Righting myself, I slipped the glasses on and immediately blurted out an obscenity, recoiling back against the couch.
Perched on Teo’s shoulder, as seen through the glasses, was a small dragon. Or at least that’s what my brain decided to call it. It was a black creature about the size of a falcon, with bat wings and an iguana face and a scorpion tail. It looked as though it couldn’t decide whether to nuzzle Teo or tear out his jugular. I sympathized.
“What . . . is that thing?” I said.
“My familiar,” said Caryl.
13
The little dragon, Caryl’s familiar, turned its head to look at me. Its beady gaze was friendly.
“You’re a witch or something?” I asked.
“A warlock,” said Caryl.
I took off the glasses and turned them so I could look at Teo’s reflection in them. Nothing sat on his shoulder in the reflection.
“If you strip away the magic,” said Caryl, “there is nothing to see. Elliott is itself a spell, albeit a very complicated one.”
“So I can’t touch him.”
“You have, numerous times.”
Even as she spoke, I got a crawling feeling on my right shoulder. I put the glasses back on to find Elliott sitting there. My yelp made Teo laugh, and even Elliott seemed to grin as I tried futilely to swat him away. My fingers sank right through him, tingling as they did.
“Why doesn’t he vanish when I touch him?” I said. When I turned to look at Caryl, I saw a weird, smoky aura around her, so I took the glasses off again.
“Human magic is not identical to the fey’s,” she said. “Human spell casters have certain limitations that fey do not, but on the plus side, since iron is native to human physiology, the spells humans cast have no weakness to it. Your touch would only disrupt fey magic.”
“Do humans cast the fey’s facades?”
“We have to design them, since fey seem unable to grasp the rules of what humans can and can’t look like. But the spellwork is their own. Why do you ask?”
“When I let go of the fey at the bar, her facade came back. I didn’t destroy it.”
“That’s ’cause it’s an enchantment,” said Teo.
“The fey,” said Caryl, “can bind magical energy into a place, person, or thing.”
Teo ticked off three fingers. “Ward, enchantment, charm.”
“Think of magic as paint,” Caryl said. “For a charm, the paint is applied and left there. It can stay a long time because it’s on an inert substance, such as paper. But flesh is alive and constantly changing, shedding cells; you must keep reapplying the paint. So enchantments, or spells on people, draw continuously on the caster’s essence.”
“They’re plugged into the fey who cast them,” clarified Teo.
“Because of that connection, enchantments can only be dispelled by the caster, or by the caster’s death. Thus the mythology around curses, which are actually a type of Unseelie enchantment.”
“So when I touched the fey, I just sort of, uh, interrupted the circuit?”
“If that helps you understand.”
“What about the other one? Wards?”
“Wards are the most complex; humans cannot cast them. They are bound to the earth, or to structures that are themselves bound to the earth, such as trees or buildings.”
I thought of the Seelie bar. “Would I destroy wards if I touched them? Or just interrupt them?”
“Some wards are . . . ‘plugged in’ and some are not, depending on their purpose. Just try not to touch any wards unless told otherwise.”
I felt a weird tingling on my left ear and didn’t dare look through the glasses. “Which of those things is Elliott?”
“None of the above. Elliott is a construct: a recursive arcano--linguistic lie bound to itself by pure logic. Only wizards and warlocks create them; nothing could be more foreign to a fey than a construct.”
“And I can’t hurt a construct.”
“That’s correct.”
Teo shifted restlessly. “Speaking of Millie’s phenomenal powers of destruction,” he said, “we found another of the viscount’s drawings.”
Teo handed it to her, and she scanned it briefly, not visibly affected by its magic. “I’d like the other one, too, for comparison, when you have a chance.”
I hardly noticed as Teo took his glasses back and started upstairs. I felt a slight pang as I stared at the back of the drawing. “You’ll need to be gentle with him,” I said.
“With Teo?” said Caryl, arching a brow.
“No, with Rivenholt. He seems very . . . vulnerable, right now, to judge by his drawings.”
Caryl studied me. “You’re concerned about him?”
“The drawings really affected me for some reason.”
“Apparently the iron doesn’t stop the psychic elements of fey magic from reaching you. A pity.”
“What are you going to do now? About Rivenholt?”
“I am going to drive to the resort and confront him.”
“By yourself?”