Chapter Nineteen

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Andrew left, at that point. He was currently a very busy wolf; now that they had a clear scent sample from these mages, it was going to be much more likely that they could follow the trail, and they had a lot of sites to check. Honestly, the fact that he’d taken time to keep watch and give me a status update was kind of surprising.

I sat in the parking lot of the Blackbird Cabaret for a few minutes with Saori. We didn’t really say much, but it still felt very soothing, somehow. The air was cool enough that the partial sunlight actually felt nice, and I had a lot of stuff to absorb. So much had happened while I was unconscious. It was strange to think about the fact that I was most of the reason for that when I didn’t know anything about it.

It felt unfair, in a way. I could do just about the closest thing to actual prophecy that was possible. Last night had been actual Oracle of Delphi shit, knowledge I shouldn’t have had, languages I didn’t speak. But I was entirely reliant on someone else to tell me what my visions had actually been.

“Sorry for scaring you,” I said eventually. “I should at least have told you about the seizure risk.”

Saori was cuddled up against my side with her head on my shoulder. “Why didn’t you?” she asked me, not agreeing or disagreeing. Her tone was mostly just curious.

I sighed. “I guess just because it’s a sore spot. Because I like concerts, you know? I love music, love the intensity of the moment.”

“But it’s overstimulating?”

“That,” I said, “and also there’s an element of…well, I get some amount of emotional resonance from people, right? Not a ton usually, but there’s an awareness of that. Even ordinary people say that the experience of a good concert is moving. I’ve heard people describe it as almost a spiritual experience, the intensity of the experience feeling like an altered state of consciousness in itself.”

“Ah,” she said, and curled in closer against me. “A room full of people all having very similar, intense feelings.”

“Yeah. And then also, it’s a bit…well, I’ve mentioned the synesthesia. But I don’t think in much depth. Basically, sensations cascade into each other, and sound is the one that gets that the most. Music becomes touch, becomes color. Your laughter is golden, incidentally, and flickery. It’s nice.”

“It sounds beautiful,” Saori murmured into my chest. “But it sounds like too much to hold all at once. I think I understand. Sore because it would be so nice but you don’t get to have it.”

I sighed, and stroked her hair gently. “Yeah. That’s exactly it. I don’t…I mean, I’ve always been this way, for as long as I can remember. I don’t know what it’d be like to live without these experiences, and I don’t think I want to. I love having these sensations available. But there are times, and there are ways, that it’s…frustrating. This is one of the bigger ones. And I guess I just didn’t feel up to explaining that. Sorry, it wasn’t very fair to you.”

“It’s alright. It was exciting.” Saori was grinning now. “You should have seen the look on the werewolf’s face. And then when you started ranting in German it was even better, you said something like ‛but deep down, the prey wants to be caught, and craves the sanctuary it will find within the wolf’s teeth’ and just. Her expression was priceless. I’ll try and get a picture next time.”

“You seem confident there will be a next time,” I said dryly.

“Well, yeah. I mean, I’m planning on sticking around. And it seems like this happens when there’s a catastrophe, so I think with me on hand there’s pretty good odds. Maybe I’ll be able to get a video, even.”

I had to laugh at that. And, in a weird way, it was thoughtful of her. Hadn’t I just been wishing I didn’t have to rely on secondhand accounts for this? Hell, if there were a video we could probably even figure out whatever the mystery language was that I was babbling in.

We sat like that for maybe another ten minutes before someone called me.

“The wolf said you’re up, yeah?” Jack said before I even got to be rude at him for calling me.

“If I wasn’t before,” I said dryly, “you’d have woken me. So yes.”

“Yeah, fair. You have some free time? I’d like to talk.”

“You’re already talking, so great job, you’re self-actualizing like crazy today.”

“Cute, but I don’t mean a phone call.” The druid sounded…I wasn’t sure what to call it. Not worried, not anxious. Concerned, maybe. “You have time to take a walk?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “I’m still at the Blackbird, so.”

“Aight. I’ll be there in twenty. Try not to do anything stupid without me.” The line went dead without further comment.

Saori was laughing. “Because that wasn’t ominous at all,” she said.

I had to laugh as well at that point. “Yeah, seriously. I do not understand that guy.”

“Ditto. What do you think he wants?”

I frowned. “Hard to say, honestly. There are a lot of possible things, and he’s really hard for me to figure out. I think something important though.”

“That’s not great,” Saori said. “Guy like that thinks something’s important and you don’t know what it is, that’s spooky as hell.”

