“He drew this,” he said. “The viscount.”
“Or maybe some lady friend who got bored waiting for him to come out of the shower.”
“Nope,” he said. “There’s fey magic on this.”
“What’s fey magic?”
“You can look through my glasses,” he said, “but give them back when you’re done. At this rate you’ll have your own pair before long.”
I took the glasses from him and slipped them on, looking at the paper in his hand. My breath caught, and I felt every hair on my body lift away from my skin.
Everything else in the room looked normal through the shades, only darker. The drawing, on the other hand, lit up like the Fourth of July. Radiant curving strands like flowering vines danced and shimmered from its surface.
“What the fuck is that?” I breathed.
“Magic,” said Teo. And this time, I was pretty sure it wasn’t sarcasm.
8
I stared at the shimmering swirls on the paper; they moved as though they were alive. I’d misplaced the speech center of my brain again. When I found it, I said a little drunkenly, “What kind of glasses are these?”
“It’s like an advanced version of the fairy ointment from the stories,” he said. “One side of the lens shows you what kind of magic a thing has; the other side shows you things as they really are.”
I waited for my rational mind to put up a fight, but it rolled over and showed its belly. I gave the glasses back to Teo, my hand shaking slightly. He slipped them into his coat pocket, along with the drawing itself.
“You need a minute?” he said, watching me closely.
I shook my head. “I’m fine. What was that? I mean, I get that you’re saying it’s a spell or something. But what does it do?”
“It’s a type of charm. Basically he draws something and sort of . . . weaves his magic into the paper, so that whoever looks at it feels exactly what he was feeling when he drew it.”
“And he threw it in the trash?”
Teo shrugged. “Nobles like Rivenholt—they call them sidhe at World HQ in London—they’re into heavy-duty magic. Wards, enchantments. Charms are low-class, like parlor tricks.”
“If it’s so beneath him, why make one?”
Teo considered. “I guess even low magic would be pretty valuable on this side of the border. Because it’s tradeable. Maybe that’s a draft of something; maybe a human offered Rivenholt something irresistible.”
“Like a lifetime supply of Reese’s cups?”
Teo glanced at the pile of wrappers that had accumulated on the bed and made a disdainful little sound. “Typical fey.”
“If somebody wanted low magic, why would they ask a noble?”
“It’s really just nobles who come here. I’ve only met two commoners ever, a dryad and a goblin. There’s all types of fey in Arcadia I’ve never seen.”
“By fey you mean fairies. This guy’s a fairy.”
Teo shrugged. “Maybe? The word is spelled F-E-Y—it just means weird or supernatural—but London HQ tends to see everything through a fairy filter anyway. Honestly, we don’t know what the fuck these things are.”
“Reassuring.”
“When they’re here, they enchant themselves to look human. I think ‘facade’ is the official HQ word. Do you know John Riven?” When he saw my confused expression, he clarified. “Actor; he was in Accolade.”
“Which part?”
“Some white dude in a suit; I don’t remember all their names. Anyway, John Riven is Viscount Rivenholt. He’s way more involved on this side than most fey. I’ve got a photo back at the Residence; you’ll know him when you see him.”
Teo looked at me like he was waiting for me to argue with him, but I’ve never understood the pointless ritual of denial. I had a job to do, so I’d assume it wasn’t bullshit until I found out otherwise.
“So what next?” I said.
“Still with me?” He looked dubious, but he at least stopped staring at me and went over to peer at the telephone, which continued flashing its tiny light.
“I think so,” I said. “Where is Arcadia, exactly?”
“It’s like a parallel world or whatever.” He held up the phone receiver to his ear and punched in a few numbers on the cradle. “We call it Arcadia just to be calling it something.”
“What do the fey call it?”
“Uh, ‘the world,’ I guess,” he said distractedly as he punched in another number.
“What do they call our world?”
“Earth mostly, because we do. There’s some weirdness with them and language.”
“What do you mean?”
He held up a hand to shush me, listening intently to the phone, then scribbling something on the message pad. “Two messages from Inaya West.”
“What?” I forgot Arcadia for a second. “The actress?”
Teo glanced skyward. “No, Millie, the postal clerk. Who do you think?”
“You’re screwing with me.”