Chapter 4
The inner halls of the palace were earthy,
reminding me of Queen Asteria’s palace, with tree roots winding
their way through the walls and sparkling crystals jutting through
the soil. The dirt was so compact and smoothed over that it looked
like Venetian plaster, and the chambers were lit by a glimmering
luminescence, a pale light that might have been green, might have
been white, filled with sparkles that danced like electric
synapses.
Members of the court—probably servants—quietly
passed by, some carrying bowls of fruit or trays of bread, others
carrying notebooks and clipboards. One, in an odd juxtaposition,
rushed by, a short sword in one hand, a net-book in the other. I
wondered just how they were powering it and if it had Wi-Fi. But
everything all fit, somehow, this new emergence of the Earthside
Fae into human society.
I motioned to one of the guards. “We need to
speak with Queen Aeval.”
He raised his eyebrows, but kinked his finger
and motioned for us to follow him. “I assume you don’t have an
appointment?”
“No, but she’s going to want to hear what we
have to say. I’m Camille D’Artigo and this is my sister Delilah. If
you could announce us . . .”
We followed him down the hall, turned left, and
entered a small chamber, where the smell of earth mingled with the
scent of white roses and bayberry and wintergreen. A small potted
tree sat in the corner, covered with miniature eye catchers that
shimmered in pink, blue, green, and yellow.
A true Yule tree, I
thought, as magical as the origin of the tradition. We took our
seats on an upholstered bench covered in a swirling paisley. A
print of a Monet hung on the wall over our heads, and on the
opposite wall, a tribal mask that looked dryadic in origin.
“Wait here,” the guard said, and disappeared
through the door to the left. I stood up and took a closer look at
the mask while waiting. The base was wood, with crystals and dried
flowers adorning it. Beautiful, almost ephemeral in nature, but yet
the energy was so grounded I could imagine the mask lasting a
thousand years. My fingers itched and I realized it had been a good
two or three years since I’d thought about the hobbies I’d left at
home. Menolly was the singer of the family; Delilah had her stable
of animals at home. I’d spent hours in the gardens—first by
necessity and then out of love—pottering around with plants,
communing with their spirits and the energy of the ground
itself.
To be a Moon Witch meant you had to come to a
connection with the Great Mother first—for the Earth and Moon were
sisters and connected.
“I envy Iris,” I said, turning to Delilah. “I
miss having the time to spend in the gardens, to walk through the
forest and listen to the trees. I miss Otherworld, where the energy
practically jumps off the branches and limbs. Here the forests are
either unpredictable and dark, or gently asleep, waiting to wake up
again.”
Delilah gave me a half smile. “We need to make
more time to get out in the woods around our house. I go running a
lot—I know you aren’t into that, but we could take a walk every day
together. Maybe in the evenings, after Menolly wakes up, the three
of us could just make it a habit to go for a stroll.”
The thought of a quiet walk down to Birchwater
Pond sounded like heaven. “As long as we’re not dragged away to
fight demons. I’m so tired, I think I’m going to fall asleep right
here if they don’t come get us.”
“It’s eight thirty now,” Delilah said, glancing
at her watch. “I’m still good, I can drive us home.”
I leaned against her shoulder, letting my eyes
close. “I’m so tired,” I whispered. “The Northlands were so cold .
. . and then having to immediately deal with the daemon and then
Chase vanishing . . . I can barely keep my eyes open.” Inhaling
slowly, I could feel sleep stealing up on me, but I started as the
sound of the doorknob turning woke me up.
The guard nodded. “You can go in now. Aeval will
see you.”
We headed through the door, not knowing what to
expect. The Summer Solstice ritual where the land was officially
dedicated had taken place in an outdoor venue, and none of the
three of us had ever been inside any of the finished palaces. As I
led Delilah into the throne room, I caught my breath.
Whereas the main structure was more utilitarian,
Aeval’s throne room was brilliant and beautiful. The domed roof
sparkled with silver filigree, etched across a jeweled pebble
surface. Like cobblestones, except the arched ceiling glowed with
scattered gems of polished obsidian and onyx, moonstone, and a
cobalt blue stone with which I wasn’t familiar. Inset into the
stonework were mosaics of the moon and stars, of Aeval herself,
rising against the night sky, standing in front of a silver ocean,
with breakers crashing on the darkened shore.
