Chapter 13

"Whacha watchin'?" Seraph stopped in the middle of the living room, car keys and street map in hand. Tracking the ring had not been hard, it was inside a private home in a neighboring town, but Seraph wanted to know what she was going up against before blindly knocking on a door. She glanced at the TV then back at Brad who was sprawled out on the couch. She raised an eyebrow. "Antique Roadshow? Really? Really?"

"Hey! This show can be fun," he protested. "Patrick showed it to me. You can learn lots of cool, random history stuff and sometimes the people who bring stuff in are funny. It's like the History Channel meets reality TV."

"Why would you want to combine reality TV and the History Channel?" Seraph threw herself down next to Brad, intent on giving him shit over it.

He stuck his tongue out at her and didn't rise to the bait. Seraph rubbed her arm. The bite wasn't healing well at all and it was really starting to itch. She thought about what else she had planned for the day and finding herself with truly nothing better to do at the moment, Seraph watched. The show was simple enough, an appraiser–slash–spokesman would introduce an antique and its owner, talk about the item's history, and then attach a price tag to it. It was pretty mind numbing. Clearly Brad needed to be made fun of some more. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, a new antique filled the TV screen and her taunt died in her throat. An intricately carved jewelry box sat on a table in front of a fussy, old woman. Seraph could only stare– it was the box from her vision.

"...reminiscent of Old Scandinavian..."

The appraiser went on about the quality of the carving and the kind of wood used while asking the little, old lady what she knew about it. Seraph didn't pay them much attention. She could almost see the ring through the wood.

"...now when we open it, we see it lined with silk..."

The ring was not in the box. It was jarring for Seraph to see something ripped perfectly from her mind, and yet wrong. Of course anyone bringing a jewelry box to show off would take out the old, valuable, irreplaceable, magic rings.

"Do they sell the stuff they bring on the show?" Seraph asked.

"The owners? I guess some do, but not on the show itself," Brad answered.

"What if you wanted to buy something you saw?"

"It's not the home shopping network," Brad laughed. "That's not what this show's about."

"Oh."

The appraiser rambled on, he claimed the box was several hundred years old, and interesting in that it was carved in an even older Norse style. If it hadn't been repaired at some point in the past, it would have been worth a pretty penny.

"...thank Susan Miller for sharing with us..."

Seraph studied the woman. She wouldn't need to know the woman's name to track the ring down, since she already knew where it was, but this little, old lady was its keeper and knowing her was crucial. Her short hair was a natural white and not one of the strange colors that Seraph had seen some of the elderly sport. Simple, comfortable clothing in earth tones complemented the woman's scholarly appearance. She didn't look like a monster to Seraph, so why did she have the ring? How did she get it? Half formed plans and ideas swirled around in Seraph's head as the TV droned on. She ended up sitting through the rest of the show with Brad, only snapping back when he turned off the TV.

"So, what'd you think?" he asked.

"It was more interesting than I thought it would be." Understatement.

"Beats pissing off stray dogs as a pastime," he quipped.

~ ~ ~

Susan Miller, current owner of the Ring of Joining, gave no indication that she was anything but what she appeared to be, a nice, old lady who lived alone and liked antiques. She could have been a banshee in her spare time, but if she was, she hid it well.

Seraph found herself with no plan. A fact that did not sit well with her at all. Going into a situation blind was a good way to get dead and the headache pounding behind her eyes didn't help either. Seraph was really feeling off her game, and her arm still hurt. Another vision had driven her out into the cold before she felt she was ready. This time it was just an hour shy of nightfall, not the best time to go up against a potential magical, probably irritable, unknown enemy. Seraph wondered what the point was in repeating the damn visions so many times. She got it already, she knew what she needed to do. Sure, she didn't hop right to it when she first started getting them, but by now the voice must have figured out that she would jump when told to jump. She didn't need to be told what to do everyday. Every. Single. Day.

Opening the truck door, Seraph stepped out into the cold. In her back pocket she had an envelope with every dime she could spare. Five thousand dollars in cash to exchange for the ring– she hoped that it would be enough, just as she hoped that Mrs. Miller was interested in selling her the ring at all. Snow crunched under her feet as she made her way up the unshoveled walkway to the front door. The doorbell was met with silence that made Seraph want to fidget and she had to resist trying to look through the stained-glass panels that flanked the door. The ring was inside this house, so close it made her brain itch and her palms sweat. The soft sound of footsteps quieted her nerves slightly and she fixed a smile on her face as the door opened. A face Seraph remembered from the strangely fateful TV program peered around the edge of the doorframe.

