The Undead Pool

Bancroft harrumphed as he settled himself. It was nearing dusk, and the outside lights flicked on. “I appreciate your unique insight into recent events, Morgan,” the man said as he took his cylindrical hat off and set it aside.

“I showed you mine. I’d appreciate if you’d show me yours,” I said, and Landon snorted into his wine.

Bancroft ran his hand over his sparse hair to smooth it. “I beg your pardon?”

I leaned forward, wanting to hurry this up so I might get home before they closed Cincy. “The wave is wild magic. Do you really think vampires have the skill to pull it from my line and then catch it so it doesn’t circle the globe? Just what are they doing with it, anyway?” Bancroft’s expression went closed, and I drummed my fingers. It was going to be like that, eh?

“Wild magic is always leaking from the lines,” Landon offered.

“Not like this it isn’t,” I said, offended they would try to snow me like that.

Stretching, Trent snagged the pitcher of iced tea. “I’ve found Rachel to be circumspect. She knows the value of information and works best when she has it. All of it.”

“She is a demon,” Bancroft said, staring at me. I refused to look away, even when Trent refilled my glass and the ice tinkled to the top.

“She is my associate in this matter,” Trent said, the soft threat in his voice making Ellasbeth sniff. “If you don’t explain the workings of the Goddess, I will.”

Bancroft thought that over as Quen silently cleared the table. It was Bancroft who looked away first, and I drank my tea like a victory draft. Point to me.

“The Goddess is both one being and a thousand,” Bancroft said sourly. “A communal mind. Usually she’s in concert with herself, but as I prayed in Cincinnati this afternoon, I sensed a division. She is two. The subset of mystics being held from her is beginning to separate and take on a new personality. She’s beginning to become insane.”

“I think insane is a somewhat strong term,” Trent said, and a flash of annoyance crossed Landon’s face, fleeting and almost not there.

“She can’t be balanced anymore,” Ellasbeth said dryly, leaning back in her chair with her glass. “Think of a group of people marooned on an island. In a few generations, the lack of genetic diversity begins to show itself.”

“Just so,” Bancroft reaffirmed, reaching for more wine. “When an elf petitions for attention and help, he—”

“Or she,” Ellasbeth interrupted, gently bouncing Lucy on her lap.

Bancroft inclined his head politely. “Or she,” he consented, “is not communicating with the entirety of the Goddess, but only the parts of her that are sympathetic to the petitioner’s aims. The more the prayer resonates with the Goddess, the stronger the connection.”

So the more the Goddess agreed with you, the more likely you were to be heard? “That doesn’t sound very fair,” I said, fiddling with my drink. “What does this have to do with wild magic leaking from my lines?”

“I’m getting to that,” Bancroft said, and Landon coughed dryly. “We call her individual thoughts mystics. They roam freely in reality, leaving her by way of the lines and bringing ideas and concepts back to her, though not usually in the concentrations you’ve been witnessing lately. Several species host them in minute amounts, such as pixies, leprechauns, and Weres. It enables them to access their magic naturally without a connection to a line. It’s the concentration of them in the wave that is unnatural, not their presence.”

I nodded, remembering Jenks once telling me that he was “magic, baby!” I bet it burned the elves’ cookies that they weren’t hosts to their own Goddess when pixies were. It was starting to make sense, and I tapped the table in thought. “Then the wild magic is what’s in the line that witches, elves, and demons get their strength from?”

Either warming up to me or the wine he was slamming down, Bancroft raised a hand for patience. “Only elves can access it directly from the Goddess. Energy collects between spaces naturally, sort of pools up. Witches and demons siphon it off through ley lines.”

As long as I didn’t think about it too hard, it made sense. Little bits of sentient energy combining into one mega Goddess, the entirety of Inderland magic running on the energy she gave off, much like vampires existed on the energy given off from the soul. “Seems like a lot of trouble for such a tiny bit of energy.”

Bancroft fiddled with his glass, watching the red wine swirl. “The amount in the waves is tiny, but it can be used to great destruction. It’s like the sun. In space where it belongs, it warms and protects, but even a half-second burst on earth is devastating.”

A sudden thought broke over me, and I sat up. Ellasbeth started at my quick motion, but Trent was smiling. “Newt!” I exclaimed. “That’s what she was doing yesterday.”

“Ah . . .” Bancroft said as he and Landon exchanged worried glances. “Newt? She’s the insane demon, right?”