Lydia felt her heart stop for a moment. She re-read the page to be sure.
Helen Callaway.
“Oh my God.” Gran wasn’t her grandmother. Her grandmother was Pearl, a young and pretty party girl who’d been cast off once she became pregnant and had stayed at Callaway House because she had nowhere else to go. She didn’t even know Pearl’s last name. She didn’t even know if Pearl was her real name.
Her breathing hitched in her chest and she let the book fall closed as if she could lock the secret back up. There was a reason diaries shouldn’t be read. How different would her life have been if Pearl hadn’t died and Gran hadn’t claimed the baby and raised her? Helen hadn’t been a late life surprise for Gran. Gran had lied. Why would she do that?
Her whole life was a lie.
Her eyes burned afresh as she lost her grandmother for the second time. She wished she’d never opened the stupid trunk and started reading.
Her phone rang again. Caspian. She couldn’t talk to him now. She didn’t know what to say. She cradled her head in her hands. Everything she knew was unraveling; soon she’d be left with nothing.
The phone rang out and went to voice mail. “This is Lydia. Leave a message.”
“It’s Caspian. I wanted to see how you are doing.” He paused—what was he saying? Of course she wasn’t going to be all right. Fairies had come in and shaken her life up. He’d shaken her life up and put her in danger. Was that why she wasn’t answering?
He was tempted to drive out there now and make sure, but he made himself take a breath. He couldn’t give away that she knew, not with an imp creeping around his shop, listening to every word. “If you need me to come around early and help let me know.” He hung up. Would she get back to him?
When he’d left this morning she’d seemed fine, but daylight had a way of altering perceptions. He looked at the phone in his hands. For the moment he’d done everything he could, but he was waiting. Waiting for Lydia to realize it was all too much. Waiting for Dylis to get the Counter-Window. Waiting for the Court summons. Every time someone entered his shop he expected to see the Hunter of Annwyn ready to take him across the veil. It made thinking about work difficult. If these were his last few days he didn’t want to be spending them with an imp in his shop. He wanted to be with Lydia, but she’d made it clear she wanted to be alone.
He didn’t blame her. If the situation had been reversed he’d have wanted space from the person talking about fairies and magic mirrors too. Last night he’d been hopeful when he’d seen the trunks and the boxes in the stable, but now, after he and Dylis had failed to find the Window, he was becoming more certain it was no longer at the house. The idea that it could be anywhere and that he only had one month to find it was more than a little terrifying. If he did manage to find it, he still had to work out a way not to give it to Shea—and not get killed in the process. It was exactly the reason he spent his life trying to stay clear of all things fairy. If he hadn’t bought the enchanted mirror from the garage sale, then maybe Shea would have left him alone.
To distract himself from thinking about fairies he flicked through a couple of news sites, reading the headlines. He noticed the memorial for Nanette Callaway was the day after tomorrow and that there was a large outbreak of golden staph at a couple of hospitals.
That made him pause. While small outbreaks happened, this was more widespread. This time it was because of the ripples on the river. He didn’t really want to think about it, but Dylis’s warning about plague wasn’t something he could shrug off.
Instead of looking up antiques he started searching for disease outbreaks, half hoping the golden staph was an isolated anomaly.
It wasn’t. Measles was making a comeback. The health authorities blamed low immunization rates. On the other side of the world in Africa a rapid-spreading, drug-resistant tuberculosis was causing problems. That was where he stopped looking. The trouble with the Internet was it was very easy to find a positive answer to anything. Of course there were going to be outbreaks; there were seven billion people on the planet, a percentage of which would get sick.
But several different outbreaks at once?
He needed to find the Window. That would stop Shea, but Caspian knew enough about Court that finding the Window wouldn’t stop the ripples caused by the King and Queen’s fighting. They wouldn’t really damn the mortal world over a feud?
But the Black Death was proof they would and had before, more than once.
Bloody fairies. He couldn’t escape them at the moment. When he was with Lydia he felt normal and could forget for a little while what he was… or he had been able to. Now she knew and was busy deciding if she wanted to see him again. If it were him, he’d probably be running the other direction. Maybe he was asking too much for someone to know him and still accept him. Natalie would never have. And while he’d told Lydia, having Greys show up and destroy her yard wasn’t going to help his case. He tried to ignore the ache in his heart and pretend it was better she found out early before they got serious. The trouble was he didn’t believe it. For a moment last night he’d thought he’d been on the way to having what he wanted in a relationship.
The imp who thought he was doing a good job of hiding peeked around the table. Caspian threw a pen at it. The pen bounced harmlessly off the table leg.
Shea’s minions were still stalking him even though they were no longer trying to annoy him. “What were you banished for?”
The imp peeked back around. “Me?”
“Are there any other imps here?”
It shook its head. Imps had a bit of magic, but they’d given up stature and gradually looks to keep it. Trolls, on the other hand, gave up looks and magic first. Boggarts gave up looks and stature for magic—they were probably the most dangerous. What would Shea do?
“I tricked a woman into coming to Court.” The imp grinned as if proud of what he’d done.
“Is she still there?”
“She was set free and I was banished.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Why not?” The imp shrugged.
“Do you regret it?”
The imp regarded Caspian with eyes of the palest blue. “I regret being caught. The child I’d created became a changeling,” he spat the word.
“Have you seen the child?”
The imp laughed. “I’m not your daddy. If you’re lucky, you’ll never meet him. Most view changelings with scorn.”
Caspian knew that. But he also knew his situation was more complicated. He was sure the Crown Prince would hear about his deal sooner rather than later and he’d get to meet his father for the first time in a less than favorable situation.
He looked at the imp. He preferred Dylis’s company; at least she was pretty and could kind of be trusted. The imp on the other hand was only looking out for Shea. Caspian didn’t need to ask what the imp had been promised. There was only one thing banished fairies wanted—a return to Court.
Felan walked through the Court’s hall of mirrors. They were embedded in the bark or hanging from the branches that arched overhead, their limbs forming the vaulted ceiling. With every breeze they spun and caught the light glittering like stars. Most were no bigger than the palm of a hand. It was beautiful.
In the main hall there were bigger mirrors so the dancers could see themselves. And the occasional changeling who risked glancing at the Court. He’d seen Caspian and heard his thought for just a moment.
Dylis walked toward him looking like a flower in bloom. She swept him a curtsy that was more formal than anything she’d done recently. He was guessing this was the end of their private relationship. A pity because it had suited both of them while they were between lovers.