“No, I gave him a sedative his system can tolerate. He needs to rest.” Mallen glanced over at him, then turned back to me. “I don’t think you understand what I’m saying. Whatever did this, it drained his powers permanently. Shade still has his dragon heritage, but whatever powers were fueled by his Stradolan side? His shadow walker self? They’re gone. Just . . . gone as if they never existed.”
I stared at the elfin medic. “What do you mean, gone? Powers can’t just disappear like that.” But then, I stopped. They could. Vanzir’s powers had been stripped by the Moon Mother, but they had come back, in a vastly different way. “Couldn’t it just be the shock? Something temporary?”
Mallen shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I can do more extensive testing at the FH-CSI, but I think the results are going to come out the same. Shade is still half-dragon, but he might as well be half-human on the other side now.”
I caught my breath. What the hell was this going to do to him? “Can he survive? He’s shadow dragon . . . they have a special connection with the Stradolan.”
“I know, and I’m not the best one to answer these questions. He really should go home to the Netherworld to be checked out by his people. Both the Dragonkin and the Stradolan. I can heal up his body. He’s in no danger of dying. But if there’s any way to restore his shadow-walker abilities, I’m at a loss.” With that, he stood. “By tomorrow, he’ll be up and ready to go. Just don’t let him overdo for a day or so.”
“Does he know?” I was starting to panic. I wasn’t good with comforting people, even the people I loved. How could I tell my fiancé he’d just lost part of himself for good? “Mallen, I can’t tell him this. It would come so much easier from someone used to giving bad news. I’m not good with this sort of thing. Can you please stay and make sure that I don’t mangle this?”
Mallen shook his head. “No, I don’t think he understood me when I tried to tell him—he was too out of it.” He patted my arm. “Listen, you’ll do fine. Tomorrow, when he wakes up, tell him the minute he’s coherent. This is something he needs to know before he does anything. We don’t know what parts of his routine are from his Stradolan side and what parts aren’t. He has to learn how to adjust. It’s like a human losing one of their senses. Or if you were to suddenly be unable to shift into Were form.”
As the magnitude of the change hit home, I realized that Mallen was telling me that Shade had suddenly—at least for his kind—become disabled. He’d lost the ability to function normally. And that would take a whole lot of getting used to. He would have to learn how to adapt—learn to accept what he could no longer do and work around it. Nodding, unable to say a word, I watched as the elfin medic left.
Nerissa and Iris, who had heard everything, moved to my side. They each took one of my hands.
“He’ll manage, Kitten.” Iris stroked my hair. “He’s a resilient and steadfast man. If anybody can handle this, it will be Shade.”
“But . . . how will he figure out what parts of him work and what don’t? Is there a guide for which abilities were Stradolan and which came from his dragon mother? I wish he’d told me more about this side of himself but you know how secretive dragons are. They’re stubborn and silent and mulish.” Another thought hit me. “Oh gods, what about his family? They pride themselves on who they are. Will they even recognize him anymore?”
“I assume you mean, will they accept him?” Nerissa frowned. “I hope they’re better about it than my people. In the puma prides . . . well . . . lose your puma side and you might as well leave the clan. They aren’t very accepting.”
“I know. Remember?” Images of Zachary flashed through my mind. Zachary who had become wheelchair bound, unable to walk. He and I had dated briefly, but Zach lacked the courage to face his future. He was a good-hearted man, but a weak-spirited one. And, when push came to shove, he lacked the courage to face his own disabilities. He’d retreated to Otherworld to remain forever in puma form. While I understood his choice, I also knew he’d done so out of fear of what he’d become in human form, rather than out of embracing the Were side of himself.
Nerissa and Iris both seemed to know what I was thinking, because Nerissa shook her head and gave me a wide smile.
“You know Shade is far stronger than Zachary ever was. Zachary was weak in spirit even before the accident. You know Shade will pull through this. I think he’s going to surprise you. I think you’re going to find that he’s more than capable of learning a new way of life.”
