Page 31 of Against the Veil (Endangered Fae #3)

“The greater the number of kelan ,” the dragon went on, pointing to Brandon’s sample.

“The greater the potential. No matter how well trained, a magic user with fewer natural kelan will only be able to pull on the flows so far. One with a greater concentration, as with our stubborn one here, should be able to access far more power. To exercise far more control.”

Brandon ducked his head, chewing on his bottom lip. He looked so miserable. All this mess is his fault. I don’t want to feel bad for him.

Minky sighed and cleared her throat, forcing the question out when everyone turned to her. “But…sir? You said kelans are inherited. That most species have their own patterns.”

The dragon nodded. “Human patterns are not as predictable as others. But there are certain traits shared by most humans, as we see here.” Then he pointed to her strange, delicate-looking pattern. “You wish to know why yours is so unlike the others.”

Minky nodded, trying to keep herself from fading into the wisteria vines under the alien weight of draconian eyes. She twitched, almost falling from her bench, when a loud sneeze erupted overhead. Another followed and a black tortoise fell from the pergola’s roof to the stones.

What the…

The tortoise sneezed and vanished, replaced by a black swan, which sneezed and abruptly became a black butterfly.

“Thrice damned wisteria,” the butterfly muttered. The butterfly opened and closed midnight-velvet wings, sneezed and vanished in favor of a fae male whose only covering was his long, blue-black hair.

“Fionnachd, you were welcome to join us in a less abrupt fashion,” the dragon said in a desert-dry tone.

“Yes, well…” The pooka sat up, mirroring the dragon’s position on the stones, his face a study in wounded dignity. “I had no wish to interrupt.”

Will had shoved Brandon behind him, which would have been funny with their size difference if it hadn’t been for the memory of their last meeting with Finn.

The dragon snorted and gestured for Will to sit down. “He means your beloved no harm.”

“But, sir—”

“Calm. Fionnachd has come to see his child.”

“My what ?” Finn surged to his feet, spinning in a circle as if unsure who he should address.

“You were drawn here, pooka. You felt the pull.”

“I was curious! It’s my worst failing!”

“The centuries have thinned the blood but the magic breeds true.”

Finn hid his face in his hands, whispering, “Oh, gods. I didn’t think…did she even have children?”

“The answer sits before you. Did you not tell me once, Fionnachd, that you had tired of living in fear?”

“This isn’t fear,” Finn muttered, staring at Minky through his cascade of dark hair. “I’m just a mite, as they say, freaked out. The shocks follow too quickly these days.”

Minky felt the blood drain from her face when she finally figured out they meant her . But she couldn’t make any sense out of it. She knew her parents. She also knew the story about Finn’s return to the world and that he hadn’t been around when she was conceived. None of it made sense.

“She’s transparent again.” Finn shook his head on a sigh. He held out a hand to her. “Come away, human child. I expect we should…talk.”

She flinched back, more rather than less uncomfortable.

“Why is she so frightened of me?” Finn’s voice sounded plaintive and hurt, much different from the ferocious pooka she had first seen in Prince Lugh’s condo.

“Besides the fact that the first time she saw you, you were a panther trying to rip Brandon’s throat out?” Nate said with a wry smile.

“Well, yes. I’ve not even raised my voice today.”

Nate cleared his throat. “Um, dude, you’re naked. Minky doesn’t do naked.”

“Oh.” Finn looked down at himself and even Minky had to choke back a snicker. “Oh, bother. Is that it? Easily remedied. Meet me in the kitchen. I’ll be properly covered.”

He stalked off and Minky breathed out in relief until she realized she was supposed to go after him. Feet, you should move. Before I look really stupid. But they decided they’d rather pretend to be stone and refused to budge.

“Mink? We’re okay here without you for a little bit.” Nate crouched down next to her bench. “I mean, I know you want to protect Bran and all—”

She ducked her head on a strangled snicker.

“—but His Lordship here said more than once that you’re different. Maybe you need a different teacher.”

