Autumn's Bane: A Wild Hunt Novel, Book 13

by Yasmine Galenorn

  With that, she stood. Before anyone could speak, she motioned to Ginty. “Conclude the parley, old man. I am weary of this discussion.”

  Ginty frowned, but she stared at him impassively. Finally, he said, “Is there any other business to be discussed? Herne? Névé?”

  Herne apparently had decided enough was enough, because he shook his head.

  Névé gave Ginty a firm “No,” so he concluded the parley and both Fae Queens swept out of the room, first Saílle and then Névé. They didn’t look back.

  “Well,” I said after they left. “That was…unexpected.”

  “Most decidedly. You must tell my mother about this when she comes to visit tonight. She can better advise you how to act with them. I don’t trust either one, but there’s nothing to do for now except hope they show up tomorrow. At least a truce will help. I’m surprised they agreed to it, though,” Herne mused.

  Ginty sat on the table, propping his feet on a chair. “I know why they agreed.”

  “Why?” Herne asked.

  “They fear Typhon more than they hate each other. Neither will admit it, but they’re terrified of the Father of all Dragons. He and his children have no love for the Fae and won’t hesitate to decimate their cities along with the humans. All Fae folk, shifters, and humans, we’re all in danger. And now that the dragons are beginning to make their move, it’s clear this isn’t a false alarm.” Ginty leaned back on his hands, a dour look on his face.

  “Haven’t the Fae dealt with dragons before?” I asked. “Aren’t there dragons in Annwn?”

  Herne gave me a brief shake of the head as he stood up and stretched. “A few, but they’re aged and slumbering in their mountains. When Typhon was shut out of the world and driven into stasis, his children retreated to a realm they claimed for their own. But they’ve always preferred the mortal realms. Life is far different now than it was when they once wandered the Earth, but that makes no matter to them. They can, if they choose, destroy this world and send it into an apocalyptic nightmare.”

  “Herne is right, and you can bet the Fae know this. The oldest among them—and the ancient Ante-Fae—have seen the damage dragons can do. Saílle and Névé are looking to close ranks to protect the Fae cities and races. They’ll go back to trying to destroy each other if we can stop the threat, but when something from the outside threatens the Fae as a whole, they will work together. But that just means that they consider Typhon a deadly foe.” Ginty glanced over his shoulder, but we were still alone. “Tell me, Herne. How bad is it?”

  “We haven’t even seen the first tides of war yet. But it’s coming. I have no idea what to expect, but the world is facing dark days, and soon, everyone will know there’s an outside enemy looking to destroy society. Panic will set in, and who knows what chaos will follow?” Herne winced, dropping into a chair. “I’m afraid that in a few years, this world will be unrecognizable, unless we can find a way to destroy Typhon.”

  “Meanwhile, we prepare for war, and we do what we can, and we enjoy every blessing because there might not be another coming,” Ginty said.

  That silenced all four of us.

  Angel was cooking up a storm by the time I got home. As I headed to the house from my car, a distant flash of light split the sky as a faint breeze stirred the leaves on the trees. I paused, counting. I reached four when a low rumble of thunder rolled through the air. Another flash, and this time it was only three seconds. I watched the clouds for a moment, uncertain, and then a third flash overhead stirred me and I headed for the house as thunder immediately echoed around me. I dashed inside as a deluge of hail began to rain down, pea-sized pebbles of ice bouncing on the ground as they pelted the earth.

  I ducked into the house, turning to watch the hail cover the lawn like some delinquent snowstorm. Finally, after another blinding flash, I shut the door, hoping to shut the storm out. Some storms felt like they had a sentience to them. As though they watched from the heavens, targeting victims at random.

  The smell of chowder enveloped me, and I held it tight in my lungs, then slowly let out my breath, grateful to be home. The entire day had felt like one massive clusterfuck. My mouth began to water as I headed into the kitchen.

  Angel was stirring the soup, and I saw a pan of French bread, buttered and covered with grated parmesan, ready to go into the oven. The table was set and a bouquet of fresh roses sat in the middle, along with two rose-colored pillar candles. A peach pie was cooling on the counter, and Mr. Rumblebutt was chowing down on his dinner. Feeling safe again, comfy in the nest Angel and I had built for ourselves, I dropped into a chair at the table.