Iris nodded. “Nerissa is right. Shade’s not one to feel sorry for himself. And if his family can’t accept the changes that have happened to him? Well, will that really be such a big loss? Shade himself has commented before on how little connection the families in the Netherworld have. That being said, I do think he needs to do what Mallen said—go there to assess the extent of the damage.”
I pressed my lips together, unsure of how to respond to any of this. But then, a stronger fear took hold. If that creature could permanently drain the abilities of a Stradolan, what could it do to others? Could it drain Ivana’s powers? Or Wilbur’s?
“Watch him—I have to stop the others—we can’t attack this thing till we know what it is and how to kill it. If it can do this to Shade, what can it do to Camille, or Ivana? I can’t let them go in without knowing what they’re facing.” As I slammed out the door, I realized I was still in my muddy PJs but this was no time to worry about that.
I raced into the driving rain, down the steps, and through the mud puddles that had collected along the path up to our house. I wanted to shout, but over the wind and the rain, chances were nobody would hear me.
As I rounded the bend in the trail from behind a thin stand of trees that separated our lawn from Iris’s, I saw that the house was lit up like it was on fire. It was glowing, yes, but more than that—the energy oozed off it, rolling like a wave of anger.
I caught sight of Camille and Ivana. They were standing near Wilbur and Morio and the others. I hurried over to them, slipping twice in the mud as I did so.
“Don’t go in there!” When I was close enough, I shouted over the roar of the wind that was driving around us. Everybody turned—thank gods they heard me. “That thing eats energy . . . for good.”
“What? Kitten, what’s wrong?” Camille hurried to my side.
“Shade—that cloud? It drained his Stradolan abilities permanently. Mallen said it drained them dry. He’s . . .” I stopped, tired and weary and too jarred to think coherently anymore. Bursting into tears, I wiped my eyes with a muddy sleeve of my pajamas. “Whatever is in there, it can do worse than kill.”
Wilbur crossed over to us, a slight limp the only sign of his artificial leg. “I know what that damned thing is, but the weird shit is, it’s something that can only be gated in by another spirit. It takes a powerful ghost, controlled by a necromancer, to bring these beasties into this plane.”
I stared at him. “Another ghost? You mean a ghost summoned this? What the hell is it?”
“A devil-wraith. And you’re right, it eats magic, it eats power . . . and the only way to get rid of it is to find a more powerful spirit than the one who brought it here in the first place. In other words, you need a bigger, badder ghost, girls, and a necromancer to wield it. And you’re lucky, because between Ivana and me, we might just be able to set you up.”
Chapter 11
A devil-wraith? We’d never heard of that before. Or at least, I hadn’t. And by the looks on their faces, neither had the others, except for Ivana, who was nodding her head.
“The Mad Man is correct. Devil-wraith, it is. And he’s a nasty one. So, Dead Girl . . .” Ivana turned to Menolly. “What needs done, it will be a difficult spell and I must work with this . . . human.”
“What kind of bargain do you want?” Menolly glanced over at me. Even she looked exhausted.
“To summon a ghost and bind it to the Mad Man, in order t
o dispel the devil-wraith? I have one in my garden who can do it, but the Mad Man here must seal it to his will. For payment, I will keep the devil-wraith in my garden once we have collected it. That is my price. Such a lovely toy it will be. Such a trophy—so seldom found.”
Well, that was better than her cajoling us for bright flesh.
“That’s what you ask? To keep the devil-wraith?” Menolly pressed her. We had to be very clear with the likes of Ivana, because one misstep when it came to the Elder Fae, and we could have a big mess on our hands.
Ivana cocked her head. The bag lady look made her appear both pathetic and grotesquely childlike, but there was nothing either pathetic or childlike about her, when you stripped away the veneer. To us, right now, she looked like a gnarled old bird, her face riddled with bumps and lumps—warty in appearance, though we had no clue what they really were.
Dressed in tattered clothing, from a distance Ivana looked like she was ready to keel over dead at any moment. But all of that was pure illusion. We’d seen her unmasked once, and her beauty was brutal and jarring. She’d put the Fae queens to shame with her brilliance, as alien as a crystal figurine under the night sky.
