by Carrow Brown
Outside, a man dressed head to toe in cold-weather gear shoveled snow off the sidewalk in front of his house. He’d been working on shoveling and salting the driveway when I walked by his place that morning.
The man looked up when I drew close, his gray eyes peeking through his blue hood and scarf. “Hey, you heading back to The Under?”
“Yeah. I have work to do. Unless you would like to do it for me, Carl?”
He snorted. “Pass. I’m not equipped for your line of work. But can I ask a favor before you go?”
My brow arched. “Sure, what do you need?”
“Can you check out the grove tree and my waystone? Someone this morning said it felt off, but I’m not experienced enough to determine what the issue with it is.”
My eyes flickered to the two large dogs sitting on the porch. When I’d first walked up the road, they had been lying about, but now their heads were up and pointed my way. “I can eyeball the waystone for you, sure, but you know I’m not a druid, right? There won’t be a lot I can do with your grove tree.”
Carl nodded. “I know, but I need someone to look at them.”
“You don’t want to ask the Fae staying here?”
Carl gave me a look. “Do you want to ask the Fae to look at it?”
I mean, you could. We will just be in debt with them and we know how much you like that.
“Touché,” I said. “Just make sure your guardians don’t attack me.” I bobbed my head to the dogs. “The last time a Foo dog bit me, I limped around for a month.”
He snorted. “They aren’t going to bite you if you don’t act up.” Carl let his shovel fall onto the snow, and we both walked back to the building. The two dogs padded toward me as we walked to the start of the driveway.
“Hey there.” I kept myself still as they did their inspection of me. “Aren’t you two the cutest floofs! Or are you keeping tiny polar bears now?”
“They’re Tibetan Mastiffs,” Carl said. I couldn’t see his expression but heard a grin in his voice when he added, “But if you want to ride one into battle, you’re welcome to.”
At the sight of their wagging tails, I bent over to ruffle the head of the smaller dog. “Careful, Carl. You sound like you have a sense of humor with comments like that. If the Traveler’s Guild found out, they’d send you a strongly worded letter about how you’re supposed to be serious and walk around with a stick up your ass.”
Carl barked out a laugh and motioned me to follow. The two dogs finished their inspection of my pant leg and walked after us as we headed to the back.
I looked over my shoulder at the dogs. “Why two Foo dogs? Waypoint Keepers typically have one.”
“The Guild sent the other here to do his residency until the guild decides he’s ready for his own inn.”
I grunted and trotted to catch up to Carl with both dogs on either side of me. Part of me wanted to think it was because they liked my company, but I knew better.
My eyes shifted between the two dogs. “Enjoying the snow?”
It is a pleasant diversion from inside the house, the larger of the two answered. His voice was low, lazy, and warm. It made me think of a setting sun. Fae of both Summer and Winter Courts are residing here. It has been a tense few days.
“Both of them under one roof? Damn, I don’t envy you. Need me to rough any of ‘em up for you?”
No. Carl has been a keeper for generations. He knows how to diffuse Fae tempers.
She smells like blood, the smaller one said, keeping close to me. But she’s not dead like a vampire.
“Thanks for noticing.” I patted the top of the dog’s head. “Is the smell that strong?”
Only to us, the larger said.
Silence snickered, Kind of hard to get the smell out when you practically bathe in it.
I huffed and fished out a cinnamon stick from my front pocket to chew on. Humans had gum, I had cinnamon sticks. Granted, I’d been doing the cinnamon stick trick before humans invented gum. “What’s up with the Fae?”
The larger sat on his haunches and scratched his ear. They are holding court in the city from what we can gather. Queen Mab and Queen Titania arrived yesterday.
That bit of information gave me pause. The last time the two Fairy Queens had congregated, it’d been nothing short of a bloodbath. “Both queens in the same place? Do you know why?”
“Some kind of emergency among the Fae,” Carl said. “The ones staying here are very hushed about it.”
