The Aether Candle

Dan nodded. "I'm glad I'm on your side," he eventually added.

That drew an amused snort from his mentor.

"We are on the same side, right?" Dan asked. "What is this Coalition?"

"Nothing you need to worry about at the moment. When this is over, we can talk about whether it makes sense for you to join. Or whether you'll have any choice in the matter."

A chill ran down Dan's spine.

"I don't mean because I'd force you," Caleb explained, in what passed for a reassuring tone coming from Mister Monotonous. "At present, this is neutral ground. If Maria ends up killing the witch-hunters, though, there's no reason not to bring it into the fold."

"You're not worried that she'd claim it for the Nation?" Dan asked.

Caleb shook his head. "Too far from the rest of their territory."

"I see," Dan said, wondering if any aspect of his life would be the same come Monday. Not that he'd be able to discuss any of the seismic shifts with Ray or Nora when he ran into them at school. Assuming he even bothered to go. Ever again. "The Coalition doesn't require it's members to have high school diplomas, does it?"

His mentor gave him a wry smile. "I take it you're ready to head to the Aether?"

"Um, not quite," Dan said, standing up. "I think I could use some tea myself."

Just as he started to pour himself a cup, there came a knock at Caleb's door.

Dan looked a question at Caleb. Before the man could respond, though, Dan's mom stuck her head in. Her eyes slid right past Dan, locking onto Caleb with an intensity that might almost have made him envy the man, had her lips not been pursed so tight. "Daniel, baby, do you mind if I have a word with Caleb?" she asked without looking at him.

That was, until he failed to immediately provide the only acceptable response.

Once he became the focus of that glower, though, his hesitation and misgivings evaporated. Sure, he was about to leave a wounded man with a very angry woman, but he was only an apprentice anyway. Caleb could handle himself. Not that it was going to be that sort of confrontation anyway. More the sort that was none of his business.

Even if the odds were good that they'd be arguing about him.

"I'll just be right outside," Dan said. He finished filling his mug real quick, if only to give one or both of them a chance to tell him to stay—or instruct him to go farther out of earshot, as the case may be. Neither took the opportunity to do so, though.

Nor did they so much as acknowledge his continued existence. They just stared at each other so intently Dan almost expected to see streams of crackling light appear.

Wounded as Caleb was, Dan realized, he was more than capable of standing up to her—so long as the standing was purely metaphorical. He also realized there was more to their relationship than landlord-tenant. As they glared at one another, a dozen moves and counter-moves took place in rapid succession. It was like the opening of a contest between rivals with a long enough history together to anticipate one another's every move.

Could they be former lovers?

Was it possible that Caleb was his real father?

No, that made no sense. Once Dan stepped outside and started drinking his tea, his senses started to return. The two of them hadn't met when Caleb had come looking for a place to stay, that much was clear. As it probably should have been all along. That didn't mean his mom had horrible taste in men, or that Caleb was anything other than asexual. Besides, Dan just couldn't see his mom cheating on his dad.

For a time, Dan stood at the top of the steps. He didn't lean against the door with a hand cupped to his ear or anything, but he was certainly hoping to hear what they had to say once they raised their voices. Once the effects of the tea really started to kick in, however, he ordered himself to go down to the driveway. What he needed to know, they'd tell him. They had a right to keep everything else to themselves.

Or maybe that had nothing to do with the tea. Just because it heightened one's magical senses didn't mean it brought wisdom of every sort.

There wouldn't have been much for him to hear even if he'd stayed right outside the door, though. Had the shouting he'd thought inevitable actually arrived, Dan would have heard it. He wouldn't have been able to make out the words from the bottom of the steps, but he'd have known the standoff had escalated. It didn't, though. Nor did it last very long. Dan had yet to finished his tea when his mom opened the door and beckoned him up with a curl of her finger. She still didn't look pleased, but the storm front appeared to have passed.

"Your mother's coming with us," Caleb informed him once he entered the apartment.

Aware of how keen their interest was in his reaction, Dan allowed none to show. "Cool," he said, almost believing in his own nonchalance. "Takes some weight off my shoulders."

