“Yer definition o’ moron differs from mine, sweetling,” the kelpie said. “I blame linguistic drift.” He wagged a finger at her. “Kids these days.”
“We understand what you are,” Gabe said.
The kelpie nodded. “Ah, ye do, don’t ye? So I guess we cannae be friends, then, aye?”
“Gabe wishes to use several swear words to describe you right now,” Sophia said.
He did.
“Oh, my lad. See, ye an’ I, we could be great friends. I could teach ye all th’ Scottish swears yer little-man heart desires an’ I guarantee ye th’ parental types will find it so charmin’ no one grounds ye.” He winked.
“No exchanges with a dark fae,” Gabe said.
The kelpie sniffed. His eyes narrowed. “Th’ sad truth here is tha’ I’m nae match for th’ elves out there.”
“They know that,” Sophia said.
“That Benta one could literally pop my head like I’m some kind o’ fae zit but she’s concerned about what seein’ that will do to their monster slayer’s offspring.”
“Yes,” Sophia said.
“But mostly she’s worried about how th’ sword will react,” the kelpie whispered.
The sword was covered with runes that didn’t look right, and was too gray and dull to be truly one of the elves’ weapons, but the kelpie sure thought it was.
“Which is why it’s here wi’ us,” the kelpie finished.
Sophia dropped her gaze to the sword. She stared silently at it for a long moment, then she sat back without saying a word.
“Yer silence says more than anythin’ else, oracle,” the kelpie said.
“Not an oracle,” Sophia responded.
The kelpie sniffed again. “Th’ other Thor elf is carryin’ yer ma out the back door, my young friends.” He sniffed again. “That other elf, the female who glamours up all blonde an’ bohemian is carin’ fer yer wee siblings.” Another sniff. “Strong magicks, there.”
Of course they’re strong magicks, Gabe thought.
The kelpie slapped the dash. “All right, my wee friends!” He inhaled deeply. “It’s time.”
Gabe wouldn’t plead. Pleading would lead to a deal, and a deal would be worse than getting hurt, so he just waited for the kelpie to give him instructions.
The kelpie tapped his fingers along the pommel, then he did something that said he had magic in his hand: He flipped his fingers the way a magician flips a quarter between his knuckles.
Gabe had no idea what spellwork he pinched between his thumb and forefinger like a coin, but he had something there. Something that he brushed against the sword’s blade.
“Hmmm….” The kelpie pointed at the garage door without looking at Gabe. “Turn on th’ van, son,” he said.
Should he?
“He won’t let us open the garage door unless you turn on the van,” Sophia said.
His not-an-oracle sister wanted him to open the door.
Gabe pressed his foot into the brake and his finger into the starter.
Then he hit the garage door opener.
The kelpie slammed the sword into the floorboards so it stood up on its own. “Drive!” he barked.
The garage door rose enough so the pavement of the driveway came into view. A little bit of snow. Some ice. No people.
Gabe put his hand on the gear shift. He was pretty sure he had to press, push, and wiggle to get it to move. He looked back at the slowly revealing driveway.
Where was everyone? Why wasn’t his father right there, gun out, and yelling for the kelpie to get out of the van?
The door continued to rise. He looked back at the gear shift. If he purposefully messed up putting the van in drive, would the kelpie hurt them?
He looked back at the driveway. And there, at the end, parked in such a way as to make it impossible to get the van out or around and onto the street, sat two Alfheim County Sheriff’s Department vehicles.
One was the fake K-9 Unit meant for the Pack. The other was his father’s cruiser.
His papa was here. He’d made it back from wherever he was, out on the roads, all the way to Alfheim in the time Gabe and Sophia had been stalling the kelpie.
“Papa’s here,” he breathed, before he realized he should have kept that info to himself.
But his father had come to save them. Gabe looked back at his sister.
She clamped her hand onto his arm and stared wide-eyed at the cars outside. “Duck!” Sophia screamed.
Gabe looked back at the vehicles just as two werewolves leaped at the van.
