Страница 36 из 92
“Let me do the other eye, and you’ll feel better,” Rhys said. “Just keep them closed until I’m done.”
He had to push her hands down from her face, but she kept her eyes closed. He touched the other eyelid, and said, “To see truly.” He pushed her hair back from her ears, and traced the oil down the curve of one ear, and then the other, with the words “That you may hear truly.”
“The music stopped,” she said, and tears began to seep out from her closed lids.
He touched her lips. “So you may speak truly of what you find.” He put her hands palm up. “So you may touch and be touched truly.” He knelt and traced the tops of her snow-soaked boots. “So you may step truly and know what lies before you.” He stood in front of her, and laid the last touch to her forehead. “So you may know and think truly.” He did more than just touch there; there he laid a protective symbol. For a moment I saw the flare of magic trace the cool spiral and circle on her forehead, then it sank into her skin.
She blinked, and looked around her as if she didn’t quite know where she was. “What the hell was that?”
“Welcome to faerie, Dr. Polaski,” Rhys said, and handed her back her glasses.
Frost handed me a bottle. “Doyle gave me his, for he does not need it.”
I took the offered bottle, and wondered where Doyle had gone, and what he had found. “I would feel better if Doyle or the others would contact us.”
“As would I,” Frost said as he began to lay oil on Walters.
I turned to the only other woman in the group. She wasn’t that much taller than myself, which was one of the reasons I chose her. When I took off the cloth cap, it revealed straight brown hair tied back in a ponytail, a little worse for the sock cap she’d been wearing. Her eyes were a solid medium brown. The face was a delicate triangle, pretty enough, but I’d been too much around the sidhe of late. She looked unfinished to me, as if her hair or eyes needed a different color to make her real.
I told her, “Close your eyes.”
She didn’t hear me, but it wasn’t the walls she was staring at. She was watching Frost while he touched Major Walters’s face. I finally touched her eyes just above her open lid, and she flinched away from me.
“Dr. Polaski, can you help her hold still?” I asked. She was one of the CSU, not the police. Polaski came to us, and said, “Carmichael, this will help. Close your eyes and let the princess touch you.”
Carmichael seemed strangely reluctant, but she did what her boss said to do. She shivered under my fingers like a nervous horse, skin jumping. She got calmer by the time I’d done her hands, and she seemed calm as I touched the tops of her hiking boots, below the wet of her jeans. When I raised up to trace her forehead, her voice seemed normal. “I’d prefer a cross as the symbol,” she said.
“A cross won’t work,” I said, tracing something much older on her forehead.
Those brown eyes opened to look at me, while I did it. “What do you mean, a cross won’t work?”
“We aren’t evil, Carmichael, just other. Contrary to popular myth, holy symbols won’t stop our magic, any more than holding up a cross would stop a blizzard from harming you.”
“Oh,” she said, and looked a little embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“It’s all right, the church has tried to vilify us for centuries, but if you’re ever in need of protection from faerie, I’d advise turning your jacket inside out instead of a prayer. A prayer can’t hurt, but the coat turning will probably be more effective.” I finished the last curve of the design and stepped back from her.
“Why does turning your jacket inside out help?”
“Most in faerie see only the surface; change your surface and the magic has trouble finding you.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Well, it doesn’t work if the person knows you really well and has never tried to deceive you.”
“Never tried to deceive you—what do you mean?”
“Never tried to appear to be other than they are.”
“Oh,” she said again.
I watched delight vanish from the other humans’ faces, as the oiling was completed. One policeman said, “I think I liked it better before. Now it’s just grey stone.”
“Where does the light come from?” Polaski asked.
“No one really knows,” I told her.
“I thought this oil was supposed to make everything look ordinary,” Carmichael said.
“It is,” I said.
“Then why is he still so damned beautiful?” She pointed at Frost.
I smiled at his face going cold and arrogant. It didn’t make him one bit less attractive. Goddess had made it impossible for him to be anything else.
“Maybe ordinary is the wrong word,” I said. “The oil helps you see reality.”
Carmichael shook her head. “He can’t be real. His hair is metallic silver, not grey, not white, silver. Hair can’t be silver.”
“It’s the natural color of his hair,” I said.
“Should the rest of us be offended?” Rhys asked.
“Maybe you should be,” Ivi said, “but she hasn’t seen most of us out of armor and cloaks.” He pushed the hood of his cloak back, and drew off the muffler that had hidden most of his face. Ivi’s face was a little thin for my tastes, and I knew his shoulders weren’t wide enough for me, but the pale green of his hair was decorated with vines and ivy leaves, as if someone had painted his namesake on his hair. When the hair was free, it looked like leaves blowing in the wind as he walked. His eyes were the startling green of emeralds. I guess if you haven’t been raised around people with multicolored eyes, the vibrant green of his eyes was worth a stare or two. Carmichael seemed to think so because her gaze went to him as if she couldn’t help but stare.
Crystall swept his own cloak back to reveal hair that caught the dim light of the hall and turned it into rainbows, as if his hair were a clear prism that shattered light into colors. His skin was whiter than mine, a white so pure it looked artificial. He flung the lesser white of his cloak back over one arm, and that arm was bare. I had a moment to wonder what he was wearing under the long cloak and above the boots that I could see. His arm shone in the light, like white metal, a gleam that no true flesh ever held.
The woman’s gaze went to him again, as if she could not help herself.
“Stop it, all of you,” I said. “Leave her alone.”
“I am doing nothing to her,” Frost said.
I looked at his arrogant face and knew he believed that. Knew that some part of him never understood how handsome he was, not really. The queen’s centuries of rejection had left their scars on our Killing Frost.
I patted his arm and turned to Rhys. “Since she seems less impressed with you and Arzhel, one of you gets to shepherd her through faerie.”
“Me, too,” Galen said.
I looked at him.
He gave a wry smile. “She isn’t drooling over me either.”
“Which one of us do you want to assign to her?” Rhys was shaking his head watching Carmichael look from one to the other of the men. The look on her face was somewhere between a kid overwhelmed in a candy store, or a small animal surrounded by predators; half eager yet half afraid.
“You choose, Rhys. You’re in charge of guarding the police while they’re inside.”
“Not Frost?”
“He’s in charge of guarding me until Doyle gets back.” The words made me wonder again where my Darkness was, and where his spell had led him.
It was as if Frost read my mind, because he said, “I will send someone to see where he is.”
I nodded.
“Galen,” he said. “Find out where Doyle is, and what he has discovered.”
I almost protested. If Doyle, Usna, and Cathbodua were all outgu
I actually took a breath to say something, but Galen turned to me with a smile that wasn’t entirely happy. “It’s okay, Merry, I’ll do whatever needs doing to bring him back safe to you.”