“Let’s just hope they’re trying to figure out what they are wearing to the Spring Solstice.”
We came to a stop before a large oak cracked half down the middle from the weight of the snow. I frowned as I looked it over, allowing my eyes to view it magically. I saw glowing white-green veins from the earth reaching up into the tree, but a lack of them seeping into the soil. I moved closer and pressed a hand against it to sense deeper into the oak and shuddered at the emptiness that greeted me.
Carl’s attention fixed on me. “What do you see?”
“Nothing,” I said, pulling away from it.
“Can you be more specific than that?”
I shook my head to clear my vision and returned it to a mundane setting. “Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero. You know most things have a trace of magic in it. There’s nothing in the tree. Normally it’s vibrant with blues, greens, or a dark brown if it is decaying, but it’s none of those things.”
“And you’re seeing what?”
“Nothing. The insides of the tree are hollow. It didn’t die in the storm; it’s been dead for a while.” I stared up at the vacant husk, trying to not compare it to the empty husk of the goldfish woman from the hospice home. “A few years at the very least.”
“That doesn’t sound right. The oak has been growing leaves and new branches for years.”
“That’s a nature thing. Even if the spirit is gone, they’ll force-feed the husk. It’s trying to keep it alive, but it’s a lost cause with the spirit of the tree gone.” I faced him. “I thought he was a grove tree.”
“He was a grove tree.” He tucked his gloved hands under his arms. “What about a druid? Could they do something?”
I shrugged. “Hard to say, but I’m confident they’ll tell you the same thing I did.”
We both looked back to the tree. A gust of wind blew, dusting us both in snow.
“Mab always brings the snow with her,” I grumbled, brushing it off my face. “Look, I know a guy who knows things. I’ll go talk to him and maybe he’ll know a solution. I’ll try to get word back to you, but I’m a little busy at the moment. Will the inn and waypoint be protected with just you and the Foo dogs?”
Carl nodded. “Should be. If the oak’s been dead all this time, a few more days won’t change anything.” He hesitated before asking, “Can I ask another favor?”
My eyes narrowed. “Maybe. What is it?”
He waved a hand at the oak. “Can you help take some of the broken limbs down before you go? Between the guests and snow, I haven’t had time.”
My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out to see a low battery warning. I held it up to Carl. “Charge my phone and you’ve got a deal.”
He reached for the phone. “You mythics never do favors for nothing, do you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t. The whole checks-and-balances system makes it hard.” I set the phone in his hand and watched it disappear into a pocket. “Let me see the waypoint before I take care of the tree for you.”
Carl nodded, and I followed him to the detached garage. He flicked a light on, exposing the details of the art studio contained within. One wall held gardening tools, while the other housed canvases, sculptures, and clay containers. The stone sphere was comprised of a mosaic of multiple stone fragments which linked to the waypoints of the mortal plane from which they had been taken. I knew this from having assisted Vainya in putting together our sphere, roaming the Earth from waypoint to waypoint and taking a fragment from each—which consisted of me roaming
the earth and picking up a stone belonging to each location. No rest for the wicked.
I leaned over to inspect it and frowned as one went pitch-black before my eyes. I touched it, and an image of a burning building with flames still eating at the walls flashed in my mind. With a sigh, I pulled my hand away. “The inn in Yemen is gone.”
“Can you see why?”
I stood with a grunt and ran my hand along the waypoint, feeling the magic lick along my palm. “No, just fire. Could’ve been caused by anything, but we are talking about Yemen.”
Carl grunted but otherwise remained silent as I continued my inspection of the sphere.
“I’m not seeing anything wrong. What did the guest tell you?”
“The Fae said it felt slower than normal. Did you notice anything on the way in?”
I grimaced. “No, I was too deep in the throes of self-loathing to notice anything when I came over.” I shifted my vision to see the Yemen waypoint magically, picking out the threads of magic woven around it. I knelt and inspected each thread, looking for discoloration or tears.
