Agent Maher sat in the driver's seat, her fingers drumming on the black leather steering wheel.

"I thought Maggie was picking me up," I said, throwing my bag in the back before climbing into the passenger side, not even trying to hide the disappointment in my voice. Another rule was that Maggie would be taking me to and from school, and if I wasn't in school, I was supposed to be at her house or antique store.

Agent Maher didn't answer, barely waiting for me to close the door before pulling away from the curb. Grumbling under my breath, I quickly locked the seatbelt into place as we pulled out of the parking lot. It was warm for November, mid-sixties with the sun shining. I started to roll down the window to enjoy the fresh air, but she immediately hit the primary control and rolled it back up.

She apparently wasn't any happier about picking me up than I was, so I didn't bother asking any questions that would have probably been ignored anyway. Why couldn't they have put Justin in charge of me? I was still a little irked about the whole emotional manipulation thing but was far nicer and preferable to her. There was no point wishing. Instead, I rested my head against the cool glass and resigned myself to another awkwardly silent car ride. What did these people have against turning on the radio?

Instead of going home or to Maggie's shop we headed downtown to the Consulate building. I started to feel a little nervous when she pulled the SUV into the underground garage. Why were we coming here? Had something happened? Were they reneging on my deal? My palms were sweating as we took the elevator up to the seventh floor. My anxiety rising with each passing level. When we exited the elevator, I was led the same way Justin had taken me yesterday, but instead of the interrogation room, I was directed into a large conference room. The bald agent from yesterday was there, sitting in the back corner, along with a cute little redhead.

"I'll be back at nine," Agent Maher said, before walking out the door without another word. Nine? What was I going to be doing for the next five and a half hours? The other two agents glanced at each other but didn't say anything as she left.

"Well, I'm Agent Conway," the redhead said, quickly trying to recover from Agent Maher's abrupt exit. "You can call me Tish," she said, walking across the room to take my hand. "I believe you've already met Agent Tolbert," she said, nodding back to the older agent.

"You can call me Sir," he said, giving me a slight nod from his chair.

"He's joking; you can call him Eurie," Tish said, shooting him a look over her shoulder.

"Yeah, nice to meet you," I said, shaking her hand. At barely five foot, even with heels, Tish took petite to a whole new level. I know the Vanguard put a strong emphasis on magical aptitude over physical abilities, but she still seemed out of place, like a child sneaking a seat at the adult's table. "Why am I here?"

"Emily didn't tell you? What a surprise," she said, rolling her eyes. "She could have saved us some time by explaining. It's not like she had anything else to do on the drive here."

"She doesn't seem to care for me much," I said, with a shrug. I tried to keep my voice light like it didn't bother me, but it did bother me, a lot. I'd never actually had someone blatantly dislike me before.

"Well, unfortunately, you're going to have to get used to it. She's not likely to change her attitude any time soon. Emily's by the book and a more than a little on the intense side. Planning for her wedding on top of everything else that's going on isn't helping matters." Tish said as she pulled out a chair and directed me to sit down. "She thinks they're letting you off too easy, and she's not the only one." Tish said, in a way that made me unsure if she was speaking in general or if she shared Maher's feelings and was just a little better at hiding it.

"Oh," was all I could say as I sat down.

"Don't worry about it. Lucky for you, lucky for all of us, she doesn't get to make the decisions around here. Justin's the only one who really has to listen to her. I don't see how he does it, but they seem to get along well enough." She continued almost rambling as she took the seat next to me.

"Can we get started already?" Eurie called out from the corner. "She's not here for gossip."

Tish shot him a dirty look, and I half expected her to stick out her tongue, but she didn't. "He didn't have to say it like that, but he's right," she said, turning back to me. "You're not here for office politics." She said with a short laugh. "You're here to practice with reading weaves." She said, clapping her hands together like she just announced we were going to Disney World or something.

"Reading weaves?" I asked, not nearly as enthused by the prospect as she was. "I didn't show any talent for readings."

Everything in existence, whether living or nonliving had an energy force, residing in it. We called it awen and our gifts revolved around the ability to manipulate our awen to affect ourselves and the world around us. Most Tuathan's abilities centered on one of four categories.

The most extensive and basic was natural magic, using your awen to enhance or detract from the world around you. Taking energy from water would turn it to ice, adding energy to a storm front could turn it into a hurricane. It could also be used to enhance the natural properties of plants and minerals. Using lavender infused soap would typically make you no luckier in love than if you'd used a bar of Dial but if a skilled Tuathan apothecary had enhanced that lavender, well then, you could find yourself literally beating potential love prospects off with a stick.

Though the purest form of magic, there were no weaves to memorize or any real skill required, natural magic also held the most potential danger. Adding or removing a significant amount of energy results in imbalances, and if you didn't know how to account for them adequately, there could be disastrous results. Adding too much energy and having an out of control storm was obvious, but removing energy was just as dangerous. Whatever you removed had to go somewhere. If you didn't dispose of it properly, it could attach itself to another energy system, causing all kinds of damage.

