Spellbinder
Page 11
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Everything looked… historic. Was that the right word?
Walking over to the bars of her cell, she ran a finger experimentally down one. The slightly rough surface disturbed her more than anything. They were strong, well made, and sturdy, but they had not been generated by modern machinery.
There were fourteen bars.
Fourteen.
Fourteen. Agh!
She tore herself away from them, stepping back to turn in a circle. The lock on the cell door, the cot itself, the window—none of it looked sleek or mass-produced, or as if it had come from the industrial age.
She felt as if she had almost traveled back in time, or… or as if she wasn’t quite on the same Earth she knew anymore.
As if she wasn’t on Earth at all, anymore.
Her throat closed as panic threatened to set in.
What would it be like to travel through a crossover passageway? She had always wondered, but she didn’t know. She had read stories of how deadhead humans experienced crossovers, but she’d not yet visited an Other land herself. She had thought her hypothetical trip to Adriyel might be the first time.
Since she had no magic, she couldn’t make a crossover passage on her own. A deadhead had to be touching someone with magical ability in order to make a crossing, and she had always known she would have to rely on someone else with magic to walk her through the passage. The most common way was to hold hands.
The stories told of a strange, surreal experience as travelers watched everything around them change while they traversed a passageway. But would she have had that experience if she’d simply walked from the middle of one forest clearing to another?
The soldier had thrown her fireman-style over his shoulder, and her head had dangled upside down. It hadn’t exactly been a priority for her to study her surroundings closely as he’d carried her down the path. She had been too busy staring at his ass and wishing she either had the courage or the lack of sense to bite him.
If he’d carried her along a passageway to an Other land, they didn’t need to put her in a cell, because she didn’t have the ability to get back to Earth on her own. She couldn’t contact any of the Djinn who owed her favors—without telepathy, she could only reach her Djinn contacts by phone, and even if she still had her cell, phones didn’t work in Other lands.
Suddenly she could no longer fight back the rising panic. Rushing to the cell door, she shouted, “Hey! Hey! Do you realize how many crimes you’re committing by putting me in this cell against my will? You can’t keep me here—I’m a Canadian citizen!”
No one came. As she paused, a deafening silence pressed against her eardrums. As far as she could tell, she was the only one in this horrid little building. They didn’t care enough to respond, and that frightened and enraged her more than anything.
Hours passed. Finally her own body’s needs forced her into using the latrine. She did so quickly, in case someone came, and afterward she flung herself onto the cot. From there, she counted and recounted the bars in her cell door and watched the light from the high window shift and eventually dim.
Her violin had been in the trunk of the car. Was it all right?
That violin was her most treasured possession. Crafted by the famous French luthier Jean-Baptiste Vuillaume, it was nearly a hundred years old, and acquiring it with her own hard-earned money had been one of the biggest triumphs of her life.
She wanted to ask one of the more Powerful Djinn who owed her a favor for a much rarer Stradivarius, but she hadn’t yet worked up the nerve, and in any case, that wouldn’t feel the same as it had felt to buy the Vuillaume for herself.
She chewed her lip bloody as she fretted about her violin, but there was nothing she could do and no way to get any answers.
Eventually hunger set in, along with boredom, cold, and exhaustion. She curled herself into a small fierce ball as she worried at her dilemma like a dog gnawing at a bone.
While her kidnapper had made Isabeau out to be dangerous, even cruel, how much could Sid trust of what he had told her?
He hadn’t been impressed when she’d mentioned she had money, but maybe the Queen would feel differently. Almost everyone liked money, and they liked accruing more of it. The possibility of collecting five million dollars in ransom should mean something, damn it. The insurance certainly cost enough.
And who had her kidnapper been stalking? She knew nothing about Isabeau and the Light Court, other than the fact that a Dark Court existed as counterpart to it. Her kidnapper hadn’t mentioned a name—just referred to he and him.
Whoever he was, he liked Sid’s concerts. She might find an ally in him.
She had to face some cold hard facts. If she really had been transported into an Other land, she might find it hard to get justice for her kidnapping. The demesnes on Earth cared far more about interactions with human societies, but the demesnes from Other lands had a much greater degree of self-reliance.
If nothing else though, perhaps this male could help her cross back over to Earth and go home again. That was the most important thing.
As night came and her cell fell into darkness, the air chilled even further. Thirsty now, very hungry, and shivering from the cold, she thought she would never be able to sleep, but eventually she slid into an uneasy, miserable doze.
A sharp clang of metal against the bars jolted her awake. Heart pounding, she stared around her, disoriented.
“Awaken, human.”
She focused on the Light Fae male on the other side of the bars. She hadn’t seen him before. He carried a beaten metallic bowl and a cup that he shoved through a space at the bottom of the bars. She asked, “Can I talk to someone in charge?”
He threw her an indifferent glance. “You’ll be talking to someone in charge soon enough. Eat. We leave for the castle shortly.”
Castle? She would bet her next year’s salary he wasn’t talking about any castle on Britain’s list of historic sites.
Swallowing in an attempt to ease her dry throat, she asked, “Are we in an Other land?”
He paused in the act of turning away, gave her a sharper look, then barked out a laugh. It sounded contemptuous. “You don’t know? I will pass on the information that you have no Power.”
Feeling stung, she ground her teeth. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Yes, human,” he said impatiently. “You are now in Avalon, and you are subject to our laws, our Queen. The sooner you come to terms with that, the better things will go for you.”
