Chapter 16

  I had a well-established door that opened into central London, just across from Fortnum and Mason on Piccadilly. Ordinarily, I would've walked the mile to Harrods, but it was warmer in London than it had been in Oakwood and I didn't want to show up for my lunch meeting sweaty, so I caught a bus and was there in short order. A quick elevator ride took me up to the fourth floor, but something stopped me in my tracks as I made my way over to the café.

  There was magic in the air. Just the faintest hint of a cobweb-like sensation, delicate and gentle, but similar enough to what I'd felt when von Einhardt tried to control my mind that it froze me in place for a moment. There was none of the immediate disorientation I'd felt then, though.

  I felt Sparkle - clinging to the Master Key as usual - squirm a little against my collarbone. Then she whispered so silently that only I could hear her, "It's mind magic, Caley, but very gentle and diffuse." She sounded both confused and fascinated. "It feels sort of like a Sidhe glamour, but not really, and it's not specifically aimed at us...it's more like it's saying 'don't worry about this.' It wouldn't have any effect on you even if it was directed at you, though. Not with me around."

  Reassured, I brushed my fingers across her and the key lightly in thanks, and began walking again. I entered the café, looked around…and not far from where I stood, by the windows in the corner near the entrance, I saw a young woman who had to be Ms. Rhodes.

  She was sitting and staring out at the city, her chin cupped in one hand, but her positioning allowed her to keep an eye on the café door as she city-watched. Her hair was cropped in a short, attractively messy bob with bangs that hung almost to her eyebrows, and was as black as Penny's fur. She had two streaks of color dyed into her bangs…one bright, neon pink, the other bright, aqua blue.

  As I stopped in the entrance, her eyes flicked from the windows to me, then she turned fully in my direction. She had a heart-shaped face with a strong chin, high cheekbones, and large, almond-shaped eyes that were an impossibly, almost unnaturally bright emerald green.

  Blinking a few times to shake off the urge to just stand and stare at those incredible eyes, I smiled and started toward her table. She, in turn, returned my smile and rose to meet me.

  Ms. Rhodes was dressed a bit more casually than I was, but I was prepared to forgive that…she was, after all, American, and probably still disorganized, having just arrived the day before. She wore a body-hugging short-sleeved and scoop-necked top in almost exactly the same color as her eyes, tucked into a thigh-length black pleated skirt over black leggings. Her outfit was set off by snug black vest that almost looked like a corset, emerald green socks scrunched down around her ankles, and black trainers.

  She wore only three pieces of jewelry that I could see: A silver Star of David and a silver pentacle, each on their own black silk cord around her neck, and a string of plain, dark wood Mala beads wrapped several times around her left wrist.

  As I got closer, I saw that her skin was unnaturally smooth and flawless, without so much as a freckle or mole anywhere in sight on her face or neck. She almost looked like one of those makeup-coated social media influencers, except I saw no sign of makeup at all. There was something almost doll-like about her appearance. I could also sense that she was the epicenter of the magic I'd felt on entering.

  She gave me a thin-lipped smile as I approached, but there was warmth to it that touched her eyes, making them seem to shift colors subtly. Then I realized that her eye color was shifting, just a little bit, as she moved. It was as if there was a soap bubble stretched over her irises and pupils, creating an iridescent effect.

  She extended a hand to me, and it took me a moment to realize she was offering me a business card, not a handshake. I took it and looked at it.

  The card itself was a piece of transparent plastic with rounded corners. The right side was taken up by the blue and white United Nations emblem, only with a staff and a sword crossed beneath the laurels. The left side read: UNSDI Special Agent Katherine Jessica Rhodes, New Orleans Field Office, with a pair of phone numbers - office and cell - and an email address.

  "It's out of date now," she said with a little shrug as I met her eyes again, "but they ain't given me new ones yet."

  I smiled. "Bureaucracy is the one great constant of the world, hm?"

  She laughed softly. "Oh yeah." She gestured to her table. "Please, be welcome at my table and share my repast." She hesitated a moment and seemed to wince a little. "Sorry, old habits."