Kara spoke up from where she stood apart from the rest, arms crossed. “Big girl panties. You can do this. Go talk to your great granddad, or whatever the hell he is.”

Dread clutching her heart, she got up and dragged her feet inside. By the time she got to the kitchen, Finn was there, dressed in jeans and a Depeche Mode T-shirt, sprawled in one of the chairs, long, bare feet propped up on the table. At least they looked clean.

“I suppose I should offer you something.” His fingers drummed restlessly on the chair arm. “Human young like soda, though, don’t they? We don’t have any of that.”

“I…um…” Minky edged toward the fridge. “Water’s good. You…do you want one?”

He leaned back, lacing his fingers over his stomach. “Thanks all the same, but no. Are you truly afraid of everything? Or only me?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.” She took the chair farthest from him and put the bottle of water down since her hands shook too much. “Life, the universe and everything.”

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “I like those books.”

“What?”

“The Hitchhiker ones. Diego has read them to me.” He faltered on his husband’s name and Minky’s heart cracked because of it.

“Oh. Yeah.” She picked at the label on her water. “I, um…like them, too.” She let her feet swing. Even the chairs in this place were too big. “Do you…do you have lots of kids?”

He blinked at her, apparently taken off guard. “Ah…no. I was never certain I had any. But there was one girl… I did suspect, perhaps…”

“Did she…you know, know ?”

“That I was her sire?” He shrugged one shoulder, lips pressed in a tight line. “I never spoke to her, to my lasting regret. I will never know.”

She opened her water and took a sip. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, and she meant it.

“Not your doing.” He finally looked at her again. “But here you are and here I am. That’s a rather neat trick you’ve managed, this fading to transparency.”

“It’s just…something that happened. Can you do it?”

“Not the way you do. But I can become difficult to spot when I wish.” He flashed her a hesitant smile and faded from sight. He didn’t blend into the background. He really vanished until only his smile remained.

That disembodied smile reminded her so much of the Cheshire Cat, she let out a shocked laugh, then clapped both hands over her mouth.

“It’s all right to laugh at my little jokes. You’ve nothing to fear from me,” Finn said as he reappeared. He took his feet from the table, propped his elbow on the wood and his chin in his hand. “But then again, you’ve most likely inherited your fear. Cowardice is part of a pooka’s nature.”

She opened her water so she could roll the cap around on the table. “You’re not.”

“Of course I am. I would much rather crawl under a rock than become embroiled in confrontation. I’m frightened all the time.”

“Yeah, but you still do stuff.” She couldn’t believe she was arguing with someone who could turn into a dragon and eat her. “You helped get the door opened again between the worlds. You’re the one everybody listened to when the fae needed, you know, a place to stand.”

His gaze was calm and steady, but difficult to read. “Perhaps I had a hand in things. Still scared spitless the whole time.” He caught the cap she was rolling, tossed it in the air a few times and rolled it back to her. “Do you feel the flows? Or rather, are you aware that you do?”

She shook her head, more out of confusion than negation. “I feel…something. I mean, I know when other people are using power. Kara pulls in strings, just as much as she needs. Brandon pulls in huge, honking wads of it, like he’ll never have enough.”

Finn’s eyes narrowed when she mentioned Brandon, but his voice stayed soft. “That one needs a leash. Or a muzzle. Perhaps both.” He raised his free hand, palm up, and curled the fingers in one by one as if cutting off the topic. “Your pardon. Never mind that. Obviously you do feel it.”

“Yeah, but…not when I look for it. Not when I want it, you know? Just when other people yank on the magic. That’s what I feel.”

“Sensitive…” He held a hand out toward her, fingers hovering over her arm. “But blocked. Your anxieties block your channels, I suppose.”

“Great,” she muttered, rolling the cap back to him.

He continued the game, putting a spin into the cap’s trajectory as he sent it back. “Diego…was like that. When we first met.”

So much sorrow, it’s like he’s drowning in it. “So what…what changed?” The cap went wide as she sent it back, nerves skewing her aim, and Finn had to snake out an arm to snatch it from the table edge.

