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Chapter three

An Unwelcome Visit

T here was nothing that Dean Keegan Clarke despised more than American business interrupting his afternoon tea. And there was nothing I loved more than disrupting his colonial heritage.

“Ah, Miss Belling,” Dean Clarke spoke in greeting as I stormed into his office uninvited, his poor secretary Margery running after me in a huff, her ludicrous perm bouncing atop her head.

“I—I couldn’t stop her, sir,” Margery panted, bending over to catch her breath as I came to a stop a few feet from where the Dean was inspecting his afternoon pastries, a bored expression on his face, thin lips pursed, shrewd eyes focused.

“You never can.”

Margery blinked, straightening up and looking from the Dean to me as if she were going to disagree. But I raised a brow in challenge and she backed down. She stomped her foot like a petulant child and stormed back to her desk, slamming the door behind her harder than was strictly necessary.

“I’ll remind you,” the Dean began then, still not looking at me though his tone had taken on that measured wariness of his. The vaguely threatening, confusingly mild taunt he reserved just for me. “Your status here is in a very precarious position at the moment. What with that outburst at the DAA a few months ago and now this business with a minotaur.”

“The minotaur which I single handedly saved a regiment of DAA special ops from, you mean?” I asked, raising a brow as I crossed my arms, baiting him.

“The very one.”

He finally selected a pastry and, placing it daintily on a small platter, allowed his eyes to flick up briefly to me before he turned and made his way back to his desk.

“Xavier says you were unable to close it.”

I froze, biting my tongue so severely I thought it might bleed. You failed. I could almost hear his voice sneering at me though he had never, would never, say it in such a way. Still, I felt it there, hanging between us, the words unsaid, the words he meant. You failed and, not only have you disappointed this academic institution which raised you but you’ve put the mortal plane in peril.

“Did he tell you about the minotaur as well?” I asked, treading lightly, trying to discern just how much my uncle had disclosed to the Dean.

“No,” he replied with a shrug and I relaxed for only a moment until he continued. “Wyn Kendrick did.”

My blood boiled in an instant, jaw tensing as I remembered the coward that ran when confronted with something he didn’t understand and the last conversation we’d had on that mountain.

“DAA bastard,” I swore.

“Bastard he may be but he’s lived another day, moved on to another rift, another assignment. You, however, might have died.”

“I didn’t.”

“Sheer luck.”

“Cunning is the word you’re looking for, I believe.”

He narrowed his gaze.

“What you did put yourself in jeopardy. Not to mention this institution,” he snapped and I understood. “I’ve been fielding calls from Congress and the press all morning, wanting to know about the rift, about you. Do you understand how hard it is for me to hide you, to hide what you are, when you’ve allowed yourself to become the girl who slew the minotaur overnight?”

The girl who slew the minotaur.

I gulped.

“I’m sorry, Dean Clarke,” I said and I meant it. Truly.

Dean Keegan Clarke was the only other person besides my uncle that knew what I was. Outside of the university, outside of the people I had grown up with who knew me and protected me, there were scientists who would want to study me, extremists who would want to kill me, and leaders who would want to use me. I tasted bile as my gut roiled with what I had almost exposed.

“You will get your things in order and you will return to close this rift,” he commanded and I stood up straighter, like a soldier receiving her orders. “I will have your classes covered. Xavier and I will help you in any way you can but Ren, we must close this rift.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“If they are growing, if monsters of ancient times are returning, it’s going to become more and more difficult for me to continue convincing the director of the DAA that these are mere astrophysical anomalies. Soon, we will lose access, you will lose access, and therefore, the person who has the greatest insight into what these are beginning to seem like they are will be barred from investigation. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“We’re running out of time.”

“Precisely. Whatever you find out, Professor Belling, and I mean no matter the source, you come directly to me. Have I made myself clear? Ignorance can not divide us. Not with the weight of the DAA bearing down on us.”

“I understand, Dean Clarke. And I assure you, I will report to you the moment I’ve returned from the rift.”

The Dean opened his mouth as if he intended to lecture me even more but then merely waved me away instead and I assumed that I was dismissed. My required debriefing with the Dean after every journey completed, I strode from his office, already pulling out my phone.