  "That's all right," I said, wondering at the wording. It had sounded very much like the almost ritualistic way I'd asked the gnomes in Oakwood to sit and speak with me the other day. "I understand the laws of hospitality can be very important in the supernatural world."

  As we sat down on opposite sides of the little booth, she nodded. "You can say that again and swear on it. Not as seriously as the Sidhe and some other communities. But it's still polite, and I want you to feel completely safe with me." I thought I saw her sniff the air as we sat, and wondered about that. I wasn't wearing any perfume, and I wasn't smelling anything unusual.

  "Thank you. If you don't mind my asking," I said carefully, "you seem to be…" I hesitated.

  She smirked slightly. "Sensed my 'somebody else's problem' charm, did ya?"

  "Is that what it is?" I asked, resting my elbows on the table and leaning forward curiously.

  She nodded. "It makes people ignore anything weird about me, and most anything weird I might have to say. So we can speak pretty freely, as long as we're not too loud about it."

  "So, are you…" I trailed off and hesitated.

  She smiled lopsidedly. "Human. Just weird. It's a long story. Lady Reid -"

  I smiled back at her. "Please, call me Caley."

  She faltered for a moment and looked surprised. Then her expression warmed and she nodded. "All right, Miss Caley. If you'd like, you can call me Jessie."

  "Thank you, Jessie. Honestly, I'm still not sure about whether or not I'm entitled to the honorific, and…" I shrugged. "The formality doesn't sit terribly well with me still."

  She chuckled softly. There was something almost musical about her soft contralto. "Better get used to it. From what I hear, if you continue the way you've begun, you'll earn that honorific. Assumin' it's not yours already."

  "I should tell you," I said after a moment, "that I'm not alone. I have two companions with me…Sparkle, a field fairy, and Penny, a dusk fox. I'm afraid it probably isn't wise for either of them to come out in public."

  Jessie's eyes widened and her nostrils flared again for a moment, then she nodded and gave me a small smile. "Thought I smelled fairies. You're right, it's probably not wise for them to come out…I don't think my spell could compensate for that much weirdness at one little table. But a dusk fox…ain't seen one of them since I was a little girl. Glad t'hear there's some still free."

  I thought there was a hint of a question in that last statement, but she continued before I could answer it. "Last I heard, the ICOA had all the survivors on short leashes. So to speak." She said the acronym like 'eye-coah' and with a peculiar emphasis on the first syllable, making it sound both serious and mocking at the same time. As if adding syllables to a four letter word somehow made it more of a 'four letter word.' Leave it to an American.

  I pursed my lips and nodded. "I believe that to be the case," I said quietly. "Worse, I believe that the survivors - and I sincerely hope you're wrong and there are more out there somewhere - are from a clan that was engaged in a vassal agreement with my family. Penny, who's with me, is one of those."

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  Jessie's eyebrows shot up and she whistled between her teeth. "That'd give you grounds for a violation of contract grievance with the ICOA." For the first time, she flashed me a smile that showed her white, even teeth…it was a rather vicious smile, not a friendly one. "I wanna be around when ya bring that to bear on 'em."

  "I have my legal firm looking into the possibility of pursuing that angle," I said carefully. That smile had unnerved me a little. "I want those dusk foxes set free."

  "So they can be yours?" Jessie asked bluntly.

  "So they can come home," I replied firmly.

  She tipped her head, and her weirdly iridescent emerald eyes bored into mine for a moment. Then her smile grew gentle again, her teeth disappearing behind her lips, and she gave me a little nod. "I appreciate the distinction."

  I felt like I'd passed some sort of test.

  "But," she went on, "that's not why we're here, is it?"

  We were interrupted then by a waiter, who placed menus on the table between us and asked, "Can I get you both something to drink before you order?"

  "Ginger ale for me, please," I said.

  "Coffee, please," Jesse said. "Black as the inside of a coal mine and strong enough t'claw its way outta the pot and attack unwary civilians."

  The waiter laughed, nodded, and went to get our drinks.

  Jessie yawned behind her hand and rubbed her face for a moment.

  "Rough time of it?" I asked sympathetically.

  "Some days are diamond," she said, quoting distantly familiar song lyrics, "some days are stone." She stretched a little and gave herself a shake. "I'm havin' a hell of a time adjustin' to the time change."

