Tempestuous

by Lesley Livingston

  “This was your great idea?” the Rider heard the man ask. “The Wild Hunt? Do you suffer short-term memory loss or something?”

  The Rider wheeled his mount and charged again.

  “Fenn—look out!” the girl shouted a warning.

  Too late.

  The Roan Horse thundered past. The flat of the Rider’s fiery sword hit the Janus Guard across the shoulders, scorching the leather of his jacket and sending him sprawling. As he struggled to rise, the Rider spun his mount into a rearing turn and charged once more, knocking the Janus to the ground again—with a blow from a hammering hoof. This time, the blond warrior was slow to rise. He pushed himself to his hands and knees, and the Rider raised his sword high.

  “No.” The Faerie girl stepped in front of the downed man.

  Kelley . . . The Rider hesitated and then raised his sword again.

  “Sonny.”

  The name was familiar. So was the voice that said it. He had heard it in the music of the war horn’s call. . . . Kelley.

  She pointed at the sky, where the dragon belched flame. “That’s why I summoned you. That’s why you’re here. Not to hunt us, but to save us.”

  He stared down at the girl. She would be an easy kill. . . .

  “Sonny,” she said again, very quietly. “I know you’re in there. Where are you?”

  The remote creature that used to be Sonny Flannery stared down at her, his face a stony mask. He leaned forward, reaching out a hand toward her, and Kelley froze, wondering if he would snap her neck right there. But then he plucked a rose petal from the tangles of her hair and held it up between them. His lip twitched in the ghost of a smile.

  “Sonny . . .”

  The petal quivered and multiplied until he held a perfect bloom in the palm of his hand. He looked at it, as if seeing a rose for the very first time. “I remember . . . I only wanted to give you this,” he murmured. “You looked as though you could use something . . . nice. . . .”

  “You were right,” Kelley said, remembering, too, the moment they’d first met in the Shakespeare Garden. Her voice broke. “Sonny?”

  Sonny’s silver-gray eyes shone as he gazed down at her.

  “I’m right here, Firecracker,” he whispered.

  He held out the rose. She took it and he reached for her, swinging her up behind him onto the back of the Roan Horse. Kelley wrapped her arms around Sonny’s chest and they leaped into the sky.

  “Hold on tight,” Sonny said over his shoulder. “Let’s finish this together.”

  They thundered through the air, the Roan Horse galloping madly toward the dragon—who was beset by a Faerie king and two Faerie queens—and Kelley unfurled her diamond-bright wings. As she did so, she felt the sleek red coat of the Roan Horse ripple and bunch beneath her. Sonny shouted in amazement as his mount’s hide suddenly shivered and paled, turning from crimson to white to pure silver. The shape of his muzzle and limbs altered. The long neck grew thicker with muscle and a shaggy mane . . . and a white-fire corona blazed about his head, branching out into the most magnificent rack of antlers.

  They no longer rode on the back of the Roan Horse, but astride the silver King Stag, monarch of the forest. And together they were more than a match for the monster before them. The sword in Sonny’s hand blazed like a sun, and Kelley’s light flared nova-bright, spreading out before them to shield them from the dragon’s flame. The King Stag lowered his antlered head and charged like a silver meteor streaking through the black-velvet sky.

  They hit. Sonny drove his blade straight into the dragon’s heart, and the force of their impact blew Gwynn’s new-made enchantment to pieces. The magick that had held the dragon shape together exploded outward in a burst of black feathers and bilious green lightning. The sky rained down the bodies of the demon birds, and the Faerie King of Spring dropped through the night, hitting the surface of the Reservoir with a tremendous splash before sinking beneath the dark waves. The enchanted birds turned to smoke as they hit the ground and drifted away to nothing, all of the Green Magick sinking back into the soil of North Brother Island.

  Gwynn ap Nudd did not reappear.

  The Wild Hunters let out a savage howl, celebrating their leader’s kill. They surrounded him, their bloodlust high as they longed for more sport.

  “Free!” they shouted, wheeling their mounts through the night sky. “We are free to ravage this realm!” They turned and beckoned to Sonny. “Lead us in the chase, noble lord. Lead us to the kill!”

