked at her then, she continued on nonchalantly. “Listen, the adults are obviously crap at this, or we wouldn’t be in this situation. Border has the longest stretch of unexplained kidnappings and abductions in the world, guys; that is literally a record we have. So the question is what are we going to do about it, since they obviously suck?”

“Well…” Siobhan said, curiously. “That’s a very good point. Why don’t we start with…how many doors like the one downstairs are there?”

Groups of people have an energy to them that reflects their mood and circumstances. It’s why politician press the flesh, and why sometimes everyone in a room can tell when a couple has been fighting. It can be heard in the tone of their voice or seen in the movements of their body or eyes, but it can also be felt. Sometimes it comes off of a body like electricity and crackles in the air with anger, or radiates from them in soothing waves of their happiness. And sometimes, like that Monday when Siobhan and Antigone walked in to school in the morning, it is a tension so tight that it seems to scream.

“Jesus, it’s like everyone’s just waiting for something else to happen.” Antigone muttered as they walked through the sparse crowds in the entryway. She had felt it first, more sensitive to emotions than her sister—but now Siobhan could feel it as well, like a pressure on her skin.

“Can you blame them?” She asked quietly as they walked toward the cafeteria. They were almost always early enough to get some breakfast in the cafeteria, or at least drink coffee. Well, Siobhan drank coffee she brought from home most days unless they walked to a nearby shop that seemed set up just to cater to caffeine addicted high schoolers.

“No.” Antigone said, as they moved to the line at the snack cart to get a muffin or muffin-like thing. Siobhan sipped her coffee out of a tumbler labeled ‘Rat Poison’ that had a comically deceased rodent on it. “Between us getting attacked at the anti-psychics, this, and the general weirdness of town, and there are still police upstairs…I don’t. I wonder if everywhere is like this, or if it’s just here because of the attack.”

“Everywhere is a little on edge.” Lacey offered, as she came up to them in line, giving a winning smile to people behind them in order to assuage any accusations of cutting.  “But I think it’s worse here.” She then turned half-way back to the cart to glance at the day’s plastic wrapped offerings. “So, are you going to tell us what happened?” She asked, as Monica finally came up.

“You could have waited for me to park the damn car, Lace.” Monica grumbled.

Lacey pouted, gesturing. “I saved a spot in line for you!” She protested, which drew a snort from Siobhan. Monica glanced at both twins meaningfully, before she looked back to the short blond. “Fine, I mooched their spot in line. But the end results are the same.”

They advanced through the line and bought their goods (a muffin and water for Antigone, a plastic wrapped cinnamon roll and an orange juice each for Lacey and Monica, and a Pop-Tart for Siobhan), and stepped away. “So.” Monica offered after a minute, her voice holding no teasing or banter. “Are you going to tell us what the hell happened, or are we going to have to waterboard you for it?”

“What?” Antigone sputtered, almost choking on some of her water, while Siobhan raised an eyebrow.

“Do your worst. You think dad didn’t teach us SERE? You get name, grade, and student ID number, nothing else.” Siobhan said, sticking her chin up proudly. “Siobhan Richards, Sophomore, B14-6465.”

The tall dark skinned girl and the short blond one both stared at the twins for a moment, before Monica laughed and Lacey looked confused. “Isn’t Siri the name of the iPhone lady?” Lacey asked, while Monica snorted.

“No way your dad taught you SERE.” Monica said. After a moment, Siobhan was forced to give a sheepish grin.

“No, he didn’t. It’s evading and resisting capture and torture, Lacey—S E R E.” Sibohan spelled out. “And no, he didn’t. But it was a good line.”

Antigone smirked. “And you finally got your student number memorized, after only most of the first semester.” Siobhan pumped her fist a little bit in triumph at that accomplishment, before Monica interrupted by leaning in and flicking both of them on the ear.

“And you almost managed to change the subject, too.” Monica said. “But come on. We all passed out, but when we woke up you were there with some lady who looks really familiar, and then we were all passed out again. But then when we woke up you still weren’t there, because you were already talking to the police. So something happened, and I want to know what it is.” She wasn’t mad but she wasn’t giving ground either, and the volume of Monica’s voice had risen a little bit with each sentence. If she kept going then it would be at a shout before too long.