Ivana cackled. “The devil-wraith is my price. No amount of bright flesh or oinker or moo-cow would ever be as tasty as a devil-wraith in my garden of ghosts. Their screams are delightful . . . a prod with my staff here, a poke of my finger there, and they shriek for hours, begging Ivana to stop. Oh yes, that will do for a bargain.”
I swallowed hard. Ivana’s garden of ghosts was a terrifying plot of land around her house where she entrapped stray spirits—she said they were all nasty but we could never be sure of that. She liked to torment and tease them. She was a spiritual sadist in the truest sense of the words.
Menolly nodded. “You have a bargain. What do we need to do?”
Ivana turned to Wilbur. “We journey to my garden of ghosts, Mad Man. What do you need for your spellwork?”
Wilbur frowned, and even he looked a little askance. “I should get my supplies. If somebody would like to help me, we can make quicker time.”
Menolly and Morio took off with him, as the rest of us retreated to the studio out front. It was no good just standing in the rain. Ivana looked around the shed-cum-apartment with a curious glint in her eye, but she seemed to be comfortable in her silence.
Camille and I retreated to Roz’s room, where he found clean clothing we could both wear. We were cold and dirty, so we headed into the bathroom. There wasn’t much time, so we just hopped in the shower together.
Camille turned around so I could scrub her back. She’d put her hair in a ponytail to keep it from getting any wetter than it already was.
“Shade really lost his Stradolan powers?” She glanced over her shoulder.
I nodded, not sure what to say. Everything had happened so quickly . . . it reminded me, to a lesser degree . . . of our night in Elqaneve, caught in the downfall of the city. So much had happened, unexpectedly, in such a short time.
“Do you think that Einar is responsible for the devil-wraith?” I handed her the sponge and turned, offering my back. She scrubbed hard enough to loosen the knots that had formed between my shoulder blades.
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t put a link past probability. How? That’s another matter. I have no clue how this happened. But I think there has to be some sort of connection. Or maybe . . . maybe it’s whoever is trying to control the sword.” She traded places with me so I could stand under the streaming water and rinse away the soap. “That’s good enough for now, though I hate turning off the hot water. I could stand under the heat forever, it feels like, and still not get warm.”
“I know what you mean and I hate baths and showers.” I turned off the taps and we stepped out of the tub, drying off with the thick, fluffy towels that Roz had given us.
As we dressed, Camille yawned, and that set me to yawning. “I’m so tired, I could sleep for a hundred years. You know . . . ” She paused, staring at the towel. “There’s a piece of this puzzle that I feel I have in my hands but . . . I can’t for the life of me figure out what it is. Something that happened . . . something somebody said that feels connected to this.”
“Can you remember when or where you heard it?”
She squinted, trying to remember. After a moment, she shook her head. “I keep thinking it was at my birthday party, before Daniel got there but then again, I drank a lot so maybe . . . No . . . Everything is such a jumble. But I’ll keep trying.”
My stomach rumbled. “It feels like dinner was days ago and what we ate at Iris’s seems to have vanished into thin air. I guess adrenaline burns through food, doesn’t it?”
She gave me a smile, then—the first one I’d seen since bedtime. “Delilah, please trust me . . . Shade will be okay. He loves you and he is bound to the Autumn Lord. Who knows, maybe the Elemental Lord will do something for him to help?”
That was an idea I hadn’t thought of. “Thank you for that. I needed some hope to hold on to. At least until we get through this night. I guess we’d better go see if Wilbur’s returned.”
Camille gave me a sly grin. “What do you think about Wilbur and Ivana pairing up?” By her innuendo, she didn’t mean for magic.
I put a stop to that thought right there. “Don’t even go there!” I shuddered. “I don’t want to need a dose of brain bleach.”
Laughing, Camille opened the door. “You make a good point. I don’t think I could stomach a visual either.”
We headed out to the main living room, where—sure enough—Wilbur was back with a large black bag at his feet. Camille stared at it, a curious look on her face. I wasn’t the only one to notice her interest.
