by T. G. Ayer
Fire mage or dragon shifter, Logan was still a stubborn male.
I smiled as I turned into the drive at the mansion and drew up in front of the steps to the entrance. The lights were on inside almost all the rooms and today at least the place looked lived in and somewhat welcoming.
Entering the house in silence, I walked carefully to the living room where the TV was on, Lily and Baz—with his nose in his laptop—bathed in the light from the screen. Along the hallway, the sounds of a video game and kids’ shouting echoed toward me.
The aroma of cooking—smelled like lamb stew—filled the air and I felt a little sad that I’d missed dinner, though I reminded myself that Ash’s offerings were pretty epic and satisfying too. I bypassed the young people and searched the dining room and then the kitchen, where I eventually found Mr. and Mrs. Odel. Neither looked happy.
“What’s with the long faces, you two,” I asked, then corrected myself, “Not that long faces aren’t expected, but in the bigger picture of everything else that’s going to poop….”
“Funny,” Mom said, giving me a weak smile. Dad said nothing.
I pursed my lips. “You two having a spat or something?” I asked, eyes narrowed as I studied the pair.
Dad sighed. “I’m trying to convince your mother that it’s best for someone else to go and keep Grams company. We need her here. And I’m not so sure she’s up to the journey. And what about her recovery—”
I held up a hand and reached the table across from him. “I can vouch for the fact that Cassie’s people are kinda good with their medical technology.”
Dad’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head, still skeptical.
Without thinking, I lifted my hand to remove the bandage covering the hole in my throat. I’d almost forgotten it was there, had forgotten to even change the dressing at all. Dad’s reaction was quite comical as he reached out as though to stop me.
I peeled the plaster off and smiled. “Guess you were expecting a hole in my throat?” I asked, pretty glad I didn’t feel air rushing into my throat which would have done well to prove me wrong. Boy was I glad I’d trusted Cassie.
Dad’s eyes were wide and he remained seated. Mom rounded the table coming close to inspect the wound which wasn’t there anymore.
“I don’t believe it,” Mom whispered before tracing her finger over the area of my neck where she’d plunged the pen. I hadn’t expected her to touch the wound and I flinched, startling her so that she plucked her hand away as though I’d screamed, her eyes suddenly shifting from amazement to fear.
I made a show of shivering and then said, “Hands of Death, Mother.”
Mom smiled and then glanced over at Dad. “Corin, you have to see this.”
Dad obeyed and came around to me to inspect the wound as well. His face too held surprised and amazement and he shook his head. “I’ve never seen a wound like that heal so well so quickly.”
I grinned. “Yeah, they were nice enough to treat me and Grams too. I’m pretty sure Mom would benefit from their advanced…from whatever they are willing to offer.” I caught myself, almost too late as I realized I’d nearly revealed where exactly Cassie’s people were located.
Needing the distance to build up my own defenses, I rounded the table to put some space between my parents and myself. I dragged out the nearest seat and reached for the wire basket of golden scones sitting in the middle of that table. A pot of butter, rich buttery cream, homemade strawberry preserve, cutlery, plates and napkins were conveniently sitting beside the still warm cakes.
After serving myself a scone with all the trimmings, I glanced up at Dad who still looked like he wasn’t convinced, though I knew it was merely a last-ditch effort to have Mom stay. Who could blame him though? He’d spent more than a decade without the love of his life, guess any day apart would be hard for him. And this situation with Grams was something we couldn’t yet put a label on.
Mom, having seen me attack the scones, had gone to the stove to set the kettle on. She turned to face Dad. “Corin, even if we put aside the advanced medical treatment they have, we cannot leave your mother alone, without someone there who knows what she is dealing with. You have to let me go to her. What if she needs to flee? What if it’s dangerous there for her and she needs to get out? How would she do something like that alone?”
Dad sighed and raised his hands in defense. He looked awkward standing there as though he wasn’t sure whether to sit or stand. Or to grab a scone. “Okay, I can’t deny you’re making many good points. I just don’t want you to put yourself in harm’s way.”
“We’re all in harm’s way, Dad,” I replied after swallowing a bit of warm, crumbly, strawberries-and-cream-slathered scone. “And from what I saw, I think Grams and Mom will be safer than the rest of us. If I could I’d send everyone there for safety reasons, but that’s not an option.”
“Why not?” Dad perked up, eyebrows rising at the prospect. The kettle whistled just then, though the man didn’t even blink at the shrill scream.
“It’s complicated, Dad. And not possible.” He sighed but he still had that stubborn male look on his fact, so I said, “Dad, Grams made it pretty clear that Ainwyllian and his gang will stop at nothing. He wants the fae to recover, to return to power, and he’s pretty darn certain that the supernaturals are the cause. Who knows, maybe they were responsible for the Conflagration itself? What better way to eliminate the supernaturals than to cause magical upheaval and dead areas where their abilities no longer work. These dead spots could probably be pre-prepared battle-grounds, places where no power can be welded against the Fae when they battle us hand to hand. It will certainly give them the upper hand.”