“Everything seems fine, but the magic is a little faded. When did you get the stones re-charmed?”
“A couple months ago. It should still be good for a few years.”
“You didn’t skimp on the caster?”
Carl shook his head. “I never would. Someone from Oaken Staff came to do it for me.”
I shook my head. “Then it doesn’t make sense. Just another thing to ask my friend who knows things.” Rising to my feet, I looked around and nodded my head at a chainsaw resting on a wall hook. “Can I use that for the tree? My sword will get cranky if I use him.”
Damn right, I would! Do I look like a fucking axe to you?
Carl’s head dipped once for the affirmative. “Help yourself.”
I plucked the machine up and looked it over. “It shouldn’t take me long, depending on how much you want to go.”
“Just cut up what’s fallen. Even if it isn’t protecting the waypoint anymore, no sense in losing it completely. It’ll be good shade in the summer months.”
I shrugged and set the chainsaw down to remove my parka and hung everything on the vacant hook except for my shoulder holster. Not that I was worried about others seeing me. The edge of the spacious yard was covered with trees to keep people from peeking through their windows and seeing something they’d never forget, a necessity when you had Fae who enjoyed frolicking naked at night.
Carl went back inside, leaving me with the two dogs while I started on the tree. I’d finished cutting the broken branches down and into manageable parts when he returned with my phone and a cup of something steaming.
“That’s a big help, thanks,” he said. I tucked my phone away while Carl offered the mug.
“Anytime.” I smelled the coffee and sipped at it. I enjoyed the aroma and warmth it gave on its way down to my stomach. “You’re one of the good ones, so helping you out works for the rest of us.”
He snorted. “This isn’t Salem. The uneducated and fearful don’t accuse their friends of witchcraft and only think they’re innocent after drowning them.”
“True. Now they’ll believe anything on the Internet.” I finished the coffee and handed him back the mug. “You need anything else?”
Carl pulled his jacket about himself. “No, but thank you.”
I nodded. “All right.” I gave each dog head scratches before walking to the shed. “I’ll take my leave, then.”
The dog-guardians escorted me and watched as I placed my hand on the sphere to leave. Foo dogs rarely trusted me.
Couldn’t blame them. I didn’t trust myself, either.
* * *
The walls of the Manor swelled and creaked in greeting, blowing warm air across my cheek as I entered. With a forced smile, I closed the door behind me and gave the frame a pat. “Honey, I’m home.”
Vainya’s voice sounded from behind me. “You look troubled.” I turned to see him lounging by the fire with a book opened before him and a bowl of grapes off to the side. “What’s caused you to frown?”
Pressing a palm to my forehead, I willed the expression away. “A few things.” I didn’t bother to remove my jacket. Picking up the box and my bottle of vodka, I walked over to him. “Odin is sending me on some FedEx mission for a book he wants. I don’t know why he wants it, though.”
Vainya’s furry brows rose. “He visited you personally?”
“Of course not.” I scoffed. “Odin sent a Valkyrie with great people skills. But he wants me to get the Kuglehost. I can’t figure what the Allfather wants with a book like that. I’m pretty sure at the last Oath Taker meeting we were told to destroy it if found.”
The fur along Vainya’s back rose at the mention of the book. “A difficult question to answer. It is always hard to determine what the Allfather’s long-term plans are.”
“No kidding. I was hoping you might know, but oh, well.” I set the box on the ground by his paws. “This came for you.” He lifted a paw for it, but I sat on the package before he could touch it. “Can I ask a question?”
Vainya’s tail wrapped around my middle and lifted me off the package as if I weighed nothing. I dangled there while his claw started to slide across the top of the box. “What is your question?”
“When I went to Seattle, Carl asked me to look at his grove tree because he thought it was sick, but it was dead. Then he told me the waypoints are slower than normal. I noticed it was true on my return.” I fished around in my pants pocket and set a black stone on the table. “And we lost another inn out in Yemen.”
