by Dani Harper
“I know it,” he said, and glanced over just in time to catch Caris’s expression. She didn’t look scared or worried in the least. Instead, she looked downright fierce. What the hell was that about? “We’ll give it our best, both of us,” he said, and put an arm around her shoulders. “Right, Caris?”
“They’ll grow up just fine, the both of ’em,” she said, and it wasn’t like a wish or a hope or some kind of positive thinking. Instead, it sounded to him like a statement of fact. “When I was young, the Gypsies would camp each summer on the mountainside above our farm. They told me that twin horses are a good omen, a male and a female, just like these.” She cradled the little female close to her. “These foals are here to tell us that things will turn out right.”
His gut told him he was missing something here. What things? “Of course things will be all right. Steptoe Acres will recover from the storm, and we’ll be back in business in no time.”
The veterinarians looked at each other. “It’s as good a time as any,” said Morgan. Jay shrugged, and they both sat down in the straw across from Caris and Liam.
Okay, this is just plain weird, Liam thought. “If there’s going to be a campfire sing-along, I want out now,” he said.
“We have something we need to tell you,” said Jay. “And it’s going to be difficult to hear. That thing that wrecked your farm wasn’t a natural storm.”
TWENTY
More gifts from the Nine Realms. How kind of them to furnish our new home,” said Maelgwn, and wheeled his horse with his spurs for a better look. All of the horses were restless and fitful, chewing their silver bits, anxious to be galloping over the hills below. Instead, the prince and his followers had spent the early morning hours atop this odd little mountain, watching the Great Way gleaming like a dark, wet mouth in the blue sky. From its depths floated enormous shining spheres as delicate in appearance as soap bubbles.
The appearance was deceiving of course. Each transparent orb was as formidable as faery-forged silver. It was only that strength that allowed them to pass safely through the glittering passage at all. The living magic they were infused with attracted the ever-hungry Anghenfilod and other unsavory residents of the Way.
Many anghenfilod sat clustered together on the hillside, only a stone’s throw away from the Way’s entrance. They had been nervous at first to be outside of their strange realm. Now the shadow figures fairly vibrated with excitement. Like hounds awaiting scraps from the master’s table, Maelgwn thought. Unlike dogs, however, every anghenfil towered over the prince and his followers—and absorbed all the light that touched them. Theirs was a darkness that lived. The prince’s own followers kept a wary distance, and every black grim hung back from the scene, clearly uncomfortable with the presence of the Inbetween creatures. Or perhaps they were simply frightened by the fact that Maelgwn had just thrown one of the fae dogs to the biggest anghenfil, the one that had dared to venture farther from the Great Way than any anghenfil before it at the prince’s command. That the monster was unsuccessful in finding what Maelgwn was searching for was unimportant, at least for the moment. It was like training a hawk to seek—they had to be rewarded when they returned to the glove.
Meanwhile, the creature’s efforts hadn’t been entirely fruitless. If anything, it had given the prince a ray of hope. The fact that a hungry anghenfil was unable to home in on the missing grim’s magical collar meant that perhaps she still lived. And if she did, he could still employ the power of her music to aid him in his plans. Maelgwn signaled one of his riders to approach. He would send the other grims out hunting . . .
The order given, Maelgwn ceased to concern himself with anything but the contents of the spheres emerging from the Way. Within each orb was suspended a samplau, a living portion of one of the kingdom’s countless amgylcheddau, the unique environments and habitats of its fae flora and fauna. Unimpeded, each sheer container was designed to pass through the solid quartzite hilltop as easily as a fish glides through water. There, it would descend from the human plane to the fae realm, following the core of the ancient rock to Tir Hardd—and assume its assigned spot. The magic-infused sphere would dissolve, nourishing the samplau so it would expand and grow with great speed. Thus the new territory would be seeded.
My territory.
