THE MAEBOWN (Weald Fae Journals, Book 4)

by Christopher Shields

  “Are you going to hog my granddaughter all day?” Grandpa Vic said. “Elena, some room.”

  “Grandpa, are you ever going to give up the younger body?” I asked.

  “Not a chance.”

  “Really? I love the jet black hair, don’t get me wrong, but I kind of miss the softer you.”

  “Softer? Bleh, you mean fatter. Ah, when you are seventy-one, with the knees, the back, all the little pains, then you can lecture me about being thirty again. Your grandmother and I, we like this just fine.”

  “Okay,” I surrendered.

  “Ignore him, Maggie,” Grandma said. “It’s too bad your friends couldn’t have made his attitude a little younger…he’s still a grumpy old man—and the only thirty-year-old in the world who wears forty-year-old cardigan sweaters.”

  Grandpa laughed and nodded. “Ah, but now I look good in them,” he said, running his hand over his chest and stomach.

  “My love,” she said, “Nobody looks good in those old things.”

  “Aye, Sophie, the cut is so deep.”

  She chucked and pulled me into a hug.

  * * *

  The rest of the morning and the early part of the afternoon passed peacefully. Sara, Sinopa, and Enapay maintained an energy field a half-mile around the Seoladán cottage, making sure nothing slipped into the Weald unseen. The Olympians remained hidden underground, all except Poseidon. He was still at the lake. There had been so much activity in Ireland, and so many Fae close to Cnoc Aine, I hadn’t noticed that he was a complete loner. At least here he had Justice. I was worried when the big dog trotted down to him, but my angst disappeared. After trying unsuccessfully to order Justice away, Poseidon softened his tone. Twice that afternoon I caught the god of the sea rubbing Justice’s head.

  At about two in the afternoon, I sensed a familiar presence at the gate. A few minutes later, Danny rolled up to the Seoladán cottage in an absolutely sinister looking black Bentley. In sleek black slacks and a black silk shirt, he led Ronnie’s mother and father to the tiny overcrowded cottage. Carl and Emma Mashburn were dressed like farmers from the 1970’s, in plaid, flannel, and faded denim. I didn’t know them very well, but remembered Ronnie’s dad being a bit of a harsh, impersonal redneck, and Ronnie’s mom—a demure housewife who never said more than two words at a time. Something was off.

  “Hiya, Maggie,” Carl said.

  “Oh, Carl, doesn’t Maggie look good. You look so good, sweetheart. Ohhh,” she gasped, startling me, “Tell me ya have pictures of Ireland. I’m so glad you’re back—I can’t wait to catch up. Did you kiss the Blarney stone? Always wanted—”

  “Mom, Jeez, take a breath.”

  “Ronald Montgomery Mashburn, I won’t have ya usin’ the Lord’s name…” she paused and looked around. “Maggie, who are all these people? They look like Indians. Are ya having a pow-wow? That’s amazing—”

  “No ma’am, no pow-wow. They’re family—”

  “They don’t look Mexican. Ain’t nothing wrong with it if they were—”

  Candace could barely contain her laughter. Sean appeared dumbfounded, but Ronnie was mortified. “Mom, please…” He glared at Danny. “What did you do to them?”

  “Oh son, he ain’t done nothing to us,” Carl said. “Damn boy, you filled out. Lookin’ more like your old man every day.”

  “Why, you have filled out,” Emma said, in a breathless, excited voice.

  Ronnie turned bright red and whispered “please” to Danny.

  Danny waived his hand and Carl and Emma went silent.

  “You compelled them?” Ronnie asked.

  “Yes, six days ago. They wouldn’t leave their house until I did, and it didn’t take me long to realize they probably wouldn’t react well to the truth.”

  “Good thinking. No they wouldn’t—especially him,” Ronnie agreed.

  Candace glared at Ronnie.

  “I took the liberty of suggesting they be in a good mood—and friendly. I can stop that if you want.”

  “Well, the good mood is fine, but could you compel them to chill out?”

  Candace frowned. “You’re going to let him compel your parents? Really? The people who raised you?”

  Ronnie rolled his eyes. “For real, Candy, as bad as this seems, it’s the best conversation I’ve had with my dad in eighteen years.”

  “You can’t let this continue.”