His mom snorted. Dan tried not to let the prominence of her chest or the deep line of cleavage that formed when she folded her arms beneath her breasts like that distract him. It didn't help that she was wearing nothing but a lace cami up top. The sort of thing she probably wore under a blouse most of the time and had never let her son see her in previously.

"That's the idea," Caleb confirmed. "You seem to have guessed that your mother is an empath. What you might not know is that she has more natural ability than you or I could ever dream of. Enough that she could probably make her way to the top of the supernatural world, should she ever decide to—"

"Can we just get on with it?" Dan's mom cut in.

The bearded one regarded her silently for a time then nodded.

#

They didn't use a candle. Caleb had something even better, which obviated the need for one to summon the other and protected them from what was apparently known as "Aether fugue" and all the memory problems it entailed. More importantly, they need only give the lengths of rope tied around their waists a good tug and they'd be yanked back to the real world in a fraction of a second. Dan wasn't crazy about the idea of summoning someone so dangerous as to make that worth worrying about, but that didn't seem to be up for debate.

As they walked through the mist, though, he couldn't help but think that his usual means of exiting the Aether wasn't all that slow.

"It's not that," Caleb explained after Dan idly shared the thought. "You've never been here as fully as you are now." His eyes drifted past Dan to the woman on the other side of him, who looked exactly as she had when Dan had summoned her but was thankfully wearing more than a robe and stockings this time. Her flowing green gown almost looked formal by comparison. It had a tight bodice and a neckline that didn't quite qualify as conservative, but at least wasn't scandalous. Dressed like that, his mom looked less like a seductress than a powerful enchantress.

Which, apparently, she was. Or near enough as made no difference.

"Few of us can manage that without assistance," Caleb said, raising all sorts of questions in Dan's mind. Perhaps answering a few as well. Before Dan could ponder that any further, though, his mentor said, "When you use the candle, you're in no danger. Should some harm befall you, which is rather unlikely given the nature of your visits, it'll simply knock you out of the Aether. You might feel some pain when you wake up—"

Dan's mom snorted. "Let's not overstate things, Caleb."

"—but you won't bring any injuries you might have sustained back with you, no matter how grievous," the bearded one finished, ignoring her sarcasm.

Reading between the lines, Dan said, "Whereas if this warlock-who-isn't-a-warlock-because-there's-no-such-thing-as-warlocks kills me here, I'll die for real?"

"That's why I said it's important you keep your hand on the rope."

Having already neglected that piece of advice, Dan reached back and gripped it tight. He must have looked as though he was rappelling down the face of an invisible cliff that was parallel to the ground, but better that than let this be his final trip to the Aether—one from which he'd never return. "Remind me again why we want to make ourselves so vulnerable?"

"Yes, please do," his mom added.

Dan thought he could hear Caleb grind his teeth, but that was probably his imagination. "I wouldn't be able to give Maria this otherwise," he said, holding up a bracelet.

Unlike the one she already wore, it was made of crystal. What exactly it did, though, his mentor hadn't seen fit to specify. Nor had he explained how it would be possible for Maria to carry it back to the real world. Though Dan supposed one of her many talismans probably let her enter the Aether as fully and as safely as they supposedly had. "Which you might not even end up doing," Dan said, focusing on the more relevant point.

No response.

"Unbelievable," Dan's mom said.

Caleb shot her a look that seemed to say, "I thought we agreed to a ceasefire." If so, the reminder worked. She looked away and held her tongue.

"You couldn't at least give us a setting?" Dan asked. He'd seen the gray mist before, but never so damn much of it. That was all there was, everywhere he looked.

"What, to put you in the mood?"

"Huh," Dan said. "Who knew you had a sense of humor."

To no one's surprise, Caleb opted not to dignify that with a response. He came to a halt, having apparently realized that he'd found the perfect patch of absolutely nothing. In a booming voice, he said, "Bartholomew Wainbridge, I beseech thee to join us."

"I beseech thee?" Dan said.

His mom elbowed him in the ribs, as he ought to have expected. She might not be captain of Caleb's fan club, but it was still her job to keep Dan from acting like a child. To remind him that there was a time and a place for such comments, and this was neither.

"BARTHOLOMEW WAINBR—" his mentor began.