The second category was spellcraft. Instead of directly using your awen to enhance or diminish what was already there, spells used your awen to create their own effect. My marbles were part of this — each one, carrying a spell for wind. Spells were created by manipulating your awen into a particular pattern or what we called a weave. Spellcraft was extensive with volumes of books depicting thousands of weaves filling the library and those deemed too dark or dangerous for common use were kept securely locked in the archives or the vault itself.

The two rarest categories where augmentation and empathic. Augmentation allowed you to use your awen to enhance your own physical attributes; strength, stamina, agility. It could help you see in the dark or recover from injuries quicker. Empathic was basically the same thing except you did it for another. While it was mostly used for healing, it also included mental manipulation, though like crossing the veil, any mental manipulation was considered illegal unless authorized by the Council.

Technically any Tuatha could do almost anything; some aspects just come more naturally than others. Someone who had a talent with water could freeze over an entire lake for the same amount of awen I would use to chill a glass of water while someone who was skilled in augmentation could enhance their strength to the point of lifting a bus where someone else might be able to bench an additional ten pounds. Rarely was anyone left entirely out of any skill set, and no one excelled in all aspects either.

Like everyone else, I'd taken the aptitude tests during my freshman year. It had been a wholly disheartening experience. I remembered going home, crying afterward. I'd shown absolutely zero aptitude in natural magic, which I had never heard of happening before. It was the most rudimentary of our abilities, but my awen was unable to interact at even the most basic level. I didn't test high for any of the other categories either. In fact, I scored abysmally low for everything except spell crafting which I received moderate to low scores, and I only got the moderate thanks to the fact that I could make most of the weaves even though many of them were too weak to do much.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The only things I did test high for was secondary skills. I had an awen signature that allowed me to cross the veil, but that was genetics, not talent, and I had what we called sight, the ability to see other's awen when they were using it. Most Tuatha were blind to an others awen, they wouldn't even know a weave was there until it was activated, but I could see it. It made learning weaves ten times easier since I could actually watch them being drawn rather than memorizing from books, but that wasn't much of a benefit since I couldn't use the majority of them. It did have its advantages though. Having the sight had saved me more than once on my trips to Otherworld. Being able to see security wards before you actually tripped them was a huge bonus.

Everything else had come from hard work, practice, and knowing and accepting my limitations. I pre-staged my spell weaves on things like marble and buttons so that I could spend the extra time and energy on them to make them work. That way, when I did need them, it was just a matter of adding a little energy to activate them. I had practiced my shielding incessantly for weeks until forming the weave no longer felt like wrestling with a bunch of oil-slicked snakes. Patience and finesse made up where I lacked real strength and natural talent.

"We've already looked at your test results and though reading might not be one of your stronger abilities," Tish said, the corner of her lips slightly twitching as if she was trying to suppress a smile. "You are capable of forming the weave. We're not going to be doing anything large scale or in-depth here, just basic readings of individuals.”

"And why do I need to practice readings?" I knew I wasn't going to like the answer. The Vanguard had their own readers, of which I was sure Tish was one, why did they need me.

"Delegates from the Faye Courts are coming this weekend. They wanted to be on neutral territory to begin negotiations of a treaty. It all kicks off with a formal banquet Friday night. That will be the only part of the negotiations open to the public. The timing seems a little too coincidental. There are concerns that the shifter might be here to assassinate one of the treaty members. If he is, then the party will be an ideal opportunity."

I had overheard a little about this on some of my recent trips to Otherworld over the last few months. The two Faye Courts had been in varying stages of hostility since they were first exiled. Never open warfare but definitely strained relations that sometimes deteriorated into minor border skirmishes. Over the last few months, it seemed like every town I went through there was talk of putting old grievances aside and forming an alliance of some kind. There had been whispers about the wilds, untamed areas of Otherworld, growing out of control, and that a united front was needed.

Otherworld had not been uninhabited when the Faye were first forced into exile there. Though nothing could be considered truly sentient there were magically advanced lifeforms, many of them not friendly. While the Faye had moved in and tamed most of the land, small patches of feral territory still remained. Dark places full of unfettered energies. The talk was that they'd been growing worse recently, darker in some ways, and despite all efforts, they were starting to spread back into the areas that had been previously cleared by the Faye. I'd only been near one once when Ben was training me, and the unnatural sense of foreboding that seeped from its borders had caused the hair on my arms to stand on end. We were probably a quarter of a mile away, and we only stayed for a few minutes, but that was more than enough for me.

"Since it would be nearly impossible to shield everyone involved in order to identify the shifter, even if the delegates would agree to it, which they won't, we're going to need to try to identify him through a reading," Tish continued. "Since you're the only one who has had contact, and knows what he feels like, you're going to have to perform them."

"Why would the Council agree to hold the meeting here?" It seemed like such a patently bad idea. I know I was a little more up on Faye politics than most, political upheaval was the primary driver for Jason's business and he considered it essential for all of his smugglers to be up on current events to avoid complications, but certainly not more than the Council.