Siobhan looked around, and then shook her head. “Not here. Is there somewhere we can go, a teacher who doesn’t lock the door?” She asked. Both of their friends had been at the school longer, and considered before they shook their head. But after a moment of deep thought Lacey raised a finger.

“What about the spooky door?” She asked, looking to Monica. “No one ever goes there, ever since that senior that liked to make out there graduated. Or went to prison, I can’t remember—we were freshmen.” She explained to Antigone and Siobhan in a way that did no actual explaining. Monica, meanwhile, nodded.

“Uhm…isn’t the spooky door upstairs? The one our brother found?” Siobhan asked for clarification. Lacey smirked and shook her head, beginning to lead them out of the cafeteria.

“No, that’s the terrifying chalk circle of doom.” She explained. “The Spooky Door,” she continued, and Antigone could hear the capital letters of importance, “has been here for decades. It’s down the stairwell in the back that no one uses. They don’t use it because it only goes to a little room with a locked door in it. We assume it’s either haunted, or the janitor’s sex dungeon.”

“If we’re taking votes on which we hope it is…” Siobhan offered ominously as they walked along, “I know which I’m voting for.”

The walk did not take very long at all, down in to the basement where the language classes all had their rooms for some reason, and past the special education hallway. Tucked in to the back there was a staircase behind an unlocked but obviously disused door. They walked through, and as they went down the ambient temperature dropped noticeably.

The stairwell did end in a small room, with no door from the stairway side and only a single bulb set in the ceiling. The bulb was on but dim, and flickered every so often with an audible click. The walls of the small room must have once been murals, but now they were faded and covered in dust and graffiti, and impossible to make out. Here and there were a line and a swoop showing clear artistic talent, but that was it.

The Spooky Door earned its name. It was set in to a bare wall, a wooden door covered in faded and patched black paint—or possibly the dark blue of oncoming night. White specks that could have once been a motif or drawing, or might be mold of some sort, decorated the front. The only thing that could still be made out as a purposeful decorating theme was on the wooden frame, where flowers were carved and still flecked with paint.

“We brought down a botany book one time last year when we were bored.” Monica explained, pointing to the flowers. “Purple violets, and different colored poppies.” She pointed to each kind of flower, and then shrugged. “No idea why. It isn’t on the plans—those are public records.”

“You searched public records because you were bored, and you think we’re weird?” Siobhan asked with a snort. Antigone looked at the door in deep consideration, stepping toward it and reaching out with her fingertips to brush it. The moment her fingers touched the wood they felt warm, and a slow breeze moved impossibly through the small room.

“Whoa…” Siobhan started, looking at her sister. “Annie…” She began, before Antigone interrupted her.

“Is it…open?” Antigone asked softly, reaching her hand down toward the handle. She closed her hand around it and found it warm, and the wind blew gently again. The door started to open almost absently, as if it was doing so casually—just a crack, the briefest sliver showing faint and silvery illumination beyond.

“Annie!” Siobhan said quickly, putting her hand on her sister’s shoulder. The moment they touched the door slammed shut with a bang, and a layer of dust fell off of the walls. The room reverberated with the slam before it echoed with a great depth of quiet, and all four of them stared at each other.

“You know, my parents wanted to move to Topeka last year, and I wish we’d damn well done it.” Lacey said in a voice that was as reverently quiet as it was deeply terrified.

Thunderous silence reigned in the room for long heartbeats as the Earl struggled without speaking, and Walter stared without speaking. Morgan gloated without speaking, which Walter thought was probably the most unsettling thing about it all. Trash talk he was used to, but there was such quiet self-assuredness in the look that Morgan gave the room that it unsettled him some. Not arrogance, just superiority.

“You’re…dead!” The Earl croaked finally, shattering the tension and making Walter let out a hearty chuckle.

“No, we don’t offer resurrection services.” Walter supplied, after the startled laugh. “That’s down the block. She is very much alive and, it seems, kneeling on your throat. And I wouldn’t threaten someone who just showed she can kick your ass down the block without trying much.”