Chapter 19
Ed Martinez would take his wife and children far, far from Alfheim and the Gulf Coast. He’d take them into Ontario, or the interior of Oregon, or deep into Mexico, if he had to.
All these damned magicals were way too dangerous.
The fae lawwoman pointed. “The elves have your wife and the younger children. They’re taking them through the backyard to the next street over.”
Lennart Thorsson and Sif the Golden were moving his pregnant wife and two youngest through the neighbor’s yard. They’d get them into Lennart’s SUV and immediately take them to Alfheim’s hospital where they would be checked over and placed under the direct protection of Alfheim’s Elf Queen, Dagrun Tyrsdottir.
And Wrenn saw it all because she saw magic.
He wasn’t going to think about her connections to Alfheim’s tall, maroon-eyed, magic-seeing local right now. The elves could deal with that.
Bjorn Thorsson seemed much more interested in the sword the damned kelpie had stolen off Wrenn than he was in Wrenn herself, even with the magic-seeing. So it was probably a good thing no one could find Frank Victorsson.
The big elf wasn’t glamouring well at the moment. Ed’s neighbors, many of whom were likely watching from their windows, would see the owner of Raven’s Gaze outside the Sheriff’s house, which was weird enough. The visible blue electrical static dancing on his shoulders might cause a panic.
The elves could deal with that, too.
Bjorn moved his hands as if whipping up a spell.
Wrenn watched Bjorn’s hands, then peered at Ed’s garage door. “I’m not seeing any spikes in Ranger’s magicks,” she said.
Bjorn nodded. “Do not engage any of your fae spells.” He didn’t look at her. “Do not interfere with my or any of the others’ enchantments. We cannot have you accidently waking up the sword again.” Magnus Freyrsson and Benta the Nameless were nearby but hidden. Ed didn’t know where. Neither did Wrenn, and Bjorn wasn’t going to say.
Wrenn nodded.
“Follow the Sheriff’s lead. Stay with him and to the side of the driveway until we have a clear path to the children,” Bjorn continued.
The magicals would contain the kelpie and the sword while Ed went in for the kids. The concealment enchantments woven from the vehicles to the house should keep Ed and Wrenn invisible until they reached the van.
Wrenn nodded again.
“And stay away from Redemption. We will deal with her.”
Ed had guessed the sword’s full name the moment Wrenn told him it had called itself Red. It fit the pattern. “That sword talked to her, Bjorn,” he said.
Bjorn did not flinch, or respond in any way, which meant that somewhere in that elven head he was thinking what they were all thinking: Wrenn was a piece on a game board here, and someone better figure out the rules.
He’d leave that to the elves, too.
Wrenn raised her hands. “Red’s your problem, not mine.”
They were reacting as if Ranger held the nuclear football. Which he might. The sword was why Magnus Freyrsson and Benta the Nameless were out there, somewhere, waiting.
A little voice in the back of Ed’s head said that they weren’t the only elves surrounding his house. All of the elder elves were probably here, including Arne Odinsson and his daughter, Maura Dagsdottir.
He really did have to get his family out of here.
Bjorn moved his hands again. His spells weren’t for
Ranger. They were meant to conceal the two magicals sitting directly in front of the garage door.
Gerard and Remy Geroux, both in their dire wolf form, sat in Ed’s driveway about ten feet from the door. Neither wore vests, but if there were questions, the fake K-9 unit behind which Ed stood would provide cover.
Even if the kelpie smelled the wolves coming, the spells meant he wouldn’t see them.
“We will increase protections on your family,” Bjorn rumbled. “The whole city.” He sniffed as he flipped his hands. “The state.” His lip twitched and the blue dancing along his shoulders brightened. “This will never happen to your children again, Eduardo Martinez. On this, I swear.”
Wrenn’s lips rounded for a split second as if this was the first time in her life she’d seen a magical vow to protect mundanes.
It wasn’t Ed’s. Usually they did a good enough job.
Usually.
