Luna carried in the tray, followed by Rex, on his crutches. Cheese, lunch meats, bread, condiments, sliced tomatoes, and lettuce. And a big bag of cookies.
“If you want soda, there’s some in the fridge,” Rex said. We wouldn’t find any alcohol in his house, since he was a recovering alcoholic.
The news came on and we settled down, quietly slapping together sandwiches as we waited for Marley Jonathon—the local news anchor—to finish wrapping up the headlines.
“In breaking news, we have a statement from the Regent of the Vampire Nation, Lord Lannan Altos. He is issuing a warning that all citizens of New Forest must obey.”
Lannan’s voice came on the screen, dubbed over a painting of the Regent. He was as gorgeous in the portrait as he was in life. A ticker tape under the news desk read, previously recorded.
“Citizens of New Forest, we are facing yet another challenge. We are hunting three rogue vampires. They are to be considered extremely dangerous. They were responsible for five deaths last night. We are instituting yet another curfew, running from sunset to sunrise. We urge you to hang garlic braids at every window and door and keep alert. Report any unusual activity to the authorities, and also to our hotline—1-800-555-VAMP. I repeat, these vampires are rogue; they do not abide by the Treaty. They are dangerous and will kill.”
I sighed, looking around. “Five more deaths. At least Lannan is being open with the citizenship of the town. That impresses me, as much as I hate to say it.”
Grieve let out a grunt. “Don’t give the creep too much credit.”
Shaking my head, I mumbled. “Credit where credit is due. I didn’t say I liked him. But Geoffrey, if he were in this situation, would have done his best to cover this up.”
With an irritated shrug, Grieve let the matter drop.
The announcer was discussing the deaths. “All five are victims of a brutal massacre, perpetrated by the rogue vampires. The Crimson Court has put out a bounty on their heads, but it is only available to members of the Vampire Nation. All mortals are urged to avoid engaging them. I repeat: They are dangerous and will kill without provocation. The names of the dead are Robert Higgins, George Wendell, Mary Booth, Tregar Johnson, and Lida Lavine.”
Peyton’s head shot up. “Lida Lavine? Oh, that’s going to go over well.”
“Who is she?” I asked.
“The daughter of one of the most influential members of the Lupa Clan. She’s a werewolf, and you know how the lycanthropes feel about the vampires.” The look on her face said everything I was thinking.
Werewolves hated vampires, and they despised the magic-born. Come to think of it, they pretty much didn’t like anybody but their own kind. They were the thugs of the Supe world, always in a gang, always banding together.
“Well, fuck. I wonder if Regina knows that. She has to, I would think. But it’s going to mean an escalation in tensions that don’t need any flaming.” The Lupas were just waiting for trouble to set them off.
My phone rang, and I moved to the side to answer it. It was Ysandra Petros, the liaison between the Consortium and the Moon Spinners.
“Cicely, the Consortium has ordered you and Rhiannon to appear before the Elder Council.” She didn’t exactly sound worried, but I could hear an edge to her voice.
“Why?” My first thought was, Too bad, get in line, but I didn’t say it. I liked Ysandra, and while I had a natural antagonism toward authority, the Consortium had been a big help to us when we were fighting off the Shadow Hunters during the last big skirmish.
“I don’t know, but they’ve required your presence. I told them you can’t possibly come before your initiation. I think…appearing as the Fae Queens…might better whatever position you have or need with them.”
I pressed my lips together. She had a good point. “I think you’re right. Did they accept your answer?”
“They don’t have much of a choice. If you were just a regular society member, then it wouldn’t fly, but seeing that you are both going to be leaders of your people, there’s not much they can do to press the matter. I’ll be in touch with you soon.” And abruptly, she hung up. Ysandra wasn’t rude, but she was brusque, and direct. I liked that.
As I hung up I caught sight of the time. We had to be back to the Barrow by noon, and while it wasn’t that far to the Golden Wood, the walk back through the forest would take us a while—at least those of us not full-blooded Fae.
Peyton hugged Rex as we headed out, and he waved us on. As the door closed behind us, I heard the locks slide shut, and I realized that no matter how safe a person or place felt, in our world, safety was merely an illusion.