  “Are you kidding me? The last time my dad complimented me was the fifth grade when I punched Macky in the lunchroom. You know what he said when I told him I was leaving for the rest of the summer?”

  “No,” Candace whispered.

  With an exaggerated redneck affect, Ronnie said, “Long as it don’t cost me nuttin’, I don’t give a shit. I won’t tell you what he said when I came out—or what he did.” Ronnie looked at Carl frozen in place. “When this is over, I’ll let Danny turn him back into the gay-hating redneck he really is. For right now…this is perfectly fine. No, trust me, this is better.” Ronnie put his hands on his hips and nodded his head. “This is better.”

  Candace tugged Ronnie’s hand and smiled apologetically.

  * * *

  An unusually quiet afternoon turned into a frighteningly quiet night. I hadn’t sensed a presence, and that had me worried. Why wasn’t Ozara watching us? The tiny cottage was packed. Grandma and Grandpa retired upstairs to a bedroom, Carl and Emma to another, but that left eleven of us in the cramped living room—seven humans and Billy, Sara, Gavin, and Tadewi—trying to pass the time. Wakinyan hadn’t shared with me what he and the other elders had planned. So, yeah, I was irritated and bored.

  “Do you want to go for a walk?” Gavin asked.

  “Yes,” Candace said.

  Ronnie got to his feet, Mitch beside him. Gavin gave them a quick look. “Well, not what I meant, but why not. Maggie?”

  “Yeah,” I said standing. I looked at Mom.

  “Oh no, I’m fine reading—don’t go too far,” she said.

  It was an odd request, considering the events of the last few weeks, but one I understood perfectly well. She’d asked me about New York and Europe. As I began explaining what happened with Mara—that she was Naji’s partner—Mom cut me off, making me promise to write it in my journal. She said she’d prefer to read it—that somehow reading it made it easier.

  “We’ll stay close,” I said.

  The night air was still, but a little cooler than inside the old cottage. The Ohanzee were concealed, so to my senses it felt like we were completely alone—just the ten of us, and Poseidon moping around the edge of the lake with Justice.

  “It’s so quiet here,” Sean remarked. “I never imagined it would be so quiet.”

  “It isn’t usually like this. There’s usually a lot of sound,” Candace said.

  “The Alliance is responsible,” Gavin said. “They chased away everything that made noise—or killed it. There are dead insects, birds, frogs…they’re everywhere for miles.”

  “So nothing could sneak up on them?” Candace asked.

  “I thought the Fae loved nature?” Ronnie quipped. “I guess they only love it until it becomes a nuisance.”

  Gavin nodded.

  I circled us in an Air barrier as we walked past the well house above where the original Seoladán used to be. There was no energy there any more.

  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” I said.

  “Presence?” Candace asked.

  “Yes, play it cool. Mitch, just act like normal—just like I told you.”

  “Sure, Sis,” he said, fighting the urge to look around at the dark forest.

  I nodded just before it pierced the Air barrier. Like in Ireland, it fixated on me at first, then it seemed to shift attention to Mitch. A few seconds of watching Mitch and Ronnie’s awkward and impromptu discussion of Arkansas football, the presence drifted into the cottage.

  Keep me propped up, I wrote in my head. I sat on the stone brim of the fountain, and Gavin sat beside me. My mind hovered above the empty
basin just long enough to get my bearings. Then I went after Ozara. Her body would be near whomever she was using to project. Through an expanse of nothingness, I found her. The human was just a child. Anger consumed my thoughts. I let the tether yank me back a few miles so I could compose myself. Ozara was in the child’s bedroom in the shape of a long-haired white housecat, curled up on the child’s pillow. The little girl was too cute. Round cheeks and a button nose, with long black hair, thick eyelashes, and smooth dark skin, she clutched a worn, stuffed bear to her pink nightgown. I guessed she was eight. That Ozara would take the shape of a child’s pet and use someone so innocent made my blood run cold. What bothered me more were the claws I’d seen in the child’s temple. She’s reading her thoughts as she projects—that’s why the presence felt stronger. Ozara’s in there, too.

