Jack brought me home. We arrived in the kitchen.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked, gently.

"No," I said, heading straight for my bedroom. I didn't care that the sun was at its peak. It was a sunny day. Of course it was sunny. It's always sunny in Brisbane. On the rare days that the sky turns grey and rain washes the streets clear, everybody skulks across the pathways, ducking into buildings as fast as they can. Nobody really appreciates the clean, fresh smell. The feeling of renewal. The sense that everything that you've ever done wrong can be washed away as easily as the rain runs into the storm gutter. I wished it was raining.

Sunlight poured through my window. Dust mites danced in the air, caught in drifts of blinding white. I hate days like this. I dragged my curtains across the window, trying to block out the light. They were white curtains so they didn't stop a lot of light. I'd have to get black ones, some time.

I collapsed onto my bed and curled up on my side. Jack handed me Amanda - Amanda the panda, remember? - and I cuddled her to my chest.

Tyler burst into my room. I didn't even know that he was home but from the pissed off expression on his face, and his next words, I was guessing I'd walked straight past him.

"You don't even say hello," he said. Tension radiated from his body.

"Who are you?" Jack asked, stepping between Tyler and me.

"I live here," Tyler said, pushing past Jack angrily. "Where have you been?" he asked me. "Your aunt's called five times. She's coming here tomorrow. I think she thinks I've murdered you. I thought you were kidnapped."

"I'm okay," I said, holding Amanda tighter. "I just need some rest."

"Why?" he asked anxiously. "Has this guy done something?" he turned to Jack. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm," Jack said, glaring at Tyler. I prayed he didn't tell the truth, or go all, 'you're talking to a superior race, Buddy, so show some respect,' on him. "Laurel's cousin."

Tyler looked from Jack to me, then back to Jack. I held my breath, watching him catalogue the differences between us.

"But," Tyler said, disbelief clear in his voice, "she's black."

"You racist little snot," Jack said, picking Tyler up by his collar. "Have you got a problem with mixed race marriages? Huh? What the fuck is your problem?"

"No," Tyler said, his voice going up about an octave at the end. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Put him down," I said, wearily. Jack took a moment to glare into his face before dropping him to the floor. Tyler scrambled out of my room, backwards, muttering an apology.

"You didn't have to do that," I said.

"I know," Jack sighed, sitting on the end of my bed. "I just wanted him to leave you alone."

"You really are like an over-protective cousin," I yawned.

"I'm really sorry about all this," Jack said, resting his hand on my ankle. "Dragging you off to Faerie Land, putting you in danger. I didn't mean to cause you any trouble."

"It's okay," I said. "I'm sorry I can't really do anything. You know, about the king."

"Yeah," Jack's shoulders slumped. "I'm not looking forward to telling Kieran about that."

"You think he'll take it badly?" I asked, remembering the haunted look in Kieran's eyes the last time I'd seen him.

"Not exactly," Jack hesitated. "It's just that, without the king, it will probably come down to a vote. And if it does, Zephan will almost certainly become king."

"Really?" I asked, remembering the way Zephan had vanished from the cemetery. "Is he that popular?"

"He can be very charming, to the people that matter."

"How does anyone matter more than anyone else?" I frowned. If it came to a vote, surely everyone's vote would have equal weight.

"The lesser Fae have no say in politics. Zephan doesn't bother exercising his charm on them."

"Why was he nice to me, then?" I asked.

"You're of the Deadly Aristocracy," Jack shrugged. I had to acknowledge that he was probably right. The first necromancer to pay homage at the royal court in years. It must have looked good politically to have me trailing after him. The tour of the castle finally made sense.

"So, I've ruined Kieran's chances?" I asked.

"Don't think of it that way," Jack said. "He never had a chance, really. At least we know that now."

"It still doesn't seem fair."

"Life isn't fair," Jack shrugged, apparently too dejected to care that he was spouting a cliché.

"Maybe politics should be," I said with more conviction than I'd actually intended.

"It's not like we can do anything to make it fair."

"What if Kieran had more time?" I asked. "Do you think he'd be able to come up with something else?"

"Maybe," Jack said, "but Zephan isn't going to give him more time."

"What if," I said, very slowly, "Kieran gave Zephan more time?"

"The only way he could do that," he said, looking at me closely, "would be if you could still raise the king."

I nodded. "Do you think you could bring Kieran here," I asked. "In secret." I yawned. "Maybe after I've had some sleep."

Finally alone, I found that I couldn't sleep. I stayed lying down, knowing that my body needed the rest, but my mind refused to calm down enough to allow sleep's sweet embrace. I didn't know if I was doing the right thing. Zephan might have been a fine king, and there wasn't anything that actually made me think that Kieran would do a better job. Besides, it wasn't really my place to interfere in Faerie Land's politics.