As we walked through the silent forest, the snow began to drift down again, hard. The sky was overcast, silver against the backdrop of the trees encased in white. The snow muffled the sounds of our passing, and nobody seemed to feel much like talking. Ever since we’d driven Myst back, it felt like we were dancing on the edge of a razor blade, waiting for that one slip to slice the illusion of our success into ribbons. She was still out there, the queen of the snow spiders, the Mistress of Mayhem, and she wove her deadly traps out of sight now. In some ways, it had been easier when we knew where she was, but for now, we could only speculate.
A movement to the right, behind a huckleberry bush, caught my eye. I stopped as a withered old crone shifted from behind the foliage. She was gaunt, with long, lean limbs, and a tooth that cunningly curled out from her upper jaw, over her bottom lip. Straggled, matted white hair cloaked her shoulders, and her clothing consisted of strips of gray rags that seemed to be sewn together in the semblance of a cloak and dress.
It was the Snow Hag, one of the Wilding Fae. She and her people had pledged themselves to my Court, and they’d come to our aid during the routing of Myst from the Barrows. They were cunning, the Wilding Fae, and old beyond time, but they could be reasoned with, if you were clearheaded and clever about how you phrased your words.
I inclined my head, acknowledging her presence—I’d recently found out she was considered one of the nobles among the loose-scrabble group.
“It would be a pleasure to speak with one of the Wilding Fae. One might wonder what she has to say.” I had been taking lessons from Chatter in dealing with the group, because he was extremely good at diplomacy and had a knack for navigating the treacherous territory that came with interacting with them.
She grinned, snaggletooth and all. “One would think a Queen-to-be has been practicing her decorum. One might appreciate the effort, if one was a member of the Wilding Fae.” She crept fully from behind the huckleberry bush. “This might be a time to discuss goings-on that are disturbing, should the Queens-to-be wish to further their knowledge.”
I sucked in a deep breath. Whenever the Wilding Fae were disturbed about something, you knew it was bad. I licked my lips. “Such a discussion might be productive on all sides. What would it take, one might wonder, to engage in this conversation.” I glanced back at Chatter and he nodded, encouragingly. It would seem I was holding my own.
The Snow Hag cocked her head to the side and caught a snowflake on her tongue. She touched her finger to her nose, then winked. “Some conversations have no price. Some discussions should be free of deals when events conspire that threaten the kingdom.”
That couldn’t be good. Whatever was going on had to be bad, if she was willing to give us information for free. The Wilding Fae loved to bargain, and when they were ready to forgo gaining something in return for their help…
I paused, then sucked in a lungful of the icy air. “It would seem that a Queen-to-be and one of the Wilding Fae might choose to discuss this matter, then.”
Again, the twinkle in her eye, both threatening and yet contagious. And then she licked one gnarled finger and held it up to the wind, turning it until she found what she was looking for. She nodded.
“The Mistress of Mayhem, she comes in on the wind again, but not alone. She has regained a following. This is known, not conjecture. Her Shadow Hunters arrive from other lands. They gather, not in the Golden Wood, but farther out—in the mountains, on the craggy slopes where they can hide. She sends her scouts down to the edges of the forest, where they scurry through the shadows, blending, hiding, bleeding the deer for life force. They are reconnoitering, observing, lying in wait. It is hard for them to be patient; they thirst—the Wilding Fae can feel their hunger and their thirst. But the Mistress bids them feast lightly for now, so not to give themselves away.”
I thought for a moment. We knew this would happen, but we didn’t know it had already begun. Turning my thoughts over in my mind, I grimly looked at her.
“One might wonder where the Mistress of Mayhem hides herself now. Would it be a chance that someone near might know her location?”
The Snow Hag cackled. “If one hereabouts had that information, a certain Queen-to-be would also have that information, but alas, there is no remedy. However, one might say that there are forces seeking her out, for just that reason. They sniff and seek and peek under branches, and root beneath the trees, hunting her down.”
So the Wilding Fae were trying to find Myst’s hideaway for us. That was some good news. I nodded. “One might wonder if there are still goblin dogs and tillynoks and ice spiders running free in the Golden Wood?”