The throne room itself was swathed in a
landscape of silver and indigo and blue. Aeval’s colors—the colors
of night. Mist floated along the floor, and a pale ice blue light
emanated from beneath the wisps of fog that floated up to curl
softly around my wrists. Scattered banquettes buttressed the walls,
all in shades of gray and navy with silver scallops embroidered
across the seats.
The sheer beauty of the austere hall caught in
my throat, and I raised my fingers to my mouth, in awe of the work
that had been done and the magical threads running through that
work. Beside me, Delilah gave a short gasp.
And in the center, a silver-clad throne. The
seat and back were hewn of yew and elder boughs; silver
embellishments wound their way through the arms and along the back.
The throne was more wild than regal, primal like the night,
sprawling across the back of the barrow.
And on the throne sat Aeval, tall and frozen,
like a statue carved from ice. Her hair was dark as the night and
her skin, alabaster and porcelain. She wore a gossamer dress woven
of silver threads, and as she stood, it made a shifting sound like
soft metal chain clinking gently against itself.
I knelt at the base of her throne, and Delilah
curtsied.
“Camille, you are not summoned to report until
the Solstice. What brings you to my feet this night?” Her voice
echoed in the chamber as she made her way down the steps of the
throne. “Has something gone amiss?”
“Actually, yes,” I said, finding my tongue.
Titania made me so nervous I had trouble talking to her—she’d gone
from drunken and downfallen Fae Queen to regaining her powers and
shining like the sun. Morgaine was my cousin, but I no longer
trusted her and every word out of her mouth was a riddle, fraught
with ulterior motives. But Aeval—Aeval I could talk with, once I
overcame the immediate fan-girl factor. I hadn’t mentioned it to
anybody, but if I had to pledge myself to any of the Triple Threat’s courts—I was relieved it
was her.
“Then by all means, tell me.” Aeval motioned to
a pair of banquettes that sat near the throne. “Please, take rest,
and eat with me.” She clapped her hands, and a serving girl
appeared from out of the mist, bearing a tray with fruits and
cheese, sliced venison, and sugar-sprinkled cookies.
I eagerly accepted a plate—the chill of the
Northlands had increased my appetite, as had the exhaustion.
Delilah also accepted a plate, but I knew her mind was only on the
cookies. My sister was the original junk food junkie, and I worried
about what all that crap would do to her system after a while. And
if we did go home to Otherworld, there
weren’t any Cheetos over there, nor were there a lot of candy
stands. Cookies—yes, but a Snickers bar? Not so much.
Protocol dictated that we eat a few bites before
diving into our business. Even with Chase’s life on the line, the
Triple Threat took protocol and manners seriously, and if we broke
with tradition, we’d be looking at no help at all.
After a few moments, I set my plate down on the
seat next to me and turned to Aeval.
“I have come for help. And I’ve come to redeem
the favor you promised me.” The words stuck in my throat, but I
managed to get them out. Having a marker like that was big
business, and having to spend it meant I would be back at a
disadvantage. But Chase was worth it.
Aeval inclined her head. “The matter must be
grave indeed, for you to approach me. What is it that only the
Queen of Night can help you with?”
I quickly ran through the incident at Tangleroot
Park. “And whatever it was sucked Chase right in. We need your
help. Whatever it was felt heavily Fae to me. I don’t know how—or,
even if—we can reopen the portal. I doubt Chase can get out on his
own. We need help rescuing him.”
Aeval rested her hands on her knees. She gazed
into my eyes. “You would use your marker to save your
friend?”
“Yes, but there’s more to it than that. This
portal—we need to know where it leads, because I have the feeling
that isn’t the last we’ve seen of it. So far, we don’t know if
anything came through, but I have a nasty premonition that next
time it opens up, something might enter this world. And whatever it
is, I have a feeling we’re dealing with a Big Bad here.”
“Really? As in . . . demonic?”
I thought about it for a moment. My sense wasn’t
that we were dealing with demons with this portal, but something
else. “No, I don’t think it’s a demon. But the siren song . . . the
sense of heavy Fae energy—it made me nervous.”
“You really think there’s something that big
back there?” Aeval never fidgeted, but I could tell I’d piqued her
interest. “Elder Fae?”
