Chapter 3
I was standing in the
pale light of twilight, at the edge of the Golden Wood, naked, but
I couldn’t seem to feel the cold. I ran my fingers lightly over my
wolf, closing my eyes. The tattoo was complex: a vine that wound
itself up my left thigh, then crossed my lower stomach, ending near
my ribs beneath my right arm. Silver roses and violet skulls
dappled the vine, and right above my navel, a wolf gazed into the
world through brilliant emerald eyes. Grieve . . . my wolf was
connected to Grieve, and through it, I could feel my Fae Prince,
when he was hurting or angry.
“Where are you? What
are you thinking? Are you missing me?” I whispered, closing my
eyes. I didn’t consciously send the message down the slipstream,
but the words swept out of my mouth and caught themselves lightly
on a hook of wind, gusting along the currents of air playing past
me.
As I slowly brought
my left hand up, my fingers lightly brushing my breast, I caught my
breath. And then, I felt hands on me and gasped, but as my eyes
flew open, it was not Lannan touching me—but my perilous
Grieve.
His gleaming black
eyes sparkled with stars, stark against the platinum shag that fell
to his shoulders. He gazed into my soul, the scents of cinnamon and
freshly turned earth enveloping him. His white kimono with delicate
indigo patterns embroidered on the silken material rustled as he
touched me.
“Grieve, is it really
you?” I whispered, pressing against him.
He said nothing but
pulled me in, his lips touching my own. I breathed in his scent,
reveling in the feeling of being in his arms again, wanting to stay
here forever. Grieve, regardless of his nature, was my other
half—my soul mate. My love. He murmured softly as he fisted my hair
and slid his hands over my body.
“Cicely.” His voice
was sultry and I melted into his embrace. “My own Cicely.” One hand
rose to stroke my breast and I bared my neck, aching for the
needle-sharp sting of his teeth. It was so different than when
Lannan bit me—this I enjoyed, reveled in.
As he lowered his
lips to my neck and gently slid through the flesh, I gasped again,
sliding into the dream-filled ecstasy that his bloodletting brought
to me. My body raced with heat, the blood pumping through my veins
as he gently licked it from the wound on my throat. He circled my
waist with his left hand as his right slid down, across my stomach
to between my thighs.
My wolf whimpered and
I let out a long sob as he gently circled my clit with a
feather-light touch, claiming me as he stoked my fires. All
thoughts of Lannan and his perverted whims faded into the
background, becoming white noise, as my hands sought out Grieve’s
chest and I slid down that olive skin. Grieve claimed me with his
kiss, stoking my fires, sliding between my legs to carry me away
from fear and pain. Another few inches and I held Grieve in hand,
his rigid desire throbbing against my palm. He slid both hands
under my butt and lifted me up, pressing me back against a mossy
tree as he thrust himself inside me, so deep that he touched my
core.
The moss on the tree
itched against my back, but it protected me from the bark as Grieve
drove himself into me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he
freed one hand to stroke me again, his flesh soft and warm and
living against me.
“I missed you so
much,” I whispered. “I love you so much.”
“I miss you, too. I
can’t stand that Myst holds my chain. Every time she demands my
attendance, I want to attack her, to destroy her, but I can’t. She
is too powerful. I don’t even think the gods themselves can strike
her down.”
“Myst can’t have
you—you’re mine. We belong together. We’ve always belonged
together. I won’t lose you again.”
“I’ll never give in,
never give her the satisfaction of thinking she can let down her
guard near me. You’re mine, Cicely Waters . . . I will be with you
forever, or die in the attempt.”
And then, a gust of
wind swept past, chilling me to the bone.
“Cicely . . .” His voice sounded distant, as if he
were speaking through a long tunnel, and his touch began to fade as
I came, sharp and with a sting of pain.
“Grieve—what’s
happening?” I found myself standing by the tree, and he was
reaching for me but now we were separate, divided by some invisible
chasm.
“Cicely . . . I love you . . .”