"Mrs. Miller? My name is Seraphim, I was hoping I could take a moment of your time?"

Mrs. Miller peered at her over silver, horn-rimmed glasses­– clearly she didn't know what to make of the strange woman randomly showing up at her door. In jeans and a fleece jacket, Seraph didn't much look like a sales person or a door-to-door missionary, nor was dusk their prime time for visiting. In a move that must have been motivated by curiosity more than anything else, Mrs. Miller stepped back and held the door open.

Seraph gratefully passed the threshold into Mrs. Miller’s parlor. Bookshelves filled with books, ranging from old leather bound works to new textbooks, and with a few paperbacks sprinkled throughout like seasoning, lined the walls. Two overstuffed chairs sat on either side of a small table and faced a lit fireplace, that dominated one wall despite being flanked by two more bookshelves. Above the fireplace was an oil painting depicting pixies dancing in a moonlit grove. It was whimsical and gave a brighter, warmer feel to the room that would have seemed austere otherwise.

“Have a seat, young lady. Would you like a cup of tea?” Mrs. Miller asked.

“Yes, please.”

Seraph took her seat and waited as Mrs. Miller bustled off down the hallway, presumably towards the kitchen. Staring at the fireplace and listening to a grandfather clock, which was just out of sight, tick away the seconds, Seraph began to relax. The room smelled like books and old people, and was warm from the crackling fire. It was a room for wiling away the hours just reading and staying in from the cold while the rest of the world waited until you were good and ready to rejoin it. While she couldn't say she truly felt better– none of her pains went away– she did feel more rested.

Mrs. Miller returned carrying a china tea set. Seraph jumped up to help her but Mrs. Miller wouldn't hear of it.

"Sit down, young woman, I can still serve guests in my own house."

Once the tray was safely deposited on the end table, and tea properly served, Mrs. Miller took her own seat.

"You have a lovely home," Seraph said.

"Cluttered you mean," Mrs. Miller laughed.

"No, really. I like this room. I've never seen this many books outside of a library."

"Thank you. When you get to be my age, your hobbies tend to take over your life and your home." Mrs. Miller smiled and took a sip of her tea. "So, what can I do for you... Seraphim was it?"

"Please, call me Seraph," clearing her throat, she plunged right in. "This is going to sound a little strange. I'm here because I'm hoping to buy a piece of jewelry from you, if you're willing."

Mrs. Miller looked completely nonplused. "My dear, I think you have better luck at a jewelry store."

"No, they won't have what I need."

"What makes you think I do?"

There was the question she had been dreading. "I would rather not say, it's... personal. It's nothing bad," she hastened to explain. Actually, it most likely was something very bad, but that wasn't very reassuring. "It's just something that I don't feel comfortable answering right now, if... if it's all the same to you."

It did not look all the same to Mrs. Miller. A tight frown twisted her lips and the look in her eyes was similar to the one in Seraph's Drill Sergeant's eyes just before she had to do push ups. Seraph wondered if she would be scolded or simply thrown out.

Surprisingly, Mrs. Miller did neither. She set down her tea and smoothed her skirt before standing up. "Well, if you excuse me one moment?"

"Of course," Seraph answered.

Leaving through the door way opposite the direction of the kitchen, Mrs. Miller disappeared into the back of her house. Seraph waited while sipping her tea, which was really good, and looked at some of the photos that hung on the bits of wall not covered by books. There were snapshots from all over the world, mostly places in Europe, but a few other locales as well.

Seraph wasn't given long to admire them– soon she felt the ring move. It was being brought to her, Mrs. Miller reentered the room carrying the jewelry box.

"I never spent much time on things like jewelry, and I certainly don't go out all fussed up these days. This is all I have, the box is worth more than what's in it."

Seraph wondered if she was lying or simply didn't know about the ring. Either way she was grateful to have gotten this far. She accepted the box gingerly with a whispered thank you, and waited for Mrs. Miller to sit down again before opening it. One thing she had been telling the truth about, she didn't have very much jewelry. Some necklaces, a few rings and a single bracelet hardly filled up the box.