Ed looked up at the huge elf. Bjorn’s jaw worked. He was barely containing his rage.
“If that kelpie harms any of our mundanes, I will lay waste to Oberon’s realm,” Bjorn rumbled. He didn’t look at Wrenn.
She blinked again. “Noted,” she said.
This was not a normal elven display. Not even close. And frankly, even though Bjorn was here to protect Ed’s family, his reaction was epic-battle-ready level behavior. The elf looked moments from manifesting his elven armor.
Wrenn continued to watch Bjorn with wide eyes as if she figured he’d burst open at any moment. Which he might.
“The van’s engine just engaged,” Bjorn raised his hands. “Go!”
The werewolves literally vanished behind concealment enchantments. Bjorn, too.
Wrenn blinked. “I can’t see their magicks.”
Ed slapped the SUV and motioned for her to move with him, slow and steady, along the side of the driveway toward the door. “The enchantments are working.”
She stepped in front of him. “I can take any blasts from Ranger. Stay behind me.”
Except she couldn’t. He’d overpowered her in the park. But she seemed to believe that to be a fluke.
Ed nodded anyway and stayed slightly behind her, but not so much so he couldn’t fire his shotgun if he needed to.
They were halfway up the driveway when the garage door lifted enough to give the werewolves a clear line of vision.
“Duck!” Sophia screamed from inside.
Gerard Geroux manifested as he leaped onto the hood of their family van.
He’d changed behind the concealments.
In their human forms, Gerard and Remy were two of Alfheim’s most upstanding citizens. Both were Scout troop leaders. Gerard would plow out your driveway if he happened to be in the area. They donated a lot of time and money to just about every good cause in the county.
What hit the van scared the crap out of Ed.
Ten years in Alfheim and Ed had only seen a werewolf in wolfman form twice, and neither of them had been one of the alphas.
They hadn’t told him they were going do this. They’d only said the Alphas would go in first and distract Ranger.
Gerard still had the tail and the wolf head, and the bulk of his brown-black fur, but he was definitely human. A human with big wolf teeth, and huge wolf claws.
Ed’s son sat in the driver’s seat, eyes wide and white with terror. Sophia, in the back, gaped at the werewolf. That slimeball Ranger had the damned sword between his legs and it stood straight up like he’d jabbed the tip into the floor of the van.
Ed and Wrenn were five feet from the open garage door when Gerard locked his claws into the windshield.
Sophia didn’t open the side door to escape. She leaned forward and clasped her brother’s bicep, putting herself directly in the werewolf’s path.
Something was wrong.
The glass shrieked and buckled, lifting up away from the van under Gerard’s claws like it was paper, and pulled away from its seal to the automobile.
The windshield popped out and folded over in Gerard’s hand like a twinkling glass cape.
The kids ducked and screamed. Ranger looked directly at Wrenn. He grinned.
She looked down at her wrist.
Gerard tossed the glass into the driveway.
“Stop!” Wrenn yelled. “He took my Heartway token!”
Ranger slapped one of his hands over Sophia’s hand on Gabe’s bicep.
“Red! Don’t!” Wrenn leaped toward the van and grabbed the driver’s side door handle.
But Remy was there, leaping from God knows where, also in wolfman form, diving to bite Ranger’s arm right off and to get between the kelpie and Ed’s kids.
Ranger slapped his other hand, the one with his little coin of magic, onto the hilt of the sword.
The damned sword went nuclear.
And Ed’s garage vanished.
Chapter 20
The sword screamed. Searing pain blasted from her, hot like the sun, bound and burning and bidden from Muspelheim. Ranger had somehow woken her up.
Except she wasn’t awake. He’d pulled her nightmares to the surface and they were all about to pay the price of whatever spells the fae had used to bind a powerful elven weapon.
Each Heartway token was an access key. It allowed passage into what was essentially a system of spellwork tunnels built within the many veils between the many realms. And the veil between the fae realms and the real world.
Wrenn didn’t have the power needed to open gates. Neither did Ranger. But Ranger was fae, and Ranger was magical.