A figure stepped out of the mist. He was dressed in a black three piece suit that looked perfectly modern, if a bit more formal than anything Dan would be caught dead in. Except maybe at the prom he was no longer sure he was going to attend. He wasn't exactly sure how men had dressed in the late sixteen hundreds, but he didn't think it was quite like that. "That is indeed my name," the newcomer said. "Might I ask yours?"

"I am Caleb Blackthorne. This is my nephew and apprentice, Daniel Westbrook." The outswept hand stretched further. "And my sister, Prudence Westbrook, nee Blackthorne."

She'd told Dan her maiden name was Ferguson. It made sense that they were brother and sister, though. No way they could have been lovers.

Granted, the former didn't rule out the latter. He'd been all too busy proving that himself, of late. He still didn't think his mom had ever fooled around with Caleb, though. That would just be too weird, whether they were siblings or not.

"What business have you with me?" asked the man Dan could only think of as Barty.

"I haven't decided yet," Caleb said.

"Man, you are not very good at this," Dan said, both for his mentor's sake and to encourage Barty to write him off as a joke. That just might keep them alive.

His mom didn't seem to appreciate the genius of his plan, though. She kept her elbows to herself, but those eyes of hers more than made up for it.

"Please elaborate," Barty said. The mist before him coalesced and Dan almost leapt in front of his mom, who he couldn't help but note seemed to have the same instinct. If either had been a little slower to rein in their instincts, they'd crashed right into each other. What they'd both apparently taken for a sword, or some other threat, proved only to be a cane, however. Though the man looked no older than Caleb, he leaned on it in a way that suggested it was more than a mere fashion statement.

"We know that you're going to return to our world soon," Caleb said. "As do some others, all of whom mean you harm. I might be here to warn you."

"I dare say you already have."

Had Caleb not already revealed his intentions back in the apartment, Dan might have thought old Barty had just punked him. That his mentor even knew what the rope-a-dope strategy was surprised Dan more than it probably should have. It was just that Caleb was usually on the nose about everything. For a while, Dan had taken that for hipster irony, but the guy hadn't been kidding when he'd said he was never anything but serious.

Something about Barty's words had made an impression on Dan's mom. Her back was no longer stiff. She seemed less wary of the man than intrigued by him.

"Yes, well...," Caleb said, chewing his lip in feigned nervousness, "I suppose I have." At least Dan thought it was feigned. Not for the first time, he wished he could read his mentor better. "I could tell you more about them, though. If you tell us about yourself first."

"No need," Barty said, waving the offer away.

At first, Dan thought the tone haughty, but then he realized that he'd just expected it to be. If anything, it was weary. Defeatist. That was why his mom had already let her guard down. Finally remembering why the two of them were there, the supporting role it was vitally important for them to play, he tried using his abilities not on Caleb but Bartholomew.

To Dan's surprise, that wasn't remotely difficult. In fact, he was almost taken aback by the brightness and intensity of the man's aura. It was gray, though not metallic enough to be called silver, and more opaque than translucent besides. The solid bits shifted about languidly, though. Like mist. More to the point, there were blue streaks shooting through the man's aura that Dan felt could only signify sadness. Not the sharp, aching sadness of one who has just received terrible news, but a deep melancholy.

His mom looked a question at him. Dan nodded.

"Why not?" Caleb asked, throwing the two of them a furtive glance.

"I have met their kind before. They have vowed to `protect' the town from me until the end of time. Seeing as they possess several vials of my blood, there is little I can do to prevent that. I'll not draw but a few breaths before I find myself here once more."

Barty didn't exactly sound terrified of the prospect. He'd have to care first, and Dan was getting the distinct impression that the man was no longer capable of doing that.

"What did they do to you?" Dan's mom asked with the sort of voice that had always made him feel safe and loved. How she could feel so much sympathy for a total stranger might have been a mystery to him, if he didn't know his mom so well.

Granted, she'd kept a lot of secrets from him, as he was now learning. That didn't change who she was deep down, though. Didn't make her any less caring.

Barty stared at his hand, as if expecting to find it charred. "I met the only end befitting a `warlock' such as myself. I was burned at the stake."

For a guy who'd been dead for hundreds of years, he'd sure mastered the art of the air quote. Didn't even use his fingers. "We didn't mean to remind you of that," Dan said.