But I couldn't get rid of the feeling of death in the land. It pervaded everything, once I knew to look for it. The Greater Fae had made slaves of the Lesser Fae, and I didn't think there was anything 'great' about that. Even if Zephan and the professor said that I was one of the Greater Fae, it didn't mean I lost all perspective, did it? I'd been raised more or less human. Grown up learning human history.

I knew about Hitler's persecution of the Jews, and the betrayal of the Aboriginal people of Australia under the settler's rule. I knew the horrors of human history and I saw the similarities in the Fae's treatment of their cousins. I knew the pain of finding out that I'd lost my own cultural history. I knew what it was like to live in fear of persecution, having to hide what I was.

I couldn't help identifying more with the Lesser Fae, forced to cover themselves in dark cloaks, than I did with the Greater Fae, who made them hide. Kieran was the only person who seemed to care about their degradation and I had to support him, had to try to help him become king and change the world, because if I didn't, I wouldn't be able to call myself human. It was hard enough to hold on to the last scraps of my humanity, in light of my inhuman abilities, I couldn't add the sin of doing nothing to stop the politically monstrous, on top of that. It would have been too much.

I must have managed to fall asleep because the next thing that I knew, Jack was standing over me. It was morning.

"Laurel?" he asked.

I sat up, slowly, feeling a new weight in the back of my head. My sheets were damp and twisted around me, like I'd been having a nightmare only I didn't remember what it was.

"You were whimpering," Jack said. I pushed the sheets off and stood up.

"Where's Kieran?" I asked.

"He's in your kitchen."

Of course he was in my kitchen. Jack had only come between the kitchen and my room before. He probably didn't even know where the living room was. Besides, where else do you put a prince from another world? I shook my head. Half the time, the answer to that question would be anywhere but here.

"Hi," I said, walking into the kitchen. Kieran was leaning against the island bench, his arms crossed. He nodded a greeting at me but didn't say anything. I took a glass out of the cupboard, filled it up with tap water and downed it. The liquid was a slightly cloudy white and lukewarm, but I needed the hydration and was too impatient to wait for the filter to kick into lethargic life.

"Jack said you have something to tell me."

I nodded and got another glass of water. I drank it more slowly than the first, but still managed to get it down in one long drink. I watched Kieran out of the corner of my eye as I drank. He looked a little grey around his eyes, but other than that he looked okay. I was hoping that meant I hadn't done any lasting damage.

"I can't raise the king," I said, bluntly, putting my glass down. The glass made a loud clink against the metal of the sink.

"What?" Kieran stood up straight. Instant tension; just add new information. I was sure, watching his surprise and sudden stress, that it was new information. He hadn't asked for me to come as a diversion. I didn't think that he'd killed the king, so I went ahead with my plan.

"He was cremated," I shrugged, "I can't do anything."

"Right," he rubbed his hand over his face. "What am I supposed to do now?" I don't think he expected an answer, but I had one.

"Don't tell Zephan yet," I said. "Schedule a time for me to raise the king, but make it look like your not in any rush."

"Why wouldn't I be in a rush?"

"Because you're sure that the king will pick you anyway," I said. "I know you won't like this, but if you act more like Zephan - you know, like you own the place - then maybe people will start treating you that way."

"And that's your brilliant plan to make me king?" he asked, staring at me.

"No," I said, "that's my plan to give you time. If you really deserve to be king, you'll figure something out." There. I was absolved of guilt for interfering. At least, that's what I thought.

"Okay." Kieran sighed. "Thanks for the heads up on this. I guess I'll see what I can do." He nodded at Jack, and turned to go.

"Wait," I said, without thinking.

"What?" Kieran asked.

"Um, do you want a cup of tea?" I cringed at how stupid it sounded. Like some old English house wife who was so desperate for company that she invited the Jehovah Witness door knockers in for tea. That was me, all right. Great.

"Sure," Kieran said, and smiled at me.

"Coffee?" I asked Jack brightly. He nodded at me and sat down at the table.

"So, what's your policy on health care?" I asked Kieran.

"What?"

"Health care," I repeated. He looked at me blankly. "What do you do as king?" I wondered aloud.

"Throw parties mostly," Kieran frowned, "at least, that's what Zephan does."

"But," I said, lamely, "politics." It made sense in my head, I swear. However, judging by the looks Kieran and Jack were giving me, it hadn't made much sense aloud. "What's the point of politics," I said, trying to use complete sentences to explain the thought, "if not to improve the living conditions of your people?"