“No…” The earl croaked, waving. “She’s…supposed to be…dead.” He explained as best he could with a knee that Walter suspected was as strong as the rest of her cutting off oxygen.

Morgan looked almost offended, and shook her head slowly. “Is that what he told you?” She asked finally. She reached down to pat his cheek, almost tenderly. “You always were a fool. No, I am quite alive. Now I’m going to let you go, and you’re going to sit in that chair—because if you don’t, I am going to pull out your vocal cords, and then you’ll have to write everything down. And that will be inconvenient to everyone.” She explained this in exactly the same tone of voice she might use to tell someone their arm was sprained, not broken, and it sent a chill down his spine. He had seen Morgan be polite, serious, playful, teasing, and even sexy. But he had never seen her be terrifying, and he had to swallow after a moment.

“We’d prefer if you just talked to us, you see.” Walter explained. “Because the paperwork I have to fill out if Morgan kills you is rather intense. But as you are not technically human…I’m actually not sure of what paperwork I’d have to fill out.” Walter mused, as he repositioned his chair in front of the violent tableau.

“A good point.” Morgan offered in that same even, clinical voice. “And I do know that within our laws, I have every right to kill a traitor—gruesomely. One of the benefits of having several human medical degrees is an increased knowledge of how to do such things.” She offered, in a way that could have been light if she had varied it at all. “But you already knew that, didn’t you. Because you’ve seen me do it.” She leaned down, to look directly in to his eyes. “You couldn’t see through my glamour before, boy, but it doesn’t matter now—who am I?” She asked, her voice crawling with dark threats—or perhaps more accurately, dark promises.

“Mab!” The Earl croaked. “The Queen of Air and Darkness. The Raven Goddess, the bringer of death.” He said it almost ritualistically, an oft repeated phrase—the Faerie equivalent of Elizabeth, by Grace of God Queen of England. “I am not your subject, but I recognize your dominion, and beg your quarter and mercy.” He said in a rush.

Morgan considered him, and in that moment Walter knew exactly what it looked like for an insect, when a human considered whether or not to crush them and snuff out their feeble little life. It was not a look that asked if it could or if it was possible—only whether it was worth the time and effort expended in the doing. Finally she stood, in a movement so fluid it almost defied belief, and took her seat again. “Unto thee I grant mercy, and the quarter of a captive taken.” She said, every bit as formulaic as his words had been. “Know that you continue to breathe at my mercy, and that if you try to run again that mercy will be expended.”

The door crashed open then, and Marshal William Alexander stood there looking in shock. “What the hell happened?” He asked, angrily. “We couldn’t open the door—didn’t you hear us shouting like madmen, Walter?”

Walter blinked, and looked at Morgan, who shook her head. “No, he couldn’t. I kept the door locked, and I kept the room quiet, so that we could come to an understanding.”

“You can’t do that. You can’t do any of this, Dr. Winters—it’s against the law, and we can’t use anything he says here now.” Alexander continued, his voice only growing in the red heat of anger as he went on. “If we took him to court-”

“What court, Marshal?” Morgan challenged, crossing her legs again. She gestured to the Earl. “Whatever identity this man has, if he has even bothered with one when glamour will do to get him where he needs to go, is fake. He is pure sidhe—he was not born in this world. He has no social security number, no citizenship, and I daresay the 10th Circuit will offer our friendly District Attorney no guidance on what to do with him.”

“We are the police, Morgan. We have to do things a certain way.” Alexander protested, although his glare was lessening in the face of the complete lack of response from the good doctor.

“And that way so far has been fine, except that it never found anything. Now that we have found some things, they are raising the stakes.” Morgan said firmly. “These are not people that will be defeated with tax evasion and racketeering charges, William.” She continued, her voice softening. The Earl rose and shuffled, painfully, back to his chair and sat with a groan. “And these people are not subject to your laws.”

At that, Walter shook his head. “I don’t like that one bit.” He said, with a sound that was as much a sigh as a laugh. “Oh don’t get me wrong—that High School is not one I’d like to see attacked. Or any High School. But at the same time…I don’t know. I don’t know how to deal with any of this. But we can debate philosophy later while thoroughly drunk, which may be how most of the laws in history have been made. But for the moment I think our guest is going to talk.” He gave a pointed glance to the Earl at that. “Right?”