  Under control, I slipped back to the tiny bedroom in the desert. In fifteen minutes I felt a change. Concentrating on the child’s mind, I found it moving below ground. There were Fae nearby. I sensed the Olympians. Crap. She knows. Then it changed again. Back to the surface, just below the ruins of the cottage, I felt it close in on one more Fae. Just up the hill, my heart stopped. A nudge of energy—that’s all it was, and the Fae moved away. It shifted to Naeshura and left the protection of the Clóca barrier. The presence and the Fae moved across the lake, away from everyone. My mind began repeating, She’s the spy.

  TWENTY-THREE

  DECISIONS

  My least favorite Ohanzee, the one I never trusted—Amadahy shifted from Naeshura into an enormous Cougar. More than a mile away from the Weald, she crept quickly and silently along a craggy bluff edge, her eye’s glimmering in the dim light—massive pupils reflecting green in a solitary yard lamp. Amadahy stole back into the dark night and wrapped herself in Clóca.

  My mind reeled with everything Ozara could learn—that the Coalition was stronger than ever, that Tse-xo-be was still alive, that we knew when she was listening in. Everything hung in the balance. Should I go back to my body and kill the traitor myself? Too far away now.

  Amadahy was more than three miles away now, still moving without noise and completely unseen. The presence was just ahead. I could feel it. I heard the telepathic command, tell me everything.

  “There is…” was all Faye managed.

  In a flash, Amadahy had her by the throat. Still cloaked. Faye ripped Amadahy away, and ran her hands along her neck. Her throat ripped out, she was unable to utter another word. She spun, blindly sheering trees off in a circle, trying to make contact with her invisible attacker, but Amadahy was cloaked and extremely fast. Garbled sounds came from Faye’s lips as her wounds began to heal. The presence moved frantically, making contact with Amadahy’s barrier. A surge of energy acted like a beacon and Faye attacked, blowing a massive gouge out of the mountain. Amadahy spun in the debris, her Clóca barrier down. A cougar scream, like the sound of a tortured woman shrieking at the top of her lungs echoed as she disappeared again.

  Faye’s throat healed and she shouted. “T….” Amadahy materialized in front of her, growling the words, “Traitor.” Faye looked petrified, and channeled Air. She tried to attack, but she was losing her grip on the energy. Faye’s mental screams brought Wakinyan. I felt him streaking in from the east. Before he could land, though, I realized what Amadahy was doing. Water-aligned, she connected to the moisture in Faye’s physical body. Faye’s skin blistered, ballooned and ripped, spewing bloody geysers of steam. “Traitor,” Amadahy growled again. Faye sank in a swelling heap and then collapsed flat against the dark forest floor. Flash. Gone.

  The presence remained as Wakinyan burst through the canopy. “What is this?” he bellowed.

  I was afraid Amadahy would say too much, tell Wakinyan that I found her alone on the opposite shore, the only Fae close enough to intervene. But she played it cool.

  “I watched her slip away. She cloaked, badly, and moved quickly from the Weald. It was suspicious, so I followed her. I believe she was going to meet with an Alliance Fae—someone cloaked. So I killed her.” Okay, I’m really starting to like you.

  “Did you sense another?” he asked.

  “No, but we shouldn’t talk in the open. It may still be here,” she said.

  Wakinyan sent a pulse of pure Air energy out in a dome. Then pushed Earth energy though the ground. “I don’t sense another, but two of the Viracocha escaped earlier. They have undoubtedly returned. We should return to the Weald and stay close to the Maebown.”

  They dissolved into Naeshura and moved away. The presence moved west in the opposite direction, and then flashed away. Tempted to go back to the Seoladán, my gut told me to follow. I concentrated and moved nowhere. Ozara’s dropped the connection. I focused on her exclusively.

  The long-haired white cat slinked out of the little girl’s bedroom and through the darkened house. It disappeared into Naeshura and slid through the plaster wall and into the night. I expected Ozara to go back to the Alliance encampment, but she flashed northward, unwittingly pulling me along with her. Deep below ground, she reached several Fae I didn’t recognize, and two that I did. Sekhmet was a Jinn I’d seen in the desert. She was Earth aligned and quite powerful. Kapo’pi’i was a Fire-aligned former member of the Seelie Council, and originally one of the elders of a Polynesian clan. At eighteen million years, she was a heavyweight.

  “Any news?” Kapo’pi’i asked.

  “The Olympians are concealed at the Weald. The Kobold and Alfar are scattered, and Caorann and the Sidhe are in hiding. My source was clumsy and was killed before I could learn more, but the Maebown is in the Weald—we’ll deal with that in time,” Ozara said.