  “You’ll never guess what happened,” I said, picking a cherry out of the fruit bowl in the middle of the table.

  Angel looked up from the stove. “By your tone of voice, I’m not sure I want to know.” She turned the heat down, then wiped her hands on a dishtowel and wandered over to sit beside me. “By the look on your face, it wasn’t good.”

  “I’m not sure what the hell it is, to be honest. Good…bad…weird? Weird, definitely.” I launched into telling her about the meeting. The parleys were private, generally, but anybody in the agency—or the Fae Queens’ administrations—could know.

  “So, my uncle’s getting married to one of Unkai’s band, and Saílle tried to co-opt me into her court to one-up Névé. That didn’t fly, so now, apparently, I’m to become a member of both courts. Honorarily, of course. They couldn’t ever give me a real membership or that might legitimize me.” I felt spiteful. “It was the oddest, most uncomfortable interchange I’ve had in a long time. I need to talk to Morgana.” I glanced at the clock. It was five-ten. She’d be here within the hour. “I feel like I’m walking on eggshells and everything is going to blow sky-high if I do something wrong.”

  “Of course this is a huge deal. Not only are you marrying a god, but you’re becoming one. This is major, Ember. You’re going to be a goddess.” She blinked, shaking her head. “Did you ever think, in your wildest dreams, that things would come to this?”

  I shook my head. “No, and I’m scared out of my mind. I have no clue what to expect.” I slowly stood. “I guess I should take a shower. I’m sticky and rain-soaked. And the storm looks like it’s just going to get worse.”

  She nodded. “The weatherman said to expect thunder off and on all night. So don’t turn on any computer unless it’s a laptop. I’ll finish setting the table. Do you want to be alone with her? I can eat in my room if you want.”

  “No, of course not. I want you there. For one thing, you’ll probably remember things I’ll forget. I’m sure, with all that’s going on, I’ll overlook something vital.” I headed up to my bedroom, leaving Angel to finish making dinner. Mr. Rumblebutt followed me and I scooped him up in my arms, snuggling his belly with my nose. “Mr. Rumblebutt, you’ll still love me, even if things get weird, won’t you?”

  Being a cat, Mr. Rumblebutt said nothing.

  I dressed in a blue sundress and pulled my hair into a high ponytail to keep it out of the way. As I finished the last touches of my makeup, I paused, glancing around the room. In a year, would I still be here? Would Herne even consider moving into my house? Or would I be living at his place, leaving the house to Angel? It hurt to think of losing her as a roommate. We were best friends, and I loved living with her.

  Things have to change, a voice whispered inside me. You can’t expect them to stay the same forever. Life doesn’t work like that. If life doesn’t evolve, it stagnates, and the last thing you need is stagnation.

  “I know,” I whispered to myself in the mirror. “But change can be frightening.”

  It can also be exhilarating, the voice answered before falling silent.

  By the time I headed downstairs back to the kitchen, Angel had set the table, including a beautiful bouquet of peach-colored roses with rust tips. The roses came from our garden and their fragrance filled the room. I inhaled deeply, holding their scent in my lungs.

  The doorbell rang ten minutes later
and I answered it. Morgana could easily have just appeared inside the house, but she was always polite, never breaking etiquette. I welcomed her, then led her into the kitchen.

  “Angel has dinner ready. I hope you like clam chowder and peach pie,” I said, motioning to one of the place settings at the table. “If you would sit there…”

  Morgana took her seat. When she crossed over from Annwn, she took on a more human form—although I had never seen her not look human. But she kept herself size proportionate. The gods could—and did—at times, change size, particularly in height and weight. Some had the ability to alter the rest of their looks too.

  She stood about five-nine today, with willowy limbs and hair that flowed down to her ass. She had bound it up into an intricate chignon, with a ponytail coming out of the topknot. The hair style reminded me of the main character on an old TV series—I Dream Of Jeannie. Morgana was wearing a pale blue linen pantsuit, with a gray shirt that was buttoned to just above her bra. Her eyes were frosty, and she had a perpetual air of glamour and etherealness about her that made it seem like she could just slip away like a wisp of smoke at any time.