Dad blinked, and then he and Mom shared a strange glance. While I’d spoken, Mom had prepared a pot of tea, setting it on the table within reach. Now she was studying her subbed in silence and I just knew they were having one of their silent conversations.
Then Dad gave a quick nod. “I guess any supernatural will be collateral damage to him unless he can use them as leverage.”
“Yeah, and we’re all leverage here.” I took a breath between bites. “I’d prefer to send the kids away somewhere, just in case Grampa Bad Fae decides to use their vulnerability to his benefit.”
Dad shook his head. “It’s probably not necessary. I think the twins are fine. They’re goblin, and the fae have had a long-standing truce with the goblin council. Which will place the twins under that protection. Ainwyllian is smart enough to avoid tampering with an agreement with an ally.”
Nodding, I replied, “And especially now, when he believes he is on the brink of a war, he won’t want to endanger a relationship with an ally.” I took a breath and wiped my mouth. “Do you really think the goblin council will choose to fight on the side of Ainwyllian and his crew?”
Mom answered as she took a set across from me. “I really don’t know. The goblins have long been the literal meat in the sandwich, always trying to keep some sort to peace of both ends. It’s going to be interesting to see how this all plays out when Ainwyllian calls on the goblin council to join him. The goblins also have a treat with the SHC, which makes them neutral.”
“The goblin realm is Switzerland.”
Dad smiled. “Couldn’t have put it better myself.
I shook my head then polished off my scone. Though tempted to grab seconds, I decided to be less greedy and instead poured myself some tea and sat back. “So when can I arrange for Mom to leave?”
Dad looked over at me, expression now sober. “Whenever she’s ready?”
I shifted my gaze to Mom who said, “She’s ready.”
28
When my phone buzzed, I was so tense from the wait that I almost tipped my cup of tea over in the rush to answer. It turned out to be a text message anyway and I gave a deep sigh of relief to read Tara’s reply.
Got your message. I’ll meet you as soon as possible at your house. I’ve got information you may need.
“What is it, honey?” asked M
om, tone concerned as she watched me from across the table.
I smiled and shook my head. “It’s a good message for once. It’s Tara. She wants to meet at the house. She’s got info for me.”
Mom smiled too, though Dad didn’t immediately get the feel-good vibes. “You may want to ask why she’d taken so long to get back to you.”
I made a face as I got to my feet. “Come on, Dad. She’s got her responsibilities too, you know. It’s not as if she’s at my beck and call. And it’s not as though she has the power to rein in the ancient Fae. They’ve been causing trouble already in so many ways that she has enough of a tough time corralling them.”
Dad nodded. “Right. That ice prince who tried to destroy the Ash Trees. He still missing I take it?”
“As far as I know. But there could have been progress in the last few weeks. Tara’s been kinda off-grid and unreachable so this is likely an opportunity in a million. I’d better get there ASAP. Don’t want to keep Her Majesty waiting.”
I grinned and got to my feet, but as I hurried to the door, Dad also rose and followed me. When I turned to protest, he gave me the look and I fell silent. That look meant no amount of arguing will be entertained by him, and that he’d be joining me no matter what.
Mom remained in the kitchen, giving me a sympathetic look as I passed her. We headed out of the house and strode down the hillside to the Main Street of the town. Dad and I stayed on the park side, which ran along the back of the residential strip behind the main street’s shopping centre.
The silence was too much to handle and at last I asked, “How’s Lily’s progress? I’ve been worried about her, especially during training sessions.”
Dad nodded before swerving around a park bench to meet me on the other end. “We’ve made so much progress since we got the Krisl stamens from Horner. Or was it Carter? I can’t really tell them apart for some reason.”
“Dad, they look completely different,” I said, laughing softly. “Do you need glasses now?”
He snorted. “Just something about them….”
“Wanna know my theory?” I ask conspiratorially.
Dad glanced over at me and smiled, his expression curious, a kid whispering secrets behind the bleachers. “Hit me with it,” he said eagerly, patting this his chest.
“Well, I’d bet they’re both Ancients. They seem to have this weird knack of being able to read my mind every time. And that could explain why they seem to look alike to you. Don’t most Ancients tend to look similar? I know Darian looks very similar to Darius, but they do look different enough to me that I won’t confuse them.”
Dad was nodding. “You may be right. The Ancients are believed to be strong with their glamor. It’s often said that when they remove the fact that they reveal to you, the very sight of their aging bodies would still the blood in your veins.”
“I would have said that’s just horror stories to frighten little kids but I’m inclined to agree with you.” I squinted at him, though my heart did thump a little faster in awareness as we drew closer to our house. “Do you know much else about the ancients? Other than general knowledge, that is? I haven’t heard rumors but to be honest I’ve been too busy to listen out for anything.”
Dad pursed his lips as we walked through an orange grove, trees heavy with fruit. The pungent scent of ripe citrus followed us even as we walked down the hill, the house now in sight. “The Ancients are Immortals but the well-known rumor is that they are the originals, the seed from which the supernaturals had sprung. Some say they are a faction of ancient fae who did not follow the laws set down by the original fae courts. They left their fae realms and escaped to live among the various realms, intermarrying with the species of those worlds, thus introducing the supernatural component.”