Walking over to the bars of her cell, she ran a finger experimentally down one. The slightly rough surface disturbed her more than anything. They were strong, well made, and sturdy, but they had not been generated by modern machinery.
There were fourteen bars.
Fourteen.
Fourteen. Agh!
She tore herself away from them, stepping back to turn in a circle. The lock on the cell door, the cot itself, the window—none of it looked sleek or mass-produced, or as if it had come from the industrial age.
She felt as if she had almost traveled back in time, or… or as if she wasn’t quite on the same Earth she knew anymore.
As if she wasn’t on Earth at all, anymore.
Her throat closed as panic threatened to set in.
What would it be like to travel through a crossover passageway? She had always wondered, but she didn’t know. She had read stories of how deadhead humans experienced crossovers, but she’d not yet visited an Other land herself. She had thought her hypothetical trip to Adriyel might be the first time.
Since she had no magic, she couldn’t make a crossover passage on her own. A deadhead had to be touching someone with magical ability in order to make a crossing, and she had always known she would have to rely on someone else with magic to walk her through the passage. The most common way was to hold hands.
The stories told of a strange, surreal experience as travelers watched everything around them change while they traversed a passageway. But would she have had that experience if she’d simply walked from the middle of one forest clearing to another?
The soldier had thrown her fireman-style over his shoulder, and her head had dangled upside down. It hadn’t exactly been a priority for her to study her surroundings closely as he’d carried her down the path. She had been too busy staring at his ass and wishing she either had the courage or the lack of sense to bite him.
If he’d carried her along a passageway to an Other land, they didn’t need to put her in a cell, because she didn’t have the ability to get back to Earth on her own. She couldn’t contact any of the Djinn who owed her favors—without telepathy, she could only reach her Djinn contacts by phone, and even if she still had her cell, phones didn’t work in Other lands.
Suddenly she could no longer fight back the rising panic. Rushing to the cell door, she shouted, “Hey! Hey! Do you realize how many crimes you’re committing by putting me in this cell against my will? You can’t keep me here—I’m a Canadian citizen!”
No one came. As she paused, a deafening silence pressed against her eardrums. As far as she could tell, she was the only one in this horrid little building. They didn’t care enough to respond, and that frightened and enraged her more than anything.
Hours passed. Finally her own body’s needs forced her into using the latrine. She did so quickly, in case someone came, and afterward she flung herself onto the cot. From there, she counted and recounted the bars in her cell door and watched the light from the high window shift and eventually dim.
Her violin had been in the trunk of the car. Was it all right?
That violin was her most treasured possession. Crafted by the famous French luthier Jean-Baptiste Vuillaume, it was nearly a hundred years old, and acquiring it with her own hard-earned money had been one of the biggest triumphs of her life.
She wanted to ask one of the more Powerful Djinn who owed her a favor for a much rarer Stradivarius, but she hadn’t yet worked up the nerve, and in any case, that wouldn’t feel the same as it had felt to buy the Vuillaume for herself.
She chewed her lip bloody as she fretted about her violin, but there was nothing she could do and no way to get any answers.
Eventually hunger set in, along with boredom, cold, and exhaustion. She curled herself into a small fierce ball as she worried at her dilemma like a dog gnawing at a bone.
While her kidnapper had made Isabeau out to be dangerous, even cruel, how much could Sid trust of what he had told her?
He hadn’t been impressed when she’d mentioned she had money, but maybe the Queen would feel differently. Almost everyone liked money, and they liked accruing more of it. The possibility of collecting five million dollars in ransom should mean something, damn it. The insurance certainly cost enough.
And who had her kidnapper been stalking? She knew nothing about Isabeau and the Light Court, other than the fact that a Dark Court existed as counterpart to it. Her kidnapper hadn’t mentioned a name—just referred to he and him.
Whoever he was, he liked Sid’s concerts. She might find an ally in him.
She had to face some cold hard facts. If she really had been transported into an Other land, she might find it hard to get justice for her kidnapping. The demesnes on Earth cared far more about interactions with human societies, but the demesnes from Other lands had a much greater degree of self-reliance.
If nothing else though, perhaps this male could help her cross back over to Earth and go home again. That was the most important thing.
As night came and her cell fell into darkness, the air chilled even further. Thirsty now, very hungry, and shivering from the cold, she thought she would never be able to sleep, but eventually she slid into an uneasy, miserable doze.
A sharp clang of metal against the bars jolted her awake. Heart pounding, she stared around her, disoriented.
“Awaken, human.”
She focused on the Light Fae male on the other side of the bars. She hadn’t seen him before. He carried a beaten metallic bowl and a cup that he shoved through a space at the bottom of the bars. She asked, “Can I talk to someone in charge?”
He threw her an indifferent glance. “You’ll be talking to someone in charge soon enough. Eat. We leave for the castle shortly.”
Castle? She would bet her next year’s salary he wasn’t talking about any castle on Britain’s list of historic sites.
Swallowing in an attempt to ease her dry throat, she asked, “Are we in an Other land?”
He paused in the act of turning away, gave her a sharper look, then barked out a laugh. It sounded contemptuous. “You don’t know? I will pass on the information that you have no Power.”
Feeling stung, she ground her teeth. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Yes, human,” he said impatiently. “You are now in Avalon, and you are subject to our laws, our Queen. The sooner you come to terms with that, the better things will go for you.”