I laughed. “Yeah.” Then I paused. “Actually. That’s a really good point.”

She pulled away enough to look at me. “Huh?”

“Oh, just…that gave me a thought,” I said. “At first it seemed like this whole thing was, you know, it was weird and bad, but kinda random and not a huge deal. But at this point, it’s looking a lot bigger than it did. We’ve got someone carrying out major ritual magic, there’s a scary Sidhe thing going on.”

“Hm,” Saori said. “I think I see where you’re going there. If people like that think something’s important and you don’t know what it is, you start running for cover.”

“Yup.” I frowned. “Actually, on that note. You said that you met Chris because a mutual acquaintance recommended you to him, right?”

“Yeah. Chris was good at a lot of things, but he wasn’t anything like sneaky. He could hide objects, obviously given his profession, but hiding himself? Ha. This job called for some inspectors or something to not know he was there at all, so. Yeah.”

I nodded. It made sense. I didn’t really know what Saori’s skillset was like, but in the folklore, kitsune were tricksters, shapeshifters, and generally sly as hell. “Yeah, that tracks. You think you could find the person who introduced you?”

Saori considered for a moment, and then nodded. “Yeah. I’d have to go in person, though.”

“That’s fine. I think it’d be a good idea, if you’re up for it. Might be nothing, but I kinda…feel a lot less inclined to write things off as random weirdness than I did a week ago, you know?”

“Yeah. I think I do.” Her voice was quiet, but there was a dark, hungry kind of anger in it. “It’ll take me a while, though. Won’t be back to drive you around for half a day or so I think, roughly.” She didn’t actually say that she was expecting someone to try and kill me, but it wasn’t hard to tell what she was getting at.

“Relax,” I said dryly. “I’ll be behind the wards here and then I’ll have Jack Tar with me. I highly doubt they’re going to commit the kind of resources they’d need to kill me anyway when they’re already down a member and have other plans to work on.”

“Alright,” she said, reluctantly unwrapping herself from me. “But if you die while I’m gone, I will find your ghost and make you regret it.”

“Thanks, that means a lot to me. See you in a bit.”

Saori got up. I watched her drive away, and then I went back inside.

---

Capinera was awake by now. She really didn’t sleep much; she had to have been awake almost until dawn, and it wasn’t even noon yet. She couldn’t have gotten much more than four hours. Idly, I wondered whether she didn’t need more than that, or just couldn’t get it.

Regardless, she was up, sweeping the floor of the main room. I wandered over and sat on the stage to watch her work. The only furnishings in the building seemed to be in her living quarters backstage, but the edge of the stage was comfortable enough, just high enough that my feet didn’t quite reach the ground.

“Thank you again,” I said.

She stopped sweeping, set the broom aside, and joined me, sitting a short distance away. “It’s no trouble at all,” she said.

I nodded. “This is a nice place,” I told her. “I hadn’t been before this. I’ve heard good things, though.”

Capinera smiled. Her teeth were sharp, but narrow, resembling fangs or even needles. Not so much that most people would notice immediately, but enough to be distinctive. “Thank you. I’ve tried to make it a good thing for people.”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Getting that impression.” I was quiet for a few moments. “You have a nice name. It’s Italian, yes? It’s the word for blackcap in that language.”

Her smile was a smaller thing now, not showing teeth. It was the kind of smile that might mean anything at all. “You’re well-read.”

“I like to read, and I have a lot of free time,” I said dryly. I was quiet for a few more moments, trying to phrase what I wanted to say next. Capinera seemed content to wait. She was still smiling, just a little, but her eyes were sapphire pools that currently had no sparkle in them at all.

“Blackcaps sing very sweetly,” I said at last. “A lovely songbird. But black is also a color of mourning in Europe. And you are, I think, not entirely human, any more than I am. And known to the Sidhe, as well.”

“These things are true,” she acknowledged. The smile wasn’t there anymore. She inclined her head slightly, a fencer acknowledging a touch.

“I’m not saying this as a threat,” I said. “To be clear. More just…letting you know I’ve inferred these things. I’m well-read, but I’m not that unusual, and this is fairly straightforward inductive reasoning. If I can put it together, others may as well.”

She smiled again. This one was more open, and seemed amused. “I think you overestimate how much most people think about these things. But, also, the name is not meant to conceal. The things you have inferred are…not secrets, not really.” She looked at me, seeming curious now. “Why do you mention it?”

I shrugged. “You have been kind. And it…you let me talk about things, last night. It seems like there might be things you need to talk about, too.”

