Legend

by Shayne Silvers

  Gunnar hadn’t changed into his Wild Side—something that often happened to those who came to Fae who did not naturally belong. Fae brought out your inner…primitive side, was perhaps an accurate way to describe it. Or it brought out an inner part of you that typically lay just beneath the surface. An amplification of your powers given form. If things got hairy, Gunnar would get hairy, so I wasn’t concerned.

  Talon, of course, was always in his Wild Side, the bipedal feline warrior with long whiskers and shaggy fur, even sporting a beard of sorts. He wore velvet slippers that made no sound as he moved. His spear wasn’t currently in his hand, but he could call it at will when necessary.

  Alice had her hands on her hips, glaring up at Gunnar.

  “Stop being shy, Princess Padfoot. You can’t hide from me. I see you already.”

  Gunnar arched a brow incredulously before turning to Alvara with a questioning look. Alvara was studying her daughter thoughtfully, looking surprised.

  “You see him, Alice?”

  “Yes, and I want to ride the big bad wolf’s shoulders,” she huffed. “His fur looks fluffy, and I’ll be able to see farther from up high.”

  “I…don’t frighten you?” Gunnar asked in a very soft tone.

  She shook her head. “You’re beautiful,” she said, grinning.

  Gunnar looked totally out of place, and I realized what was going on. He’d purposely held himself back for fear of frightening the child. I wondered if this was some manifestation of his concern about being a father—that he believed he was a terrifying monster and didn’t know if a child could love him or if they would run away screaming.

  Talon smirked, shoving Gunnar lightly. “I would do as the Lady demands. And if she can already see you, there’s no use holding it down.”

  Gunnar let out a shuddering breath, and I realized his shoulders had been rigid with tension as he struggled to hold himself in control. Between one moment and the next, he shook, and a seven-foot tall mountain of muscle and thick, wiry, matted white fur exploded before us, practically trebling his size. Bones were woven into his hair in places like a light armor, and his long fangs extended out from his closed jaws. His claws extended longer than usual and were made of the same stone as his eye-patch—which featured a wolf-head engraved in the center—and a tarnished bronze crown adorned his head, held in place by his braided fur.

  Alice beamed. “There. That’s better, isn’t it? You look much calmer. Now, kneel.”

  Gunnar did so, staring at the child in disbelief to see her so unaffected by his appearance—as if it simply made no sense to him.

  This trip was going to be very interesting indeed. Maybe it would even have a healing effect, of sorts, judging by how Gunnar was looking upon Alice right now—like he had just met blonde, lady Jesus.

  Gunnar held out a massive paw, his long claws large and sharp enough to slice the small child in half. Alice stepped up into his palm, giggling as he lifted her atop his shoulders. She scrambled around his neck like a spider monkey and clapped delightedly. Gunnar stared straight at me, looking like he’d been bumped on the head and was terrified to step wrong for fear of hurting her—like he was walking on eggshells.

  Alice let out a long sigh, and then wrapped both of her tiny arms around Gunnar’s massive neck and squeezed him into a tight hug, closing her eyes as she nuzzled her face into his thick fur. “You will be the best dad ever,” she whispered with a cracked voice—the first sign of a lack of composure I had seen from her.

  And I abruptly remembered that Alice had lost her father. Stab. Twist.

  Gunnar let out a low, hesitant growl, blinking rapidly Then, as slow as a shifting glacier, he lifted one paw to reach up and compassionately rub her tiny, toothpick legs. She squeezed him tighter into a hug and I watched as that tiny force of nature squeezed a fat tear out of Wulfric’s single eye. He caught me looking and didn’t bother hiding the slow smile that creeped over his muzzle, revealing his array of fangs.

  Even though the smile looked terrifying, I gave him a thumbs up and a grin.

  Alvara had turned her back on the pair, and I saw that her shoulders were shaking. The dad comment had hit her hard as well.

  I took a deep breath of my own, wondering what Alice had seen when she looked at me—if she had some kind of gift for seeing the monster beneath the man. She hadn’t said anything, and I hadn’t yet felt Wylde poke his head out. But…I did feel something beneath the surface. The stirrings of someone on the verge of waking. Like smelling bacon when you’re asleep in bed. You’re still dreaming, but something is tugging at you to open up them peepers.