The Ring of Joining was tucked inside as if it was simply another bauble in a forgotten collection. Carefully, Seraph pulled it from its place and set the box aside. It looked to be made from two types of metal that Seraph couldn't identify– each band of metal had its own pattern that was separate, but complemented the other. It was a unique and beautiful piece.

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Miller said softy. "But I can't let you have that."

Seraph looked up at her, not quiet believing this turn of events. "I'll give you five thousand for it."

"No, it's not the for sale, not for any amount."

For a moment Seraph considered running. She had the ring in her hand, she could be out the door and in her truck before the old lady could finish calling 911. Her body tensed for flight, but she couldn't quite bring herself to do it. Not yet.

"You don't understand," Seraph pleaded, turning her eyes back to the ring. Mrs. Miller began to shift towards her as if anticipating what Seraph would do if she couldn't buy it. "I need–"

The ring came apart in Seraph's hands, leaving her stammering in surprise. The two bands had separated creating two rings.

"What did you do?" Mrs. Miller cried, rising out of her seat.

"I–" Automatically Seraph tried to put the pieces back together. "It came apart–" To her relief and surprise the pieces fit back into one easily. "Oh good," Seraph said, holding it for Mrs. Miller to see. Putting her hand to her chest, Mrs. Miller fell back into her chair. Seraph took a moment to examine this new aspect of the ring– splitting it and putting it back together a few times. "Ring of Joining, indeed," she said to herself.

"What did you just call it?"

"Um," Seraph looked back at Mrs. Miller, startled. She hadn't meant to say that out loud. Well the cat was out of the bag now, if that had ever needed to be kept secret in the first place. "I called it the Ring of Joining."

"How did you know that name?"

Now that was a secret. Seraph simply shrugged in reply, unable to offer an explanation.

Mrs. Miller took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, sighing. Slowly she rose from her chair and stood in front of the fireplace, with her back to Seraph. Her head was tilted back as if she were studying the painting but Seraph wondered if she was really looking at anything at all.

"I've changed my mind," Mrs. Miller said finally. "You may have the ring."

"Really?" Seraph asked. She was overjoyed at Mrs. Miller's change of heart, but wondered why. "If you don't mind me asking, Mrs. Miller, what made you change your mind?"

Instead of answering right away, Mrs. Miller returned to her seat and poured another cup of tea. "I didn't know the ring came apart," she said, stirring in some sugar. "In all the years I've owned it, I've never seen it do that."

Seraph waited, knowing there must be more to it than that and also knowing that Mrs. Miller would not be rushed.

"That ring has been in my family for generations. The story of how we came to have it has been lost to time, I fear. I was told, when I was a little girl, that my family had been entrusted to keep that ring safe for its true owner, who would some day return for it. Now you're here, and I... I have no children to leave it to." Mrs. Miller leaned forward to grasp Seraph's hand in her own and squeeze it. "If you don't take it, I don't know what will become of it. I suppose this must be fate."

"Thank you," Seraph whispered.

"You're welcome, child." Mrs. Miller sipped her tea before glancing coyly at Seraph. "I was also told it was a fairy ring. Would you be able to tell me anything about that?"

"Fairy? Um, yes, I have reason to believe it is," Seraph hedged.

Mrs. Miller cackled, her face lighting up. "I knew it. I could never prove it, but I knew it." She sat back looking as self satisfied as a cat. "I've spent my whole life studying them. Looking for answers."

"All of these books are about fairies?" Seraph asked looking around her in amazement.

"Enough of them are. History and folklore in all of its many forms. My life's work. I studied anthropology in Oxford with a focus in mystic history before coming back home to teach here between trips to archeological dig sites."

"Wow," Seraph said, unsure how to react to the revelation. She wasn't the proper owner of the ring that Mrs. Miller had searched for, and was disappointed that she couldn't be who this kind woman wanted her to be. "I can't imagine, you... must have a lot of stories."

"Oh, I've picked up a few," Mrs. Miller chuckled.

"What were you able to learn about the ring?"

"Nothing," Mrs. Miller sighed. "There is no record of such a treasure that I could find. But there is so much of the fay histories that are lost to us."

"I confess that I don't know much about their history. Just what I learned in high school, and it wasn't my greatest subject. "

Mrs. Miller looked disappointed, she must have been hoping for answers that Seraph couldn't provide. She might have been worried about giving herself away, but she could see that Mrs. Miller had committed herself to believing that Seraph was the one her family had waited for, and there was little that could change her mind now.