Capinera was quiet for long enough that I wasn’t sure she was going to respond. Eventually, though, she did. “You’re not wrong. On either topic. It seems you’ve already guessed this, but to confirm, yes, my father was a redcap. And yes, I was raised largely among his Court.”

I nodded. That was what I’d been getting at, though I’d felt like outright stating it would have been rude. Redcaps…were not a type of fae that I would want to be associated with. When your defining trait in the folklore is meeting people on the road, pretending to be just a fellow traveler, and then suddenly murdering them and dyeing your hat in their blood, it’s not going to win you many friends.

“I’ve never been involved with the Sidhe before last night,” I said after a moment. “So my knowledge is fairly limited. But that sounds like it would be hard.”

She shrugged. “In some ways. Yes. I lacked for little. My education was very good. I was accorded a fair amount of respect, far more than most half-blooded people. My father is highly regarded within the Midnight Court, you see, and my godmother even moreso.”

I didn’t make a joke about her having a faerie godmother. It wasn’t a laughing matter. When that kind of thing actually happens, it generally doesn’t go like Cinderella. When it’s someone who has high rank among the Unseelie, it’s even worse.

“But those things rarely come for free,” I said quietly.

Capinera smiled a little, and nodded. “No. Almost never. My mother’s arrangement with Clíodhna was largely her own price to bear, but there were still…consequences.”

I winced. Clíodhna was a scary enough name that I’d heard her mentioned even without ever interacting with the Courts. The queen of banshees, in the old stories. “There are always consequences,” I said. “And you have killed many things.” She’d said as much to me, last night, and I believed her.

“Yes. That portion of my education was more my father’s responsibility. I learned to fight, and to kill, and I did these things. At first for study, and then for pleasure or on his orders. When he wished someone dead, I was his assassin. When he had no such need, I entertained myself dueling people.” She sounded sad, and the words had the dark color of blackberries, a deep feeling of regret woven through them.

I nodded. I’d expected something more or less of the sort. That rapier, which I noted was currently on the stage where Capinera could reach it easily, had seen a lot of use. “That lifestyle is hard, at times,” I said quietly. “My life was…not the same, but for a time it had some of the same qualities. It was draining after a while.”

“Yes.” Capinera smiled a little, and it was interesting, because it was still sad, but there was a kind of happiness in it, a sweetness. I hadn’t met very many people who could experience happiness and sorrow at the same time. Some, but few. “I lived that way for a long while; it’s hard to say how long. Time is…strange, with the Otherside. It always and only flows one direction, but the relative rate between domains is very inconsistent. But it was decades, I think.”

I nodded. “What’s it like over there?” I asked, more out of idle curiosity than anything. “I’ve never been.”

She shrugged. “It’s not as different as you would think, in many ways. More varied, more intense I think, but not that different underneath. Honestly, I think the mortal world is stranger than most Otherside domains. The vast majority of the humans I meet are…so blind to the world, and so certain their blindness is clarity. The irony is that their researchers are actually quite intelligent, and the scientific method would be an excellent tool for studying magic—were they not so certain in their flawed starting axioms.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I guess that’s true.” It had never really occurred to me to think about it like that. But now that I did…I mean, there was one world like this, and thousands out in the Otherside. Maybe my world only seemed normal to me because I’d never left it. Certainly when she put it that way the fact that most of the people I saw on the street were utterly clueless about large portions of reality was kind of weird.

“Why’d you come here, then? It sounds like you had…a lot of other places you could have gone.”

Capinera shrugged again. “Mm, there were a few reasons. Probably the biggest is that my father has relatively little influence or power here. He didn’t take my departure kindly.”

I nodded. “And you’re in one of the most inhospitable areas to him, here,” I noted. “Right in the middle of the old steel mills, the area where that industry used to be such a big deal.”

“Yes. Clíodhna recommended the city to me on that basis. It is…uncomfortable, but I’m not so sensitive to iron that I cannot tolerate it. He is.”

“The prices we pay for our sanctuaries,” I said quietly. I glanced at my phone. It was just about time to go out and meet Jack, I thought. I looked back to Capinera. “Thank you again. And thank you for talking with me. Your perspective is…insightful.”

“It is no trouble,” she said again. “And thank you for talking to me as well, Kyoko; this was appreciated. You are very welcome here.”

I smiled a little, though I suspected mine also had sorrow and joy mingled within it, and I left. She sat on the stage to watch me go, with an old rapier she hadn’t left behind with her old life, still in easy reach.
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