“And the magical abilities seemed to have thrived within the EarthWorld species, more than the other realms?”
“Yes. That’s the theory since mages as more common here in our realm. And most of the shifters from the other realms don’t have the fae-type of magical powers that our mage population wields. Yes, gargoyle mages, or dwarf or djinn mages are common, sometimes such magic needs to be something different enough from that species’ innate powers to be identified in the first place.”
I frowned. “Interesting. So all this, whether truth or conjecture, brings us back to the mystery of the ancients. And for me, to the question of why they are the ones responsible for overseeing the Ni’amh?”
Dad shrugged. “Guess you’d have to ask them in order to find out.” He fell silent as we reached our front lawn, then stopped in his tracks. “Perhaps I’ll wait here. Give you guys some privacy to talk?”
I smiled, grateful that he’d been sensitive enough to understand we’d need to speak in private. And perhaps he didn’t want to step on any powerful royal toes either.
I hurried down the drive to the front of the house, still unsure where Tara had meant to meet me. The message hadn’t said anything other than where to meet and for a moment I wondered if I’d made a mistake bringing Tara into this mess.
I reached the front of the house and turned around, finding Tara nowhere in sight. With a sigh, I sent her another text.
I’m here. Where are you?
Around back. Gazebo.
I frowned at the games she was playing. This wasn’t like Tara but perhaps she simply wanted to take extra care that she wasn’t spotted by nosy townspeople walking by the house.
I looked back over my shoulder toward Dad who was standing still, arms folded now as he stared over at me. When I waved and began walk toward the corner of the house, he waved back, his body language saying I should stop. But I didn’t want to risk having Tara leave if I took too long. And if I arrived with Dad, how would that affect Tara’s discussion with me if the information she wanted to relay was sensitive?
I gave Dad a thumbs-up and hurried around the house toward the gazebo, spotting movement within seconds. Only a flash of peach inside the small building to confirm she was really there. I crossed the grass quickly, relieved and tense all at the same time, worried about how possible it was that Tara would reveal something to me that I didn’t want to hear.
Taking a deep breath I pushed down my trepidation and reached the gazebo, thinking it almost fitting that I meet a Tara here, in a place I’d held special for most of my formative years. I reached the little eight-sided, white painted building, smiling up at the thin pillars and almost Victorian feel Dad had used when he’d design and constructed the gazebo, like a little English cottage on the edge of our lawn.
“Tara?” I called out, wondering why she hadn’t peered out to wave at me so I’d know she was there.
When I got no answer I frowned, worried now that perhaps she’d come out of hiding to see me and had ended up getting nabbed by Elan and his wicked fae buddies. “Tara?” I called again. Still no answer.
I took a step into the shadows within the little house. I only had a few seconds to squint around in the sudden darkness, in search of Tara. Only to find the place empty.
And then the gazebo exploded.
29
The power of the explosion hit me head on, and though I’d expected to be thrown back, I remained standing. A scream echoed around me as the power impacted my body, and on some level I understood that sound came from me. Only I wasn’t sure if I’d voice the blood-curdling shriek or if the sound remained only inside my head.
Power filled me, icy and searing heat at the same time. Muscles and bone and mind all simmered with intense energy, as though every single molecule within my body was vibrating at a speed that bordered an atomic explosion.
The thought filled me with fear as I lost control, fire and ice spiraling inside my mind. My muscles were frozen in place, feet planted solidly on the ground. Beyond the eruption of energy within my mind, I was aware the gazebo was nothing more than splinters of wood, more memories rendered to nothing but fragments.
And then anger flowed, bright and powerful, then dark and filled with
a black fury. I wasn’t sure where that vicious anger rose from, but perhaps I’d been pushed too far in the last weeks of my life. So many thinks had happened, so much turmoil and loss and change.
Far too many endings and beginnings, way too many lies and betrayals, for any single person to handle without losing their shit at least once. And maybe this was me losing my shit right now.
All because of a gazebo?
I’d held onto my control when our home was damaged, but the sight of Greer’s gazebo may have been my undoing. Did it all boil down to Greer in some way? Was she my weakness after all? I’d thought I’d dealt with my sister’s death, thought I’d put her to rest both literally and figuratively within my grieving heart.
But now, all I could think of was how dare they, whoever they are, whoever had masqueraded as Tara to lure me here. And then fury rose even higher as I understood one more thing. The raw truth of it fell into place like the crashing of a meteor into a planet, leaving behind a crater of horror.
Tara had messaged me directly, in response to my first message. But it wasn’t Tara who’d brought me here. Whoever messaged me would have had to get a hold of Tara’s phone to make contact with me. Did that mean Tara was in danger? That somehow Ainwyllian had managed to find and trap Tara in order to get to me?
Thoughts flew back and forth through my head while the whirlwind of power filled me to the brim. I had to do something with all that energy before I myself ended up exploding into a bajillion tiny pieces, probably taking the whole of Tukats with me in the process.
Dad’s voice wavered somewhere in the recesses of my brain, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. I had to focus soon or else I’d kill him too. I flailed around, terrified, no idea what to do next.