"But I am trying to do that," Kieran said, defensively. I handed the mugs out and sat down across from him, next to Jack.

"How?" I asked.

"Well," he said, "I want to get equal rights for the lesser Fae."

"And you think referring to them as lesser is going to encourage this?" I asked.

"I... no, but what else can I call them?"

"Find something," I shook my head. "Ask them."

"Right," Kieran nodded. "I will."

"The way things are at the moment though," I said, glancing at Jack, "if I understand correctly. Only the higher orders can vote, right?" Kieran nodded. "And if it does come down to a vote," I said, slowly.

"It probably will," Jack said. Kieran glared at him.

"Then you need to think of something to make them vote for you," I pointed out. "Like a policy."

"Like what?"

"Don't you know anything about politics?" I asked. Kieran frowned. Of course he didn't. Not in the way they did politics here. He'd grown up under a monarchy. Political debate and audience persuasion were foreign to him. I suddenly felt like I was making a hopeless mistake, trying to help Kieran.

Zephan was clearly more confident in his leadership skills.

But Kieran was passionate about justice.

"You know what," I said, standing up. "You have to come with me." Jack stood up to follow me, as did Kieran. I looked at the larger man. "I can't double both of you on my scooter," I pointed out. Jack sighed and sat back down.

"I'll hold down the fort," he muttered.

"Thanks, Jack," I touched him, briefly on the shoulder. He didn't flinch from the contact, but looked comforted by it. I guess, once you've embraced the feeling of death, having it brush your shoulder isn't going to unnerve you.

"I feel sick," Kieran said, struggling out of the helmet I'd lent him.

"You shouldn't have held your breath," I told him. "Come on." I dragged him up the stairs and around to the entrance to the library. He jumped at the blast of cool air that came down at us as we stepped through the automatic doors. I led him over to a search computer near the elevators and logged in.

"Just give me a minute," I told Kieran. I typed in the search parameters, and copied down the code for the book I wanted. I didn't think Kieran would be able to handle the elevators after his obvious motion sickness on the back of my scooter so I led him up the stairs.

I walked down the aisle, scanning the spines of books for 324. I found what I was looking for and pulled the book down from the shelf. I handed it to Kieran.

"Inside political campaigns," he read the cover, "theory and practice."

"There should be another one around here," I said, glancing back at my slip of paper. I checked the codes on the books again, looking for 324.7. "Here we go," I said, handing him another book.

"Political campaign communication, principles and practices," he held the books on top of each other. "Thanks."

"I still need to borrow those," I said, taking the books back from him and leading him downstairs. I put the books down beside the scanner and fished my student id out of my wallet.

"Nice picture," Kieran said, as I placed the id into the little grove.

"Thanks," I muttered. I suspected him of insincerity but wasn't going to admit it. I put the books, one at a time, barcode up, under the scanner. The machine made a dull clunking sound at its base, and I ran the spine over the magnetic strip to desensitize it. I've never figured out what the clunking noise was about but I'd also never cared enough to ask. I pulled the receipt out of the machine and slid it inside the cover of Political Campaign Communication. "I'll need these back in two weeks," I whispered, handing Kieran the books. I felt weirdly paranoid that an overly conscience librarian was going to pop up and tell me that the books weren't allowed off world.

Nobody approached us as we left the library though, so I was guessing we were in the clear. At least, as long as nobody found out that I lent my library books to a faerie prince from another world, and really, what were the chances of anyone discovering that?

Jack promised to check back with me in a couple of days, to let me know how things were going. Jack and Kieran disappeared just before Tyler came into the kitchen.

"I thought I heard voices," he said, frowning.

"I was just on the phone," I said, hoping he didn't notice the three cups I'd just finished washing, and that I'd left to drip dry on the counter top. If he did notice, he didn't say anything about it.

"You will be here today, won't you?" he asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Because your Aunt is coming," he reminded me, "and I really don't want to be the only one here when she arrives."

"I'm really sorry," I said, "for not telling you where I was."

"And for not calling your Aunt."

I nodded. "I'll tell her it was all my fault, don't worry."

"Okay," he said. "I really was worried, you know."

"I really am sorry," I repeated. I had a feeling I'd go on saying that for a long time.

I threw myself into Catriona's arms the second she walked through the door. I clung to her, hugging her tightly and pressing my face into the crook of her shoulder. She rubbed my back, gently, her hand going around and around in small concentric circles. I sighed. I hadn't even realized how much I'd missed her until I saw her again.

"Been having a hard time of it, have you?" she asked. Her husky voice carried the weight of the ocean behind it, in layers of breathy softness. Her hair smelled of salt, probably garnered from the breeze that flew in through the ferry on the way over to the mainland. It was like she carried the Island with her, in her hair, in her voice, in the cloudy sea grey of her eyes.