Wilbur cleared his throat. “I’m going to need some help when we get to Ivana’s. This isn’t exactly a one-man show I’m pulling here, and while Ivana can free the ghost, I have to do the work from there. Morio, Camille . . . and you, Pussycat. Come with us.”
I cleared my throat. “Excuse me, but I don’t work magic.” I’d give a lot to be excluded from this little party.
“Too bad, but that’s not why I want you there. You’re a Death Maiden. You cope with the dead in ever so many delightful ways. You’re going to be the best help I’ve got, other than the Prince of Bones, whose ring you’re wearing on your finger. And he’s out of the game, from what I understand.”
That put a stop to my complaining. Shade couldn’t go, but if he was able to, he would with no fuss. I wouldn’t let him down. “All right.”
“Let’s be on our way. I haven’t all night to waste on gallivanting around.” She might be complaining, but Ivana sounded practically giddy. Apparently this was akin to a joyride for her.
She motioned for us to stand back, and then held out her hand. With a swirl of her fingers, she muttered something under her breath and a vortex appeared, a swirl of sparkles filtering out from her hand to form an iris-shaped portal. I blinked. I knew that the Elder Fae could come and go as they liked, but I had no idea how they actually managed it. Apparently, like this.
Ivana motioned to Camille and Morio. “Witch Girl, Fox, you first. And mind your step. There’s a bit of a drop on the other side. Pussycat—you after, and then Mad Man. I’ll bring up the rear. Never fear, the rest of you. We’ll be back with a ghostie in tow who can tame the devil-wraith.”
Menolly leaned close to me and whispered, “Her cheerfulness is more frightening than when she’s begging for bright meat.”
“At least we’ve never seen her pissed. And I sure don’t want to be the one to ever cause her anger.” I quieted down as Ivana glanced over at us, and then—as soon as Camille and Morio vanished through the portal, I stepped in behind them.
The swirl of prickling energy sucked me through like a giant vacuum and spit me out the other side. It was totally unlike the portals that transported us to Otherworld. This was more like a giant vacu
um cleaner. Hitting the ground with a lurch, I realized that it was about four inches lower than I was expecting and almost twisted my ankle.
“Damn it.” I sucked in a deep breath as I moved to the side. Camille was rubbing her left knee, leaning on Morio’s shoulder. “You get caught by the drop?”
She nodded. “She wasn’t kidding, was she? And that damned portal’s like a giant Hoover. I bunged my knee a little, but I’ll be all right.” As she straightened up, Wilbur came through after me, then Ivana herself.
We were in her garden. Wherever Ivana’s home was, it was a replica of a Cape Cod cottage, though larger than they usually were, with a white picket fence surrounding the grounds. On the other side of the fence there was a ravine, and beyond the ravine, a forest. Her garden of ghosts consisted of a colorful barrage of primroses and peonies, marigolds and dahlias. Even in the midst of January they were blooming. Scattered among the flowers were weathered tombstones. Last time we were here, Ivana’s garden had been drained of ghosts—Gulakah had sucked them dry. But today, I could feel the buzz and hum of spirit activity.
“My garden, it thrives—can you feel it, girls? I’ve been busy, busy, busy like the bees, gathering spirits to replace those stolen from me. But idle hands make for idle thoughts, so busy is a good thing. Now then, I’d ask you in for tea, but somehow I don’t think you’d fancy my brews.” Again, she was positively chipper, the whorls on her face moving as she smiled with a jagged, needle-tooth grin.
Camille quickly declined. “That’s quite all right. It’s the middle of the night for us. We don’t need tea.” She edged toward the garden, staring at it warily. “You really have been busy. This place is packed.”
“Oh, the ghosts sing to me and I must gather them, you know. That’s part of my job, gathering beasties and teaching them manners. And it’s also my pleasure. I nurture my garden—my flowers thrive on the pain of the spirits. They grow so big and strong.” Ivana leaned down to sniff one of the dahlias—a rust-colored one with a head as big as a dinner plate.
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