As Herne and I unbuckled our seat belts, I pulled out my dagger to peace bind it. We wouldn’t be allowed in the door with open weaponry, but peace binding was allowed. I had been here once before, and though I thoroughly liked both the bar and the owner, it was too far out of the way to put on my go-to list.
A very large bouncer stood at the door, watching us as we approached. After inspecting our weapons to make certain they were peace-bound, he cleared his throat.
“You are now entering Ginty’s, a Waystation bar and grill. One show of magic or drawing a weapon will get you booted and banned. Do you agree to abide by the Rules of Parley, by blood and bone?” He was massive. His muscles had muscles, and he was staring down on us as though we were ants. I wagered he was part giant, or perhaps full ogre. He had a knobby face, with a forehead that seemed too large for his skull, and his squinty gaze seemed to dart around toward every sound.
“We do, by blood and bone,” Herne said, giving the standard return. It basically meant we were putting our lives on the line if we broke our word.
The bouncer stepped back, ushering us in.
The bar was busy, with most of the booths filled. There was a bustle in the air that spoke to autumn and seeking warm shelter and bright hearth fires after a cold day’s travel. As if reading my thoughts, a huge rush of wind rattled the windows from the parking lot as the rain turned into a deluge. I shivered, staring at the sky out of the massive bay window. The clouds were dark and heavy, and didn’t seem in any hurry to go anywhere.
Herne led me over to the bar. Ginty was on the step-rail behind the counter, which raised him up to see his customers with a clear line of sight. He was polishing the beer taps, and when he saw us, his face lit up.
“Ah, Herne and Ember. I wondered when you would be dragging your asses in here.” He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “They’re already here.”
The bar was single story outside, but once you entered the Waystation it was obvious that it extended well into other realms. A staircase led into another dimension, which offered private chambers for those coming to parley. It also, I had found out, held protected rooms for those seeking sanctuary until they could either escape or be fairly tried.
“Already? They’re early.” Herne glanced at the clock on the wall. We still had ten minutes until we were supposed to show up.
“Well, you know the way they are. But yeah, do you want to go right up?”
Herne snorted. “I don’t want to go up at all, but my mother insisted. Ember, do you want a beer to take with you?”
I shook my head. “I’d rather be alert and sober when we talk to them. I can get drunk later.” I leaned against the bar. “Hey, Ginty. I appreciate you remembering my name, by the way.”
Ginty laughed. The dwarf was handsome, with mid-back flowing blond hair. He was well-proportioned, muscled to perfection, and as married as they come. His wife was named Ireland, and from what Talia told me, she kept a tight rein on her husband and he had no problem accepting it.
“Not hard to remember the name of someone with your reputation.” He paused, turning as a buzzer sounded. He glanced at a tablet that was hooked up to the counter. “They’re waiting. You two better get a move on before they decide to come down here and drag you up there by the scruffs of your necks.”
He called out for Wendy, his second in command. She was six-two, built like a brick house, and had apparently opted for a Mohawk, because her head had been shaved on the sides, and a row of platinum spikes glimmered against her earthen-brown scalp.
“I have parley to deal with. Watch the bar.”
She nodded. “Sure, boss. Mind if I toss out the rotter over at table three? He’s grabbed Teresa by her ass three times.”
Ginty scowled. “Spank him, toss him out, and he doesn’t come back. Make sure Jona knows he’s been banned.”
Wendy swung around the counter, a feral smile on her face, and she stomped over to one of the corner tables. A man was sitting there. He looked like a shifter to me. He was drunk off his ass, and when Wendy said something to him, he gave her the finger. She had him up, his arm wrapped around his back, faster than we could blink. He yelped but she hauled his ass to the door where the bouncer opened it with a laugh.
“Come on, they’ll take care of him,” Ginty said, leading us behind the bar over to the staircase. The stairs were roped off, but he waved his hand and it opened on its own, closing behind us. I wasn’t sure if it was a tech system, or magical, but whatever it was, it worked.