The Earl nodded, slowly. “I’ve recognized her right to command me, and asked for quarter. I will talk, as much as I can.” Walter raised an eyebrow at that, and looked over to Morgan expecting her to look dark as a storm on those words—but she looked unsurprised.

“Are you under a geas to not divulge your master’s plans?” She inquired, drawing another pained nod from him—although it was becoming clear whatever damage Morgan had done was healing. He didn’t even have any bruises, which seemed thoroughly cheating.

The Earl nodded. “If I reveal it, if I even can reveal it, then I would be burned from the inside out, and I have no desire to do that. But I can tell you some, and because of the wording answer some questions—so long as you keep to your word.”

That made Morgan give him a look that was dark and stormy, and promised all sorts of unpleasant things. “I have given my word, my Lord—do you challenge my word here, in front of witnesses?” She asked in a tone as deadly and serious as a snakebite. When the Earl shook his head, she relaxed and leaned back in her chair. “So, what is daddy dearest doing?”

The Earl squirmed a little bit, in the way that a person will do when they have to consider their words carefully and on the fly, before he met her eyes. “What he plans will have great consequence for the world in general—and will likely destroy this Border.”

Monday morning came and Walter could have sworn that he was experiencing deja vu. He had come in to the Border, P.D. with Morgan and immediately headed for the interview rooms. The rebuilt interview rooms, he thought to himself with a sigh as he walked along. “So we’ll start…uh…deicide practice this week?” He asked quietly, as he got a file and the two of them went through turnkey in to the holding area.

“Yeah. We need a decent space, and I want to let you recover.” Morgan offered. “No sense in breaking you further. We want to train, not break.” She offered with a prim, angelic little smile.

“I might surprise you.” Walter offered, to defend his pride more than out of any real conviction. “I may be old, but I’ve got hops.” He finished by literally hopping. “I think it means the ability to hop, but I could be wrong.”

“First,” Morgan said as they made their way back to the secured interview room and Walter put hi hand on the door in front of her. “Having hops doesn’t mean possessing the ability to hop. Second, I’m older than you, if you recall. And finally…we’ll see.” She finished with a Sphinx-like smile as she paused outside the door. “Do you still want me to come in?”

Walter nodded. “I need the back up in case he goes crazy as well. And maybe the sight of you will put him in the right mind.” Morgan smirked at that, although at what specific part Walter didn’t know and couldn’t tell. A corner of her mouth stayed quirked up as she spoke.

“He shouldn’t be able to get through the doors. After last time, Tania and I made sure they had some…protection.” She explained. “I won’t use the m-word, but it’s…”

“The m-word.” Walter said with a sigh, as he turned the knob on the door. It didn’t creak—it was too new to creak. “You know, one of the old anarchist mottoes was ‘No Gods, no masters’. I’m beginning to have great sympathy for that idea.” He complained, waving his hands. “Let’s do this.” He said, opening the door.

The man who Tennyson had called the Earl was seated behind the desk, smirking smugly. That only intensified Walter’s deja vu as he entered and set a tape recorder on a side table. After Tennyson had plowed through a table on his way out, they had started putting more sensitive recorders out of the way of charging fairy tales. “What makes you think I’ll stay here any longer than my compatriot was? What makes you think I won’t carve my way out just as bloody?”

Walter took his time and sat down carefully in the seat across from the man. He was handsome, in a ‘chiseled arrogance’ kind of way. He had dark red hair that had originally been in a ponytail, and he was one of those guys that somehow made even the khaki jail jumpsuit look like a tailored suit. He seemed specifically designed to make Walter dislike him.

“We’ve taken certain precautions since the last time you were here.” Walter explained as he set out a pad of paper in front of him, and pulled out his pen. “You people don’t much like the small talk, do you? In books you’re all elegant and crap, but now you’re just ‘Grr, I’m threatening.’” Walter leaned back in the chair. “I have to tell you, champ, it’s getting pretty old. You’re like the third one to threaten me now, and you are by far the least impressive.”