The DAA couldn’t be trusted. But they already knew about the rift, had gotten there even before I had. Given their significant advantage of resources, I had to move fast. I began typing out an email to another female professor I had met a few years ago at a conference about, of all things, telescopic technology. She didn’t work at Hadley. She was located on the other side of the country. But if anyone had any ideas on how to properly amplify a polarity machine, I thought it might be her.

So engrossed was I in my email that I hardly realized how far I’d walked until I reached my classroom. Pushing inside and grabbing the briefcase I had left just inside the door, I headed for the room on the other end, my office, still tapping away on my phone. My mind was such a jumble of bewilderment that I failed to realize I wasn’t alone.

I had reached my desk, set my briefcase down, and sent my email before I looked up to see a devilishly handsome man sitting in the seat across from mine.

His dark hair had a bit of length to it but flowed upward from the crown of his head in a soft wave, undoubtedly the work of some gravity-defying product. His eyes were dark as well and set below his arched brow. He possessed smooth, perfect bronzed skin, a chiseled jawline, and lips that spread slowly into a smirk the more I examined him. I refrained from rolling my eyes. As attractive as he was, his pretty face wasn’t what had me staring. He was emitting a soft purple glow.

From experience, I knew what that meant. So I let my eyes slide over him to the other half-formed shape on his right side before taking my seat and folding my hands in front of me, trying to appear unguarded.

“My office hours are from one to four,” I said impatiently, fiddling with the cuffs of my sleeves to appear distracted as I regarded him. “I’m afraid you’re early.”

“Make an exception,” he drawled, that vexatious smirk still drawn upon his lips.

I raised a brow, leaning back.

“Why should I?” I asked. “For a Fae.”

His smile snapped right off of his face. That arrogant expression turned to vague mistrust and expertly hidden surprise. I could feel his unease as he leaned, ever so slightly, toward me. He fidgeted, one finger rapping silently against his thigh, the only indication that I had made him uncomfortable.

“How—” he began but I answered before he could finish.

“Whatever glamour you’re trying to impose doesn’t work on me. Nor are the invisibility efforts of your friend seeing any success.”

In a blink, another man materialized behind my visitor. I made a concerted effort not to jump at his sudden appearance. Though I was unused to seeing magic wielded so casually, so easily, I would not give them the satisfaction of knowing how very on edge their use of it made me. This new male sported dark hair so long it hung past his shoulders and had to be gathered, half up, into a band at the back of his head that held it out of his face while leaving the rest of it free and flowing. His eyes were brighter, almost golden, and he had the remnants of a thin and jagged scar, now raised and white, running across his face diagonally from right chin to left temple.

“You’re a hybrid,” my visitor spoke, sitting back in his chair, propping up a knee, and rubbing his chin in wonder. “Incredible.”

“Don’t call me that,” I hissed, turning my attention away from his companion.

He held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Forgive me,” he said but I knew better than to believe it was a genuine apology. “Usually, those living in the mortal realm, even with Fae blood, can’t see through my glamours or that of my men.”

“What do you want?” I snapped, having lost all patience with them.

“We might have gotten off on the wrong foot.”

“When? The moment you waltzed into my office uninvited, made yourself at home, and set your friend up to ambush me? Or thousands of years ago when your ancestors—”

“First of all,” he drawled, leaning forward so that his face was hovering over my desk, just inches from my own, “my friend was not set up for an ambush. I simply thought that having two Fae males standing around your office when you entered might scare you off. It seemed less… intrusive for it to be only me. Second, I’m not here to hash out literal ancient history. What I have to offer you is far more current.”

I leaned away from him, eyeing him skeptically. Fae were notoriously tricky and this man looked like the swindler to swindle all swindlers. I frowned, tapping my finger against the desk as I examined them both. Their clothes were finely made. All of deepest black with little intricate designs embroidered in thread at the sleeves, the hems, the collars. They looked young but that could be deceiving. No one knew that better than me. All in all, there was little to go off of from their physical appearance. They were presenting themselves well. They possessed the immortal beauty known to inhabit all Fae. But that glow… it wasn’t from their flawless skin.