We took the steps to the landing before they turned to the left. The passage was, like last time, misty and filled with fog. The stairs kept ascending, seeming to go on for some time before they opened in a long hallway. Ginty led us to the first door on the right—a different door than last time—and opened it, allowing us to enter first.
Saílle and Névé were there, all right.
Saílle, Queen of Dark Fae, was dressed in a gown of ice blue, beaded and shimmering. Her hair flowed like a river of black lava, and she wore a crown of diamonds and sapphires. Névé was her opposite, with hair the color of spun platinum, and she was dressed in green, and dripping with emeralds. The pair were brilliantly beautiful to look at, and as deadly as they were mesmerizing. They had brought their guards, of course, but there was someone else there, someone I recognized.
Callan. The statue who had taken form.
I uttered a curse under my breath. How much better could this meeting get? I glanced at Herne. He was pissed. Even though he tried not to show it, it read in his eyes and stance.
Herne cleared his throat, giving a polite nod to the women. Technically, he outranked them, but there was a delicate balance that we had to maintain in dealing with the grande dames of Fae, and if we screwed this up, Herne’s father would probably whip the lot of us.
“Your Majesties, thank you for meeting with me.”
Oh yeah, his words were polite but his tone was as frosty as a winter morning.
Saílle allowed herself a bemused smile. “Welcome, son of Cernunnos. Lord Herne, I see you brought your…associate.”
I knew exactly what she intended with her remark—both courts wished I didn’t exist and I was a blight on their egos. I gave them a grumpy nod, deciding that I’d forgo playing who’s the biggest bitch with the cornerstones of Fae society.
Herne stared at Callan. “I see you’ve saved us some trouble.”
“Hold on,” Ginty said, standing and holding up his wand. It was gold with a dark crystal attached to the end—smoky quartz. “I need to establish the rules and hear your oaths. So shut up, all of you.”
Saílle and Névé gave him dirty looks but quieted down. Herne snorted, but he, too, gave the dwarf a gracious nod.
Ginty cleared his throat. “I hereby declare the Mabon Parley, Part 1 of the Courts of Light and Darkness, in the year 10,258 CFE, open.”
“Why ‘part one’?” Saílle interrupted.
“I have a sneaking suspicion you may be requiring more than one this season.” Ginty gave her a smoldering look that would have withered any normal person. Saílle just flashed him a toothy smile. “May I continue?”
“Please do, Master McClintlock,” she said.
“Under this mantle, all members are bound to forswear bearing arms against any other member of this parley until the meeting is officially closed and all members are safely home…” He paused, then said, “I hate all this shit.”
“Then why go through it?” Névé asked, examining her nails with a bored look.
He shook his head. “Because you are who you are.”
“Then carry on and get it over with.” She didn’t even glance at him.
Ginty gave her a nasty look, but continued.
“I also remind the Courts of Light and Darkness that they are forsworn by the Covenant of the Wild Hunt from inflicting injury on any and all members of the Wild Hunt team, under the sigil of Cernunnos, Lord of the Forest, and Morgana, Goddess of
the Sea and the Fae. Let no one break honor, let discussions progress civilly, and remember that I—Ginty McClintlock, of the McClintlock Clan of the Cascade Dwarves—am your moderator and mediator, and my rule as such supersedes all other authority while we are in this Waystation.”
He held up the scroll I remembered from last time. “If you stay, you agree to the rules. If you disagree, leave now, or you will be bound to the parley. I have spoken, and so it is done.” He let out a long breath. “Okay, it’s settled. Herne, you have the floor.”
Herne stood, nodding to Ginty. “Thank you, Master McClintlock. Queen Saílle, Queen Névé, I am here to take Callan into custody and return him to the past, where he belongs. If you hand him over now, we’ll call it good.”
Saílle and Névé gave each other a long look, then Saílle dropped her head back, laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Herne asked.
“You think that’s why we’re here today? To hand over Callan to you?”