The Earl stared at Walter, as if he was stunned by that. As if to cover, his eyes flitted over to Morgan for a moment and considered her. “If this is a conjugal visit then I suppose you could have done worse, although she takes a bit after Winter. But if you want to give us a little bit of privacy?” He pronounced privacy like he was English.

Morgan’s lips moved, and to someone who didn’t know her particular well it would probably have looked like an impish grin. But Walter saw teeth in that smile. “Oh Lord Aodhan, you always were such a charmer. It’s why I always wanted to pummel you to death with a garden spade, I suspect. I’m here as a…native guide, shall we say; they haven’t minted enough gold since the first mortal drew breath, or since the first and oldest of us were first formed, for me to take a ticket to that ride.”

If the Earl had looked shocked at Walter’s insolence, he was positively floored at Morgan’s. The shock radiating off of him was a palpable thing, the silence in the room charged with the electricity of disbelief. It was only broken by the intermittent hum of the air conditioning, and the almost subsonic sound of the camera.

“Who in the hell do you think you are to talk to me like that?” The Earl demanded, positively boiling with anger. He actually flushed with rage. “You obviously know who I am—do you think you can speak to me and when I am free, and my master is on his throne, that you will not be punished? What are you, some half-blooded by-blow who remembers 1910 and thinks she is important to these mortal apes?” He sputtered, fighting for coherence through his injured pride.

“Well…” Morgan said simply, crossing her legs and kicking the top one with an ease and casualness that Walter knew wasn’t faked. “I suspect that if your master wins I will be punished. And I suppose that I am in fact some half-blooded by-blow who remembers 1910 and thinks she is important. But even if I was only what you said, that would be more than enough to know that if you put nine centuries of life on a horse’s ass you don’t get a powerful lord—all you get is a very weathered horse’s ass.” Her voice was even, casual and calm; but there was more than teeth in her smile now. It held razors and darkness, and goading superiority.

The room regained that shocked silence until she kicked her leg airily one last time, and it was apparently too much for the Earl to bear. He let out gargled roar of anger, and then the room exploded into motion.

Whatever it was that Tania had done it kept the handcuffs together, but it didn’t keep them bolted to the table in front of him. He ripped off the hook in a distressing blur the metal shrieking as it gave and pinging off of the ceiling of all places. The Earl started to leap over the table, presumably on his way to the door, and he was so fast that he made Ninja Grandpa look slow. Walter’s brain barely had time to register the movement before he knew he could never catch the man.

The Earl might as well have been moving at the speed of light for as fast as he was going—but Morgan was breaking galactic speed records. In a blink she went from all but reclining to standing, her hand in a claw-like and vise-like grip around the Earl’s neck. His legs went out from under him like a cartoon as they kept going, but the main of his body was stopped by his neck. Morgan pivoted effortlessly from holding the Earl—a man who was at least a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than her—to effortlessly slamming him in to the table. Or more accurately through the table, driving down with a powerful pivot of her hips that blew out all four legs of the table. The Earl exploded on to the ground in her control with a thunder like crack, and she ended the move by dropping her knee on to his neck and sitting there casually.

“Blight…” the Earl croaked breathlessly, wracked with pain. “You…can’t be…”

Morgan, meanwhile, looked back over her shoulder to Walter and raised a single dark brow with an amused smile. “So,” she said, “still think you might surprise me?”

The man called Tennyson stood in a wooded land beneath the sprawling, starry sky and thought about the choices that he made. He stood on a low hill on a summer night, and the air smelled of jasmine and hyacinth and a thousand other flowers. It tickled at his nose even as it danced on his skin and set his cloak to fluttering. It was beautiful, and he hadn’t come back for a very long time.

He would have said he didn’t know why, but he did. It wasn’t because of the danger, although it was admittedly a little dangerous. It wasn’t because he didn’t love it, because he did—the lands of Faerie called to anyone who had been born to them.

It was because of Oberon. He scowled at the thought, and walked down in to the fragrant woods. Lightning bugs wove their way lazily around the trees, illuminating the twilit night with their soft glow. It was because Oberon couldn’t enter the lands that none of his followers came here at all.

