Rachel showed new signs of tension and instability the following morning. Her symptoms weren't extreme, but I spent an hour after kissing her just chatting in her cabin, keeping her company. I was grateful that she refrained from talking about my dad or her desire to fight him. Her anxiety and my fear made both of us feel smaller than we were. By the time Katherine knocked on her door to announce Becca's blueberry pancake breakfast extravaganza, Rachel's nervous tics had all but vanished.

Food helped, but I continued to avoid the subject of my father. The others kept throwing uncomfortable glances my way during awkward gaps in the conversation, as if they felt the storm approaching and were afraid I wasn't doing enough to protect them from it. It annoyed me as much as anyone that I couldn't get a grip on my responsibilities, or even determine what they were. From where I stood, the best outcome was a quick death. I wanted to hide behind our defenders, but how long would it be before Caratacos brought that devastation closer to home, or spread his poison throughout the school, or even the city, the way he ruined Amy's clan? Even if he didn't, could I simply dismiss Rob, Sloane, and Gloria as casualties? The noblest part of me called for justice. Every other part was paralyzed by fear.

"It's going to happen sooner or later, and we'll be right there with you," Katherine said, far too calmly, once we were back in her room. "I think I speak for everyone when I say I'd rather go down fighting than the way your mother did."

"It's not that simple, Kath," I sighed. "What makes you think he'd settle for killing you?"

"What choice would he have? Without you it's the end for all of us."

"If that was true, Rachel wouldn't be here."

"What do you—?" Her forehead creased as my point sunk in, then her eyes widened and she covered her mouth in sudden realization. "Oh."

I nodded. "He could keep you around for years if he wanted to, and you'd probably end up thanking him for it. We might have the same genetics but his abilities are a lot more aggressive than mine."

"Maybe that's only because you're a better person than he is."

"Chemistry doesn't care," I said. "I'm afraid his influence will be too strong, or that I'd have to stoop to his level just to prevent him from controlling you."

"Stoop how?"

I shrugged, "I don't even know. You saw what he did to Rachel, she was ready to do anything for him."

Katherine put a hand on my shoulder. "And you don't think we'd do the same for you?"

"Not like that," I said. "You wouldn't kill someone for me."

"Wouldn't I? You've never put it to the test. I can't think of one time you've given any of us an order."

"Okay, go make me a sandwich."

"I mean a serious order."

"This is serious, I'm hungry."

"That's exactly what I mean," she laughed, "you can't do that without joking around and everyone knows it. Your dad's commands are probably a lot more forceful. You've also got that ESP thing and your grandmother's powers, so you're in touch with more than what's on the surface. You're limiting yourself because what you can do scares you. I think you're stronger than you realize."

I shook my head, annoyed but not at her. "Everyone keeps saying that, but I don't see how it's true. Sure, I have these powers, if you can even call them that. I don't know how to do anything useful with them. I hit him with that mind thing as hard as I could, tried to fry his brain from the inside, and he barely felt it—he said it's because we're related."

"Do you think he was telling the truth?"

"Maybe," I shrugged. "But that doesn't matter. When Miss Gold attacked me I was seconds from becoming a memory and she didn't even break a sweat. If she's afraid to take him on, how am I even an inconvenience?"

Katherine leaned into me, resting her head against my chest. "I don't know. All I can say is I believe you'll do everything you can and a lot you think you can't before you let him beat you."

"Am I really that arrogant?"

"No," she smiled up at me. "But your heart won't let you give anything less."

"Hey, Tom." Amy's small voice broke through my addled mind a few hours later.

I was standing in the center of my empty laboratory, staring at the white fixtures and fantasizing about everything I might accomplish if we could get my hands on the proper equipment when the hob appeared out of nowhere, as usual. The ventilation network must have been extensive and she had access to all of it.

"Hi," I answered her disembodied voice. "Is something wrong?"

Movement drew my attention to one of the marble counters as she walked to its edge and jumped down. "Not really, but you have to come with me."

"Now?"

"If not now you might miss it, and I think this is something you need to see."