I realized that I was
now frozen and cold, and the snow hurt against my bare feet. I
looked around frantically as Grieve began to fade, still reaching
for me. “No, you can’t go. Don’t leave me—”
But a tall woman clad
in a gossamer gown woven from the silk of her ice spiders glided up
behind him. She was as glorious as a midwinter day, with hair as
black as the night and her eyes spun with starlight. Her skin held
a cerulean cast to it. Her breasts were firm and her belly slightly
rounded, just enough to give her curves. She put her hand on
Grieve’s shoulder and he languidly turned to her, opening his arms
to her embrace. Her hair fell against his, jet against his platinum
strands, and as she bent to kiss him and his lips touched hers, I
let out a long, single cry.
No . . . can you still hear me? Can you feel me? You have
to fight her. Please. Fight Myst with everything you
have.
Myst turned to look
at me, laughing. “You’ve lost, Uwilahsidhe. You traitorous bitch. I
warned you long ago that I would destroy you for what you did. I’ve
only just begun. Geoffrey’s not my only target. Know that, Cicely
Waters, Wind Witch. I will systematically take everything you hold
dear and taint it. I will destroy everything and everyone you love.
You will be broken and alone at the end, with no one left to care.
Then, and only then, I will come for you, and teach you what it
means to betray me.”
She swept Grieve into
her arms and kissed him deep, and his gaze slid away from me as he
lost himself to her, and they faded from sight.
With a sharp cry, I
shot up in bed, covered in a cold sweat. I jumped out of bed. Was
it just a dream? A nightmare brought on by Lannan’s threat? But as
I turned back to the sheets, I saw loose moss scattered in the bed,
and a few leaves, moldy from the snow and weather.
I glanced in the
mirror at my back. The imprint of bark ran down my skin, and moss
clung to me. I realized that I’d had an orgasm. My body no longer
ached, but my heart felt like it was breaking.
No . . . it was real. Grieve is out there and he was
thinking of me, and somehow I went to him. But Myst . .
.
The reality of what
we were facing hit home then. With tears flowing fast and thick, I
climbed in the shower and quickly rinsed off, and then changed my
sheets. But the memory of Myst’s words rang in my head, and it was
a long time before I was able to get to sleep again.
The next morning, I
woke, feeling hungover from emotion and adrenaline. As I stared out
of the window, squinting in vain for any sign of Grieve, Ulean
swept around me.
He is not there. He is sleeping now; the pain of the light
eats them into madness otherwise. Try to focus on something other
than vampires and the Indigo Court. That is all you can do for the
moment.
As much as I didn’t
want to admit it, I knew she was right.
I can work on Wind Charms . . . we’re almost ready to open
and Peyton is coming over this morning to help me put the finishing
touches on the storefront.
Ulean made sounds of
approval. Good. Cicely . . . do not give up
hope. Myst is a fierce and terrifying adversary, but Grieve is not
totally lost to you. Not yet. I would know if he were. He is torn,
conflicted, but there is still a faint hope.
I knew about torn and
conflicted. I’d been that way every day of my life, it seemed. But
with Grieve . . . one time stood out. A time I wished I’d never had
to experience.
I headed for another
quick shower, the bracing water waking me up as my mind turned in a
million different directions.
I’d never expected to
go into business for myself, but when Marta, Crone-Priestess of the
now defunct Thirteen Moons Society, had left me her magical shop—or
rather the inventory and clientele—in her will, it seemed the most
natural thing in the world to take her place.
Most of my life I’d
lived on the road. When I was six years old, Krystal—my junkie,
bloodwhore mother—had dragged me away from my aunt Heather and the
Veil House and Grieve, and everything that was familiar. Even then,
I knew nothing would ever be the same.
I sniffed my vanilla
body wash. The scent was warm and inviting, and it comforted me
gently as I lathered up. It reminded me of the visits home. Aunt
Heather always had plenty of vanilla and lavender bath wash waiting
for me. Every year or so, Krystal would put me on a bus and send
me, alone, back to New Forest for a week. And when it was time for
me to go back to life on the road, Heather would cry as she
returned me to the bus. If she’d tried to keep me, Krystal would
have taken me away forever.
In my early teens,
I’d fallen in love with Grieve. At seventeen, he’d asked me to stay
with him. And I . . . I’d walked away.
Grieve and I sprawled
under the cedar, lolling around on one of my rare visits back to
the Veil House. My mother let me return once a year for a couple of
weeks, and I took full advantage of it. I missed living here,
missed being off the streets. My mother had snatched me away when I
was six from all I’d ever known—my aunt Heather, cousin Rhiannon .