  Kelley felt Sonny’s muscles tense within the circle of her arms and she waited for how he would respond.

  “No,” he said finally. “We will kill no more. You need kill no more.”

  The hunters hovered in a half circle in front of him.

  “We will kill so long as the Wild Hunt rides,” one hunter said. “It is our curse. It is our way.”

  “Ways change; curses can be broken,” Sonny said quietly. He took the black talisman from his neck and closed his fist tightly around it. When he opened it again, the jewel was nothing but a handful of sparkling black dust. Sonny opened his hand wide, and the dust blew away on the night wind.

  Beneath them, the island began to shudder wildly. The remaining Fair Folk fled for the birch Gate that would take them back to the Otherworld.

  “Sonny . . . ,” Kelley said, but he had already wheeled the stag and was heading back to the island. Auberon and the queens, too, descended, and they scrambled to get the survivors to shore before the magick holding Gwynn’s island together imploded completely, taking them with it. As the last of them waded out onto the shores of the Reservoir, there was a thunderous crack like the world ripping asunder. North Brother Island vanished into the Between as if it had never existed, and the Green Magick with it.

  They’d won. Or, at least, Gwynn had lost.

  It was over. Almost.

  Kelley was helping Carys tend to Maddox and the rest of the crew that had come with them to the island. Percival had, for lack of a better word, surrendered, but they could not find the other rogue Janus—Aaneel had vanished, along with Selene and Camina. Sonny and Fennrys were discussing what to do about it, even as they avoided making eye contact. Fennrys hadn’t spoken to Kelley since she and Sonny had taken on the dragon together.

  “We need to get out of here,” she said. “I’m surprised an entire anti-terrorist unit and several SWAT teams haven’t descended on the park yet.”

  “Outside of the Gate itself, I doubt if anyone even noticed anything strange, Daughter.” Auberon put a hand on her shoulder. “Such is the way of magick for a people who have remained hidden in plain sight for thousands of years. But you are right. We should make some haste, in any case. The sun will rise soon, and the mortal populace will return to this place.”

  That was when Kelley noticed a pale gleam in the distance, growing larger. It resolved into the shape of a shining white carriage drawn by a snowy charger. The carriage sped toward them; gathered Fae and mortals stared as Belrix thundered down the jogging path, his hooves clattering on the gravel as Olrun drew him to a stop. Kelley was shocked to see Emma sitting in the carriage, white-faced but determined. Her arms were wrapped protectively around the shoulders of Herne the Hunter, who lay half-prone on the bench seat beside her.

  Olrun stared down at the band of Fair Folk and changelings gathered there. “The Hunter’s time draws near,” she said in a voice like winter fog. “The woman begged of me to bring him here so that you may bid him farewell.”

  “Make haste,” the carriage driver said.

  Beside Sonny, Kelley was rigid with emotion. “No!” she said. “You can’t!”

  Sonny felt a wave of despair wash over him as he glanced at where his father lay in the carriage. He knew that there was no bargaining with a Valkyrie—no deals to be done with death. . . .

  But there was bargaining with the Fae. And Sonny had the best bargaining chip of all. He turned to where the three remaining monarchs of Faerie stood.

  “Mabh,” he said.
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  The Queen of Autumn inclined her head without taking her gaze from the white carriage.

  “My lady . . .” Sonny stepped toward her, tense, respectful. Determined. “You have told me that you are in my debt.”

  “And so I have.” Mabh looked like she was having a hard time holding it together. The sight of Herne, pale and barely breathing, had hit her like a thunderbolt. The queen stared at her one-time Hunter, a shine of tears in her eyes.

  Sonny took another step toward her and went down on one knee, bowing his head, before looking up into her face. “I know now what boon I would crave of you.”

  “Do you?” Mabh asked, glancing at him, her brow creasing faintly.

  Sonny nodded. “Forgiveness.”

  The queen regarded Sonny shrewdly.

  “Not for me.” He gestured back to the carriage, but his eyes never left the queen. “For my father. For Herne. I know you have never forgiven him for hurting you.”