“Perhaps. I wouldn’t be surprised. Aeval, Chase
is one of our closest friends. And he’s one of the best allies the
OW Fae can claim. We have to save him.” I let out a slow sigh. “Are
you willing to help?”
I waited. Aeval would help or not as she chose.
Making one last plea, I held out my hands. “For some reason, I
think you’re the only one who can aid us with this.”
Another moment passed, and then the Queen of
Night gave me a slight nod. “I will come with you and examine the
energy signature. But we will go there my way. It won’t take as
long. I sense you are tired, Camille. You smell like the Northlands
and your aura is diminished this evening.”
She rose and called for her guard. With five
stalwart Fae attending us—all as dark and pale as their queen—we
left the palace and walked across the snow-covered square to a twin
pair of oak trees. A portal—similar to the one we’d seen in the
park—shimmered between them, and the crackle of energy woke me
up.
Just as silently, we entered the portal one by
one, following the Queen, and the world ripped into a million
pieces as we went singing through space and time.
We ended up, not in Tangleroot Park, but in a
portal two streets over, in the backyard of what looked like an
abandoned house. But on closer inspection, I realized the house was
inhabited.
“Who lives here?” I pointed to the faint light
that emanated from the windows.
Aeval smiled faintly. “We have our spies and
guards. This is a safe house, should there ever come need of
it.”
I didn’t press. Her tone told me that wasn’t an
option. But I memorized the address—24132 Westerwood Lane—in case
we ever needed it.
I glanced over at Delilah, who was examining the
yard. There were overgrown ferns and towering firs everywhere, and
the lot must have been a good half acre in size—unusual in the
city. But we followed Aeval and her guards, setting off for the
park on foot. The sidewalks were icy, but one of the guards offered
his arm to me and I gratefully accepted, too tired to see
straight.
We reached the park within a few minutes and led
Aeval to where the portal had been. As we neared the place, Delilah
and I looked in vain for any sign of Chase, but he was nowhere in
sight. The energy still hung thick in the air, and I could catch
glimpses of it here and there—sparkling like a shadow that was
there one moment, then gone the next.
Aeval silently approached the place where the
portal had been. She held out her hands and closed her eyes, her
fingers divining the energy. I could see her aura—the more tired I
got, the better my Sight was for such things—and she looked lit up
like a Yule tree on steroids.
Wearily, I saw a bench a few yards away and
trudged over, sitting down, not caring if the snow was freezing my
ass off. Delilah joined me, though she brushed the snow off her
side of the bench first.
We said nothing—there was nothing left to say
until Aeval was done and had figured out whatever she could. But
Delilah took my hand and I curled my fingers around hers. I knew
she was hurting. Even though she and Chase were just friends now,
they would always care for one another. And I cared, too.
“I never thought to sense this again, not here,
not in this day and age.” Aeval was suddenly in front of us,
staring down at us with a horrified look on her face. Holy hell.
Not good. Not good for a Fae Queen to be afraid—that could only
mean trouble on the horizon.
“What is it?” I asked, my voice barely audible
in the dark of the night.
“Several things, all from the Elder Fae. First,
a dark energy—one I do not recognize except that it’s female, and
hungry. Second, Stollen Kom Lightly.” She said the name so abruptly
that at first I didn’t understand her. But then it registered, and
I slowly raised my gaze to hers.
“The Bog Eater.”
She nodded.
The Bog Eater . . . I
closed my eyes. “No . . . he can’t still be alive after all these
years. I thought he was killed by one of the gods.”
“So it was rumored, but apparently the gossip
mill was wrong in this case. Come, we must discuss this before
taking any action. There is much to be lost if we aren’t careful,
including your detective’s life.”
Aeval motioned for us to stand, and we began to
walk back toward the safehouse, to the portal leading to the
barrow.
“Stollen Kom Lightly was thought long lost in
the haunts of time. Legend goes he was killed by Lugh the Long
Handed, but apparently that was only a rumor, probably started by
Lugh’s followers.”
I began to tune out a little. I knew where she
was going with this and really didn’t want to follow it through to
the logical conclusion. Wishing Smoky were here, or Trillian, I
pulled closer to Delilah and she wrapped her arm around my
waist.
“Who is the Bog Eater?” Delilah asked. “I don’t
recognize the name.”