. . the Veil House . . . and Grieve and Chatter. I’d been on the
run ever since, learning to steal, to bluff my way through
potentially dangerous situations. At seventeen, I felt old—older
than any teenager has any right to be.
Before my mother ran
away with me, Grieve had helped me bond with Ulean and sent her
with me as a protector.
I’d tried to forget.
Even at six, I knew that if I held on to the past, I’d never be
able to face the present. But Grieve . . . I couldn’t forget him.
My child’s memories of his kindness, of his otherworldly nature,
remained safely tucked in my heart. With each year, as I visited,
he grew out of being a child’s crush and I realized I was falling
in love with the Fae Prince.
When I was fifteen,
he began to kiss my hand. To walk with me in the ravine. To talk to
me like an adult. At sixteen, I handed him my heart, made the first
move and kissed him on the lips as we ran through the glades,
laughing and dancing in the sunlight.
Grieve never pushed,
never made a step over the line. But with that first kiss, his lips
crushing mine, a longing so deep it nearly tore me apart rose up
and I broke down weeping, wanting only to stay with him. To be with
him. To love him. To never leave his side.
And now . . . at
seventeen, I was home again. I whispered to him gently, tickled his
ear, and opened my heart and body to him.
“You cannot leave
me,” he said, toying with my fingers, kissing their tips slowly. “I
love you. I’ve been waiting for you to remember.”
I stared at him,
afraid to say those three words for fear of what they’d bind me to.
But I couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to be a
princess in his realm. What would it be like to be with my love
forever?
“Remember . . . what
am I supposed to remember?”
He swept his gaze to
my face, his lashes long and lazy. “Oh, my sweet. If you have to
ask . . . never mind. It’s no matter. But stay with me? I must
protect you. Take you away from the life you lead. You long to be
here; I can feel it. The Golden Wood is your home. Your cousin and
aunt are here. You belong by my side.” Stretching out on his back,
he folded his arms behind his head as the sunlight broke through
the clouds and splashed across his face.
He was gorgeous, my
prince. With eyes so blue they mirrored the morning sky, and hair
as silky as spun platinum. His skin was a deep olive and he barely
looked human. But his energy was that of summer apples and warm
hay, of long nights under the stars with the scent of roses heavy
on the breeze. I caught my breath, wondering again at the
connection that I felt with this man. This Fae Prince. For it ran
like a river beneath the surface, wide and vast and deep, rolling
thunder as it moved along and took me with it.
I leaned down,
slowly, brushing my lips to his. “You are the most incredible man
I’ve ever met.”
He slid his arms out
from beneath his head and ran his hands lightly up my shoulders.
“Cicely . . .” His voice was hoarse. “Cicely, you are like wild
honey wine. I can’t get enough of you. You were adorable when you
were a child, but now . . . now you are grown and you are my
passion and dream. I wish you could remember . . .”
“What is it, my
love?” I sprawled in his arms and he rolled me over, looming above
me.
“I cannot tell you .
. . I cannot interfere. But one day, you will know the truth of our
bond, and you will be mine forever.” A shadow brushed across his
face and he whispered, “Or perhaps you will forsake
me.”
“Never! I will never
let you go. I love you, Grieve.” I sprang up, blurting out the
words that I’d wanted to say for the past three years, but I’d been
too young. Too afraid. Even now, I knew it was too early—that I
couldn’t back up my feelings. My mother still controlled my life
and I was at her beck and call.
But to Grieve, they
were the magic key. He pulled me to him, his gaze searching my
face. “You love me . . . how much do you love me? Enough to stay?
Enough to marry me now?”
My breath caught in
my throat. Marry him? The promise loomed lovely and brilliant and
my heart skipped a beat. And yet . . . the image of my mother
sprang up in my mind.
Krystal, strung out
on heroin. On crack. On whatever she could get her hands on.
Krystal, her dark eyes wide with fear, with the desire to forget
who she was. It was me who kept us alive, ever since I was little.
I’d learned how to survive. I’d kept myself off the dope and out of
the bars. I’d learned how to pick pockets, to steal, to beg if need
be. Together with Ulean, my Wind Elemental, I managed to keep us
one step away from the cops and the pimps and the
gangs.
If I left my mother .
. . she’d die. She wasn’t prepared for the life into which she’d
slid. I was the only thing standing between her and
death.