I fell in behind her and she led me through the stout oak door and into the courtyard. Each time I visited it looked more like an elven temple designed by set builders for a high budget fantasy film. In the days since the Fae had completed their work, the garden had flourished, sprouting shrubs, young trees, and pale, woody vines that scaled the walls and ceiling like an inverted network of roots. The final effect reinforced the notion that the rotunda wasn't new at all, but part of a forgotten civilization artfully reclaimed by nature.

Amy took the footpath to her left, crossed a pair of bridges past the main hallway, and paused for me to open the door of the music studio. Steeping across the threshold was like passing from one fantastic world and into another, this one ruled by organic geometry, tinted glass, and a soundboard so complex that it could probably launch a spacecraft. I knew it was connected to hidden speakers in the ballroom and originally thought it had been intended to operate Meridian's sound system (I boggled at the notion that our vast estate had a sound system) but its real purpose was tied to the person within.

Through the glass, on a low stool in front of the grand piano, Rachel sat running her fingertips across the Fae-made guitar she'd been gifted for her birthday. I held my breath, waiting for her to play, but she seemed pensive. Or afraid.

"She can't see us?"

"It's one way glass and both rooms are soundproofed. She won't know you're here until you walk in."

"She's just sitting there, what did you want me to see?"

"I thought she could use a friend," Amy said. "I considered chatting her up, but whatever's on her mind seems personal and we haven't known each other that long."

"I'm not sure Rachel would appreciate me barging in on her like this," I argued. "She refused to play for me when I asked her to. Why didn't you get Katherine?"

Amy shrugged, "That girl in there doesn't need therapy, she needs you. There's some wicked trauma playing out in her head right now, and only you and I can come close to relating to it. Besides, those two are competitive."

"Katherine would never—"

"I just meant Rachel wouldn't show weakness to someone she considered an opponent."

"And you think I'm a better choice because..."

"Because you're not a threat," she said with a wink, then turned on her heel and left me standing alone, mute and uncertain. I spent a moment in introspection, checking myself for cracks in my own veneer. I couldn't help anyone while I was hung up on my own problems. Marginally satisfied, I slowly pulled open the thick studio door.

Rachel didn't acknowledge me right away, watching her own fingers as they teased at the strings. Then, as though gripped by a sudden resolve, she began to play. Vibrant notes drifted sweetly through the air, not quite blues or folk but hinting at both, revealing the depth of a talent I never imagined she possessed. She finally looked up, eyes glistening in the studio lights, and seemed about to speak, but instead she returned her attention to the guitar and began to sing.

"As a kid, I would play, pretend games filled up my day;

The light inside my child's eyes would never fade.

But the world gone mad outside my door,

Life don't wait for me no more;

Tears ran wet as time ran dry,

Sweeping wishes 'cross the floor."

At a break in the lyrics, something unexpected happened. Glowing, blue threads, like spider silk made from moonbeams, traced a filigree in the wood, forcing my senses beyond the Veil. Her anima blossomed with rapture and sorrow, weaving a spell every bit as real as Fae magic. Rachel closed her eyes and leaned into the music with a rich and pure voice, summoning each word from somewhere deep inside. It was impossible not to feel their weight—something like bittersweet joy mixed with an old, forgotten wound. She played my emotions as much as the instrument in her hands.

"I'm scared and numb, I'm overcome, can't face what lies ahead;

I try to light the candle, chasing visions in my head,

Crying out to the light, storm clouds mock me from above;

My broken heart is restless, reaching for the dreams I've loved."

Her voice drifted off again, replaced by complex fingering, her whole body rocking with the tempo and framed by an unearthly radiance while shapes made from fairy dust and sapphire flame grew around her like living vines. Then she stopped, leaving a long, hesitant pause filled with echoes and memory. I thought she was finished, but before I could speak, she looked straight at me and her hands took up where they had left off.

"I raised my eyes surprised to find you shining through my tears;

The child's light had never gone, just dimmed behind my fears.

When the world's gone mad outside your door,

Turn from the road ahead;

The time has come, stop chasing dreams,

And chase your life instead."

Her eyes closed once more as she leaned over the guitar, finishing with an embelished fervor that could have melted a stone. I wished more than anything that I could share the ethereal world her song had called into being.

"Light shines from the heavens burning brightly from above,

Your heart is where you left it full of all the things you love...

As a kid I would play, pretend games filled up my day;

The light inside my child's eyes will never...

fade."

