“Gee, ya think it might have been wise to check out the history of the scroll a little better? Because I have a news flash for you, boys. An offensive spell is what you ended up with. Offensive to us.” I stopped, a thought striking me. “Just who was this witch? What did she say about me? You didn’t bring her here, did you, to use the scroll?” If they had brought that woman here without permission and let her cast a spell in our house, so help me, I’d flail them raw myself. Smoky wouldn’t even stand a chance of getting his licks in.
“No, of course not. We’re not stupid.” Vanzir glared at me, then appeared to think better of it. “I guess . . . we fucked up pretty bad.”
Menolly, who had been watching the exchange silently, shook off the snow that was clinging to her body. Snowflakes didn’t really melt on her skin easily—vampires were cold enough that what body heat they had seldom managed to do anything other than keep rain from freezing against them.
“Okay, let’s get a handle on this. First, before anything, Iris, you said you might be able to move this portal? Do you think you can do so before we get snowed out of the living room?”
Iris held out her hand. “Since it was created by use of a scroll, it should be easier for me to do so. Rozurial, you get me the remains of that scroll right now. And don’t dawdle.”
He scampered off into the foyer.
Vanzir shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “We really were just trying to help. We wanted to surprise you all after your shopping trip.”
He looked so subdued, I was almost tempted to show pity. Almost. “Yeah, well, you accomplished that much, all right. Of all the fool tricks. Dude, why couldn’t you just start putting up the decorations the normal way? You know we all enjoy helping. Having a head start would have been great.”
Vanzir glanced over at Smoky, who looked ready to smack him. It didn’t take much to set Smoky off, especially when it came to Vanzir. But I reached out and stroked my dragon’s arm, and he pulled me through the snow, into his embrace, and kissed the top of my head.
“I won’t kill him. I promise, my love.”
“Good, because if anybody lays a hand on him and Roz, it’s going to be Menolly, Delilah, and me.” I kissed his hand, rubbing my face along his sleeve. My men all made me feel protected and safe, at least as much as that was possible with all that was going down in Otherworld.
Iris, however, had sputtered her temper out. She let out a loud sigh. “Honestly, the pair of you are more trouble than my babies. But I appreciate the sentiment.”
He flashed her a grateful smile as Roz returned, scroll tube in hand. He opened it, and handed Iris the parchment. There was a faint acrid odor surrounding the paper—the magic within had been triggered and it was now useless as an actual spell. Iris gingerly took the sheet and unrolled it. I peeked over her shoulder. The writing didn’t look familiar—though with runic script it was always harder to tell because runework needed to be precise.
Iris sniffed it. “Ice magic, as I thought. And . . . elf? Not quite . . . but not Fae either. Hmm, what was the witch’s background, Roz?”
Roz cleared his throat. “She’s actually Svartan.”
Trillian whirled around. “Svartan? Not many Svartans come over here to Earthside.”
He was right about that. In fact, Trillian was one of the few who had made more than a cursory appearance. Perhaps they visited more in the northern European countries—the legends of Svartalfheim had trickled down through Norse mythology over the years, and while they weren’t all that accurate, at least the northerners had remembered the dark elves. Most people assumed the Svartans were Fae in nature, but they were the more seductive, shadowy cousins of the elves. It didn’t help that their nickname was the Dark and Charming Fae.
For many years, Svartalfheim had made its home in the Subterranean Realms, but when Shadow Wing had taken over, they had packed up and moved, lock, stock, and barrel, back to Otherworld. Queen Asteria, the late Elfin Queen, had accepted their reemergence calmly, but the truth was that she and King Vodox had never gotten along. Now though, Vodox was doing his best to help Elqaneve—the Elfin capital—even though his own city had come under siege from the sentient storm that had destroyed the Elfin lands.
“So, a Svartan witch sold you this scroll. That’s highly unusual.” Trillian looked worried. Something had struck a chord, and I wanted to know what it was.
Vanzir shifted, glancing at Roz, then back at Trillian. “I thought as much. We seldom see your kind over here.”