Vainya’s claw stopped mid-cut across the top of the box. His red eyes met mine as he set me down with care. Leaning in, he asked, “And the question is?”
“Well”—I worried my bottom lip—“are those things related?”
Vainya’s eyes shifted to the fire, his paw leaving the box.
I moved to sit on a stool by the hearth, knowing it could be several minutes or even hours before Vainya would answer my question. The downside, I’d observed, with having vast amount of information in someone’s head was the processing time. Granted, when Vainya did, it had its upsides. He could make predictions about the future better than most soothsayers.
When he did finally speak, it was slow and deliberate, every word chosen with care. “On the outside, no. The waypoint and the grove tree bear little relation to each other. However, both are dependent on magic.” He pulled in a breath and let out a sigh. “We may be seeing the beginning of the end.”
I tilted my head back. “Isn’t that a bit dramatic? What do you mean?”
He turned his head to regard me. “You know magic is the essence of life because it creates life?”
“Right. It gives birth to elementals, mythics, and blah-blah-blah. What does that have to do with the tree and the waypoints?”
“Can automobiles run on their own?”
I shook my head. “No, they need fuel of some sort.”
“Items created by us work in a similar manner. They will not work without fuel—without magic.” Vainya sighed heavily. “Troubling.”
I rolled the bottle of vodka in my hand. “I never noticed a reduction of magic here. Wouldn’t we feel it in the Under first?”
Vainya shook his head. “Several factors, I theorize, play a part. Where is the demand strongest? Who uses magic actively? The Under was purposefully created as a place where we could live away from humans. Even so, if what you are seeing is true, we are lucky that the Well is unaffected.” His troubled eyes returned to the fire. “It takes much to kill a grove tree.”
Soft creaks and groans of wood sounded around us, making us look up. In one of the mirrors, my reflection bit her nails while shifting from foot to foot.
I looked back to Vainya. “What happens to things made of magic, like the Manor? She’s already established, so if magic fades, what happens to her?”
“Simply put, she will die. Not right away, but at some point. It would be similar to d
eath by starvation.”
The fire in the hearth died and a cold wind rustled over us.
“Great,” I muttered, getting to my feet. Picking up the poker, I tapped the hearth. “Come on, don’t be that way. You know we’d never let anything happen to you.”
The fire came to life once more, warming the room within moments. Gazing at the floor-to-ceiling shelves brimming over with books, antique art, and handmade tapestries, I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. The idea of something happening to the Manor turned my stomach. Vainya and I shared a look, his eyes also filled with unvoiced concern.
He groaned as he rose to his feet. “On a different topic, I have a homework assignment for you.”
“Ooo, yay,” I said with false cheer, “a task. What is it? Rearrange the books in a new order? Bake cookies?”
Vainya’s tail scooted a book closer to me that I hadn’t seen. “I want you to read this.”
Leaning over, I picked it up and read the cover aloud. “How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie.” I stared at Vainya. “Are you for real?”
He nodded. “Very. You need to make meaningful bonds with others.” His tail gestured to the book. “This will help you.”
“Hey! I have meaningful bonds! Lots of them!”
Vainya’s eyes narrowed. “Name five who are not in this room.”
“Um.” I bit my bottom lip. “Goodfellow is my friend. We go out to party at least once a month. Or every six months.”
“That’s one.”
“Do the Morrigan sisters count as one or three? Granted, I mostly talk to Badb.”
“They count as one since they are a triple-aspect goddess.”
I groaned. “Not fair. Okay, what about Nicholas? I know we aren’t married anymore, but we’re still good friends.” I’d read somewhere that if you said something enough times, you’d start to believe it.
One of Vainya’s furry brows arched. “When is the last time you spoke to him?”
“Three years ago-ish. We’re both busy people. He runs a popular club. I murder people. Schedules just aren’t matching up at all.” I canted my head to the side. “Does the Manor count since it makes the room?”