Aeval glanced at the sky. “Cold tonight, and
colder still tomorrow. A bad time for grim tales, but perhaps there
is no right time.” After another pause, she said, “There was once a
goblin who was so terribly vicious that he was noticed by Jac-O
HorseTail. Jac-O was known as the scourge of the Western Wastelands
before the Great Divide.”
The Fae Queen inhaled deeply, slowly letting out
her breath in a white stream. “Jac-O HorseTail was the son of one
of the Long-Cutter Gray Sisters—the webweavers who spin out
confusion and hatred into the world. The three hags are not members
of the Hags of Fate, but they are from the
Elemental world, and it’s thought they have some relation to
Fae.”
She paused as we crossed the street, skirting a
car slowly edging along the icy path. The driver slammed on the
brakes and jumped out to gawk at us, but Aeval waved her hand and
whispered “Heed us not,” and he just as quickly slipped back into
his car and drove on.
When we were standing by the portal leading back
to Talamh Lonrach Oll, I stopped her. “How is this portal guarded?
What if some kid comes up and decides to explore the pretty
sparkles?”
She laughed then. “You see this because it is of
your heritage—Fae magic. But mortals do not see the portal, nor
will they sense it unless they are gifted with the Sight like your
detective. And even if they sense it, they cannot pass without the
activation words. Yes,” she added with an impish grin that suddenly
made her look all too young and playful, “we password-protect our
portals.”
Aeval whispered the keyword (taking pains to
keep it out of earshot), the portal opened, and we slipped back
through to the barrow palace. She led us back into the throne room
and bade us sit, while calling for cups of hot cider.
“As I was saying, Jac-O HorseTail was the son of
one of the Long-Cutter Gray Sisters, and he was a loner. Even in
the darker realms of the Unseelie, there are outcasts and misfits.
He was a vicious and evil creature, but he was lonely. The goblin
befriended him—perhaps he anticipated a reward, or perhaps he truly
found a friendship with the creature. Either way, Jac-O’s mother
was so grateful that she did what many mothers do. She gave the
goblin a gift. She changed him, made him far more powerful than he
could have ever hoped to become as a regular goblin. And so Stollen
Kom Lightly was born—the Bog Eater.”
“He’s considered one of the Elder Fae, isn’t
he?” I was running through my memory, trying to dredge up what I’d
been taught about him.
“Yes. And his first act was to kill and eat
Jac-O HorseTail. That, of course, did not sit well with Jac-O’s
mother or her sisters, and so they laid a curse on him to wander
through bog and marsh, ever hungry, never able to sufficiently fill
his belly. They could not kill him—Jac-O’s mother had made him
almost invincible—but they could curse him with a miserable
existence.”
Delilah cleared her throat. “I vaguely remember
mention of that story in childhood but didn’t remember the
names.”
“The Bog Eater will forever starve, no matter
how much he eats. He’s always hungry, and he hates all who are
happy and filled with life. It was thought Lugh the Long Handed
killed him in battle before the Great Divide, but apparently we
were wrong. The energy I sensed through that portal was dark and
boggy, and the smell of peat rang thick. I know the Bog Eater is in
there, somewhere. But behind him stands an even stronger shadow—the
female energy I sensed. And that shadow—that is where your detective has gone. I do not
think the shadow is for good, but I cannot tell for sure.” She fell
silent.
I didn’t want to ask the question but had to. I
especially didn’t want to ask it with Delilah around. “Do you think
Chase is still alive, considering that the Bog Eater is hiding
there?”
Delilah cringed, but Aeval didn’t pay any
attention.
“Your detective has gone into the shadow behind
the Bog Eater. Whether he is alive, I do not know. But the Bog
Eater did not gobble him up—that I can tell. Chase’s signature
still trails, so my best guess is that yes, he is alive.”
Delilah breathed a sigh of relief at the same
time I did, although I didn’t want to think about what might be
happening to him. That would be too much to deal with, so I focused
on the next order of business.
“How can we get in there to save him?” The
thought of getting past the Bog Eater—an Elder Fae—was terrifying,
but if Menolly could deal with the Maiden of Karask, we could cope
with the Bog Eater.
Aeval crooked her head to the side, a faint
smile on her face. “I can rip open their portal, but I will not go
in with you. I’ve better things to do with my time. But you should
go soon—tomorrow at the latest.”