“True.” Trillian frowned.
“Can you describe her?” I asked. “If she says she has met me and you tell me what she looks like, maybe I can remember something.” But truth was, I’d met few female Svartans. I had never been to Svartalfheim, and Trillian was one of a limited number who traveled widely away from their city.
Warily, Roz shrugged. “She had long hair the color of Trillian’s. I think . . . she was tall and thin. She had a scar above her left eye—for some reason that stood out. She said she met you at last month’s Supe Community Action Council meeting.”
Vanzir snapped his fingers. “Right! So, anyway, we always introduce ourselves to new members, and we got to talking. When we found out she was a witch and knew you, we asked her if she knew of any good magic shops in town. We told her what we were looking for and she recommended we go to Broom Stix. Do you have any clue who she is?” He glanced over at the portal.
The whole thing sounded bizarre. “She couldn’t have met me there last month because I haven’t been to a meeting since before September. Maybe she’s mistaken. And I’ve never heard of the store.” I turned to Trillian. “Any part of this ringing a bell?”
He shook his head. “I was afraid it might be my Aunt Seriana, but she doesn’t have any such sort of scar, and she’s short and plump. She’s one of the family matriarchs.” The look on his face was cold enough to freeze water. “She’s always hated the fact that, even though he disowned me for a number of reasons, my father never did anything to punish me for what she considered grievous insults to the family name.”
I caught a deep breath. Nobody else knew about Trillian’s background, as far as I was aware. I only had a spotty sense of his history. I did know that his family had hated me from the beginning. And they had never approved of Trillian’s gentler ways. He and his blood-oath brother Darynal were very much alike in that manner, both considered misfits in the Svartan society.
Trillian seldom discussed his family. My knowledge had come in dribs and drabs over the years. The Zanzera clan was composed of highly intelligent but harsh members. Cold and stern, with a disdain for anyone they perceived as weak, they didn’t welcome new members easily. And I wasn’t the daughter-in-law they had been hoping for.
Svartan society ran on a strong caste system, and Trillian’s family was upper crust. That he had chosen someone from outside his race and stature to become involved with was his first sin. His second, that he had chosen to marry for love rather than prestige and connections. Svartans usually married to cement social standing, and they took multiple lovers for fun and play. Love didn’t figure into their society all that much.
“So you bought the scroll from her?” I was trying to get things straight. The thought of a witch powerful enough to open a portal like this was fucking scary.
“No, we bought it at the store. She was there, reading cards for people, but the scroll was in their holiday section. The name of it was . . . let me think. Oh, NORTHERN HOLIDAY SURPRISE.” Roz glanced at the portal then slapped his head. “Uh oh. If I remember right, the scroll was sitting near a pile of scrolls labeled GAG GIFTS. Maybe . . .”
“Maybe it just rolled into the wrong pile? Or maybe somebody moved it when they saw you come in. Think . . . where was she when you entered the shop?”
Roz bit his lip, then let out a slow breath. “She was near the counter—right in front of the table. And she’s the one who pointed the scrolls out to us. She remembered us from the meeting.”
“I’d say that’s a strong coincidence.”
“Before we go any further with this, can you move the portal, Iris?” Menolly broke in, sounding irate. “We have to stop this snow or pretty soon another yeti is going to march through into our living room.”
Iris examined the scroll again. “I think I can move it, yes. It will shift it outside. Somewhere. I won’t be able to pick the spot, but—and this is important—remember, what I do won’t close down the portal. So you’ll have to track where it went, so that we can shut it down once we figure out how.”
I groaned. A rogue portal, open somewhere in the Seattle area, spewing out snow and winter creatures. “Recipe for disaster, but it’s not going to be any better if we let the snow destroy our house.”
“Somehow, I don’t think we’re going to have a problem with finding it. We’ll just have to follow the snowstorm and mess of ice demons—or whatever those things are—that will be spreading out around the city.” Delilah shrugged. “I vote to relocate it. Right now!”