"Well, you know that Atlantis sunk and took the fay with it?" she asked. Seraph nodded, prompting her to continue. "The reason that it sunk was a civil war. The fay came in two breeds, which they called the Summer Court and the Winter Court. Both drew their power and long life from the seasons, but where the Summer Court pulled from the summer growth and sun, the Winter Court pulled from the winter rest and nights."

"Summer Court was the good court, right?" Seraph asked.

"It isn't so simple to say one was good and one was bad. Much of history is colored by the opinions of the people writing it. The Summer Court certainly liked humanity more, and so was more popular on that front, and the Winter Court was, somewhat mistakenly, associated with death."

"Oh."

"Once the courts worked together, but at some point they split apart. And over time the separation led to animosity between the two factions. War broke out. We know that the Summer Court ultimately won the war, but the nation was crippled. The popular theory is that the Winter Court cursed the Summer Court with the last of their power, which led to Atlantis' destruction. Wilder speculation believes that this curse persists even now, causing the decline of the lesser fay to this day."

"But curses don't really work like that, right? I mean, my knowledge of magic is even worse than my knowledge of history, but don't curses kinda die with the person doing the curse? You would need to still have Winter Court fay running around holding a grudge to do that."

"Human magic works that way. But fay magic? Who knows?"

Seraph was doubtful, but didn't want to argue the point. Mrs. Miller was very passionate about the subject, and obviously there was a lot that she could teach Seraph, if she was willing to learn. And she was.

"Do you know anything about the Erlking?" Seraph asked.

"Why yes, the Erlking was the Monarch of the fay before the courts broke up. He led the Wild Hunt, one of the things that affected the humans they came into contact with quite a bit. Everything that was out the night of a Wild Hunt was fair game. If you didn't want to find yourself as prey in the early BC and Roman Empire, you should stay in at night and keep your doors locked. Of course, he did more than that. He would have been like a god to us mere mortals. Both courts tried to raise an Erlking before they went to war, but the oracle would not accept anyone brought to it. Without the oracle's blessing no one could assume that title. The details of this selection was never recorded, at least by us. We weren't really invited to that party."

Seraph smiled at the joke. "Do you know anything in particular about the crown?"

"It was large, with stag horns attached to the front. I've seen some illustrations of it, it must have cut a very imposing figure at the time."

"What about the Emblems of the Seasons?" she asked eagerly.

Mrs. Miller frowned. "I can't say I recall. No, nothing that I can think of off the top of my head."

"Oh. Is there a book you could suggest?"

"A book!" Mrs. Miller laughed. "How about a few dozen?"

"Maybe just a good book for beginners, then."

"How about the text book I wrote for my class?"

"That sounds like it would work."

Once again Mrs. Miller left Seraph to her own devices in the parlor. Seraph let her head fall back against the chair and rubbed her arm. It did remarkably little to help with the burning itch. She was still worrying at it when Mrs. Miller returned once again.

"I hate to cut this short, but I just saw the time. I'm afraid that I have other things I must attend to tonight," she said handing Seraph the book.

"Please, don't apologize. You've been incredibly helpful. I don't know how I can thank you."

"Think nothing of it. That ring was meant for you."

Their goodbyes were brief as Mrs. Miller walked Seraph to the door. Seraph tucked the ring into her pocket and tucked the book under her arm as she made her way to her truck, with a small skip in her step. She climbed in and was off, excited at having completed the voice's command without needing a follow up trip to the ER.

Feeling a small blossom of hope in her chest Seraph put the truck in gear and headed home. Even now she didn’t trust the voice– she still had every reason to hate it and what it was doing to her life. But until now she really had thought that she would have to fight monster after monster until she either finished or perished. Now she had a hope, a small hope, but a hope, that she could survive this.

It was amazing how a little kindness could make the bleakest situation seem better.

Seraph fingered her phone in her jacket pocket and considered calling Gabe with the good news, but decided to wait. A little longer wouldn’t kill him, besides she hated drivers who paid more attention to their cell phones than the road.

The vision came as it always did, without warning. Seraph’s body seized as she lost her senses and control of the truck. Trapped inside her own head, she never saw the lamppost.

And then she saw nothing at all.

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