Wrenn looked down at her wrist. Ranger was also a thief.
And, it seemed, he was better at being all those things than anyone thought possible.
Wrenn looked back at the van as the wolfman tossed the glass into the driveway. The second one leaped. They were almost between Ranger and the kids. But it didn’t matter.
“Stop!” Wrenn yelled. “He took my Heartway token!” Not that the elves or the other members of their community would understand what she meant.
Ranger, in the passenger seat of Sheriff Martinez’s van, clamped a hand down on top of the girl’s hand on her brother’s arm.
We bind thee, Fenrir! the sword shrieked. We bind thee near!
Red wasn’t in this moment. She was dreaming and blasting off wave after wave of magical power.
Power a better-than-average kelpie could channel into an access spell.
“Red!” Maybe Wrenn could wake her up. “Don’t!” She leaped toward the van and grabbed the driver’s side door handle.
Ranger slapped Wrenn’s Heartway token onto Redemption’s hilt.
We bind thee—
Ranger closed his eyes and pushed his head into the headrest. The boy looked up at Wrenn, his big brown eyes wide and determined. And the girl…
The girl knew what was happening. She inhaled deeply at the same time she slapped her free hand over Ranger’s mouth and nose.
“We’ll find—” Wrenn started to say. She’d gotten her hand around the door handle. The wolfmen were inches from getting between Ranger and the kids but that girl knew.
And she did what she needed to do to protect her brother.
What had to be Redemption’s nightmare burst outward from her hilt like an infinitely fast bubble. Ranger vanished into it first. The kids second. Then it came for the wolfmen.
The one on the hood twisted just as Ranger slapped the token onto Red’s hilt. His shoulder came around and he scooped his arm around his brother’s chest but they were closer than Wrenn. And they were magicals in the way of a magic explosion.
The bubble hit Wrenn.
She still had her hand on the van’s door handle. The kids still sat in the seats. Red still stood stuck into the floor between Ranger’s feet. But the world around them changed.
She’d been in Heartway stations many times. They tended to manifest like mass transit rail stations—gates and platforms and waiting benches. Whistling trains for effect and big ticking clocks to remind everyone to move along. Crumpled news
papers on the ground. The scent of oranges or flowers or snow in the air.
But she’d never stood on the rails.
There was no station here. No gateway. Just the lines.
And this place of elves had lines.
“Ley lines” was what the fae called them. The elves didn’t seem to care or utilize the power lines of the Earth, so she doubted they understood what King Oberon was doing underneath the veils. Or maybe they did.
Because here, inside this particular veil, something here in Alfheim out on the edge of town glowed like the busiest station in all the worlds.
She looked back at Ranger, the kids, the sword, and the van door she still gripped.
Ranger opened his eyes. His chin pointed toward the wolfmen.
Except he wasn’t pointing at the wolfmen. He was pointing at the Heartway car, or train, or bubble of spellwork, or enchantment—the name or metaphor didn’t matter—that was about to hit the bubble of power emanating from Redemption.
And then they were gone. All of it—Ranger, the kids, the sword, the damned van and the floor of the garage and the side of the house. All gone, taken by the Heartway to…
Wrenn gasped. Her head spun and her ears rang and she dropped into the new pit that used to be the lawman’s garage. She fell and stumbled, and did her best to stay out of the way of the two also-falling werewolves.
The magic had burned both of them, singed off their fur on the side closest to Redemption. No singes on her, no burns or cuts, either. Just the ringing ears. The wolf who had been in the air when Ranger slapped the token onto the sword—the one named Remy, if she remembered correctly—howled in pain.
The hot tang of werewolf blood hit her nose. Remy’s arm was broken and he bled from a gash across his chest.
The other one snapped at her as she stumbled down the slick side of the pit.
“The wolves are hurt! We need elves down here now!” She held up her hands. “I’ll get you help.”
The big one, Gerard was his name, howled.
Death Kissed Page 12