There was a movement within the portal and we heard a low growl. I scrambled. “No more discussion. Iris—what do you need in order to move this sucker out of here? Maybe in the transfer, whatever it is will get stuck between dimensions.”
Iris snorted. “We can hope. What do I need? My Aqualine crystal wand, a cup of sea salt, three holly leaves, and a few drops of Winter Solstice water—I have some in my house. I’ll go get the water and my wand. Camille, would you gather the holly leaves and the sea salt?”
I nodded, heading toward the door. Hell, at this rate, it would be warmer outside than inside. Morio came with me. He was trying not to laugh, but the minute we cleared the porch, he cracked up.
“I can’t believe those two. Yes, they were stupid, but they meant well.” His eyes crinkled as he winked at me. “You can’t blame them too much.”
“Oh can’t we? They’ve opened a rogue portal, unleashing dangerous creatures and swamping our house with snow. But it’s not that I’m worried about. Not at the moment.”
“The witch?” He sobered.
“Yes. She lied about meeting me, and seems to be trying to steer me to her shop—if it is her shop. And if she targeted Roz and Vanzir at the Supe Community Action Council, you know she had to have already done her research. She had to know that they’re good friends of mine.”
I didn’t particularly believe in coincidence, and, while someone lying about knowing me wasn’t necessarily indicative of any nefarious activity, the whole thing just felt off. Some events seemed too planned, too precise to be a quirky coincidence. This was one of those times.
“Is there a way to find out?” Morio pointed to the big holly nestled in our backyard. “Did you bring shears?”
“I have my dagger, that will do the trick. As far as discovering the hows of this . . . I suppose I could just go visit the shop and take the direct route. But first things first. Move the portal. Figure out the damage. And then, we cope with whoever fueled this mess.”
I must have sounded ready to crack some skulls, because Morio turned to me. “They really didn’t mean for this to happen, love.”
Sighing, I shrugged. “Oh, I know Vanzir and Roz meant well. They wouldn’t hurt us. It’s just . . . so damned much has gone wrong and I’m tired of it. I’m tired of always feeling ten steps behind. I’m tired of everything leading to the hard road. For once, I want something to be easy, to go smooth without feeling like we’re digging through a mountain of obstacles.”
“I know.” He kissed my forehead. “I understand.”
“I don’t like to whine, but after everything that’s happened the past few months, I feel like I have the right. I just want to breathe for a moment, to rest and have some fun and not worry about who’s going to die next, and who’s out to kill us.”
We came to the holly tree and I unsheathed my dagger. Since we were gathering leaves for magical purposes, I knelt on the frost-laden ground beside the outmost branches and dropped into a trance. I had the ability to commune with trees and plants to some degree—though it was harder over Earthside than back in Otherworld. As I drifted in that dreamy state that bordered full consciousness, I reached out to the tree and connected with its spirit.
“We need some of your leaves for a spell. Do you mind?”
The tree shifted—or rather, its essence did. And then, quietly, a murmured whisper brushed past my mind, kissing me gently with winter’s embrace. “Take what you need, Priestess.”
As I began to cleanly sever the leaves from the bough, a keening broke the stillness. I forced myself to focus on my task—magical work required focus, whether it was gathering the components for a spell or actually casting it. But Morio jumped up, turning to see what might be coming our way.
As I finished my harvest and tucked the leaves in the small basket I’d brought with me, Morio gasped. Quickly, I turned to see what the matter was.
“Look—over there.”
The air was shimmering a few yards away. Another portal? But it couldn’t be. No, this had to be something else. We slowly began to edge forward. I thought maybe we’d be wise to go summon backup, but the truth was, by the time we reached the door, whatever it was would already be here. We might as well wait to find out what was coming our way.
Morio pulled out his own dagger, and I kept mine at the ready. The air shifted and moved, rippling like pleated plastic. And then, a hole in the fabric of space opened—a black abyss, with sparkling gold and silver lights darting through it. And out of that hole stepped a tall man.
