a cross in the void // christopher lightwood {4}

twelve // when you think you have it figured out (something new begins to take)

Eventually, the meeting wound down and Pluto found themself packing up to go. They got halfway to the door before Matthew cornered them.

"Alright," he said, "what's going on?"

"What do you mean, what's going on."

"You look like a smudge, Pluto. You keep half falling asleep in your chair. When you took your hat off a few minutes ago your hair made a noise hair is definitely not supposed to make; I can practically hear it crying out for mercy. I don't know what happened in there, but the Pluto who came back out of the goblin caves is not the Pluto Lochlyn Westhouse I know."

"Look, I'm trying to figure out if I can keep a vision I've had from becoming reality when I haven't even passed my field clearance tests, okay?"

Matthew blinked. He said, "Oh." And then, "I think I'm beginning to understand." And then, "Holy fucking shit." He scrubbed a hand down his face. And he turned around and walked out, leaving Pluto no clearer on what it was he thought he understood.

"What was that about?" Christopher asked, appearing at Pluto's side.

Pluto shook their head. "I do not know. We're still mad at each other I think, and he's worried about me, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"Well," said Christopher, "you could start by talking to Bryn. You said you wanted to help her clear out 49 Place, no?"

"Yeah. Thanks. That . . . actually, that does sound like a plan. And I should . . . probably take a shower . . . and get something to eat."

"See?" Christopher reached out and laid a gentle hand on Pluto's shoulder. "There we go."

< & >

Pluto got home to find Bryn on the sofa with a book. The moment she saw Pluto walk in, she got up and headed for the balcony, as if looking to escape.

"Hey!" Pluto chased after her, catching her by the door. "Where are you going?"

"I know why I've lost my magic," Bryn said. "Someone's blocking it. Someone I'm not strong enough to fight on my own."

"Then let me help you fight it," Pluto said. "We can find—"

"Pluto, no." Bryn's ruby eyes flashed. "I was torn from my magic, from my power, from my duty once. I can survive it happening again."

"You shouldn't have to."

"I was a queen, once. Pluto, my sisters and I—you weren't there when the Seelie Queen came. You weren't there when she tore us from our seats of power, when she turned her blade on Tuath Dé and Fir Bolg and Fomorian alike, determined not just to drive us to the fringes of the faerie lands but to wipe the lot of us out completely, us along with our conquerers. You weren't there to see Lugh fall. You weren't there to see those I had chosen to live still slaughtered before my eyes, my power gone. You weren't there." Bryn closed her eyes. "If they want to take my power away from me, then let them. I have almost none to give away anymore, anyway."

"Sisters," Pluto whispered. "Fomorians. Those chosen to live." Pluto crossed her arms. "'The Mothman was never a moth and never a man.' It was a woman . . . and it was a crow. Bryn . . . is a nickname for Badb, isn't it?"

Bryn nodded.

"So you've been hiding here," Pluto said. "With the goblins, and now with me. But you were . . ."

"Yes."

"So," said Pluto, "what does this mean for us now?"

Bryn shrugged helplessly. "In the books they call us near to demons. Yes," she conceded, "we are beings of destruction more often than not. But we have souls, which demons do not. We can change from that, which demons can not. And do the rattlesnakes and rats not have as much right to live as the rabbits and mice? Is that not why your generation in your future fights against mundane demons with names like pollution and pesticides? So everything can live?"