I slowly turned to
Grieve, torn. Wanting to say yes. Wanting to stay and live my own
life. Wanting to come in from the cold. But . . . my mother was my
mother. And she’d never come back to New Forest. She’d let me go,
and then die cold and alone in some alley. How many times had she
said, “Without you, I’d be dead. Cicely, never leave me. I can’t do
it on my own. I need you.”
“I . . . I can’t. Not
yet.”
He stared at me, a
flash of pain shooting through his eyes. “Cicely . . . I need you.
I need you to be with me. We complete one another. You are my soul
mate. My only love.”
I stood, slowly. “My
mother . . . she needs me.”
“You would choose
your mother—she who has done nothing for you, who’s made your life
a living hell? You would choose her over me?” He jumped up, cheeks
flushing, voice bitter. “Are you toying with me? I wait for every
summer, just to see you return home. The past few years, you’ve led
me to hope for the future.”
His love was
overwhelming, and even though it felt so right, I was afraid of how
dark his eyes had clouded. “Grieve, I’m still young.”
“You are magic-born,
not yummanii. You are older than your age. Cicely, I’ve waited all
my life for you. I’ve waited a lifetime and more for you to find
your way back to me, and now that you have, you turn me
away?”
Shivering, I slowly
backed away. “Just for a while . . . just till my mother gets
herself settled—”
“And when will that
be? She’s had you on the run eleven years. Is she showing any signs
of getting better? Of finding her way in the world? She’ll keep you
with her, a crutch, as long as she can.”
I choked up and waved
my hands in the air, trying to make him realize how unreasonable he
was being. But even as the words, “You’re talking about my mother!”
came out of my mouth, I knew that he was right.
“I can’t promise
when, but I will return to you,” I whispered low on the slipstream,
and he heard me loud and clear.
“I need to know that
I’m not waiting for a promise written on the wind. For a hope that
will never come. I’d rather leave the Golden Wood than wait here,
knowing I’ll never have you by my side.” He was angry now, and the
hurt filled his face, making me feel horrible.
I turned, shaking my
head, wanting nothing more but to forget my mother. Forget the
streets. My wolf tattoo on my stomach was snarling and I reached
down, trying to soothe it. Grieve paused, holding his
breath.
I finally shook my
head. “I promise I will return to you. But I don’t know when. I
have to look out for my mother. I’m all she has.”
“Then go to her. Go
to her now. Leave me with my pain.” He tossed the flowers he’d
picked for me on the ground at my feet. “Go. Just go.”
“Grieve . . .” My
words drifted off as he turned and slowly, head down, walked away
from me, not looking back.
As a shadow passed
over the wood, I turned and ran.
I should have gone
back, talked it through with him, but I was young and afraid to
fully trust anyone. I’d learned how dangerous it was, in my short
years on this planet. And even though Grieve was standing there,
heart on his sleeve, and I wanted to be with him, I knew that now
wasn’t the time. I’d never trust him fully at this point—or
myself.
Run, but never forget. Never forget him, Cicely. At the
right time, you will return and your love for him will be fully
grown, mature, ready to make promises.
I hope so, Ulean. I shivered as I left the Golden
Wood, my tears so dark they could not fall. It would be nine long
years until I saw Grieve again, but I thought of him every day, and
grew to understand just what I’d given up.
I closed my eyes and
leaned against the shower stall. If only I’d stayed—could I have
prevented the massacre out at the barrow? Could I have saved the
Court of Rivers and Rushes? Could I have made a
difference?
No. Ulean was firm. You could
not have stopped Myst, and she might have destroyed you if you had
tried. You were not so strong back then. You knew it wasn’t the
right time. You did what you needed to.
I shook my head. She
was right. In the two years I wandered around alone after Krystal
died, I’d grown even stronger, more independent.
Stepping out of the
shower, I reached for the towel. When I thought about it, Krystal
had, in her own fucked-up way, prepared me for this. She’d taught
me to trust only myself, to stand on my own two feet.
I toweled off,
wandering around my room. A picture of Heather and Krystal on my
desk caught my attention. Doomed sisters, my aunt and my mother.
Were Rhiannon and I doomed as well? Were we fated to unhappy ends,
to lose our loves, perhaps even our lives?
