Never Date a Siren, page 12
“And this instrument,” Paul gestured to the case, “figures into this human’s class load?”
“He’s in the orchestra,” explained the dryad, “Can you play the violin?”
“I don’t need to play,” the Mindbender explained. “Human or fae will see what they expect to see. Hear what they expect to hear.”
The cat had finished its bath and was now lying, paws tucked, in a loaf position, its eyes closed to the smallest slits.
“So it’s true that your element is Time and Memory?” Jib said.
Shocked, the two fae women stood up again to leave.
Jib sat in that immobile attitude of a cat who meant business. It suggested, “Why don’t you let him look at the violin? He’ll find it interesting, I’m sure.”
Brigit reluctantly turned back. She replaced the case of the musical instrument on the table, shoving Jib’s sprawling form further down the length of the surface.
“It’s Logan’s instrument. Since you just stated you won’t require it to convince anyone, I don’t see why you need to see it.”
“Show it to him,” insisted Jib, and Brigit reluctantly unsnapped the case, lifting the lid to expose its contents. The violin lay nestled in its green velvet-lined container, the wood of the instrument glowing warmly. Paul bent over it and gave an audible, indrawn hiss.
“This is the human’s instrument? How long has he owned it? How did he obtain it? Who gave it to him? When?”
“Why? Is it valuable?” asked Celia.
Brigit bit her lip, trying to remember Logan’s words, “He said it was a gift from his grandmother. I know there’s a protection on it but…”
“Oh, there’s a protection on it all right,” agreed Paul, as he sketched a complicated movement with his hand. A trail of fire visible only to their small group shot to the height of the cathedral ceiling.
“Who exactly is Logan’s grandmother?” demanded Paul. “Because this complicates things exceedingly.”
The cat smiled.
“Oh, I think once the Morrighan finds out her grandson is under the thrall of a siren and likely to die before the semester ends, Bewachterberg might find itself in the middle of a war, don’t you?” purred the cat.
Coffee Talk
Paul, the Doppelgänger, entered the Chancellor’s outer office. As with most of his interactions with humans, the secretary saw the person she expected.
“Guten Tag, Professor Schneider. You’re early for your appointment. Let me see if the Chancellor’s ready to receive you.”
The woman picked up her phone, making a quick call to the inner office. Receiving permission, she gestured him to pass through. Paul gave a polite knock on the heavily carved door of the Chancellor’s office before going in.
He found the Chancellor standing in front of a marble fireplace winding a clock. François Auguste Bandemer swore at the instrument in colorful French before thrusting it back on the mantle in impatience.
“Damn thing hasn’t kept the right time since 1815.” Turning, he saw his spymaster. “Frau Hofmann said it was that Schneider, coming again to complain about how small his office is. Imagine that! Look about you at this shoebox I’m stuck within. But do I complain?”
Since the Chancellor’s office was quite spacious, with it an en suite attached to a public area containing two large desks, a conference table, as well as two sofas, Paul said nothing in reply. He had decades to learn how to handle Bandemer, and part of it was knowing when to keep quiet.
The fae king was still wearing his winter ensemble as prescribed by the wardrobe policies outlined by Louis XIV. He wore a velvet coat of deep purple over an off white satin waistcoat embroidered with colorful fall leaves and fastened with silver buttons. His cream satin breeches came to right below his knees where a red garter kept his silk stockings in place. The ribbons matched the red heels of his leather shoes.
This was the Chancellor’s casual wear. Since May was a full month away, the fae king was still wearing his hiver wardrobe.
The Mindbender bowed to his liege and said, “Something has occurred that needs your immediate attention.”
While Paul related his recent encounter with the fae students and the violin, the Chancellor toyed at the layers of lace under his chin. The froth of expensive lace was held in place by a ruby pin. As large as a man’s thumb, the gemstone looked like a spot of blood amongst the snow.