The fae portion of it, that is. Maelgwn had already decided to claim the human realm above it as well, something that no fae ruler had ever attempted. Endless rolling hills and deep-gorged rivers stretched out for hundreds of human miles before his keen sight—and he was going to own them all. One of the first things he would do is rename this odd pinnacle of rock where he now stood. Blissfully unaware of the magical energies centered here, the mortals had named the mount after an unsuccessful general—Steptoe Butte. It was not much more than a hill really, at least not here in the mortal realm, but it was an upthrust of purest quartzite from the very heart of Tir Hardd. It was the selfsame rock that formed the foundation of the great mountain Mynedfa in the Nine Realms, which towered high into the human plane to become a lowly hill on a Welsh island. Interesting that the Great Way links one mount to the other.
But it wouldn’t link them for long.
Maelgwn kept an eye on the mouth of the Way as it hovered above them. He also watched the broad scrying pool he’d called into existence in the center of the hilltop. With his breastplate of bwgan stones, he had not only the power to view the Inbetween but also the ability to see beyond it to the other side. He knew who was working to send the orbs—and exactly where they were.
Just then, a new orb bobbed out of the Way. As with the others, its contents could be seen plainly. This one held a samplau of the forested marsh in which Bwganod typically lived.
“I no longer care to hunt Bwganod,” declared Maelgwn. Although he affected a bored and careless tone, his blue blood was pulsing hard with near-sexual excitement as a bright ball of energy formed in his palm. “In fact, I don’t believe we need any swamps at all in Tir Hardd, do you?”
His followers agreed with him wholeheartedly. He lobbed his spell skyward, and the glittering sphere blew apart in a loud, fiery shower of silver sparks and debris. The riders cheered and clapped in a rare display as their horses stamped and snorted. The noise, coupled with the snarling anticipation of the anghenfilod, hid Maelgwn’s startled gasp as his cock convulsed. It had happened with every sphere he’d destroyed this day—and there had been many. Still, thanks to his breastplate of bwgan stones, there seemed no end to either his magic or his prowess. In fact, he eyed Rhedyn. The highborn daughter of a dryad, she dressed in green perpetually as a sign of her status, but he would surely bend her naked over her horse’s back before the day was out.
First things first.
He motioned to the Inbetween creatures, and they erupted into action, pouncing on the remains of the samplau from the faery realm and the magic-infused shards of its container, devouring all until nothing remained. It was a simple arrangement, really, and it surprised him that the mighty Lord Lurien hadn’t thought of it rather than having to bludgeon his way through the Way’s residents each and every time he traveled it.
The Anghenfilod would obey whoever fed them.
And right now, he had a task for them. It was true that they had no magic of their own, but only in the sense that they did not work spells. Instead, they devoured magic and utilized the raw energy—and they could link together to increase that energy.
Maelgwn wanted to find out if they could direct it . . .
Liam was baffled by Jay’s words: not a natural storm . . . “Look, I was here. I saw it. I was in it, for chrissakes. It was a first-class thunderstorm.” He pointed straight up at the blue sky where a roof had once been. “And you can see by the damage all around us that Mother Nature threw in a frickin’ tornado just for laughs.”
“Yes and no,” said Morgan, as gently and carefully as if she were delivering bad news to a pet owner. “Yes, you had a monstro
us storm here, Liam. And no, nature didn’t have a thing to do with it.”
What the hell? His mind was racing like a hamster in a wheel, trying to think of something else—anything else—that could have caused what had happened. All he could come up with were the shaky plots for a dozen or so late-night movies: Military experiment gone wrong. Alien invasion. Nanobots. Battle between superheroes. Arrival of travelers from the future. “Okay, I got nothing,” he said at last. “Somebody better start telling me what’s going on.”
“The best way to do that is to start small,” said Jay. “We see in three dimensions, right? But Einstein suggested that time was actually a fourth dimension.”
Liam shrugged—and the jolt in his head made him wish he hadn’t. Caris gripped his hand tightly as pain sharpened his voice. “So what?” he asked.
“Well, I’m just trying to establish a base here. We have theories now that indicate there are a lot more than the dimensions we’re familiar with. Follow?”
“Yeah, I read something about that. String theory, or some damn thing. Still not seeing where this is going.”
“Those extra dimensions aren’t far away, they’re not on some distant planet, they’re right here—we just can’t perceive them.”