Barty gave Dan a small, appreciative nod.

"Why did they do it, though?" Dan asked. "What did you ever do to them?"

"They accused me of consorting with demons. We'd had a bad harvest, you see, and the townsfolk could fathom no explanation save dark magic. That a terrible fever had swept through the town, leaving us short a few men who'd otherwise have worked the fields, did not seem relevant to anyone besides me." Barty reached up, as if to sweep a hat off his head so he could mop his brow, found he wasn't wearing one, and let his hand drop to his side. "With each passing generation, it seems, my crimes have only grown more heinous. The last time I was banished to this realm, they called me a baby-killer and a mass murderer."

"None of which was true," Dan's mom said.

"I suppose I was guilty of consorting, but not with demons."

Dan was no expert on linguistics, but he didn't think Barty's manner of speaking was any more authentic than his style of dress. Something wasn't right.

At least, he'd have thought so if his mom wasn't at his side. As she regarded the man silently, a growing sense of sadness found its way into her own aura. She didn't let it show on her face, which was probably wise, but Dan couldn't miss it.

If she didn't think Barty was deceiving them, then there was no reason for Dan to. He still wasn't sure how much to trust his own judgment, but he trusted hers. Who was to say the guy was incapable of looking in on the real world from his gray, misty prison anyway? That Barty hadn't done his best to keep up with the times because he still harbored some faint hope of being allowed to dwell there for more than a few minutes?

"You made a pact with an Aetherial," Caleb said. "And the townsfolk knew about it."

"Aye," Barty said. "After seeing the fever claim one too many lives, most of them belonging to children, I decided that any man who would not do everything in his power to save his wife and daughter, whether he'd spent his whole life eschewing that power or not, was no man at all." He hung his head. "They escaped the fever, but it might have been better to let it take them. They burned my wife for lying with a warlock. I never learned what became of my daughter, but I cannot convince myself that she led a happy life."

"I'm sure she did," Dan's mom said. Her words should have sounded hollow, but they didn't. Even Barty seemed to find some measure of solace in them. Momentarily, at least. The blue streaks grew fainter and the thinnest of red ribbons flickered into being.

Could anyone be more amazing than his mom?

"In exchange," the man continued, face impassive and voice despondent once more, "I agreed to serve the Aetherial until the end of time. I am permitted to return to the village of my birth once a century, there to dwell until I meet my natural end."

"Which hasn't turned out to be worth much," Dan said.

Barty cleared his throat. "Indeed not."

"Sorry to have disturbed you, Mister Wainbridge," Dan's mom said. Turning to her brother, she added, "I think we've got what we came here for."

Both men looked at her quizzically. One of them, however, had already decided that he didn't care what that meant. Nor was he interested in any further information they could provide about the various forces that meant him harm. Without a word, Bartholomew Wainbridge turned his back to them and faded into the mist.

"I agree," Dan said. "That man's not a threat to anyone." Not that it really mattered what he thought. Once his mom had vouched for the guy, his opinion had become moot. No one had told Dan that beforehand, but he could tell by the look on Caleb's face that, for all the tension between them, he still held his sister's opinion in the highest regard.

As well he should, if he didn't want his nephew to beat some sense into him.

Chapter Six

A fly slipped in through the window that had been left open to let the smoke clear out. It buzzed about the kitchen, landed on a charred cabinet, took a few steps, then flittered away again. Only once she was sure that no one was around did Maria change back.

The floor tiles were cool beneath her feet and the air stank of foul chemicals. Sensitive as her nose was, Maria barely picked out traces of burned wood and spilled blood. Only a few hours had passed, she knew, but it had felt like days. And it might as well have been, for all that anyone who hadn't been there to witness it could guess that just a short while ago, a man's heart had been ripped out of his chest not six feet from where she now stood.

She'd nearly lost her mind waiting for Caleb to contact her. Even now that he had, she felt an irrational anger towards him. Nevermind that he'd provided her with a bracelet that would allow her to be as aggressive, as reckless, as her heart demanded. Sixty seconds was more than enough to tear a man's throat out, no matter how fast he moved. Yet she couldn't help thinking that he ought to have given it to her in his apartment rather than leaving her to stew in her rage and grief and helplessness before finally summoning her to the Aether.