  “Angel, this looks marvelous,” she said as she sat down in the chair I offered her. “Tell me you haven’t been cooking all day just for me.” Morgana gave Angel a winning smile. She wasn’t being polite—she truly meant it. Morgana might have discerning tastes, but she was willing to eat a hot dog with the rest of the gang if that was what was on the grill.

  “Only part of the afternoon, and you know I love to cook, so don’t sweat it.” Angel ladled out the soup and took her seat. I passed Morgana the parmesan bread after taking a piece and placing it on the saucer next to my soup bowl.

  “Well, I certainly appreciate it, and the invitation.” Morgana paused while Angel filled her bowl, then glanced over at me. “Why do I have the feeling that you have something to tell me?” she added, pointing to my left ring finger. “Out with it, my girl.”

  I cursed lightly under my breath. I’d meant to take off my ring until I told her, but I had totally forgotten. It felt natural, as though it had always been on my finger.

  Angel laughed. “She caught you,” she said, breaking the ice.

  “I decided to accept Herne’s proposal. He proposed some weeks back, but I needed to think things through first. I was going to ask for your advice tonight, but yesterday I jumped the gun and just decided to say yes.” I paused, staring at Morgana. “There’s more, though. A lot more.”

  “I see,” Morgana said. She didn’t look angry. In fact, I suspected she was trying to suppress a smile. “Are you sure you want this? Because I will tell you this: once you make the transition over to our world, there’s no going back. Even if something were to happen between you and Herne, you will forever belong to the world of the gods.”

  I licked my lips. “I know. That’s why I wanted to ask you what to expect. What challenges will I be facing? What’s the ritual like? And another matter has risen its double-necked wily head.” I told her what happened during the parley. “So, both Névé and Saílle intend to claim me as part of their courts. This will give a legitimacy to all tralaeths, but there’s bound to be backlash. I’m not sure what to think.”

  Morgana laughed then, her concerned expression fading away. “Oh, they are wily, indeed. Do you know how old those two are?”

  I frowned, shaking my head. “No, not really. Actually, I have no clue.”

  “They were born a little over two thousand years ago. They are ancient queens indeed, but not anywhere near so ancient nor powerful as the Fae Queens in Annwn are. But Saílle and Névé are cunning and even though they constantly seek victory over the other, they are like yin and yang. One could not exist without the other. If one side were to emerge victorious, it would weaken the balance and both sides would fall.”

  I shook my head. “And they’re worse in Annwn?”

  “Lianrial—the mother of the Light Fae, and Pharial—the mother of the Dark Fae—wage horrific wars that never end. The streets of their cities are paved with gold and silver, but the forests and rivers surrounding the twin city-states run red with blood. So many spirits walk the back paths that the forests of the Fae Nation are known as the Haunted Woodlands.” Morgana sighed, then added, “I guarantee, they are not offering this because of any change of heart over your mixed bloodline.”

  “In other words, don’t trust them, and they still think I should be dead?” Where Morgana was diplomatic, I wasn’t. I didn’t kid myself that Saílle and Névé had suddenly become my fans.

  “Precisely. They’re doing this to incur my favor and Herne’s favor. They know that we know this, but the Fae governments work on a mutually accepted façade.” She leaned back in her chair. “The chowder is excellent. May I have more?”

  Angel quickly refilled her bowl. “May I ask a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “What happens if they refuse to acknowledge Ember as a goddess?” Angel quickly glanced at me. “I’m not saying they will, but the fact is, they’ve been assholes to you since the day I first met you.”

  “I wondered that myself,” I said.

  But Morgana just laughed. “If they refuse to accept you as a goddess, then they’ll quickly find themselves beset by not only my wrath, but Cernunnos’s anger. And the other goddesses of Fae will side with me. We tend to stick together. The Fae—both in Annwn and over here—have strayed too far from the fold. We’ve been discussing what to do about it through the past few centuries, but now Typhon has drawn attention away from almost everything that isn’t an immediate problem.”

  I hesitated to ask the next question, but I had to know. “How do you feel about me marrying Herne? If you object, you know that I’ll obey you. I am pledged to you.”