The last notes lingered before drifting off into silence, taking the magic with them. I stood still as she collected herself. When I finally found words they weren't the ones I'd have wished for, but they were the best I had.

"Rach, that... that was beautiful."

"Doesn't pay the bills." She answered quietly, cradling the guitar delicately in her lap. I puled up another stool and sat next to her.

"Did you write that?"

She nodded. "I never finished it. Lyrics are shit and the hook needs work."

"Sounded perfect to me," I said, taking her hand. "You have an amazing voice. I could listen to you sing forever."

She laughed. "Fuck that."

"What?"

"Way too sappy, even from you."

"It doesn't make it less true."

She shot me a cautious grin. "If you're trying to put the moves on me you're a year too late."

"What are you talking about?"

"You already got the girl, big guy."

Her words caught me off guard, but I ran with it. "What do you mean too late? Are you implying that I'd have had a shot at you without the benefit of fairy mojo?"

"Would you have done anything about it if you did?"

I stared at the floor for a while, unsure how to respond. "Maybe," I said at last. "It's hard to say. I mean you're pretty far out of my league."

"Me?" she snorted. "Tom, you ended up with the gold standard for girlfriends. Compared to her I'm just a booby prize."

"Well, to be fair..." I began, letting my eyes wander appreciatively to her chest. I was teasing, but she held up a finger to cut me off.

"Don't even say it, asshole."

"Rachel, where's this coming from? You should know by now that I don't rank you behind anyone."

She grew quiet again and exhaled a long, slow breath. "The acoustics in here don't hurt, that's for damn sure."

I glanced around, confused but grateful for the change in subject. The walls were embellished with a heavy pattern of polished knotwork carved into dark wood rather than foam sound panels.

"What about them?"

"Sometimes sounds like a coffee shop, sometimes like an orchestra hall, all without help from the sound board and always in the right spots. Kinda creepy if you think about it, like the walls are listening."

"More fairy magic?"

"Got a better explanation?"

I shook my head. "At least they're cooperating."

Rachel sniffed and rubbed at her nose. "It's been one hell of a ride, hasn't it?"

I nodded, to myself as much as her, staring between my feet, afraid she was finally about to weigh in on my father while I was still vulnerable from her music. I heard her stand and the discordant hum of the strings as she set the guitar aside, then she entered my field of view, standing so close that she had to look up to meet my eyes.

"When I wrote that song I thought it was about letting go of your dreams. I think that's why I never finished it. We all have to find our road and walk down it, and everything goes to shit when you don't end up where you wanted to be. But it takes a while to figure out that the roads don't belong to us in the first place. Sometimes they're smooth and easy, but most of the time they're totally fucked, and sometimes they go off who knows where..." She caressed my chin with her fingers, tenderly, offering me comfort when I should have been the one holding her, promising her everything would be okay. "I like to think I've walked my own path, but being here, with you and Kath and Becks, I'm finally starting to understand that it's all bullshit. I've always been where I belonged, whether it was in the dorm or upstairs with you three clowns. And I think it's ok to let myself be happy with that."

Her thumb brushed my cheek, a gesture I'd have expected from Katherine, not the woman in front of me.

"If I'm being honest," she continued, "you'd have wasted your shot on me back then, but that was after I fucked everything up. If we'd met before that, when I still played every day..."

She looked at me as if trapped in a decision she was afraid to make, but after several moments passed she reached behind my head and pulled me gently down as she rose, fastening her lips against mine. The kiss was neither wild nor sweet, but filled with a hushed desperation that tore at the wounds in my heart.

When you're young and healthy, desire can burn like need, hotter than the sun, and it's easy to let passion take the wheel. Pain and darkness can turn it to desperate longing, weakening your resolve, and you find yourself willing to embrace anything that will fill the emptiness. Her sudden passion was a sucker punch and stronger men than I have fallen from grace because of it.

But I didn't yield simply because I lacked the will to resist. Katherine saw her friend's need long ago and came to terms with my dilemma before I knew it existed, even before she received her strange new empathy. She had deliberately removed the barrier that would have prevented me from gathering Rachel in my arms, from lifting her onto the piano with her strong legs wrapped around my waist, from peeling off her shirt while she unbuttoned my jeans.