“Logan Dannon? I don’t recall the name. Have you checked his pedigree?”
“I did. The student is from an American family.”
The Chancellor gave a negligent wave upon hearing the information. Americans were of little interest to him despite the Rector’s insistence on increasing their enrollment. While the Rector felt paying students could offset the free tuition given to the fae, the Chancellor didn’t care about the nuts and bolts of the university’s operation.
“Expel him,” Bandemer said. “Send him back home to die from the siren’s Beguiling. If he expires on his home soil, he won’t be our problem.”
While this method had worked for other students who had run afoul of the various fae, Paul explained why expulsion would not solve this particular problem.
“The family seems to be closely tied to a deity. The fae I met said the violin was a gift from his grandmother. However, the protection has the signature of the Celtic goddess, the Morrighan.”
The Chancellor threw the stapler across the room.
Paul didn’t flinch. The Chancellor’s reaction was not unexpected, and his liege was not unknown for his hot temper, as dents in the wood paneling could testify.
The fae did not involve themselves with gods and goddesses for good reason. While the fae did not consider humans on the same level as themselves, deities were powerful and fickle. Involvement with them often resulted in the loss of property and lives.
When Bandemer’s temper returned to a low boil, Paul inquired, “How would you like me to proceed?”
The Chancellor pinched his bony nose, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Find out more. Who is this boy? Where did he come from? How far along is he from wasting away?”
The Chancellor opened his light blue eyes the color of glacier chips.
“That siren already cost me a match against our rival. Now, the prince of Bewachterberg is arriving in a few short weeks for our festivities. I cannot and will not have things about here in shambles. I don’t care if we expel the lot of them. I will have my parade!”
“That was weird even by fae standards,” said Celia.
Granite denied any responsibility, “Hey, I just heard about him from a buddy. Don’t blame me for how bizarre he is. If I’d known he was a Mindbender I’d never have suggested a meeting.”
Brigit said, “Weird or not, at least he’s agreed to help.”
They had returned in one piece from their meeting with the Doppelgänger, and Brigit opened Logan’s bedroom door slowly and peeked in. Seeing he was awake, she entered and started to tell him their mission had been successful.
“This Paul character will attend all your classes and keep us updated about assignments. He thinks it likely any tests will take place right after spring break since professors love to drop a test right after a holiday. That gives you about three weeks before you have to get to classes by yourself.”
“That sounds good,” said Logan, “but why do you look upset?”
“Well, it turns out that Doppelgänger are, surprise, surprise, Mindbenders.”
“You’ve lost me.”
Celia followed Brigit into the room, bringing a glass of water with some pills for Logan’s fever. She helped him up, placing pillows expertly behind him while Brigit continued.
“All fae have a power affiliation to an element. We recognize seven: wood, metal, stone, water, wind, flame, and the last is a blend of powers - time/memory. For example, since I’m a dryad, mine is wood; Celia’s is water; and stone for Granite.”
“That makes sense.”
“Well, you can’t always predict it by Sept,” Bridget explained. “The brownie would most likely be metal but she could be stone, water, or flame.”
“What’s Jib?”
At this name, Jib landed in the middle of Logan’s stomach. Seeing the cat’s eyes, Logan guessed, “Flame?” as the púca started to knead a cozy spot in the blankets.
“Right, but púcas can also be water, like a kelpie. I had thought Doppelgänger simply used Glamor but it turns out they use the most dangerous and powerful element of all: time and memory. Mindbenders can distort things. They have the ability to change timelines and implant memories of things that never happened.”
Sitting at the end of his bed, Celia chimed in, “It was thought the Doppelgänger hid Bewachterberg from the world for 99 years and a day with Glamour. But I guess not. It must have been Mindbending.”
Jib interrupted. “Tell it, Brigit. Tell how the fae took a country and hid it from the world. It’s one of my favorite bedtime stories.”
Brigit smiled at the cat, giving it a stroke from ears to tail, before beginning her narrative.
