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“No, I’m not in the least bit confused. We are already aware of what happened through your mother’s little Tillandsia project. Emily’s Babel spell was intended to carry you beyond the line’s protection. No doubt, it was a nasty piece of work, but it was a mere walk in the park compared to the great working. We know now that Emily’s fascination with the Babalon Working goes back many years. She surrounded herself with books and artifacts and people, one in particular whom she disguised as a servant, that were related to the great work. I believe you have met her purported driver?”
“Parsons?” The image of the man’s waxy gray face rose to mind. I washed it down with a quick sip of the hot black tea.
“Indeed. Fool of a man. Brilliant, very nearly capable of succeeding. He is a magic worker, but he is no witch. I personally am convinced that were he a witch, this planet would have been lost to the old ones long ago. As things stand, he nearly destroyed himself. Tell me”—he shifted gears without warning—“in your knowledge has Emily Taylor ever acted in the best interest of either you or your sister?”
I fought to keep my emotions from showing. Still, I was struck by the notion that perhaps the only time she had actually done right by us was when she faked her own death and left us in Iris’s care. Iris had not been a perfect parent by any means, but I grew up knowing I was loved. Had Emily raised us, God only knows the person I might have grown into.
Fridtjof didn’t seem interested in allowing me time for a full inventory. “No, I thought not.” He leaned in toward me. “Emily knew your husband was a Fae changeling. She knew she could unravel your entire life simply by alerting Peter to that fact. So one is left to ask, why did she not?”
It was true. She had promised Peter would never learn from her about his true parentage. Had she been so sure his awareness would be otherwise triggered? Even if that were the case, she seemed to relish in bringing pain. Why would she not have rushed to do just that? “I really don’t know why.” I would have liked to believe it showed that deep down there remained a shred of decency in my mother, that maybe a subliminal part of her soul actually did love me. All the same, I knew Fridtjof was preparing to dash that hope.
“Your parents, and yes, we are now aware Erik was your father.” He waited for me to respond, but I held my tongue and watched him through a cool eye. I had the suspicion our little bonding experience was coming to its official end. “We have investigated and determined that your parents had both dedicated themselves to ending the line. We are certain Erik’s defection from his family’s position was a ruse, though a convincingly played one.” His pale eyelids closed partially over his blank eyes. “You have certainly heard of the prophecy about the combining of your bloodlines.”
Yes, of course I had, but I bit my tongue. I would let him lay out his cards before me before I committed to anything.
“The prophecy stated that a union of the Weber line with the Taylors’ could produce a child capable of bringing down the line,” he added for my benefit, on the off chance this tidbit had somehow escaped me. “We never took it seriously, as there are similar predictions about many other supposedly dangerous combinations among the witch families. If the anchors had truly believed this to be an actual prophecy and not just an old witches’ tale, your Ellen would never have been allowed to marry Erik.”
“Why are we going through all this ancient history, especially if you hold no credence in the ‘prophecy’?”
“Because we fear that your mother succeeded.”
“How?” I asked. “If she had succeeded, why would she be dead and us playing tea party in a pasture?”
The lack of pupil and iris made it difficult to glean much information from his eyes. Fridtjof placed his hands on the table, and from the angle of his face, he appeared to be examining them. “Emily has been hiding your entire life, working in the background to achieve the end of destroying the line.” His face tilted up to mine. “She could have chosen to return at any time, but she waited until you were pregnant.”
It took a few seconds for me to realize where his train of thought was heading. What he implied seemed to be simply impossible. It was impossible he would even consider it. “No,” I said, pushing back from the table. Emmet didn’t seem to have made the connection yet, but he jumped up ready to defend me all the same.
“Mercy, you must realize, I get no pleasure from forcing you to acknowledge this. Think about it. I can smell the magic on you. The magic you and your family are using to keep your pregnancy viable.” My hands fell to my stomach. “That is why Emily never told Peter about his parentage. She knew enough about Fae magic to realize that if he lost his footing in this dimension, if his existence here were erased before the baby could establish its own foothold in our reality, the baby would never be born.”
I took a step back, sliding without intending to into Emmet’s outstretched arm. He wrapped both arms around me, and I realized around Colin too. My senses were overwhelmed with Emmet’s intention to protect us both.
“This thing growing in you—” Fridtjof stood and with a wave of his hand made the table and chairs disappear. “It isn’t a child, it is the Abomination.”
“You are wrong.”
“Listen to me, Mercy,” he said, folding his hands as if he were praying. “I know it is a horrible thing to hear.”
“Shut up.”
“You must realize what a blessing it is Peter returned to his world. You can save the line, you can save the entire world simply by letting go.”
I looked over my shoulder at Emmet. His handsome face was twisted with rage. “We need to go,” I told him, and prepared to sl
ide us home.
“Can’t you see how he loves you?” The question caused me to hesitate. “I can tell you love Emmet as well. Let yourself forget. Forget Peter, forget this thing that has taken root in your womb. Let it dissolve.”
“I cannot forget my child,” I said. “I will not forget my child.”
“Your golem is fertile. You will have other children, you and your giant there. Beautiful children. So many. Simply let this one go.”
“No,” Emmet spoke for me. “If Mercy will allow me, I will indeed father children by her, but this one”—his large hand slid over mine—“will be our first. We will never let go.”
“Then you leave us with no choice but to perform a binding on the girl,” he said and raised his hand toward me. “Last chance, Mercy. Let the Abomination fade away. Understand this is your only choice.”
“Only choice? You people are insane. Just how do you think one innocent child will destroy the world?”
Fridtjof blinked, and for a moment his features softened. “I’m sorry, but we don’t believe your child is an innocent. The Babalon spell. Its aim is to bring a non-human soul into human form. We believe Emily succeeded in circumventing the line and bringing one of the old gods back into our world. That thing you’re carrying is not a child. It’s an embodiment of the force that will destroy us all.” He lowered his head, as if he could no longer bear to see the agony he caused me. “All of your fellow anchors are awaiting my signal. When I begin the binding, all the others—all the others—will join in. We are unanimous. Once your magic is bound up in you, you will live the rest of your life as a vegetable, and you will also lose any ability to protect the monster inside you. It will never live to see the light of day.”