The lands of Faerie were so vast that his followers could have come to little pockets of it with no danger, but to do so would have made him rage with jealousy. Tennyson understood, but at the same time…could the King of all Sidhe not grant the me who had traveled with him for so long some comfort?

Finally, Tennyson came to a glen in the forest, where a broad pool of water as wide and long as a hot tub sparkled with impossibly deep sapphire waters. His sister was waiting by the pool, her feet kicking inside it as she waited. “Hello, Ciarán.” She greeted, her voice warm and rich and filled with the sunshine of her love. She turned, and gave him a smile as she gestured to a dry stone next to the pool. “Do you want to join me?”

He moved over, unbelting his sword belt and setting it aside. “Of course, Dymphna.” He said with a matching smile as he sat down on the stone with crossed legs. He considered his sister for a moment, and as always he was struck by the disparity between them. He was dark haired and pale skinned, and she had auburn hair cascading over skin with a light golden tan. She looked like a sunbeam captured where it stood, and moved like a deer in flight when she ran through the woods of their birth.

“What troubles you, brother?” She asked after a moment, leaning back on to her elbows to consider him.

“I worry about the things my Lord chooses to do.” The man called Tennyson, but was born Ciarán, said seriously. The words had a weight to them as if they said they had been offered unwillingly, or even grudgingly. It drew a startled laugh from Dymphna, who shook her head.

“I remember, when all of this began, that you grew very angry at me for offering much of the same. You told me that I did not know what I said, and that it is not for the sworn to question the motives of their lords.” In another circumstance or with another tone her voice could have flayed him like a knife, but that wasn’t her way. Oh she had her wit and her tongue was not ever without barb, but he knew at heart she would never purposefully hurt him. Although the truth could scourge all on its own, and he deserved to hear it.

“I am sorry.” He said sincerely. “I was young, and impetuous.” He offered with a wry smile, drawing another laugh from her. “And…things seemed simpler then, before we started making these choices.” He sighed.

“The killings?” She asked quietly, and sighed herself when he confirmed it by nodding. “They’re…not pleasant. But then the wars weren’t pleasant either—you saw the honor, and the duty that you had to your King. I got to see what it looked like when your armies met, when Mab was still the Lady of Ravens and Titania the Daughter of Summer.”

“Were there never good choices?” Tennyson asked curiously, as he looked out over the beauty of the lake. They had a house not too far from here, that he hadn’t seen in too many years. Their mother had lived there, ad had died there—far from her home or the place of her birth.

“Do you think there ever are in war?” His sister asked, her voice soft but armor piercing. He laid back to look at the stars, and lose himself in the sidereal depths.

“No, probably not.” He answered after what could have been a very long few minutes or a very short half century or too. The stars continued to swirl overhead. “Why are there no planets in the sky here?” He asked curiously. She shrugged, and he laughed.

“Because there do not need to be?” She offered with a smile, and a second shrug. “What do you think you will do?” She asked.

Now it was his turn to shrug, as he undid his cloak and let it fall off of him. He lay on it, and stared at a universe that had once seemed so full of possibilities. Now he wondered what it would feel like if he wrapped himself in it like he used to. Did he still have possibilities, or had he traded them all? “I don’t know.”

“If you didn’t know, why did you come here?” She asked, in a tone that anyone else might have used to say ‘bullshit’. It wasn’t hurtful, but it wasn’t letting him away from his choices either—Dymphna had always been the best for that. He didn’t know if it was because they were the closest of all his siblings, or if it was the reason they were closest.

“I don’t know.” He answered again, with a laugh. “He ordered me to attend to what I need to, but…he crossed a line tonight. So I don’t know what I’ll do.” He rolled over to look at her. “I reckon I’m damned either way.”

She leaned in to lay a gentle kiss on his brow, before she leaned all the way back to consider the depths of the skies as well. “For what it’s worth, dear brother—I know that you will do the right thing, in the end.” She told him sincerely. “You take a while to get there, but you do come to the right thing and do it.”

As they watched the celestial dance above them, he prayed that she was right.