He towered at least eight feet tall, with burly muscles to match, and he wore a long dusky green velvet cloak trimmed with dark fur. Around his head, a wreath of holly encircled the wild tangle of brown hair streaked with gray that cascaded down his back. His beard, an anarchistic tangle of curls, was so long it reached his chest. The cloak he wore reached the ground, but beneath the edge, he was wearing brown leather boots—tied with a leather thong. And in one hand, he held a tall spear. In the other, he carried a lamp filled with sparkling lights.
The Holly King. Oh shit. Santa in the flesh. Only Santa wasn’t the gentle kindly soul he was in Earthside legends. No, the Holly King could be ruthless, and he ruled over the darker half of the year, bringing frost and cold and death to the land. One of the Immortals, he was one of the primary Elemental Lords, like the Autumn Lord.
As he stood there, staring down at us, I flashed back to when I was a little girl. I’d met this man once, long, long ago when I was very young. I’d gone hunting for him through the city, and when I found him, he was actually quite gentle with me, compared to his usual nature.
Mother had still been alive and when she found out what I’d done—one of the neighbors had spotted me in the tavern at the Holly King’s table where he was resting and taken me home—she’d blistered my butt. I couldn’t sit down for hours.
Now, he stared down at us, and then let out a rich belly laugh. “Well, well. Camille Sepharial te Maria. I haven’t seen you in a long time. You were knee high to a jackrabbit when last we met.”
I managed to stammer out a squeaky “You remember me?”
He snorted. “Remember you? Oh, I remember all the girls I meet. And you, my dear, were a brave and foolish little witch. So, why have you summoned me? What do you want?”
And with that, I realized we were rapidly writing ourselves onto Santa’s naughty list. Because summoning an Elemental Lord for no reason? So not a good idea. I glanced at Morio, who looked as frightened as I was, and scrambled for something to say.
Chapter 3
“We didn’t realize we had summoned you.” Morio spoke up, saving me the trouble.
The Holly King’s eyes narrowed as he glanced around the yard. “Where is your snow? This puny covering? Nothing to speak of. You’re not having much of a winter.”
“This is what winter is here, thank you.” I didn’t want him getting any bright ideas and gifting us with a blizzard. “But we have more than enough inside our h
ouse. I don’t know how we summoned you, my lord, but it was unintentional and I beg your forgiveness.”
Always best to apologize when you disturbed someone more powerful than a god. And the Elemental Lords? So much more powerful. Only they, along with the Harvestmen and Hags of Fate, were the true Immortals. Even gods could die. But the Elemental Lords were beyond the scope of life and death. They simply were.
Morio coughed. “We were just cutting some holly for a spell . . .”
“That wasn’t what brought me here. I saw the beacon shining and followed the path.” He stroked his whiskers, staring at us. “You opened a door into my realm. I’d like to know why.”
“Your realm?” Oh hell—the portal! The Holly King must live in the Northlands! It made sense, and if the portal was, indeed, acting as a beacon, we were in deep trouble until we figured out a way to shut the door.
But before I could say another world, Smoky came racing across the yard. “You need to get the leaves and salt to Iris, pronto. We have a situation on our hands.” He skidded to a halt, staring at the Holly King.
“We kind of have a situation going on out here, too.” I turned back to the Holly King. “I’m sorry, but I have to run. We’re kind of in an emergency-sort-of-thing, because of the portal that accidentally opened. The door into your realm. I have to get back inside. Please, with no disrespect intended, as we said, summoning you was an accident. Don’t feel you have to stay on our account.”
But the Holly King wasn’t ready to be dismissed. He chuckled. “You have aroused my curiosity, Camille. I think . . . I think that I shall stay for a while to catch up on what’s going on in your world. Yes, now that I think of it, I could use a vacation and some time to play.” And with that, he vanished, but I had the feeling he hadn’t gone far.
“Fuck.” I stared at the spot where he’d been standing. “Okay, well, no time to speculate. Let’s get these leaves back to Iris. What’s going on?” Morio and I began jogging alongside Smoky back to the house.
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