Her eyes swirling, the Snow Hag cocked her head and smiled faintly. “When a certain Queen-to-be takes the throne, they will fall under her command, but for now, yes, they still run at Myst’s command. One would caution to be careful on a journey back to the Barrow—there are dangers lurking, and even with guards, a certain party would be dangerously put to fight them.”
And with that, she vanished into the snow as quickly as she had come. I stared after her, wondering at how strange my life had become.
Grieve rested a hand on my shoulder. “We should be off. There is a hike to go, since you cannot yet run as the full-blooded Fae do, and noontide approaches.”
I nodded, and we set off again, and with every rustle along the way, I stiffened, wondering just what enemy lay behind what tree.
We had almost reached the Twin Oaks when a growl raced along the slipstream. I jerked around, looking in the direction from which it came. And then a high-pitched howl followed, echoing Grieve and Chatter dropped to the ground. I pressed my hands to my ears, the pain knifing through my head.
Be careful, Cicely—they’re coming! Run, get back to the Barrow!
Ulean’s warning broke through the pain, and I didn’t wait to see what was happening but took off toward the Twin Oaks, slogging through the snow. A shadow swooped low behind me and, as Kaylin shouted, something caught me up beneath my armpits and carried me aloft. I screamed, kicking my feet against the air, not sure what the fuck was going on.
Cicely—you have to use your powers. Call on the winds!
What’s happening? What’s going on? Everything was a blur as I struggled against the tremendous force buoying me up. Everywhere, there was a haze—white and gray and blue. I blinked, trying to clear my sight, and realized that I was in the middle of…
Fuck.
Yes, a rogue Wind Elemental has you. I can’t engage them without putting you in danger. You are on the plane of wind, and if it drops you, you will free-fall. I don’t know if I have the strength to catch you and return you. If you engage the Winds, you can probably break away and I can lead you home. I think.
But Lainule…I promised…
There is no other way.
Frowning, I stopped struggling against the pull of the Wind Elemental and began to focus on summoning control of the winds. There it was, a little wisp…glowing, growing. I nurtured it, invoking the power of the air to rise within me, to swirl up and out, cloaking me with its strength. As it began to fill me with that rush, the sense of power grew and I leaned my head back, staring up, and at that moment, I could see what had hold of me.
The Wind Elemental was nothing like Ulean, who reminded me of sparkling lights and Faerie dreams. No, this was dark and cold and chaotic, with flashes of black and silver synapsing through the cloud that held me tight. There was a flare to the left as I struggled against its hold, and then, irritated, I whispered, “Gale Force,” and the winds shot through my body, catching me up and away and blowing through the Elemental.
It grunted—I could hear it on the slipstream. I whirled around, staring. We both hovered there, in the midst of the clouds, and then I thrust my hands toward it and let the fury of the storm loose. It pummeled through the Elemental, punching a hole in its center. It began to reform but seemed more cautious.
Enough, now you can follow me out of here.
Ulean’s voice was distant, and I paid it no mind. Caught in the thrall of the winds, out on the Elemental plane of Air, I wanted nothing more than to stay here, to race, to feel the freedom. The gale swelled within me, rippling out like concentric rings on a pond, and I let out a laugh—hearty and low and rich with the pure joy of the strength echoing through my body. I reared up, looming over the now-cowering Elemental, and took aim, turning myself into an arrow of wind and storm and raw force.
The Elemental turned, looking to flee, but I dove, ignoring the faint call as Ulean tried to rein me back. I was ready to fight, ready to spar, ready to prove my power, and I coiled and turned, spiraling down toward the wind spirit who had kidnapped me. Never again. Never again would I let myself be caught unawares. Never again would this freak of nature be allowed to harm anyone else.
As I penetrated its body, the Elemental let out a long shriek. I ravaged it, tore it to bits, split it asunder, using the fury of my twisting vortex of winds. A keen howl echoed through the slipstream as I played Cuisinart, like a propeller blade. The life force of the Elemental floated before me for a moment, and I found myself sucking it up, pulling it into myself, strengthening my storm as I absorbed its power.