You are at war. War is never easy, and seldom
pretty. Ulean swept around me. Try to
stay in the present. Looking forward can do more harm than good,
and looking into the past will merely make you
melancholy.
You’re right. I will be strong. I won’t let you—or my
cousin or Grieve—down . . .
When I finally went
downstairs, Rhiannon had left my breakfast on the counter. I could
see her outside, sweeping the snow off the back steps.
Kaylin wandered into
the room, dressed in camo cargo pants and a black wifebeater. His
muscles were tight and defined, and he gave me a long look. “What
have you been up to?”
I didn’t feel like
talking. For one thing, I wasn’t sure what the hell had happened
during my so-called dream. For another, even if I did, Kaylin would
tell me what everybody else had: Forget Grieve, let him go and
accept that Myst had won. And I couldn’t do that.
“Looks like Rhiannon
made breakfast.” I slapped some toast and bacon on a plate, then
added a hard-cooked egg and moved to the table.
Kaylin made an
egg-and-cheese sandwich and joined me. “I heard about last
night.”
Jumpy, I jerked my
head up. “Last night?” Had I been making noise?
“Yeah, Lannan and
everything. You need to talk?”
“Oh, Lannan. Right.”
I was never sure what to think about Kaylin. He was 101 years old,
a martial arts expert and computer geek, and he was also a
dreamwalker. A night-veil demon had embedded itself into him, body
and soul, while he was in the womb and had altered his very DNA. I
thought he might be attracted to me, but I wasn’t sure if that was
just him trying to be friendly or what. When Kaylin wanted to help,
he could ferret out extremely private information.
I swallowed a bite of
toast and licked the melted butter off my fingers, then told him
about Geoffrey’s offer, and Lannan’s reaction. “I don’t know what
to do. I don’t want to be a vampire, so I’m not interested in
Geoffrey’s proposition. Nor do I want Lannan thinking he has some
proprietary claim over me. I am indentured to the Crimson Court,
not to him.”
“You are walking a
thin line. Lannan is not your master, but he holds the key to
punishing you if you disobey Regina or Geoffrey. And he’s very good
about creating infractions where there are none. Hindsight is
twenty-twenty, but I sure wish you’d insisted on Geoffrey
overseeing you.”
“Me, too.” I played
with the bread, then shrugged. “Nothing I can do except deal with
him the best I can. One day, though, I’ll stake him through the
heart and that will be the end of Lannan Altos. But putting Perv
Boy aside, I can’t imagine how badly they are going to fuck this
up. They already screwed things over once trying to infect the
Indigo Court. Look at how their plan backfired. Now . . . another
attempt?”
“Stupid, really. Fool
me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. And this
antidote is definitely in the ‘fool me twice’ category. But we
can’t do anything to stop them. Talk down a group of vampires and a
Fae Queen? I don’t think so. We need them. And though Myst routed
Lainule from her forest, the Queen of Rivers and Rushes is not to
be trifled with.”
“No, but neither is
Myst. Chatter still has nightmares, he told me. The blood from
Myst’s routing of Lainule’s people stained the barrow red. And
remember, he’s always been Grieve’s best friend, and he had to
leave him behind. The Shadow Hunters have unleashed a horror on New
Forest, even if the town doesn’t realize how much.
Yet.”
“Eat.” Kaylin pointed
to my dish. “We need all our strength because while they argue and
plan in their mansions, we’re the ones sitting on the edge of hell.
Is Peyton coming over today?”
I nodded, finishing
off my toast. “We’re setting up the back parlor as my shop and her
headquarters. We decided we might as well combine the two,
especially since she’s only going to be working a couple evenings a
week for a while. She still needs to help Anadey in the
diner.”
“I think it’s a great
idea to join forces.” He finished his breakfast and took my plate
with his to the sink, where he ran a sudsy sponge over them. “So
what’s next?”
“Lainule and Geoffrey
told me to go about my business as usual and to stay away from
Grieve. I guess . . . we figure it out as we go along, since they
don’t seem interested in entertaining our suggestions. Mostly, we
try to stay alive.”
The doorbell rang and
I hopped up to go answer. It was Peyton.
Half werepuma and
half magic-born, she took a lot of crap from the lycanthropes
around town. Werewolves hated the magic-born and heckled us
whenever possible. Peyton’s lineage was cause for ridicule in their
circles, and she had endured a lifetime of it.