Looking confused, he nodded. “Of course. You knew we were looking for him. You know Cernunnos and Morgana feel he’ll upset the balance and cause repercussions in the human world. Why else would we be here?”
Saílle motioned for Névé to take the floor. Herne sat down when Ginty motioned to him.
Névé stood so gracefully that it looked like she floated up from the chair. “The Court of Light wishes to announce that it has come to a truce with the Court of Darkness, enacted as of the beginning of the Harvest Moon, in the year 10,258 CFE, to last until both parties feel the desire to dissolve it. We jointly sponsor the warrior Callan to lead our defense against Elatha, the Fomorian King, and any and all of his armies. We have requested sanctuary from this Waystation for Callan. We do not recognize the power of the Wild Hunt to extradite him. Any attempts to remove him from our custody will result in breaking the Covenant of the Wild Hunt.”
And with that, both the Queen of Light and the Queen of Darkness gave Herne and me smugly satisfied looks.
NEEDLESS TO SAY, things went downhill from there. Herne bolted to his feet, but Ginty jumped up on his footstool and held up the golden wand.
“I remind you all we are under the rules of parley. Watch your tongues lest I be forced to censure you.” He gave Herne a long look. “This means you, Herne.”
Herne sputtered. “But I have a direct order from both Cernunnos and Morgana to apprehend Callan if he shows his face and I call this, showing his face.”
Ginty squinted at him. “I remind you, this is a Waystation that offers Sanctuary. Callan is staying here,” he said, looking like he’d rather not admit to that. “As long as he sleeps under this roof and has asked for Sanctuary, I have no choice but to offer it to him and do everything in my power to protect him.”
Saílle laughed again, which wasn’t the wisest move in my opinion.
“What do you find so funny?” Herne turned on her, furious.
“You see, Herne, we thought ahead about this. We need Callan, now that Elatha is forcing his way into the United Coalition. He has already effected one attack on the Fae race, and still your precious Morgana and Cernunnos allow him free rein. So we have no choice but to protect ourselves.”
I said nothing, watching the interplay with growing apprehension. If we walked out of here with Callan in tow, irreparable damage would be done. And leaving him here also insured the same.
Ginty pointed to their chairs. “Both of you, sit down. Everybody sit down.”
Herne reluctantly returned to his seat. Saílle gracefully sank into hers, and Névé joined her. The two queens gave each other crocodile smiles. I wondered just how long their little peace treaty would last, considering they hated each other’s guts.
“So, where do we go from here?” Ginty asked. “Herne, you cannot walk out of here with Callan. Even with direct orders from the Lord of the Forest and the Lady of the Sea, I cannot break tradition and violate Sanctuary. This Waystation is sacred. The only way I can hand over Callan is for a Triamvinate to be called, and that can only happen with official petitions and within the prescribed perimeters.”
I gulped back a gasp. A Triamvinate was a major undertaking and the results were final. Even I knew that.
“That’s going to require time to set up,” Herne said. “You know that Cernunnos and Morgana will manage it, so why you bother, I have no idea. The Dagda, Danu, and Eriu must stand in attendance as the judges and you know they’ll side with my mother and father.”
“But,” Saílle said, “as you said, that will take time. Meanwhile, we have Callan to lead us to safety. As long as he walks with Ginty’s sigil on his back, he’s forsworn for you to touch.” She leaned back, looking satisfied. “Are you willing to break the Covenant, son of the land?”
Herne’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I do not break oaths, unlike some people. We will be back, with the date for the Triamvinate, and you will see just how far you get with this scheme. You know how this will play out. Yet you are willing to put the human population at risk.”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take, when my people are on the chopping block,” Saílle said, once again shooting to her feet.
Névé joined her. “We’re done. We’ve indicated our line. It’s in your court, Herne.” And with that, the pair of them turned and swept out of the room, followed by Callan and their guards.
I glanced at Herne. “We can’t stop him?”