I know she said they wanted neutral ground, but this seemed like an unnecessary risk, the Faye hated us even more than they hated each other. They considered us tainted not only by the betrayal of our ancestors, when they fled instead of resisting but because of the mixing of our blood with humans. Our refusal to let them cross the Tear back into this world only further stoked their hatred. It was suspicious that they even requested to have the meeting here.

The Faye were stronger than us, significantly so in some cases. The only thing that had kept them from forcing their way through the Tear already was their mutual distrust of each other and that the Tear was a bottleneck, so narrow that two men walking side by side risked accidentally stepping into the veil. The death of a high-ranking official on either side might be the incentive they needed to put their quarrels aside and finally risk a forced invasion.

I had wondered why they'd offered a deal so quickly before I'd even asked for one, and here it was. Plans for the meeting would have been in the works for months, and when I mentioned the shifter, Agent Grimes must have recognized the potential disaster immediately. Though I could have been forced into giving the information I knew, he couldn't have made me do this. They'd needed my cooperation as much as I'd needed their deal.

"I only felt it for a few minutes while I was making the shield," I objected, rubbing the back of my neck, my mouth suddenly dry. "I don't think I could necessary recognize it again."

Each person's awen has a specific pattern like a fingerprint, but like fingerprints, the differences could be so minute as to be almost indistinguishable. I remembered that it had felt particularly violent, but that could have been due to the situation we had found ourselves in as much as anything else. Beyond that, I hadn't been paying a lot of attention to how his awen had felt; there had been other more pressing things on my mind.

"Well we have limited options, and they're not willing to cancel the summit, so we're going to need you to try," Tish said, patting my arm as if reassuring a child. "Don't worry; this isn't definite. Grimes' is on the fence about this plan, and both Justin and Amanda think it's a bad idea. You might not even have to do anything. This is just in case."

I'd been shown a basic reading pattern during my testing but the one Tish formed was far more complex than the one I had attempted. It helped that Tish had the sight as well, and she guided me as I tried making my own weave. Nerves and inexperience worked against me, and my pattern fell apart several times before I was finally able to get the last thread in place. It was a little messy compared to the one Tish had made, but it was functional, and that in itself seemed like an achievement.

I was a little upset when she told me to release it and try again. It took three more attempts before I had one up to her standards. Finally satisfied Tish walked me around the office so I could practice on the other agents. Most seemed okay with the exercise, though more than a few gave Tish an exasperated look before grudgingly agreeing to be a guinea pig.

My weaving was a little shaky at first, more often than not, sliding off before I got a good read but after an hour or so I at least had that part down. It was the recognition that was the problem. Like I'd feared, everyone just felt too similar. There were a few outliers here and there but most felt exactly the same or close enough that I wasn't sure that I honestly felt a difference.

From my time smuggling I knew that the Faye felt distinctly different from us, their awen had a wild, violent feel to it, but just like all the people in the room felt similar, the Faye felt similar to each other. I wasn't sure I could pick out the difference that would name the shifter from any other Faye guest and if they were looking to bolster relations having me call out everyone as a shifter wasn't going to help any more than having someone assassinated would.

After going through the office, Tish had me sit in the conference room with my back to the door while she brought people into the room. It was harder than I would have thought to direct my weave when I couldn't see where I was sending it, but once I made contact, I was still hit or miss on whether I got an accurate reading or not. Even after having read some of these people only moments before, identification was under twenty-five percent, and that was with less than two dozen people to choose from, and a few of those positive IDs felt a little too much like guesses.

We practiced for hours, Tish having to occasionally supplement my awen with her own as my energy began to wane. As we worked, the room grew hotter and hotter, until it was nearly stifling from all the energy being expended. I could feel sweat beginning to gather in unpleasant places. I'd removed my sweater a while ago, but I still needed to pull the damp fabric of my t-shirt away from my chest. As the room grew hotter, so did the tempers, with more than one person grumbling about a waste of time when I once again identified them wrong.

By the time Tish finally called it quits, I felt shaky, and a headache was throbbing right behind my eyes. I and my awen were exhausted. Agent Maher had returned over an hour before, but Tish had waved her off insisting we could still get a little more practice in and she would take me home afterward. She was in no way satisfied with my proficiency or lack thereof, but she realized that I wasn't physically able to continue. I could barely keep my eyes open while Tish kept up a steady stream of conversation as we drove. I felt utterly drained; it almost made me wish for the awkward silence Agent Maher provided.

"I have a present for you. For all your hard work," she chirped when we finally pulled into Maggie's driveway. Throwing the vehicle in park, she reached into her bag and pulled out a clear plastic evidence bag. In my groggy state, it took me a moment to realize that the blue plastic thing inside was my cell phone. "It was cleared by evidence this morning." Tish said, handing over the bag. "Now don't think we're not going to keep tabs on this. Everyone in the unit has your number, and you'll be required to hand it over for inspection whenever any of us ask for it."

It was another reminder of how little freedom I currently had, but I didn't care. This small bit of autonomy was enough for now. By the time I drug myself upstairs, I barely had the energy to change into my pajamas before sprawling out on the bed.