  Mabh’s features twisted with suppressed emotion.

  “Please, lady.” Sonny’s voice was quiet, but it carried clearly in the still air. “He deserves such a thing before . . .” He couldn’t bring himself to finish that sentence. “He deserves it. So do you.”

  The Autumn Queen drew herself up tall and stared down at Sonny. Their gazes locked, and held, and then Mabh’s eyes narrowed. “I would . . . ,” she said slowly, “I would grant you this thing, were it not the waste of such a gift upon one who isn’t going to be around to appreciate it.”

  Behind him, Kelley drew in a gasping breath of protest, but Sonny reached back and squeezed her hand.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, rising, and spun around, beckoning to the tall, goatish Fae standing beside Carys. “Webber. The queen of Faerie requires a healthy Hunter in order to grant my boon.”

  “I’m on it!” the Fae said, leaping into the carriage before Olrun could do anything about it. He laid his large, webbed hands over the Hunter’s wounds and sank almost instantly into a healing trance.

  Mabh moved swiftly toward the other side of the carriage, stepping up into it to sit on the bench seat opposite Emma. She inclined her head gracefully to the other woman, who stared at her with hopeful eyes. Webber’s hands moved in slow circles over the bloodstained bandages that wrapped the Hunter’s broad chest. Sonny tried to take deep, even breaths—silently willing Herne to breathe with him.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Webber’s large eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped almost to the floor of the carriage.

  The Autumn Queen looked down at the man she had once loved so much that she had made him a monster. “I forgive you,” she said. “But only if you don’t shuffle off this mortal coil anytime soon. It is my boon to your son.” She turned to Emma. “And yours.”

  Herne lifted a hand to touch Mabh’s cheek, and she held it pressed there for a moment. Then Mabh put it back down on his chest and, taking Emma’s hand, covered Herne’s with hers. Herne sat up, the color already returning to his cheeks. Sonny watched as he gazed down at Emma, his smile lighting his handsome face from within.

  As Emma and Auberon gently helped Herne climb down from the carriage, Kelley felt like her heart would burst with joy.

  It was a short-lived sensation.

  A rumble of thunder startled her, bringing her attention back to the woman who sat on the driver’s seat of the carriage. Olrun the Valkyrie stood, seeming to grow taller, more majestic. Kelley could see the ghostly shimmer of a long shirt of scale armor covering her towering form. The shadow of a winged helmet gleamed on her brow, and a phantom shield and spear glimmered in her long-fingered hands.

  “This is not a thing that can be undone,” she said in a voice like smoke over a battlefield. “I will take the Raven’s Tribute. I will take the Hero to the Hall. My carriage shall not leave this place empty.”

  Mabh turned a baleful glare on her. “You would gainsay a queen of Faerie? Have a care, Shield Maiden.”

  Olrun did not waver. “You have no governance over the Beyond realms, Mighty Queen.” The tone of her voice was respectful, polite . . . and utterly implacable, the words chipped from ice.

  This was not a fight they would win, Kelley thought, despairing. After all they had done. After all they had just gone through, Herne was going to die and be taken, and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

  She had to look away from the raw hurt in Emma’s eyes.

  “I am a Chooser of the Slain,” Olrun said. “I can do nothing else but this.”

  And then—

  “Choose another,” Fennrys said, walking forward, limping from his encounter with the Rider. “Choose me.”

  “Fenn—no!” Kelley put out a hand to pull him back. He ignored her.

  “Hey, blondie,” he called to the Valkyrie. “Did you hear me?” Fennrys approached the white carriage as if he was about to ask how much for a ride through the park. “You need that hero in particular, or will any one do?”

  Olrun didn’t answer him with words, but a chilling blue fire kindled in her gaze and she inclined her head. An invitation. A life for a death.

  “Fenn—,” Kelley tried again.

  The Fennrys Wolf shook her off. “Because I have a sudden hankering to see the place where my ancestors hang their shields.”

  “Fennrys . . . what are you doing?” Sonny asked in a low voice.

  “C’mon, Irish.” The Wolf turned to him and grinned a bit madly. “I’m a straight-up hero, remember?”