When our lips weren't engaged her dark eyes never left mine, as if looking away might banish the moment. When her hand reached my penis she sighed explosively, pressed her forehead into my chest, and used her fingers to summon my lust with a gentle rhythm. A spasm shot up my spine and I bent forward to press my lips against her neck in return. She answered with a delicate moan, then clenched a fistful of my hair with her free hand and kissed me again. Her breath carried a hint of onion, and she tasted like burnt coffee. She couldn't have been more desirable.

The tip of her tongue hooked behind my teeth when she drew back, as if reluctant to allow even a few inches of space between us, then she slid off the piano, deftly unfastened the snap of her jeans, and let them fall to the floor, followed by a pair of black, cotton panties. They were practical, like her, but she wouldn't have been sexier in a lace thong. When she hooked a leg around mine, guiding my hips toward hers, the touch of her bare flesh electrified my brain and for a moment I was overwhelmed. The world slipped aside and an expanse of open lights, like shining, blue droplets, hung in the air amid vibrations of a vague melody that chorused and danced among them, the melody of Rachel's soul, corrupted only by a few verdant flashes, as if from a distant storm. Her body shimmered like an apparition, her ethereal caress a more intimate communion than mere skin. We floated in the Veil, suspended for an eternity in a multiverse of stars.

Then, among the sapphire drops drifted a familiar amber glow, weaving an intricate web that smelled like flowers and candy, shining like threads of blonde hair in the afternoon sunlight.

"Rachel, I can't." I didn't know if I spoke the words or simply thought them, but she answered.

"I need this."

"I just—"

"Please." Her voice came in a harsh whisper. I tried pushing her gently away.

"I'm sorry."

"Please!" she demanded, gripping me tighter, trying to consummate our bond before I could react. Her limbs were strong, though I could barely feel them through the sensory haze, and in another moment I would be inside her. I lacked the will to prevent it.

It happened faster than thought. Power unclenched from the back of my mind, a sickening, green stab of lightning that lanced through her being, turning the blue droplets into bright chaos. She shrieked in pleasure and frustration, muscles constricting involuntarily, and I lurched back into reality just in time to catch her before she collapsed. I blinked away the tatters of that other world and lowered us both to the floor.

She held on to me, panting for a few minutes as she regained control, letting me stroke her hair, our state of undress entirely forgotten. We'd both just been exposed in a way that no amount of clothing could cover. Rachel's trembling quickly subsided, giving way to a familiar, inflexible set in her shoulders, and she abruptly pulled away.

"Rachel," I began, but nothing came to me that wouldn't have sounded stupid and hollow.

"Forget it," she said, and pushed herself to her feet, collecting her clothing from the floor.

"I'm sorry, I don't—"

"Fuck your sorry, you son of a bitch, and fuck you too!" she whirled on me, weeks of pain and irritation pouring out. "You don't know what it's like trying to hold myself together with you and your fucking dad pulling me apart every second of every goddamned day!"

"Rach—"

In a fit of temper, she hurled her clothing across the room. "I can't take this anymore! I thought it would help... that I..." With enormous effort, she lowered her voice to a growl. "It's fine," she said at last in a monotone that belied the rage that made her fingers tremble. "I should have known you wouldn't be cool with it. You're too fucking nice."

She spat the word like a curse and my heart broke under the weight of her sorrow. "I really am sorry. You wouldn't believe me if I tried to tell you how much I care about you, especially not after... It should be pretty obvious that I want you, but..."

"Yeah I know," she mumbled, "you need to be in love."

"That's not the problem, Rachel," I began. The words tumbled out on their own.

The color left her cheeks and she stared hard at me for several seconds. "Are you trying to say you love me?" She spoke the words hesitantly, but with the trace of a threat, as if daring me to speak them back to her.

I didn't answer, but forced myself to look her in the eye. Using the words would have felt like more of a betrayal than sex, but I couldn't deny it while we faced each other with our clothing strewn around the room, a hint of musky passion still hanging in the air and her taste still on my tongue. Some of the steel left her shoulders and she shook her head slowly.

"You're such an asshole," she sighed, then turned and walked out of the room, leaving me and her clothing behind.