“Okay.”
“You have options. There’s one obvious one I can’t and won’t outline to you, out of concern that Padraic would be upset with me.”
“And you need all the friends you can get, with so few pieces on the board.”
‘Yes.”
“I’m assuming that one option is that I have to go head to head with Padraic. Take it back.”
“You said it,” Sandra said, smiling a bit, “Not me. Another option would be to draw things out. Faerie get bored, and if you can survive in the meantime, it’s possible he would take pity on you and return the name.”
The girl stared at the woman, unimpressed.
“Possible, but not likely,” Sandra amended.
“How do I survive, though?”
“Forge new connections, hold tight to the connections that do exist, tenuous or otherwise.”
“Oh god. You’re telling me that I have to work for my salvation by making friends?”
“That’s one way to forestall the inevitable,” Sandra said.
“I’m liking the first option more,” the girl said. “It allows for shoving of a stick up one of Padraic’s nether orifices and attaching it to a lathe. I don’t make friends easily.”
“Other connections, then.”
“Other connections. Making a mental note. Got it.”
“The third option… well, I suppose it isn’t easy either.”
“Third option?”
“Accept that he’s won. Make peace with it.”
“Oh helllll no.”
“Yes,” Sandra said. “There’s a running theme in dealings with Faerie. Trust me, I’ve dealt with them enough to know. As a general rule, it’s not worth it.”
“What’s not.”
“It. Whatever you’re striving for in dealing with them? Whatever they’re offering? It isn’t worth the trouble. Rescue someone from Faerie clutches, and they’ll play along, acting like everything’s good, only to go back to their old masters. You can win, but you might well fall prey to a trap in the process.”
“Blake kicked a Faerie’s ass the day he invited me into my house.”
“Yes he did.”
“So… that rule has its exceptions.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. I don’t know the particulars, so I can’t comment.”
The girl in the checkered scarf narrowed her eyes. “So I’m supposed to give up?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“Yeah. Right. I’m not about to lie down and get replaced, thank you. Not my style.”
“Of course.”
“Anything else?”
“Not so much. There are other tricks, but everything has its own gravity, and so long as he has your name, there will be a natural pull, drawing that which is Maggie’s to him. If you were to reclaim your name, I’d think a confrontation would be inevitable.”
“What if he bites it in the meantime?”
“You would have to be careful with the timing and mechanism, lest you inherited a name with the notion of death attached to it and took that death for yourself, but I would be surprised if it even came to that. I’d sooner expect him to simply get bored with this game and return your name to you.”
“You’d-” the girl in the checkered scarf started. “Fuck, really?”
“Careful with the swearing, remember.”
“Swearing in very particular circumstances that call for it. How is he not going to die?”
“He’s been around for centuries, leading an exceptionally interesting life. Add up his experience, and he’s developed a degree of familiarity with most types of Other that are close to the sixteen or seventeen years you’ve spent getting to know your own family. He’ll avoid situations where victory isn’t in the cards for him. Faerie like to pick easy fights for themselves, but impose challenges on themselves to keep it interesting, always holding on to the idea that they can abandon the challenge and cut loose if the situation calls for it.”
“So that’s it? No chance? If it even comes down to a contest-”
“If it were Essylt? She’s more one-dimensional. Padraic? I would consider your loss a foregone conclusion.”
The girl looked down at the map of connections, fists clenched at her sides.
“What happens?” she asked. “Later on?”
“He’ll take and borrow to create his new identity. Connections will find less traction with you. Even simple connections. The ability to open a door involves a connection, however basic. In the end? It depends on what the two of you do. You might be reduced to a glimmer, held together by the little that Padraic didn’t take, unable to act or even function.”
“An echo.”
“Close enough. More likely, you’d start coming to pieces. You might find that spirits occupy the hollow spaces that are created, which would accelerate the decay. You might go out in a blaze of spiritual activity. Conversely, your body might simply be ground down into your constituent elements, the spirits would nibble on the exposed edges of the girl who was once Maggie Holt, and gravity and connections would pull the half-eaten, half-faded husk to pieces.”
The girl in the checkered scarf felt her heart pounding as if she’d just run around the block.
“I should go,” she said.
“I think you should. That line connecting to Blake looks less solid than it did a minute ago. While you’re here, I can help reinforce things, but I can’t stop Padraic from taking things from his end of this struggle, leaving you less to work with.”
The girl grabbed her coat, pulling it on.
“Where are you going?” Sandra asked.
“Don’t know. Maybe the Briar Girl.”
“If she were strong enough to do something substantial, I would be very surprised,” Sandra commented.
“Maybe that’s true. But she and Blake had a connection, and maybe I can establish one with her. She doesn’t seem like she’d be impossible to get along with. And I can ask. Get more info on where to go next.”
“Maybe, instead of doing that, you should tackle the more dangerous possibilities while you’re still strong enough.”
The girl in the checkered scarf paused midway through doing up her buttons. “You’re trying to nudge me to Johannes again.”
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
“Maybe, maybe not. And I do owe you one… but… what about her?”
“She is… not your best bet.”
“She could have an answer. She’s been around for a freaking long time.”
“True on both counts.”
“So?”
“I suppose if you’re going to talk to her, you should be as strong as possible.”
“Great. Unless there’s something I should know?”
“You know who she is?”
“Yeah.”
“You know what she is?”