“In 1891, the King of Bewachterberg consulted a Cassandra about the welfare of his country’s future. A Cassandra is one powerful in prophecy.”
Logan nodded his head, thinking of his cousin, Evie.
“He was told Bewachterberg was heading towards a turbulent time. Worse than the Thirty Years War. Not only would Bewachterberg suffer from two world wars but it would be absorbed and divided, losing its sovereignty. It would eventually come under Russian control. This true vision of his country’s future horrified him for like all good kings he was devoted to the welfare of his people.”
In the middle of the story, Granite arrived. He leaned against the doorway, eating a warm piece of cake the brownie had just made.
“But the Cassandra told him all was not lost. The king could ensure Bewachterberg would escape such a dire fate if he made an agreement with the fae. If the king would pledge himself to nine fae queens and acknowledge their children as his heirs, the nine courts would unite to protect Bewachterberg for 99 years and a day.”
“The king agreed, but he was no fool. He knew the fae’s real desire was to gain control of his country through his descendants. After the pledging ceremony, he abdicated the throne. So while his offspring would never rule, they did inherit his wealth and status.”
“So that is why the royal family of Bewachterberg is merely a figurehead,” said Celia.
“But if he tricked them,” asked the American, “why did the fae help Bewachterberg at all?”
“That was the contract, Logan,” explained Brigit patiently. “Contracts can have loopholes, but the essentials can’t be changed. His descendants were still his recognized heirs. In the end, the nine courts wouldn’t rule Bewachterberg, but they could have a home in the human lands.”
Granite said around the last bit of his cake, “I never knew how the courts worked it. But it makes perfect sense knowing the Doppelgänger are Mindbenders.”
Over the next two decades, the Perilous removed the knowledge of Bewachterberg from the world. Mindbenders, the court wizards, worked to warp time and memory, causing the country to disappear from maps.
People forgot they had traveled there, and when they came to a road that would enter Bewachterberg, they would turn aside and go another direction. Within thirty years, Bewachterberg had become nothing but a fabled land as much as Atlantis was.
Under Jib’s purring warmth, Logan’s eyes started to close, and his mind softened with sleep, under Brigit’s voice.
“The contract ended in 1989, the year the Berlin wall fell. Suddenly, Bewachterberg emerged from her long dream, like a sleeping beauty.”
Brigit tried to dissuade Logan from meeting Paul, but to her frustration, the human insisted. However, she put her foot down on allowing the Doppelgänger entrance to the apartment.
Upon her insistence, Logan was sitting at a table in a local bakery, barely able to hold himself upright, drinking a glass of orange juice when the Doppelgänger sat down across from him.
Logan startled and the Paul asked in a deep voice that was smooth and neutral, “What do you see, bard?”
“The most dangerous fae I’ve encountered yet.”
The fae had a sideways smile as if he had just heard a hidden joke and countered, “I see a very sick human who should be in bed.”
“That’s accurate, I suppose.”
The college student put the glass down, his hand shaking from fatigue. Behind the Doppelgänger’s head, he could see Brigit, a worried frown on her face. She was seated at another table close by, but the blueberry muffin in front of her remained untouched.
“So the rumor appears to be correct,” said Paul. “Bards see my true form.”
“Well, maybe. Sibyl taught me that I don’t see as clearly as I believed.”
“When it comes to love, every man has adjusted their reality to fit what they desire. There is grounds for believing love is blind.”
Logan’s mouth was dry so he took another sip of orange juice.
“Perhaps,” the college student said, “but I didn’t come here to talk about my love life.”
The Doppelgänger gave him a nod and opened his hand, palm up, showing it empty as an encouragement for Logan to continue. The American gave a little cough to clear his throat and began, “Having you attend classes in my place doesn’t seem fair to me. I’ve agreed to Brigit’s plan out of desperation. But all the homework and tests I will do myself. I will also go to the orchestra rehearsals. It’s not fair to the maestro to get a look-alike who won’t play.”