“Sure, why not.” Liam barely stopped himself in time from shrugging again. “Now explain what that has to do with the damn storm.”
Jay glanced at the others and took a deep breath. “Here it is then: Humans live in this dimension, the one we can see. Other beings live in the dimensions we can’t.”
“And they visit our little slice of space and time whenever they please,” added Morgan.
Liam was stunned into silence for several moments. Then his temper kicked in. “Jesus H. Christ, if you’re trying to say that frickin’ aliens wrecked my farm, it’s a piss-poor joke.”
“No, not aliens. Not aliens,” said Morgan quickly, her hands making calming gestures.
“Well, what the hell else is it then?”
“The fae are here,” said Caris.
Liam nearly saw stars as his head whipped around to stare at her. He yanked his hand away from her so he could use both to cradle his head, half wondering if his brain had just popped like a cheap balloon. But he was far too angry to give in to his body’s desire to pass out just yet. He was damn well going to see this conversation through to the end, once and for all. “Faeries again? You’re still on that damn faery kick? I was hoping I just didn’t remember that right.”
Caris didn’t flinch in the slightest. “Some call them faeries, but they have many names because there are many kinds,” she continued, her face as solemn as a funeral. “The fae can be found in the old stories of many countries, and they’re there for a reason, Liam Cole. Maent yn bodoli. They exist.”
How could this be the same woman he’d fallen for? And what about the two veterinarians? When did they change from his caring and sensible friends into card-carrying members of the fringe?
“You really, truly want me to believe that Tinkerbell tore the goddamn roof off my barn?”
“Not Tinkerbell,” said Morgan. “The Tylwyth Teg. They’re the ruling class among the fae, and they aren’t little and cute, and they sure as hell aren’t friendly. We’re talking about extremely powerful beings here, creatures that don’t particularly care about right and wrong.”
“Right. And I suppose they use magic too?” Liam took his hands from his head in order to sign quotation marks around magic.
Morgan was incensed. “How do you think we got your house back together in such a short time if there’s no such thing as magic?”
“I . . . Well, I admit it was pretty damn impressive, but it wasn’t magic,” he persisted, though his gut was telling him his friend had a hell of a point. “You called someone. You said you had connections.”
“Okay, bud, you’re welcome to phone around. Go ahead and check with every company you can find in a hundred-mile radius,” she dared him. “See for yourself if anyone was here. I have connections, all right, but not to any human company that can houseclean like that, or believe me, I’d be paying them to tidy up my own place regularly.”
Liam looked to Jay for support but didn’t find it. “Magic, dude,” he said and shrugged. “Could be technology we don’t understand yet, but it’s magic to us. Starr and I have both seen it in action.”
Holy-o-shit, he thought. They’re not backing down on this. What the hell was going on? Vaguely he wondered whether it was a strange and elaborate joke—and a hugely unfunny one at that. Why would these guys mess with my head when I’ve just had a concussion? These are my friends! “Look, this is just too far-fetched for me,” said Liam. “I don’t know what happened to you all, but this magic crap is stupid.”
“Magic transformed me into a grim, just as I told you when you found me.” Caris’s voice had a curious dignity to it, like a victim reciting the unsavory facts of the crime against them to an unsympathetic cop. “’Twas Maelgwn, a fae prince, who did it. He used magic to change me, and magic to steal me away with him. I was forced to leave my father and our farm behind, and everything I ever knew and loved, never to see them again, all thanks to that magic you so easily mock.”
Her words stung him, as if he was an insensitive creep, and not someone being asked to accept the impossible. I wish I could believe you. I really do. That’s what Liam wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come out. The most he could do was put his hand over hers, and he was supremely relieved when she laced her fingers through his. She wasn’t kidding when she said it wasn’t going to be easy for us. He had no idea how they’d survive something like this. It wasn’t like they had different religions—it was more like they had different realities.
“My husband, Rhys, and my friend Aidan became death dogs as well,” added Morgan. “They were lucky to escape the spell that bound them. And luckier still that they weren’t killed outright by the Fair Ones.”