He shook his head. “Not unless we want a war with the Fae on our hands. Cernunnos is going to be pissed.”
Ginty worried his lip. “You aren’t going to start something, are you? No raiding my Waystation to drag Callan away in handcuffs?”
Herne let out a mirthless laugh, his gaze still on the door. “No, Ginty. I won’t do that. I’m not authorized to start a war and that’s what it would do.” He motioned to me. “Come on. Can you drive? I need to put in a call to my father and mother.”
Wordlessly, I took his keys and we bid Ginty farewell and headed to the car. There was no sign of either Fae Queen. For that, I was grateful. Herne might promise not to cause trouble, but it was difficult for me to believe that he would let it go if they were outside, waiting to taunt us.
BY THE TIME we got back to the office, Morgana had called telling us to “do nothing” about the incident, and that she would arrive at the Wild Hunt in the morning to discuss the matter. Meanwhile, it was going on five. As I took off my jacket, I realized that it was as cold inside as it was out and then I noticed that Angel had her coat on, and as Talia trundled into the waiting room from her office, she had her jacket and gloves on.
“What’s going on?” Herne asked.
“The building’s furnace went belly-up and the owner won’t be able to get to it till the weekend. So dress warm or you’re going to turn into a Popsicle.” Angel shivered. “If anybody has any space heaters at home, bring them in tomorrow because we’re going to need them.”
Herne grimaced. “Well, hell. Okay, space heaters it is. By the way, we need to be here by seven-thirty. My mother’s coming to discuss this fucking mess with Callan.”
Yutani was sitting on the sofa, staring at his tablet. He jerked his head up. “What happened?”
Herne shook his head, rubbing his hands together. “We’re going home early. Time enough tomorrow to tell you, except that Saílle and Névé have just earned themselves a special spot in hell in my heart.” He turned to me. “Love, I’m sorry, I promised to spend tonight with Danielle. I’m taking her around town to show her the sights.”
I shrugged. “I expected you’d be busy, anyway.” That came out more abrupt than I wanted, so I quickly tried to smooth it over. “Besides, Angel and I can use a girls’ night in. And I haven’t been to the gym in a week—way too long.”
The elevator doors opened and Celia stepped out. “Am I early?” she asked.
Yutani gave her a bright smile—I’d never seen him smile that warmly for anybody—and shook his head. “Nope. I’m ready to go.
We’re closing shop early. Come on, I made reservations at Oui on the Pier for dinner.”
“Fancy,” Talia said, teasing him. “Oui on the Pier is pretty pricey and do you even own a suit jacket? They have a dress code, you know.”
Yutani stuck his tongue out at her. “Someday we’ll go out on the town and I’ll show you just how well I clean up.” With that, he escorted his aunt into the elevator again and Talia dashed in behind them, waving at us. As the car doors closed, I turned back to Angel.
“That gives me an idea.”
“Oh no, I do not feel like dressing up and crashing their party.” She gave me a look that told me just how much she had appreciated sitting in the cold all afternoon.
“Neither do I, but since we’re both free, why don’t we go to a movie? We haven’t done that in ages.” We usually streamed them at home, but I felt like doing something different.
She shrugged. “What’s playing?”
“I think the new Ghost Rigger movie is out.” Ghost Rigger was a movie franchise that we both loved. They were cheesy, with outlandish dialogue and ridiculous plots, but something about them never failed to make us laugh.
“I’m on it. Stop by Burger-Burger for dinner?”
“I’ll buy.” I waved at Viktor, who had just emerged from the back. Herne gave me an expectant look, and even though I wasn’t feeling all that charitable, I moved to his side and gave him a kiss good-bye.
“Say, you’re sure you’re not mad?” he whispered.
“Everything just feels topsy-turvy, and I’ve never liked that feeling,” I whispered back.
“Love you.” He pressed his forehead against mine, staring into my eyes.
I relented then, and let out a long sigh. “I love you, too. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Have fun tonight, okay?”
A Shadow of Crows Page 11