  Forcing, Odin had said. I needed to Force my Fae magic to the surface. But I had to wait for the lazy bastard to get out of bed, first, I guessed.

  “Let’s get moving,” I said. “Talon, why don’t you and Alvara scout ahead of us in stealth. I’m not in the mood for surprises, and there’s always the chance this area is now being watched by Oberon or some other suicidal idiot with a crown. And Alvara would probably get a laugh out of hearing about my new friend from last night,” I added meaningfully. Because she needed to be informed of the danger now, before any of the Reading Rainbow thugs—the Aesir—showed up.

  Talon and Alvara slipped away in silence, moving through the waist-high glass stalks without a sound. Impressive. Maybe it was a Fae thing. It definitely hadn’t rubbed off on me, unfortunately. Despite being raised here.

  Gunnar and I sounded like we were swinging hammers in a china shop as we began walking through the glass grass. It was also why I wanted Gunnar to lead—to make a freaking path for me. I studied the scene as we moved, marveling at the colors of the trees, the smells in the air, the whisper of magic on the horizon. I couldn’t quite grasp ahold of it as I had before, but I could sense it floating all around me like colored fog. I think.

  Unfortunately, like tantalizing tendrils of brewing coffee in the air, I couldn’t grasp them. I briefly imagined Pepé Le Pew chasing his lover’s perfume through the air and sighed. Not yet.

  I’d once woven moonbeams and starlight, brought vegetation to life, caught and manipulated shadows, and other sorts of bizarre things.

  And that—right there, I realized—was the problem. I subconsciously thought of those things as bizarre and impossible, which wasn’t helping with my block.

  I needed to remove all preconceptions and become open-minded. Leave the baggage at the door, so to speak.

  I took a deep breath and, as well as I could, I did just that.

  It was strange because as a wizard, I was used to doing all sorts of things people thought impossible. And here I was, having to start all over again. Having to abandon what I thought I knew and believe in the unseen. The word can’t didn’t exist. I needed to experiment, feel, learn, without any preconceived notions.

  I tried focusing on my senses like Odin had suggested, hoping that it would give me an opportunity to grip the magic and hold on for dear life. The scents were dizzying, and entirely different from the human realm. Here, a fruit could smell like sizzling meat, and a rock might smell like a fresh pastry. The grass beneath my boots was obviously not typical of Earth, being made of glass, and let off a pleasant chiming sound when crunched underfoot. And, as I focused on my senses, I realized I couldn’t sense any life nearby—not even mundane creatures going about their day to munch on some seeds or leaves. No birds flying by, no pixies zipping to and fro.

  It didn’t feel dead or abandoned, it was just uncommonly uninhabited—or they were all hiding from our party, which wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

  As a wizard in the human realm, holding your magic in on a constant basis—which wasn’t advisable—would let your senses explode with feedback. The smells, tastes, colors, tactile sensation was significantly heightened, akin to taking ecstasy. Allegedly.

  But compared to Fae?

  It was a weak gateway drug.

  My parents had quite often made me hold my magic to the maximum, not letting me do anything with it,
but simply telling me to hold it as long as possible.

  They had…Forced me.

  I hadn’t really thought about it until Odin brought it up, because I had only been a child just coming into my powers, so it had been a fun game. And I hadn’t known how to really do anything with my magic, so it hadn’t seemed dangerous. But…maybe they had been conditioning me. Testing me.

  Preparing me.

  For this. When Forcing my Fae magic could literally be the difference between life and death. My only chance at repairing the Bifröst before the Aesir rained death down upon Midgard.

  As we made our way onward, I pondered the loss of my Darling and Dear satchel, hoping Alex wouldn’t lose it and that he would finish his rainbow hunt soon, so I could get it back. I’d been so wrapped up in the Odin thing I hadn’t considered the items I had stowed away inside the satchel when I handed it over to him. And remembering that Odin had said I may need them to help with either my recovery or the Bifröst…

  What if I needed them suddenly and he still hadn’t returned, lost on these mysterious Night Currents forever? Achilles hadn’t seemed like he would ever volunteer to ride them, and he was a brave son-of-a-bitch. What if not having the Keys got one of us killed?