Leaning back, I closed my eyes. This was all too
much. To come home to the news about Hyto and now—this? I wanted to
scream.
“Tomorrow then? Day or night?”
“Day. I am no vampire; I can walk abroad during
the daylight hours. The two of you—no more—be here by noonsong, and
bring your weapons. You will need them. Remember: The full-blooded
Fae love silver. A silver blade will be of use, but not as much as
cold steel.” She looked at me. “Or iron. You know of what I
speak.”
And with that, she dismissed us.
We headed out to the cart, and Delilah took the
reins, guiding the horse back to the parking lot. She tucked me in
the passenger seat of the Lexus and I dozed all the way home,
unable to even verbalize my thoughts.
By the time we reached home, I’d caught a little
bit of a second wind, but it wouldn’t last long. The three-story
Victorian had never seemed so welcoming, and I wearily pulled
myself up the porch steps. Once we were inside, we found everybody
still up, waiting to hear what had happened. We ran down the gist
of what had happened at Talamh Lonrach Oll, and then, before
anybody could say a word, I raised my hand for silence.
“Somebody call Menolly at the bar and fill her
in. I need to go to bed.” I stood up, all too aware of the aching
in my body that cried out for peace and relief from the
chill.
Smoky stood. “She’s correct. We were hard
pressed in the Northlands. Iris, you need your rest also. We can
discuss this over breakfast.” He swept me into his arms,
and—followed by Trillian—carried me up the stairs.
I leaned against him; the scent of cool wind and
snow clung to his shirt, and his ankle-length silver hair reached
around to caress my arm. We stopped in Morio’s room first—he had
been set up in my study, in a hospital bed. Although he was allowed
to sit up and even walk a bit, my youkai-kitsune needed every ounce
of energy he could conserve in order to heal.
His topaz eyes flashed with a smile as the three
of us entered the room. Trillian checked to make sure Morio had
plenty of water and snacks, and Smoky deposited me in the chair
next to the hospital bed. I leaned against the mattress and reached
out to take Morio’s hand.
He had dark hair, long enough to trail down his
back, and he was of Japanese descent, lean and wiry, strong as a
demon—which, in essence, he was. In his fox form, he could dart
rings around Delilah, and in his demonic form, he towered over
everyone, eight feet of fighting machine.
Now he just looked a little tired, but the color
was returning to his cheeks and he seemed in good spirits.
“Are you feeling better, my love?” I leaned over
and kissed his lips.
“Only a few weeks till I’m allowed back on my
feet. I’m still tired, but I can tell my health is returning.” He
brushed back my hair and trailed his hand down my cheek. “I’m so
glad you’re home safe. They told me you made it back but that you
were immediately called out. How’s Iris? Did she accomplish her
mission?”
“She did. I’ll let Smoky tell you about our
trip. Meanwhile, I just want to rest and sleep.”
Trillian took my hand, guiding me up. He turned
to Smoky. “Camille’s weary. We can take away her fatigue.” The
corners of his lips turned up in a faint smile.
Smoky frowned. He was possessive—all dragons
were—but he’d learned to share. I seldom went to bed without at
least two of my husbands with me.
“I’ll be in after I tell Morio what happened.
Don’t start without me.” He kissed me deeply, his tongue flashing
in and out of my mouth as tendrils of his hair slowly caressed my
shoulders, stirring me even through my exhaustion. I leaned down
and gave Morio a goodnight kiss, and he returned it.
“I promise you,” he whispered, “Menolly and I
kept apart during your absence.”
“I’m not worried,” I whispered back.
I allowed Trillian to guide me back to the
bedroom. As tired as I was, I knew that sex would rejuvenate me and
help me sleep. I enjoyed the thrill of my husbands’ hands trailing
down my sides, of their bodies filling me full in every way. I
realized Trillian was right. I needed sex, I needed to release all
the tension that had built up, but my energy was so low that I
could do little in the way of initiating anything.
Trillian shut the door behind us, turning to me.
“My Camille,” he whispered, and began to undress me, one piece of
clothing at a time. I held out my arms and closed my eyes, almost
shy.
“Make me forget,” I said softly. “Make me forget
everything except your touch and smell and taste.”
With a crafty laugh, Trillian reached for
me.