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Ray turned his head to blink at me. For a moment, his expression reminded me of Nimue. “No.”
“Oh.”
“Well, I mean, they probably did, but that’s not the point. A portal is like any other spell: it needs magic to keep running. I guess it had some kind of talisman powering it, but those are just long-term batteries. They can soak up magic from the natural world, to extend their lives, but sooner or later, you gotta replace ‘em or they stop working.”
“What happens if they stop working?”
“Nobody knows, ‘cause nobody that it happened to ever came back to tell anyone. But most think that it’s one of two things: either the whole thing collapses and you’re compacted into a tiny, tiny speck of dust, or . . .”
“Or?”
“Or the portal closes up, but the room inside remains in a bubble of non-space, only with no way out. Leaving whoever is in there trapped and floating around forever. Or, you know, until the air runs out.”
I thought about it. “I think I would like a fey tent.”
“And take the risk?”
“I would remember to change the battery.”
Ray l
aughed. And then his expression faded to something more serious. “I thought you didn’t want things.”
I looked up at the fingers. They were glowing gold again, giving our tiny encampment a cozy feel. The fire seemed to banish the winds, enveloping us in warmth. It made me sleepy, something I could hear in my voice when I replied.
“I did once, when I was young.”
“Young as in, before the split, or . . .”
“Both. Before the split I mostly wanted food. Venice had all sorts of wonderful food, but we couldn’t always afford the better cuts of meat, or all the candy I would have liked. Which was just as well, or I’d have no teeth left.”
“And after?”
“Freedom. Being able to go where I chose, when I chose. I wanted to see so many things, but I could only go where Dory did.”
“But you were in control sometimes, too, right?”
“Yes, but never for long. Only when she was in serious danger, and her grip over her mind and emotions weakened. Panic was a conduit for me, and fear. But that meant that there was always a fight waiting when I emerged.” I rolled my head over to look at him. “I do not mind fights, but there were times . . .”
“Yeah?”
It was embarrassing. But he had been honest with me. “There were times when I wanted . . . to go shopping.”
Ray blinked at me. “What?”
I nodded. “Or to a café. We were in Paris once, long ago, and I saw this café. It was so beautiful, with a wisteria vine growing all over it. It was as big as a tree, as if it had been there for centuries. I remember wanting to sit at one of the tables and drink coffee and watch the people go by.”
“Why couldn’t you? Didn’t Dory ever do that?”
“Perhaps, but I was asleep then. I’d woken up that night because she was fighting a group of mages who had been stealing magic and making the deaths look like revenant attacks. They thought no one would notice that their victims had died from being drained of all their magic, if their corpses were also savaged. If you are missing much of your torso, people do not look far for another cause of death.”
“Yeah, I guess not.”
“Dory, who specialized in revenants, had been brought in by the French authorities to investigate and find the killer,” I added. “She had done so, and the mages did not like that. They ganged up on us and we were surrounded. I woke up in time to fight them off, but it’s strange. I don’t remember much of the fight at all. I was killing mages, but I was looking at that little café. It was closed, it being the middle of the night, but I was imagining myself in a pretty dress, sitting in the sunlight, drinking coffee . . .”
I trailed off. Ray didn’t say anything for a long time. That was all right. I found that I enjoyed his company even without speech. I did not entirely understand it, since he screamed and cursed a great deal, yet I found his presence soothing.
“And now?” he finally said. “Now that all this has happened. The fey and Faerie and—” he waved a hand around. “This. What do you want now?”