  I also didn’t know what to make of running into the entirely strange Darling and Dear in the bar. Anubis had looked shell-shocked, assuming they were locked down in Kansas City—whatever that meant—and hadn’t been pleased to see them coincidentally hanging out in the same city, in the same bar, and on the same night as us. The only significant thing they had said was that if I wanted a White Rose, I needed to go find it—but their riddle was lost on me. Even now. They sure liked to try new things, though…

  I sighed, readjusting the War Hammer on my hip. It was no longer pulsing with light, but I could feel a pleasant thrumming sound when I gripped the haft. Almost a purr. Because it was fat and happy with all that ichor. Thinking on my parents’ Keys, I wondered just how much power my parents thought I would one day need. Because giving me three magical containers seemed like overkill.

  Unless my future opponent was unlike anything I had ever imagined. If Odin hadn’t been lying about that as well.

  I thought about how an already difficult—nigh impossible—task of retrieving my memory, or legend as Alvara had called it, had spiraled even further down the sewage system of my life. Now I had to repair the Bifröst.

  Hopefully, Alvara’s friend could shed some light on that.

  But first, I wanted to meet the Knight of the Round Table who Pan had tucked away inside my cave, nursing him back to health. I hoped he would have some answers regarding what to do about Mordred or finding a piece of Excalibur. Or both. Even though Pandora had made it sound like the pieces were all on the way to the Armory, I hadn’t liked the way that sounded. I wasn’t trusting of delivery guys, in general.

  Tuck a hat on your head with a logo, and they were supposed to be instantly trustworthy.

  But what about the man or woman beneath the hat? What if they were cruel or wanted to steal the pieces of Excalibur for themselves. Hats didn’t change a person. I flinched at a new thought. Could…a Mask change a person?

  I shuddered, suddenly realizing my Masks were inside my Darling and Dear satchel that was currently joyriding across these Night Currents. My mother-freaking Horsemen Masks that I was supposed to give out. I had been so engrossed in everything else that I’d forgotten about them. What if something happened to them and the Masks were lost forever? Would that mean the Biblical Horsemen would die? Or would the Masks find their own way out of my satchel, find their own Riders—ones less squeamish about the silly concept of right and wrong.

  I already had a list of potentials I wanted to speak with about becoming a fellow Horseman, but…I was hesitant. Was I asking them to accept a curse? Would it make things awkward where they would feel obligated to say yes but actually resent me? I needed those who wanted to become Horsemen—whatever being part of my new merry band of Horsemen really meant.

  Were we opposed to the Biblical Riders?

  As I considered that, a funny thought hit me. Maybe that answer was mine to give since I was leading them. I had named them, after all. It would make sense that I decided our purpose.

  Still, I hoped Matthias learned something useful from them in Bali, because we quite literally had nowhere else to look as far as I knew.

  It was a surprise to realize we were now climbing the hill towards my old cave—the place of my birth—but Alice’s sudden giggle snapped me out of my thoughts as she leapt off Gunnar’s shoulders to roll through the purple fields leading up to the cave. Talon and Alvara were waiting up ahead a safe distance from the entrance, waving at us. I was surprised to see Mallory, not the goat-legged Wild God. He had donned his human form in favor of looking like Pan, which must mean he recognized us. Indeed, he was staring out at us, smiling and waving.

  I took a deep breath, wondering how this was going to play out. It could go fine, or get very, very ugly.

  Chapter 22

  Gunnar stepped up beside me, and I pretended not to notice the golden ribbons woven into the back of his head. Maybe he was unaware, which would make me appreciate Alice even more. “Things got nasty last night. I knocked you out, end of story. Drop it,” I told him, not wanting to deal with his pity party. I was dancing in one of my own.

