Страница 42 из 77
"No, because you say there is only one type of ghost, like it's the only truth. Trust me, Merry, there are more than human shades ru
"Like what?" I asked.
He took a deep breath, flexing his hands on the steering wheel. "What happens to an immortal being when it dies?"
"They're reincarnated like everybody else."
He smiled. "No, Merry, if it can be killed, then by definition it's not immortal. The sidhe say they're immortal, but they aren't. There are things that can kill us."
"Not without magical help there isn't," I said.
"It doesn't matter how it's done, Merry. What matters is that it can be done. Which brings us back to the question, what happens to the immortals when they die?"
"They can't die, they're immortal," I said.
"Exactly," he said.
I frowned at him. "Okay, I give up, what did that mean?"
"If something can't die, but it does, what happens to it?"
"You mean the elder ones," Frost said.
"Yes," Rhys said.
"But they are not ghosts," Frost said. "They are what remains of the first gods."
"Come on, guys," Rhys said. "Think with me. A human ghost is what remains of a human after death, before it goes to the afterlife. Or in some cases, a piece gets left behind because it's too hard to let go. But it is the spiritual remains of a human being, right?"
We both agreed.
"So aren't the remnants of the first gods just ghosts of the gods themselves?"
"No," Frost said, "because if someone could discover their name again and give them followers, they could, theoretically, rise to 'life' again. Human ghosts do not have such an option."
"Does the fact that the humans don't have the option make the elder ones less a ghost?" Rhys asked.
I was begi
"I said I knew the spell. I don't, not exactly. But I have seen the shades of the elder let loose on fey. It was as if the very air turned deadly. Their lives were just sucked out of them."
"Fey are immortal," I said.
"Anything that can be killed, even if it reincarnates, is mortal, Merry. Length of life doesn't change that."
"So you're saying that these ghosts were let loose in that club?"
"Fey are harder to kill than humans. If the place had been full of fey, some might have survived, or been able to protect themselves, but, yes, I am saying that that's what did it."
"So the ghosts of dead gods killed over a hundred people in a nightclub in California?"
"Yes," Rhys said.
"Could it have been the Nameless?"
He seemed to think about that, then shook his head. "No, if it had been the Nameless, the building wouldn't be standing."
"That powerful?"
"That destructive."
"When did you see this happen the first time?"
"Before Frost was born."
"So a few thousand years ago."
"Yes."
"Who called the ghosts up then? Who did the spell?"
"A sidhe who has been dead longer than England has been ruled by the Normans and their descendents."
I did quick history math in my head. "So before 1066."
"Yes."
"Is there anyone alive today who could do the spell?"
"Probably, but it's forbidden to do it. If you're caught, it's an automatic execution, no trial, no commuting the sentence, you just get dead."
"Who would risk such a thing to harm a crowd of humans on the edge of the Western Sea?" Frost asked.
"No one," Rhys said.
"How sure are you that these elder ghosts did this?" I asked.
"There's always the possibility that some human magician has come up with a new spell that resembles the effects, but I'd bet a great deal that it was the elder ghosts."
"Do the ghosts take the lives for their master?" Frost asked.
"No, they keep the lives, and they feed on them. Theoretically, if they were allowed to feed each night unchecked, they could become... alive again, for lack of a better word. They need the aid of a mortal to do it, but some of the elder ones can be brought back to full strength if they get enough lives. Sometimes one of them will convince a cult somewhere that they're the devil and get them to sacrifice themselves, and that could work, but it would take enormous amounts of lives to do it. Taking the lives from the mouths of the victims is quicker, no wasted energy, like trying to drink blood from an offering bowl."
"Has one of them ever been brought back to full strength?" I asked.
"No, it's always been stopped before it got that far. But to my knowledge they've never been let loose to feed directly -- except for once, and that was in a controlled situation where they were contained as soon as the spell was finished. If they've gotten out without a leash on them, then..."
"What can stop them?" I asked.
"The spell needs to be reversed."
"How do we do that?"
"I don't know. I'll have to talk to some of the others back at the apartment."
"Rhys," I said softly, because a horrible idea had just occurred to me.
"Yeah."
"If the only person you've ever known to do this spell was a sidhe, then does that mean it's one of us again?"
Silence for a few heartbeats, then, "That's what I'm afraid of. Because if it's a sidhe and the police find out -- if they could prove it -- it might be grounds to evict us all from American soil. There's an addendum to the treaty between us and Jefferson that says if we perform magic that is detrimental to the national interest, then we are considered outcast, and we'll have to move on."
"That's why you didn't mention this in front of the police," I said.
"One of the reasons," he said.
"What's the other?"
"Merry, they can't do anything about this. They can't stop these things. I'm not even sure that there are sidhe alive today who can stop them."
"There has to be at least one sidhe who could stop them," I said.
"How do you figure?" Rhys asked.
"A sidhe let them loose. He could put them back."
"Maybe," Rhys said, "or maybe the reason they slaughtered a hundred humans in a matter of minutes is that the sidhe lost control of them. They may have killed him when he couldn't control them."
"Fine, if a sidhe raised these things, why are they in California and not in Illinois where the sidhe are?"
Rhys did another of those full-face turns. "Merry, don't you get it? What if they wanted a way to kill you that couldn't be traced back to faerie."
Oh. "But we did trace it back to faerie," I said.
"Only because I'm here. Most of the court forgets who I was, and I don't remind them, because thanks to the Nameless I don't have the power to be that anymore." He couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice. Then he laughed. "I'm probably one of the few sidhe alive who saw what Esras did. I was there, and whoever raised the elders just forgot about me." He laughed again, but it burned with mockery as if it hurt coming out of his throat. "They forgot about me. Here's hoping I can make them regret that little oversight."
I'd never heard Rhys so full of... anything but lust or teasing. He was never serious for long if he could help it. I looked at him as he drove us toward the apartment to pick up Kitto. There was a look to his face, a set to his shoulders. Even the grip of his hands seemed to have changed. I realized in that moment that I didn't really know him. He hid behind a veil of humor, lightness, but underneath was more, much more. He was my bodyguard and my lover, and I didn't know him at all. I wasn't sure if I owed Rhys an apology, or if he owed me one.