Peyton was half
Native American; her father had run off years ago, leaving Anadey—a
shamanic witch who used all four elements—and Peyton alone to fend
for themselves. Peyton had grown up strong. Though soft-spoken, she
was an expert in martial arts and she wanted to open a magical
investigations agency.
“Hey, lady,” I said,
inviting her in.
She was carrying a
box, and I took it from her and set it on the floor. “I come
bearing gifts from Mother. Ready to get the office in
order?”
“As ready as I’ll
ever be.” I motioned to her and we headed back to our
headquarters.
The room we were
using for our joint operations was the back parlor. It was papered
with pale roses and old coiling ivy vines; the floors were hardwood
and the ceilings vaulted. A bay window faced the side of the house
away from the Golden Wood, and built-in shelves covered one
wall.
With room for two
desks, as well as several display cases, both Peyton and I would
have plenty of space. We’d managed to wheedle a good price on the
display cases from a shop going out of business, and we’d each
provided our own desk—Peyton had taken one of her grandmother’s
antiques, and I’d confiscated one I found in the attic at the Veil
House.
“How’s your mom?” I
asked. Anadey had become intricately involved in our fight against
the Shadow Hunters.
“Tired. The diner is
running her ragged. She doesn’t say anything, but I know she’s
afraid that I’ll quit before she can find someone to take my place.
She shouldn’t worry, but she does.” Peyton paused for a moment,
then quietly asked, “But how are you? You’ve been through a lot in
a short time.”
“Yeah.” I blinked.
Returning to New Forest had been like being tossed in a pot of
boiling water. Learn to handle the heat or die. “I’m taking it day
by day. I have no idea where this is all going and I’m in too deep
to consider taking off again.”
“Have you been flying
lately?”
I smiled shyly. “Yeah
. . . every night that I can. Finding out I’m part Uwilahsidhe has
been the only saving grace. It’s the only thing helping me keep it
together. When I’m out there on the wing, nothing else matters.
Lannan, Grieve, Heather, Myst . . . nada. In my owl form, I can
find a little taste of freedom. There are times I never want to
turn back. It would be so much easier to just fly off to a
different forest and live in my owl shape.” I paused, lifting my
gaze to meet hers. “But I always come back.”
“I can understand
that. When I was a little girl and being teased by the Lupa Clan,
all I wanted to do was turn into my puma and race off into the
forest. I tried a couple times and my mother would come out,
hunting for me. Of course, by then I’d be so scared that I’d run
for her and she’d see this cougar cub bouncing over and know it was
me. Once a female puma—full grown—found me, and after figuring out
what was going on, she carried me home by the scruff of the neck
and dropped me on the doorstep.”
Nodding, I laughed.
Animals and Weres and shifters understood one another in ways that
needed no language. Or rather, we had a language but it just wasn’t
the one two-leggeds used. Even though I was new to the life, I
caught on quick, especially since I could already listen to the
wind.
“Think we’ll be ready
to open on Monday?” Peyton arranged a bouquet of roses she’d bought
on my desk.
We’d scheduled the
opening of both Wind Charms and Mystical Eye Investigations for two
days from now and were scrambling to finish last-minute
preparations.
“All I have left to
do is create a few more premade charms and to arrange all the
candles and spell components that Marta left to me.” Marta had been
Peyton’s grandmother, but there hadn’t been a lot of love lost
between them. Nor between Anadey and Marta—the two had always been
at odds.
We got back to work
and within half an hour, the room was ready for clients. I squeezed
a card table into the corner and snapped a black tablecloth over
it—Peyton was good with the cards and she could schedule readings.
As we were setting up a display of charms to ward trouble away, I
looked up to see Kaylin in the doorway, looking
strange.
“What’s wrong? You
okay?”
“I don’t know,” he
said, his voice husky. “I feel . . . strange. It started just a few
minutes ago. I’m . . . it’s hard to think—the room—” And then he
let out a low groan and slumped against the door.
Peyton and I rushed
over to his side just in time to catch him and keep him from
sliding to the floor. His eyes were open, but he was
unresponsive.
“Crap, help me get
him onto the sofa in the living room. Then go call Rhiannon and ask
her where Leo is—he’s the healer.”