  He was silent for a time. “It’s not that,” he finally said. “Hanging out with Alice on the walk here…well, I think I really needed it. She kept messing with my fur and peppering me with questions. She’s a never-ending stream of commentary, pointing out trees she thought were pretty, a shiny rock, she stubbed her toe on this morning—”

  He caught my frown and laughed. “Exactly. Everything is a wondrous event to her because it’s all new. And she wanted to share every single second of it with someone. She has no filter and…it was refreshing. I don’t think I thought about Mordred or anything stressful even once on the way over here.” How great for him. “Only after she hopped off my back, I saw a storm cloud,” he said, shooting me a significant look. I grunted. He sighed with a shrug. “It’s like the world got heavier after she climbed off my shoulders, which makes no sense, physically speaking. I just wanted to let you know that I feel better already, and we only just got here. I want to go home and tell Ashley all about that piggyback ride…” he trailed off, grinning like an idiot. “You should try it.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “If you don’t want to give her another piggyback ride, just admit it. You don’t need to oversell it to the next sucker.” Then I smiled to let him know I was teasing.

  He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re hopeless,” he muttered, smiling over at Alice thoughtfully.

  For the record, you would only know a werewolf was smiling if you spent a considerable amount of time around werewolves. To newbies, it probably looked like a death sentence.

  “I’m glad she helped calm you down. Maybe being a dad won’t be so bad. Your kids will love you, man. You’re like a superhero. You even have those Underdog undies, remember?”

  He smiled crookedly. Then he let out a long breath. “I know. I’m just used to being in control, and kids are the opposite of control and order. They’re chaos. I want to make sure I bring them up safely. It’s pretty much a dad’s biggest job. Give them what they need to succeed.”

  I nodded, biting my tongue. Yeah. That.

  “So…Bifröst,” Gunnar muttered, shaking his head. “That…could have gone better.”

  I grunted my agreement. “The strangest part is that Odin—Dean—sent Grimm to protect us from Thor. Dean knows how Grimm feels about rainbows. Which means Dean either forgot, or he set it all up. I don’t know which is scarier,” I admitted.

  “And Dean lied to you for decades already.”

  My eyes drifted to Mallory up ahead. My parents had roped him into their schemes as well, forcing him to lie to me—to omit his true identity as Pan, and that he had been here with me in Fae most of my life. “And
Dean worked closely with Mallory for most of that time,” I mused.

  Gunnar missed a step, his lone eye suddenly latching onto Mallory. “Damn. I hadn’t even considered that. But he already came clean about everything, right?”

  “We’re about to find out. If things get messy, get Alvara and Alice to safety,” I said, walking towards the cave. It was entirely possible Mallory hadn’t known—as Thor hadn’t known about it—which meant Odin had lied to everyone. Whichever way the cookie crumbled, I needed to remember that these two had only lied at my parents’ request. They were the puppet masters.

  “What would make all this secrecy necessary?” Gunnar asked, jogging to catch up with me. “If they’re all in cahoots, why keep you out of the cahoots—when you are the cahoots?”

  “You should go back to your piggyback rides, Gunnar. This storm cloud is rumbling.”

  And I walked up to find that Mallory had started a fire—not because it was cold, but more for the symbolism of safety that a fire brought about. Fires made a place feel like home. Sitting around a fire and talking was therapeutic. I smiled, reaching into my satchel to pull out the bag of marshmallows Ashley had caught me stealing, and waved them at Alvara—who was busy listening to Alice blabber on about her walk and all the things she had seen. Just like Gunnar.

  Alvara smiled at my marshmallows and pointed for Alice to see. I had never seen Alice move so fast. The bag was immediately torn from my grasp as she squealed delightedly, running off in search of a stick. Alvara let out an amused sigh and went off to help.

  Talon was staring out at the Land of Fae as if surveying his kingdom, and I wondered if he remembered doing that as a child, because his memory had started coming back sooner than mine.

  Mallory waved at me before walking over. Gunnar turned away to scan the surroundings, verifying no surprises lurked in the near distance.

  Mallory was a big, beefy man, and wore khakis, a wrinkled dress shirt and no shoes. He looked like an old sailor turned model, his iron gray hair pulled back and his beard a little scraggly around the edges from Fae’s lack of grooming products.