“I won’t complain,” agreed the Mindbender. “Less work for me. But, if you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t look like you could lift a violin.”
“I’ll lift my violin, and I will play it.” Logan’s jaw jutted forward in a way very familiar to his parents.
Paul took a sip of his coffee, the mug hiding a smile.
“Speaking of violins, I saw yours. It’s a beautiful instrument.”
Logan replied, looking down at the table, “It’s not a Stradivarius or anything like that. Or magic. It’s an ordinary violin.”
“I am curious to know where you got it.”
“From my grandmother. She always wanted my father to pursue a musical career. When she heard I was in the orchestra she gave it to me on my twelfth birthday.”
“When you speak of your grandmother, is this an honorary position or blood connection?”
Ah, so he knew. Logan sighed. He guessed his secret couldn’t remain secret where the fae were involved.
“It’s a blood connection. I’m a direct descendant.”
Paul always made sure statements were accurate so he asked again for clarification.
“So you’re a grandson of the goddess, the Morrighan?”
“Yes.”
The two sat quietly, the hum of the bakery customers around them, making the moment ordinary. The rich smell of roasting coffee beans permeated the air.
“I understand you have a problem with a certain siren here at LOTTOS. Have you thought to contact the Great Queen about the matter?”
Logan gave a bitter smile born from experience.
“Asking my granny to intervene often leads to events best not experienced. Because of her, my mother thought she was a zombie for awhile, and I got lost on a mountain.”
Paul took another sip of his coffee while Logan toyed with his now empty glass. The silence was not uncomfortable, rather it was contemplative as both pursued their thoughts. Finally, the fae said, “You are an interesting human. I will help you attend classes until your Fae Fever is resolved. However, I prefer to do it for a favor to be redeemed later.”
“Favor?” asked Logan alarmed. “Brigit said you accepted human money? I’m not sure I want to commit to some vague favor to be redeemed at some indefinite date in the future. That sounds like a horrible idea.”
The Mindbender gave another sideways smile. It made him appear human, which he certainly was not.
“Someone has been teaching you about our ways. Would that be the dryad? I hear the two of you have a Debt?”
Logan sat up straighter, the stubborn brace of his jaw returning.
“Leave Brigit out of this.”
“Calm down, my young cockerel, I have no intention of inflicting harm to you or your bondmates. I find your situation intriguing enough on its own. Since you will be doing the classwork, it leaves me little to do. All I ask is an audience with the Morrighan if the possibility presents itself.”
Logan thought it over.
“As long as this agreement does not put me or mine in harm’s way or obligates us to a course of action, I will agree to it. On the understanding that I only provide the opportunity for a meeting. I do not stand for how my grandmother would react to it.”
The two shook hands. Because Logan did love truth and thought the Doppelgänger should understand what he just promised, he added, “If you meet, and your motivation is to harm her, she will take care of you.”
“I’m sure Badb Catha, the Battle Crow and Great Queen, would pound me into raw hamburger,” said the spymaster.
Business concluded, Paul stood up. Passing Brigit, the Doppelgänger told her, “We need to talk, later. Privately.”
Stormy Weather
Granite was sitting in the auditorium waiting for Logan to finish his rehearsal. He didn’t know much about music but it looked like they were done. Some of the musicians were standing and others were packing away their instruments.
Celia slid into the seat next to him, whispering, “I thought I was supposed to take the human home today?”
“Coach didn’t have any worthy opponents for me,” explained the wrestler, giving a shrug. “Sent me off early. Thought I’d stop by here and see if you and Logan wanted to grab lunch.”
Celia pulled a small package of candies from her purse and offered the open bag to the wrestler. He pulled a few out, while she said, “We’ve got a problem. I saw Sybil hanging around in the lobby. I think she’s here for Logan.”