As Peyton helped me
carry Kaylin to the sofa, I stared at his open eyes, rolled back in
his head, and wondered if he was dead. We got him onto the couch
and knelt by his side, feeling for his heartbeat. There it was,
slow and steady. I shook him by the shoulder but nothing, no
response.
“I’ll get Rhiannon,”
Peyton said, springing to her feet.
“She’s out back,
clearing the sidewalks.” I turned back to Kaylin as she raced off.
“Kaylin, Kaylin? Can you hear me? Dude, wake up!”
Frustrated and
scared, I felt for his pulse again. It was slow and even, and he
didn’t seem to be clammy or showing any other sign of a heart
attack. I grabbed an afghan off the back of the rocking chair and
spread it over him, not wanting to take a chance on shock. If he’d
had an allergic reaction, he wouldn’t be breathing—I knew that much
from experience. I carried an EpiPen wherever I went.
Rhiannon came on the
run, shedding her jacket and gloves along the way. She pulled off
her boots, then nimbly raced over to my side and slid down beside
me.
“What
happened?”
“I don’t know. He
just came into the parlor and said he didn’t feel good and then
collapsed. No sign of shock, no clammy skin, his heartbeat sounds
good. I have no clue as to what’s going on.”
“We need Leo. I
called him on his cell. He’s out doing errands for Geoffrey, but
he’s just finishing up at the post office and will be here as soon
as he can. Peyton, can you go into the herb room and find the
smelling salts? My mother kept them around ‘just in case,’ as she
used to say.”
“Sure.” Peyton headed
out of the room.
“Good idea. If they
don’t bring him around, then I don’t know what will.” Medicine was
a tricky subject with Supernaturals—the magic-born, Weres, the Fae;
some meds that worked wonders on the yummanii would kill us, and
herbs that would barely touch one of their illnesses might be a
miracle cure in our systems. We didn’t dare give Kaylin anything
until we knew more about what was going on. Because he was part
demon, it could react badly on him.
But the smelling
salts had no effect and so the three of us sat beside him, waiting
for ten minutes until Leo came bounding through the
door.
“How is he? Has his
condition changed any?” Leo motioned for us to move and began to
examine Kaylin. Besides his job working as a day-runner for
Geoffrey, Leo was a healer and skilled with herbcraft. He asked
Peyton to bring him the first-aid kit and slid the thermometer
under Kaylin’s tongue, then glanced at it, shaking his
head.
After a few moments,
he sat back, looking puzzled. “I haven’t a clue as to what’s wrong
with him. This is weird. There’s no sign of any problem other than
the fact that he’s comatose. His temperature is normal. I don’t
know—should we take him to the hospital?”
“I suppose we could,
but . . . I have a feeling that what we’re dealing with isn’t
medical—at least not in the traditional sense. I’m going to fetch
Lainule. She can come help us for once.” I put on my leather jacket
and slid my keys in my pocket. “I’ll be back soon. I have my
cell—keep an eye on him and call me if there’s any
change.”
“How are you going to
find the Queen of Rivers and Rushes? She keeps out of sight, you
know.” Rhiannon frowned. “I don’t think I like her
much.”
“Don’t worry. I know
where she is.” With that, I slammed out of the door and jumped into
Favonis, heading for Dovetail Lake, where Lainule kept her
displaced Court.
The drive down was
uneventful, even if I did pour on the speed. Fuck the cops. If they
tried to stop me, they could face Geoffrey’s wrath. He ruled the
town, anyway, and I had a feeling that the vampire would be willing
to do a lot of minor favors for me as long as I asked with
respect.
But nobody bothered
me and I swung into Dovetail Lake and skidded to a stop in the
parking lot. Jumping out of the car, I caught my balance as I
nearly fell on my butt, sliding on the slick snow that covered
chunky ice below.
“Lainule! I know
you’re out here. I know you can hear me. I need to talk to you
now! We need your help and I’ll keep
shouting so everybody and their brother can hear me until you show
yourself.”
The Summer Queen
didn’t like people knowing where she hid out. It was dangerous, and
I knew I could get a rise out of her that way. Of course, she’d be
pissed at me but right now, I didn’t care.
Sure enough, within a
moment there was a shimmer in the tattered remains of summer’s
rushes next to the lake, and one of her guards stepped out of the
decrepit vegetation.