“Sex,” he answered with a wistful hint of a smile.

Of course. She sighed in frustration. “Not helping. I don’t…” She waved a hand in a helpless gesture, then scrambled to catch the cap as it sailed back to her.

“ Kisk hesklss , the dragons would say. Tree-like.”

“Huh?”

“Most beings that have young…” Finn took the cap back, tossing it from hand to hand as he seemed to search for words.

“They spend a bloody huge amount of energy on mating. Looking for mates. Courting them. Fighting for them. Mating with them. But most races seem to have some people who do not do this. Rather than running about in endless mating dances, they stand still. Do not engage. Observe. Tree-like.”

“Yeah. That’s about right.”

“So.” He spun the cap back to her. “You must have something that makes you…not afraid.”

Not afraid. Was there anything? Reading was good, getting lost in someone else’s problems. Sometimes, her friends, her coven …there were times when everything was going well and everyone was getting along, and the knots in her stomach went away.

“I guess—”

“Finn, bud.” Sergeant Morrison stood at the kitchen door, pale, obviously worried. “You better come see this.”

The pooka glanced between her and the sergeant, then jerked his head toward the door.

Me? Minky shrank back in confusion, but then wasn’t given a choice when Finn grabbed her hand and dragged her along. Weird. She didn’t cringe from his touch as she normally did other people’s.

Their destination turned out to be the den where various fae and human staffers packed the room, perched on every piece of furniture and flat surface available.

Several pixies fluttered around a table lamp.

Those things made her nervous—too much like insects.

Finn shocked her by tucking her under his arm and leading her over to where her friends stood in an anxious knot, the dragon lord looming behind them.

The television was on, showing a podium with all the trappings of a press conference about to start. Something big was up.

Sergeant Morrison came to stand with them. “They’re going through the prelims. Which cities have been affected, injured counts, all that. The President’s already said he’s called in a ‘widely respected expert’ to help get a handle on the problem. Three guesses who.”

Minky had already guessed who would be coming to the podium, but it didn’t ease the shock one bit to see Mr. Sandoval again.

Not the one everyone knew, of course. That Mr. Sandoval would have thanked the person presenting him and would have shuffled nervously for a bit before beginning.

This man, this dark mage they had made out of Diego Sandoval, strode onstage with an air of command, his expression serious and full of the proper concern but overlain with enough arrogance to make Minky shudder.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press,” he began, both hands gripping the sides of the podium as if he needed to keep the world steady.

“What we have on our hands today is a crisis of unprecedented proportions, a threat to our national security, our homes and our families. This is not a crisis stemming from any external source, from terrorists bent on bringing this nation down or an outside economic threat, but rather from our own citizens. From our own children…”

He went on to describe what was happening as a plague of wild human magic, as a disease process that needed to be checked.

His claim was that in previous centuries, humans taught their children how to deal with the magical world.

Old wives’ tales, old superstitions, all had their roots in magical training.

But the modern world had neglected those teachings.

Too much had been lost. The sudden re-manifestation of magic in the human population had resulted in wild talents and dark illnesses of a magical nature.

“…vampirism, lycanthropy, pyromancy—these are human conditions, caused by the distortions of untrained human mages. But I believe there is hope. I believe we can, if Congress is willing to act quickly and decisively, restore order and provide assistance to all those afflicted. We can hide our heads in the sand and wait for chaos to devour every city from coast to coast, or we can build a new model of government, lead the world in the training of magical youth and the treatment of magical maladies.”

He held up a sheaf of paper. “I have here a proposal that, with the President’s approval, I intend to set before the House this afternoon.”

A clamor of voices rose from the room. Mr. Sandoval raised his voice above the noise.

“The Defense of Magical Beings Act calls for the creation of a Department of Magical Education and Security. Through this agency, we will be able to register and monitor all magical beings within our borders. We will, in fact, be able to prevent violence before its inception…”

Minky stopped listening as her blood pounded in her ears. Registration was always the first step, wasn’t it? Before they rounded up all the undesirables and made them disappear.