"You have no idea," I said.

"Well, come on," she took my arm and led me into the kitchen. "Sit down, I'll make some tea and you can tell me all about it." She put the canvas bag she'd been carrying on the bench and turned to make tea.

"So, that's where you got that habit," my mother said, watching Catriona make tea.

"Hello Karlotta," Cat said. My mother jumped, apparently surprised that Cat heard her. I guess she'd gotten used to going unnoticed by everyone but me.

"Hi," she said.

"Tea can be very therapeutic," Catriona explained, filling the kettle. "Not just drinking it, but making it too."

"I didn't mean it to be a criticism."

"Of course you didn't," Cat smiled. I wanted to tell my mother that if she had a problem with the way Catriona taught me, maybe she shouldn't have left her to raise me. But Karlotta and I seemed to have settled into a wary truce since our last conversation, so I didn't say it.

"I'm sorry I didn't call," I said to Catriona.

"I assume you have a reason," she said.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I have something to show you." I got the book out of my room and brought it downstairs. Catriona had put our cups on the table. Karlotta was standing, awkwardly to the side. I sat down and put the book between Cat and me.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, flicking through its weathered pages.

"Do you believe in faeries?" I asked. "Like really believe."

"You know I believe in the embodiment of the elements," she frowned. I'd forgotten, actually. One of the best things about Catriona's teaching was that she didn't bludgeon you with what she believed. She taught me the necessary practical elements for controlling my powers and offered to teach me more, but she didn't indoctrinate me into her belief system. She'd said, if I wanted to know I could ask. I never did.

"That's not what I mean," I said. "I mean like brownies and elves, and little pixies. Do you believe in them?"

"No," Catriona said, slowly.

"You should," I said, "they're real."

"Oh?"

It sounded fantastic to say that I'd been in Faerie Land but when your life has turned into a fantasy, it stops being fun real quick. There was so much I had to tell Catriona, and not all of it was good, most of it was unbelievable, but I had the bruises to prove it and Cat had an open mind. Still, I waited anxiously for her reaction to what had happened.

"Well," she said, standing up, "it's a good thing I brought supplies." She got the canvas bag and brought it to the table. I should have known she'd have that kind of reaction. She was the most mysterious, insightful person I'd ever met. I don't think anything ever wholly surprised her, and if it did, nothing shook her.

She opened the bag and started pulling out its contents.

"Salt," she said, holding up a jar of the slightly off white crystals, "made especially for you, madam."

"Thank you," I said, taking the jar from her. I opened the jar and smelled the salt of my childhood. That salt had come from the island where I had learnt peace and first tasted acceptance. The smell filled me with a new strength, and I felt as though the entire island were standing behind me, offering its support. I got the feeling that if I'd used this salt, the professor would never have been able to break through my circle. Not in a million years of lining it with crystals.

She also brought me a box of white tapered candles, some incense, and a small earthenware pot marked 'grave dirt.'

"What's this for?" I asked, holding the pot of grave dirt up.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Just one of those things I thought you might need." As much as I loved Catriona, it really annoyed me when she went all psychic, like that. Mostly because she was always right and I had no idea how she did it. "And I brought my cards," she pulled these out of her pocket and put them on the table. "Want me to do a reading?"

"I would love that," I said. I took a sip of tea and realized it was empty. "Tea?" I asked. Cat nodded and handed me her cup.

"I brought cake too," she said, sliding a container of apple tea cake over to me.

I made tea, ignoring the fact that Karlotta shook her head at me as I did so. She was probably just upset because, being dead, she couldn't drink anything. I brought the cups back to the table and sliced the cake.

"Thanks for this," I said, taking a bite. Catriona was a bit of a kitchen witch. You know that thing that people say about love being the secret ingredient? Well, sometimes, they're right. Food made with care and filled with the intent of making people feel better had its own special kind of magic. It wasn't the kind of magic that I was capable of performing, but I still managed to appreciate the fact that Cat did it.

I picked up the tarot cards. I shuffled them, then cut them twice, with my left hand, and handed them back to Cat.

She laid out a quick Celtic Cross spread, her hands moving quickly, like a card shark; years of practice made the pattern flick out in quick, graceful motions. She put the deck down beside her and glanced up at me. I smiled and nodded at her.

She turned the fist card over.

It was Death.

-----------------

What do you think the card means for Laurel?

Here we go, a long chapter since I didn't update last time I was supposed too, and it's been a full week since my update.

Vote. Comment. Please :) I love feedback (who doesn't) and it inspires me to post faster because I do forget sometimes. Heh.

Til next time,

x zuz