“What do you need?”
He gave me an icy stare, but I ignored it.
“I need the Queen’s
help. It’s an emergency.” I wasn’t going to tell him anything that
might lead him to decide I really didn’t need to see
Lainule.
He paused, studying
my face, then nodded for me to follow him. As I slipped through the
portal in the dying reeds, a soft breeze swept around me and I
found myself staring at a clear sky, pale blue with faint tendrils
of sunlight breaking through a haze of distant clouds. The reeds
disappeared and I was on the shores of a gorgeous lake, while a
meadow spread out to the side. The grass was dry and soft, and
butterflies wisped by on thin wings.
Lainule was sitting
on a patchwork blanket by the water, staring silently into the
gentle ripples. She looked up as I knelt beside her.
“Cicely—I did not
summon you.”
No pleasantries, but
I didn’t expect them. She was as far removed from the Cambyra Fae
over which she ruled as were the vampires.
“Kaylin is . . .
there’s something wrong and we can’t figure out what it is. I
thought you might be able to help.” I gazed up at her eyes and she
smiled then, softly, and the world brightened.
“You come for your
friend, not for yourself. Bless you for that, child. I cannot come
to your house—it is too close to my woodland and Myst. But
wait—there may be a way I can help.” She snapped her fingers, and
one of her serving girls knelt beside her. “Bring me
Astralis.”
The girl silently
jogged off. As we sat there, I longed to beg Lainule to reconsider,
to find a way to save Grieve from Myst’s clutches, but I knew that
might endanger her willingness to help us with Kaylin.
“Lady, may I ask you
something?” I might not be able to ask about Grieve, but there was
something I could venture to discuss.
“What,
child?”
“My father. I’d like
to meet him.” I only knew that his name was Wrath, and that he was
one of the Uwilahsidhe.
Lainule frowned. “It
is not the time, but soon—soon, I think. There are so many things
that could tip the scales of fate, Cicely. And I hold many of their
threads in my hands. If you meet him, if you find out your
parentage, how will it affect the war? And make no mistake: War is
upon us.”
I considered her
words. Begging wouldn’t work, nor would whining, so I shelved the
thought for the time being. “Then tell me, how can I keep out of
Lannan’s clutches?”
This brought a cloud
across her face. “Oh, my child, I wish I’d talked to you before you
made your deal; I could have warned you about how to proceed. But
we were worried it might change your mind. And we needed you to
take the contract. These are dark days, and darker still to come.
The world is clouded with pain, and Myst’s people are not confined
to the Golden Wood.”
“You mean there
really are others?”
“While the Queen
herself makes her home in my lands, her people have spread
throughout the world. But if we can strike the heart of the hive,
then we have a chance to break all of the swarms. For there is only
one Queen; there is only one mother of the race. And make no
mistake: Myst would conquer the world if she could, cloak it in an
eternal winter, and keep both the magic-born and the yummanii as
cattle—one for soul drinking, the other for blood and
flesh.”
“What about
Lannan?”
She hung her head and
for once, she was no longer Lainule the tattered Queen of Summer,
but a woman, like me. She reached out and took my hands. “I wish I
could help, but oh my dear, there is nothing I can do to stop him.
Regina favors him, and if I were to step in, she might break the
pact and the vampires need the Summer Fae, even if they don’t
realize it. They would not win alone against Myst and her
people.”
“So I’m sacrifice to
his whims.” I stared at her hands as they held mine. “I made the
bargain, I didn’t think. I just was hoping . . .”
“I’m sorry, so
sorry.”
At that moment, the
girl returned with a silver bowl. Lainule motioned for her to
leave, then dipped it into the silent lake, filling it full with
the warm water of summer. She waved her hand over it, whispering
something, and leaned close. As I watched, she breathed on the
water and then closed her eyes.
Her eyes flew open
and she looked up at me. “Cicely, Kaylin is in danger. He’s
evolving on his path. His demon is trying to wake. Unless he
receives the help he needs, he will slide forever into a dark hole
in his mind and never regain consciousness. There is no time to
waste. You must journey into the Court of Dreams and bring back the
spell that will waken his demon.” She placed her hands on my
shoulders. “You must journey to the home of the Bat People. It is a
long, dangerous path, but there is no choice. It’s the only way if
you want to save Kaylin.”