Not just faeries, but homicidal faeries? This was just getting better and better. “Oh now, come on. Since when do they kill people? I don’t remember reading any books like that when I was a kid.” He’d actually read superhero comics more than anything else, but that was beside the point.
“You weren’t reading the ancient stories, the real stories like the ones my Welsh grandmother told me,” said Morgan. “The faeries you see in books and movies now are sanitized and diminished versions of the real thing. Frankly, the real thing is usually big and terrifying.”
“Most of the Tylwyth Teg are amoral. Many, like this Maelgwn guy, exhibit sociopathic behavior,” Jay explained. “It’s very apparent that they don’t think like we do. In fact, it’s safest to treat them all as extremely dangerous . . .”
“Enough with the damn faeries, you guys! I’m still not hearing how any of this connects to the storm.”
Morgan jumped up and started to pace. “Look, if you’ve ever picked up a mythology book, you’ve heard of the Wild Hunt, right? It’s a classic theme.”
Why did that sound familiar? Liam frowned and was rewarded with a fresh burst of pain, but he soldiered on. “I dunno, I think it’s some story the Norse used to tell. The god of the dead led a hunt of dark horses and hounds through the sky or some damn thing.”
“Close enough. Well, Maelgwn and his gang of Tylwyth Teg ran a rogue hunt right through your farm. About forty or fifty riders came through this region and damaged every farm in their path between Pullman and Cheney. It was a helluva big storm, yes, but the thunderstorm is just a side effect of the light whips the riders use.”
Riders . . .
Stunned, Liam fell silent. How could he have forgotten? He thought he’d seen a dark band of riders along Finger Ridge. In fact, they were the very last thing he saw before that damn crystal vase knocked him senseless. No, wait—I saw something else. There were streamers of lightning snaking upward. But that was a natural thing, right? Just a char
ge reaching up from the ground to connect with the lightning coming down from the clouds . . . except the phenomenon was very short-lived and rarely seen. And there had been not one but many streamers. They’d all been in the very midst of the riders, lingering long enough to illuminate the horsemen to Liam’s incredulous gaze.
There was that feeling in his gut again, the sensation of truth. What the hell is going on?
“Okay, I think I’ve heard enough for one day,” he said finally, with one hand cradling his head. “I’m tired and I have one helluva headache. If someone will give me a hand up, I definitely have a date with the couch.”
Jay sprang into action as Morgan tried again to explain. “Look, I know how all this sounds, I really do. I used to think the fae were just make-believe too,” she said, as Liam was helped to his feet. “But that’s before they tried to kill Rhys and me one night. They’re as real as we are, and their realm is right beneath our feet. Where geologists perceive nothing but rock and earth, where our damned instruments detect only rock and earth, the fae have enormous ancient kingdoms that dwarf everything we’ve ever built above ground.”
“It’s true. I’ve seen them. I’ve been there.” Caris looked up at him, her face grave. “The Fair Ones existed long before mortals walked the earth, Liam Cole. And some of them still remember that time.”
The woman he cared for—ah hell, he loved her and knew it—was telling the truth. His friends were telling the truth. Liam could see it in their faces, and worse, his gut confirmed it. But that only means they believe what they’re saying, right? He’d heard that members of cults could pass lie-detector tests. But how did three intelligent people—two of them medical professionals, for chrissakes—get caught up in such a wild tale?
The sun had dipped behind the hills, leaving only a glow in the sky. Jay stayed quiet as he drove the quad slowly along the cleared path leading back to the house. Liam was thankful for that—he didn’t think he could take in one more word about faeries, or anything else for that matter. But that didn’t keep him from thinking about the strange things he’d been told. His head and heart and gut were arguing over the details of course—but the conclusion he kept coming to was: “Morgan and Jay are my friends.” They’d come all the way out here to help him, and help him they had. Caris too, when she barely knew me. In fact, if you really wanted to talk about magic, the trio had pulled off nothing short of a frickin’ miracle with his house alone, never mind taken excellent care of his animals. All three had gone above and beyond for him.