  Morgana held my gaze for a moment, then reached out and took my hand. “Ember, I have been hoping Herne would ask you. I went to Corra, the oracle, not long ago and asked her about you and Herne. She said the best-laid path of fortune lies with the two of you binding your lives together. So I’ve been hoping that he would propose.”

  We ate in silence for a while longer, Angel offering us the fish and chips after we finished our chowder. Then Morgana set down her spoon.

  “You asked about the ritual to become a goddess. It’s not easy. There’s no just drinking a potion and poof, you’re now one of the Immortals. The ritual involves facing your personal fears. If you thought the Cruharach was difficult, then you’ll be in for a surprise. The Gadawnoin—the ritual to elevate a mortal to deityhood—is far more complex and dangerous.” She pronounced it Gad-woi-en. “The actual chance for death is small, but madness…it’s an ever-present danger throughout the ritual. I will be in charge of preparing you when the time comes. And that is all I can tell you.”

  I nibbled on my fish and chips in silence. My stomach was churning. While I was grateful that Morgana was pleased to have me as her daughter-in-law, the Gadawnoin sounded terrifying. Once again, I forced myself to think of Herne, and of what I would be gaining. Because if it wasn’t for him, there was no way in hell I would subject myself to what loomed ahead.

  Chapter Seven

  Morgana glanced at the clock. “We need to be at Marilee’s by eight. I’ll meet you there. I have an errand to run first.” She gathered her purse—a Louis Vuitton clutch—and paused to give me an awkward hug. She had never really hugged me before and it felt odd.

  “My dear, don’t worry too much. Cernunnos and I have both been hoping for this. You’re a stabilizing influence on Herne, and we think you can keep him grounded. You make him more empathetic. Plus, we like you—a great deal. You’ll make a fine addition to our family.” She swept out the door after blowing Angel a kiss and another thank-you for the dinner.

  I helped Angel carry the dishes to the counter. “Well, I knew the crap Saílle and Névé were feeding me was just that. I’ll be on my guard, that’s for certain.”

  “How do we dress tonight?” Angel asked. “Lughnasadh is the festival
of sacrifice, and the first harvest, right? So I assume formal robes?”

  Marilee had been pushing us to buy magickal regalia. She insisted that as our training progressed, we’d need it. We finally had broken down and I bought a gown as black as the night sky with silver stars embroidered on it. Angel had bought a black gown with gold embroidery. Both were easy to move in, flowing but not so much that we would chance getting the sleeves caught in a bonfire. I had a silver belt and Angel had a gold one. We felt a little matchy-matchy, but that was all right.

  “Yeah, I think she’ll be pissed if we don’t give the holiday that honor—” I paused as my phone rang. “That’s probably Marilee now, wondering when we’re going to get over there. We did agree to help her set up.” I pulled out my phone, but saw that it was Herne.

  “Hello?” I held the phone to my ear as I finished putting the leftover parmesan bread in a zip-bag.

  “Ember, you and Angel need to meet us at the Faraday Cemetery over in the Worchester District. The Lughnasadh ritual will have to wait. We’ve got vrykos coming out of our ears. Or rather, swarming out of the graves. The chief of police called me, begging for help. The cops can’t contain them, and they’re not sure where to turn.” Herne’s voice was rough.

  “Crap. What do we need to bring?”

  “Dress for battle, bring weapons. Tell Angel to bring a bag of first-aid supplies. I know Marilee has been teaching her some healing magic and chances are we’re going to need every hand on deck.” He paused, talking to someone in the background.

  I motioned to Angel. “Everything’s on hold. Get the leftovers in the fridge and forget the dishes.”

  “Ember? I was just talking to Talia, who’s on the phone with the mayor. Three cops have been killed. The rest are falling back. They tried using a flamethrower on one of the creatures but the flames weren’t strong enough and it just kept coming at them, burning so brightly that it started a small fire when it passed through a patch of dried brush. The rain managed to put out the flames, but the vrykos just kept coming. They’ve ordered people in the surrounding neighborhoods to stay in their homes, but they’re afraid that the creatures will break through the windows.”