  I noticed that her accent had softened into something more American South and less formal. "Well, you've only been in England for what, thirty-six hours?"

  "Forty, give or take," she rubbed her eyes. "I think. And I only got about six hours of sleep." She sighed. "But, by the end of the week I'll be all caught up. 'Till then, caffeine'll haveta do. But I really wanted to meet you ASAP." Again, she said it as an acronym rather than the individual letters, though this time in a way that felt friendly rather than inspiring an urge to spit, the way she said ICOA.

  I sat forward and rested my arms on the table again. To business, then. "Why?"

  Jessie considered the question seriously for a moment, lips pursed, brows drawn down in a little frown. "Lots of reasons." She ran her hand over her mouth and chin. "Lady Reid…Caley, sorry…look, I have trust issues. Been workin' on 'em for a few years now with the UNSDI shrinks, but I think I just give 'em a screamin' headache most days. See, I…" She hesitated again, then sighed. "Can I trust ya?"

  "That's an interesting question," I said carefully. "I'd like to think so. From what I've heard, the UNSDI -"

  She waved a dismissive hand at me. "Not them. I mean can I trust you. I wanna be completely up front and honest with ya, at least as far as I can be without gettin' too personal."

  "I appreciate that," I said firmly. "After the ICOA's obstructionist obfuscation and Oberon's honeyed half-truths, blunt honesty sounds very refreshing. Yes, you can trust me."

  Her eyes widened when I mentioned Oberon's name, and I thought I saw a mixture of fear and awe on her face for a moment before she shook her head. "Neither here nor there right now, but I'd love to hear about you meetin' the Fairy King - and I'd advise ya not to use his name so lightly - if there's time and y'all can share it."

  I nodded a little. Her reaction to Oberon's name was interesting, and I wanted to probe it…but another time.

  "Listen," she said, "my bosses - Gabe and Mika - they sent me here to London for several reasons." She started ticking them off on her fingers. "I wanted out of New Orleans in the worst way…lovely city, more goin' on there than any one person could take in, but it was too much for me right now. They wanted someone about your age and magically talented to make contact with ya, figurin' y'all'd be more comfortable that way, and they've been pushin' me to socialize with folks my own age more…" She smirked slightly. "They like killin' as many birds with one stone as they can, those two."

  She took a breath and let it out, then continued, "On top of that, the UNSDI only just got permission from the British government to operate on British soil again, and they wanted to send over the most innocuous agents they could…"

  "You're innocuous?" I asked, amused.

  She flashed me that warm, small smile again. "Compared to some of our field agents, I'm positively invisible in public."

  Besides being extremely American, I thought.

  I returned the smile. "I'll take your word for it."

  She nodded seriously at that. "Thank you kindly. Point bein', the UNSDI is still strugglin' to rebuild its reputation in some parts of the word - including Great Britain - after what was goin' on with them thirty-odd years ago. Too many long memories, both in the supernatural world and in politics." She hesitated a moment. "How much do you know about what happened?"

  "I've been briefed on it," I said carefully. "Literally. The information was brief and incomplete. As I understand it, there was a schism inside the organization, and the people who ended up running it in the 1980's and 1990's were…difficult."

  "Tactful," Jessie said. "We've tried hard - as I understand it, and I'm sure I don' know all of it - not to air our dirty laundry in public. Fact of the matter is, the UNSDI lost a lot of trust and community engagement outside'a the US while they were under different management. And it ain't easy to win that kinda trust back. It's taken them the better part of twenty years to get to where we are now, just being invited to re-open offices in countries that gave us the boot in the '90's. And not without good reason, from what I've heard."

  "Including England," I observed.

  "Including England," she agreed, clasping her hands on the table in front of her. "As of this mornin', the entire British branch of the UNSDI is me and one other field agent, a senior field agent, an office manager, and a couple'a clerks."

  I stared at her incredulously. "You're joking."

  "I'm not," she smiled mirthlessly. "We're working - and living - in a crappy little warehouse in Limehouse until the UNSDI can finish legally transferring the funds to get better digs and more staff here. It's real foot-in-the-door work. Phil, the office manager, pretty much all he's doing is suckin' up to the British government to get all the permits and such. Erik and Mike, the other two field agents, are tasked specifically with cleanin' up some problems in London that ICOA's been ignoring for years."

