opening a room long locked, breathed its last and slipped away. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t connect again.
And in a sudden upsurge of fear, I realized that I couldn’t go anywhere else, either. That I was trapped in between, my Weird refusing to return me where I’d been or to move me forward, to any of the points of light.
I did scream, then. I knew that my body was still on the ground at Graystone, but my consciousness was scattered across a thousand light-years, the image I carried with me only a memory of my physical body.
Had anyone with my gift ever been trapped here? Wasmy fate to float forever, always in between? I started to panic. It was the worst fate I could conceive of.
Then I saw them as I thrashed in the void: great shadows that blotted out the world-lights, one by one, long and lean, square and massive, or with tentacles that reached for each point of light, closing it amidst their incalculable bulk. I stared as the Old Ones passed by me close enough to touch, if I’d had fingers. Their inexorable journey from the dreaming place toward the point of light that represented the Iron Land was fast and relentless, and I watched, breathless, as their shimmering bodies slid by me, buffeting my Weird with their vast power.
I felt their desire to return to the Iron Land, their focus on it, their hunger to touch the shores that they had not touched for a hundred thousand years—a long time even for such creatures as they. They were coming, and it was clear there was no stopping them. I knew—I’d released them from their prison, let them loose into the in-between and sent them toward the Iron Land.
Long time , one of them agreed, and I didn’t hear the voice so much as feel the brush of mind on mind.
We remember , another agreed. How you freed us .
How you need us .
How we knew you even before your creation .
Your blood, our blood .
Your flesh, our flesh .
“STOP!” I screamed. Their voices were shredding me, tearing this non-body of mine apart, and I saw the lights begin to dim.
I was lost. I was never going to make it out of here. Itwent beyond panic now, into deep, true terror. I would hear the Old Ones’ voices echoing in my head for as long as I lived. No living thing was meant to encounter them this closely. Perhaps in the ancient times when they’d last come, a primitive brain too dense to decipher their voices might have withstood it, but now? Now I felt their voices on me like physical scars, the indelible touch of the Old Ones’ minds.
We will not forget , the first one whispered. We will show our favor .
“Aoife!”
The voice cut through the cacophony of the cosmos, the background radiation, the rumble of the Old Ones’ passage.
“Aoife!”
My Weird snapped against my mind like a rubber band, and all at once I knew how to reel myself back in again, how to return to the point where my flesh resided, as well as my soul.
Opening my eyes was like taking a hammer blow to the forehead, and I lurched into the fetal position, riding out the wave of agony as I writhed and screamed on the gravel.
Small, strong hands wrapped around my wrists, and arms pulled me against a silk dress that smelled both familiar and terrifying—the overwhelming aroma of the orchid perfume favored by Fae.
I blinked the pain tears from my eyes and waited for the face above me to come into focus.
Nerissa stroked her thin fingers over my hair, my cheeks, brushed the tears from my face as if I were five years oldagain. I couldn’t fathom how she could even be here, and simply stared at her.
“You?”
“I’m here,” she confirmed. “When I heard you’d run away I had to follow you.”
“But the iron …” I made myself sit up and scoot away from her. She still looked like her new, improved self. Well-dressed, hair up, cheeks flushed with life. The tinge of madness in her eyes I’d come to know as normal wasn’t there. Yet.
“I’ll be all right for a few minutes, out here where
And in a sudden upsurge of fear, I realized that I couldn’t go anywhere else, either. That I was trapped in between, my Weird refusing to return me where I’d been or to move me forward, to any of the points of light.
I did scream, then. I knew that my body was still on the ground at Graystone, but my consciousness was scattered across a thousand light-years, the image I carried with me only a memory of my physical body.
Had anyone with my gift ever been trapped here? Wasmy fate to float forever, always in between? I started to panic. It was the worst fate I could conceive of.
Then I saw them as I thrashed in the void: great shadows that blotted out the world-lights, one by one, long and lean, square and massive, or with tentacles that reached for each point of light, closing it amidst their incalculable bulk. I stared as the Old Ones passed by me close enough to touch, if I’d had fingers. Their inexorable journey from the dreaming place toward the point of light that represented the Iron Land was fast and relentless, and I watched, breathless, as their shimmering bodies slid by me, buffeting my Weird with their vast power.
I felt their desire to return to the Iron Land, their focus on it, their hunger to touch the shores that they had not touched for a hundred thousand years—a long time even for such creatures as they. They were coming, and it was clear there was no stopping them. I knew—I’d released them from their prison, let them loose into the in-between and sent them toward the Iron Land.
Long time , one of them agreed, and I didn’t hear the voice so much as feel the brush of mind on mind.
We remember , another agreed. How you freed us .
How you need us .
How we knew you even before your creation .
Your blood, our blood .
Your flesh, our flesh .
“STOP!” I screamed. Their voices were shredding me, tearing this non-body of mine apart, and I saw the lights begin to dim.
I was lost. I was never going to make it out of here. Itwent beyond panic now, into deep, true terror. I would hear the Old Ones’ voices echoing in my head for as long as I lived. No living thing was meant to encounter them this closely. Perhaps in the ancient times when they’d last come, a primitive brain too dense to decipher their voices might have withstood it, but now? Now I felt their voices on me like physical scars, the indelible touch of the Old Ones’ minds.
We will not forget , the first one whispered. We will show our favor .
“Aoife!”
The voice cut through the cacophony of the cosmos, the background radiation, the rumble of the Old Ones’ passage.
“Aoife!”
My Weird snapped against my mind like a rubber band, and all at once I knew how to reel myself back in again, how to return to the point where my flesh resided, as well as my soul.
Opening my eyes was like taking a hammer blow to the forehead, and I lurched into the fetal position, riding out the wave of agony as I writhed and screamed on the gravel.
Small, strong hands wrapped around my wrists, and arms pulled me against a silk dress that smelled both familiar and terrifying—the overwhelming aroma of the orchid perfume favored by Fae.
I blinked the pain tears from my eyes and waited for the face above me to come into focus.
Nerissa stroked her thin fingers over my hair, my cheeks, brushed the tears from my face as if I were five years oldagain. I couldn’t fathom how she could even be here, and simply stared at her.
“You?”
“I’m here,” she confirmed. “When I heard you’d run away I had to follow you.”
“But the iron …” I made myself sit up and scoot away from her. She still looked like her new, improved self. Well-dressed, hair up, cheeks flushed with life. The tinge of madness in her eyes I’d come to know as normal wasn’t there. Yet.
“I’ll be all right for a few minutes, out here where
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