Fae were supremely powerful beings, vessels for the most potent magic. It was why they were the self-appointed guardians of the Immortal Realm. Because they were the only beings powerful enough to keep all the others in check. Most of the time, when they traveled to the mortal plane, their powers dimmed significantly. Someone like me could hardly detect it. But this man before me, he was glowing with it. It was flowing from him in gently pulsing waves, like a caress against the air. His companion’s aura was not so strong but it was still there, more so than most others. Which only meant one thing. These men were not your average Fae.

“What offer?” I finally asked, unable to stop myself.

He bared his teeth at me in a glittering grin.

“My name is Canis but my friends call me Lark. And you are Seren Belling.”

I tensed. He noticed but he made no mention of it, simply raising a brow as he continued, leaning back in his chair.

“You see, Seren—”

“Ren.”

His eyes flicked to mine.

“Ren,” he corrected slowly, letting his tongue roll over the word as if savoring the syllables. I took a breath. “I’m looking for a way back into the Immortal Plane and I’m told you’re the one to talk to.”

“Back in?” I asked, blinking as I tried to catch up. “What do you mean you’re looking for a way back in? Are you… stuck here?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

He waved his hand in the air as if the matter wasn’t of any importance. But his companion snorted, and Lark’s gaze snapped to him. The man cleared his throat and fell silent at that penetrating glare. Even I shifted uncomfortably in my seat at that hint of simmering, silent rage.

“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “I’ve been… banished here. For a little over half a century.”

“Banished?” I balked. “Half a century?”

“A little over.”

My nails were digging into my palms now. Only the sting of them alerted me that I was clenching my fists as hard as I was. I had paled. I knew it from the way they were looking at me, watching me. They didn’t speak, didn’t move, as if afraid I would scurry away if they did. Maybe I would. What did a Fae have to do to be banished from their plane for half a century? And how much more was a little?

“You’ve been here the whole time?” I asked, stunned.

“Well, not here,” he gestured around at my office, at the university itself, “but yes. My father and I had a… disagreement. It got heated and he’s a powerful man so here I am. But a man can only be content to live on the wrong side of The Divide for so long.”

“You want to go back,” I repeated, still disbelieving. “And you think I can help you?”

“I hope you can. I heard about you from another professor. One in Oregon. A fine woman. I’m sure you’re familiar with who I speak of.”

I was. I had been emailing her on my way into this conversation. We had spoken of astral planes, long ago, all in theoretical terms. At least, I had pretended it was a hypothetical, asking her if she believed, as one of the best astrophysicists of our time, that other planes existed and, if so, if she thought we could travel to them. She said we would be fools to think we knew of everything our universe had to offer.

“She informed me you had become aware of a door of sorts,” he spoke of these matters as if they were casual though we both knew they were anything but.

My heart raced and I fought to maintain my outward composure as I considered how best to answer. I hadn’t thought about the door in years, hadn’t let myself. I had allowed myself to get too close, to look too hard, and I had vowed never to do so again.

“Perhaps I have,” I answered slowly, narrowing my eyes in a new examination. I would have to tread even more lightly here. “And what do I get?”

His gaze turned feral as his eyes dipped from my face, downward. He raised a brow as his attention snapped back to my face. More specifically, my lips.

“What do you want?” he queried, his voice thick, husky.

I rolled my eyes.

“Pig,” I snapped and his friend chuckled behind him.

“Well?” he asked, spreading his hands wide, raising his brow once more in challenge.

“Help me heal the rift.”

He frowned.

“A rift,” he repeated. “Don’t you mortals patch those up all the time?”

“This one isn’t patching,” I answered, snarling at the last word and the condescension of it. “In fact, it’s dropping full sized minotaurs from the sky occasionally.”

“Is it?”

His eyes widened a fraction in genuine surprise. He turned back to his companion, the two of them exchanging some silent communication I couldn’t understand for a moment that seemed drenched in an unmistakable sense of doom before turning back to face me.

“Very well, Ren Belling, take us to your rift.”