  "And you were assigned to woo me," I said, then smiled a little and added, "so to speak."

  "A not at all unpleasant proposition," she said with a teasing wink. "I volunteered, actually. Filched your UNSDI dossier off'a my boss's desk and had a read. You sounded interestin', and so did England." She looked down at the top of the table for a moment, then back at me. "Been a few since I had a place to really call home. I know what it's like to be completely uprooted and discover that the world ain't what ya thought it was."

  Her words touched a chord in me, but I didn't know what to say. She sounded lost and lonely in that moment, two feelings that I understood painfully well. I was saved by the waiter returning with our drinks. As he set them down, he asked, "Are you ready to order?"

  Jessie gave him one of her closed-lipped smiles. "Think we need a few more minutes. Had a spot of business to discuss first."

  "Not a problem at all," he said graciously. "Just give me a wave when you're ready to order."

  He left, and Jessie sipped her coffee. She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. "Caffeine. Blessed be. Anyway, I said to my boss, 'Hey, what if you sent me to go make friends with the local laird,' and here I am."

  That brief pause and a sip of my ginger ale were enough time for me to recover my equilibrium. "So tell me a little about the UNSDI," I said. "What do they want from me? What do they stand for?"

  Jessie sipped her coffee again. "That second one's a big damn question. Lemme tackle that first. See, the UNSDI was formed with the idea of engaging with the supernatural community around the world…like the United Nations, to offer everybody a single policing body they could go to with trouble, and for help with whatever they needed, wherever they crossed with the mortal world. Basically what your family does, but on a larger scale.

  "As I hear it," she continued, "things got a bit rough an' tumble in the 80's and 90's. There was a big ol' wrasslin' match in 2004 which spilled out into the street at the U.N. Plaza in New York and had to be cleaned up. Heck of a mess, nearly blew the lid off'a the whole masquerade, but they managed to cover it up with some help from the Feds. And they've…we've…been rebuildin' our reputation ever since."

  "It sounds a little too good to be true," I observed.

  "Like the U.N. ain't too good to be true?" Jessie asked with a snort. "When was the last time they seriously accomplished anything. Even with the massive setback, we're battin' a thousand compared to them."

  "Fair enough," I said with a chuckle.

  "Anyway, it's actually true. But like any big organization, there's more to it than that. Yes, the UNSDI has strike teams that can be deployed to dangerous supernatural hot spots. But mostly we work behind the scenes to keep dangerous things from harmin' innocent people. We make some unsavory deals with unsavory beings to keep their problems from becoming everyone's problems." She hesitated for a moment, then quietly added, "And sometimes, some of us do some questionable things to keep worse things from happening."

  I tipped my head and gave her a long look. "That sounds all right, I guess."

  She gave me a thin-lipped smile, though this time it didn't touch her eyes, and sipped her coffee. "There's good days and bad."

  "Some days are diamond…" I said, remembering what she'd said earlier, and feeling an urge to reach out to her somehow.

  Her smile became more genuine. "Some days are stone."

  "That's…" I dug in my memory. "That's a John Denver song, isn't it?"

  She smiled a bit more, her eyes starting to sparkle again. "Not originally, but he made it famous."

  "As for what they want from you? Your family's got a reputation for playin' fair with everyone in the supernatural community who'll play fair with them, and for slappin' the shit outta the ones that wouldn't. The Guardian of Oakwood Hall is practically a legend in Faerie. My bosses consider gettin' on your good side to be a top priority while movin' back into Great Britain."

  I sat back a little. "Oh, come now. Surely there are people in England with more supernatural clout than I have."

  She shrugged. "Maybe. But not this side of Faerie, and not with the kind of potential you've got. At least, that's what my bosses think. And when you see someone young with potential like you, there's an urge to jump in and guide it, and the urge to take advantage...and then there's the smart folks who just want to get in on the ground floor and see what happens. My bosses are a bit of a mix…they wanna get in on the ground floor, and maybe offer a little guidance here and there."

  Where the heck do you go with a statement like that?