  “Fenn . . . don’t be an idiot,” Kelley said, alarmed.

  “Hey.” Fennrys smiled at her. “If there’s anyone who can find a way back from that place, it’s me. And if I don’t . . . honestly, Princess, where else d’you think a guy like me should spend eternity anyway? The Faerie realms have never been my style. Not really.”

  Kelley blinked back tears and took a step toward the Wolf. Then she pulled his head down and kissed him gently on the lips. Sonny would never need to know that it wasn’t the first time she’d kissed him. Because, in her heart, Kelley knew it would be the last.

  She whispered, “If this is what you really want . . .”

  “This is the destiny I choose, Kelley. Just like you said.” He turned back to Sonny. “Take care of her.”

  “Like you did when I was gone?” Sonny asked, striving for lightness.

  “Better than that.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  Kelley gripped Sonny’s hand hard. Sonny put his arm around her, and together they watched as the Fennrys Wolf leaped lightly up into the carriage to sit on the front seat beside Olrun—who glanced at him with mild astonishment—and put his feet up on the front rail.

  “Right then,” he said, and leaned back, hands behind his head. “Let’s see what this thing can do.”

  A hint of a smile touched the Valkyrie’s lips, and she snapped the reins. Belrix surged forward. The carriage turned to a blur of ice fog . . . and was gone.

  Tears rimming her beautiful green eyes, Kelley turned to look up at Sonny.

  “Forgiveness, huh?” she said softly. “That was pretty smart thinking.”

  Sonny nodded. “Sometimes people who do very stupid things—things like telling lies—deserve that.”

  Kelley blinked at the wetness on her lashes. “I—”

  “That was a very stupid thing you did, Kelley.”

  “I—”

  Sonny’s lips crushed against hers, and his arms wrapped her in a fierce embrace. He didn’t know if the tears on his cheeks were his or Kelley’s. It didn’t matter. She threw her arms around his neck and melted into him, and he knew that she would never let go of him again.

  OPENING NIGHT

  CLOSING NIGHT

  The gala performance of The Tempest was an absolute smashing success. The audience gave the Avalon Players three standing ovations. One night only, but the place had been sold out, the weather had cooperated marvelously, and no one had seemed to notice the collection of Otherworldly beings who’d s
at just across the Turtle Pond, enjoying the play from a distance.

  Quentin was over the moon. Especially when word reached him that there was an anonymous benefactor with, apparently, a rather impressive portfolio of real estate holdings who’d sent word that there might be a new home for the company—in an empty turn-of-the-last-century dance hall not quite as far off Broadway as the old theater had been.

  The cast was in a highly celebratory mood at the after-party. Hugs flew fast and furious. Bob had shown up for the performance and seemed to be successfully ingratiating himself back into Quentin’s good graces. Even Mindi and Dame Barbara couldn’t stop embracing and laughing with each other long enough to drink the champagne they were spilling everywhere. Everything was as it should be. There was only one cast member who was acting a bit strangely toward Kelley—had been, in fact, ever since the one rehearsal where Tyff had done her “stand in” favor—and Kelley had been meaning to ask her roommate about it. She finally got the chance when Tyff showed up backstage, arms laden with flowers for the whole cast.

  “Oh . . . yeah . . .” Tyff fiddled with an arrangement of blooms. “I meant to mention that.”

  “Tyff.” Kelley crossed her arms and pegged her roommate with a look. “What exactly happened between you and Alec?”

  “Between you and Alec, actually.”

  “Oh God . . .”

  “It was just a kiss—”

  “Tyff!”

  “No—it’s cool! Everything is fine!” Tyff put her hand up to forestall Kelley’s outrage. “I sort of convinced him to . . . well . . . to convince you that it would be better if you just stayed friends. You know—that it would be tragic if a romantic entanglement were to screw up such a great friendship, you have too good a working relationship, yada yada. . . .”

  “He bought that?”

  Tyff grinned wickedly. “He thought it was his idea. Got all noble and self-sacrificing and everything. Really let you down gently.”

  “Oh gawd . . .” Kelley put her head in her hands.