  “Shall we proceed?”

  “Yes, Sekhmet, proceed just as we discussed—slowly. I want Chaos—I want them feeding on one another.”

  Ozara moved back the way she’d come, and I lingered, wondering what these Fae were doing. I knew whatever they were up to had to be bad. Sekhmet and Kapo’pi’i were very deep below ground and connected to a massive amount of energy. I sensed Clóca, too. They didn’t want to be found. Through layers of strata, I drifted to the surface, expecting to find a city or nuclear power plant. Instead I found nothing but a wilderness area. This makes no sense.

  I searched the area and located a road. I followed it past trees and fields of thick grass. It still didn’t make any sense. There were no people for a mile in any direction. In the dark, I located a large sign. The faint moonlight glinting off the surface was insufficient for physical eyes to read the words, but my projected mind made short work of it. “West Thumb Geyser Basin.” A yellow arrow at the bottom of a picture said “You are here,” and below the picture, it read, “Almost a 150,000 years ago a volcanic eruption formed the small Caldera…” I sensed one more word that struck a cord. Yellowstone. What are they doing here?

  I snapped back to my body. Not only were Mitch, Candace, Sean, and Ronnie staring at me, so were Wakinyan, Zeus, and two dozen others. We were under layers of Clóca. Before I spoke, I checked for the presence, just to make sure. Nothing. We were alone.

  “Ozara knows the Olympians are here. She’s not just having the human project for her, she’s figured out a way to…well, hitch a ride. She was here. She sensed your clan,” I said to Zeus.

  His dark face erupted with anger, though he didn’t make a sound.

  “Maggie, do you know whether Faye said anything else to her?” Wakinyan asked.

  “I don’t think so. Amadahy got to her as soon as she opened her mouth. Faye didn’t try to communicate telepathically—I would have felt that—so I don’t think Ozara learned anything. That said, she knows where the Alfar and the Kobold are—she thinks they’ve wigged out—and she knows Caorann and the Sidhe are hiding.”

  “That is better news than I hoped for,” Zeus finally managed.

  “Okay,” I said. “They’re going to try to bring the Sidhe out of hiding—Ozara mentioned waiting for them when they tried to save Ireland.”

  “What does that mean?” Gavin aske
d.

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry. But something else is going on. I followed her to Yellowstone. She met Kapo’pi’i, Sekhmet, and several others I didn’t recognize.”

  “Doing what?” Wakinyan said with a grave tone in his voice.

  “I don’t know for sure, but they were beneath a sign that said something about a volcano. Is there a volcano in Yellowstone—I know about the geysers, but a volcano?”

  “Only one of the largest in the world,” Wakinyan said.

  “I read about that,” Candace said, “It’s a supervolcano.”

  Ronnie rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Of course you have.”

  I cut them off. “Ozara told them to do it slow—she said she wanted chaos.”

  Wakinyan nodded. “Only the oldest Fae remember, but we have seen massive eruptions before. The Alliance must be stopped. It would decimate life in North America, but she means for humans to know it is going to erupt.”

  “Torture?” I asked.

  “No, pandemonium,” Gavin said. “Millions would be displaced—your government is not prepared. The question is, what are they planning to do to Ireland?”

  “We must warn Caorann,” Wakinyan said. “Whatever it is, it is designed to isolate her.”

  “Does that mean the entire Alliance clan will be waiting?” I asked. “Damn it, and we just left Ireland yesterday.”

  “It is a diversion,” said a voice that rumbled through my bones. “And a trap.”

  I turned and stared directly into Poseidon’s liquid blue eyes.

  “Then what do we do?” I asked.

  “You warn Caorann and the Sidhe to let it happen, and you stop whatever she is planning in Yellowstone.”

  Sean shuddered and my blood went cold.

  * * *

  When the Ohanzee left the Seoladán, I searched for Amadahy. Prowling the forests to the north, I set off. Gavin thought it was a bad idea, but I felt like I needed to talk to her. Using my other senses more than my eyes, I made my way to the upper edge of a thirty foot bluff, and descended gently just past a thick knot of brambles and vines on the edge of a game trail. A mile ahead, she sensed me, and stopped. In a series of controlled leaps, I covered the distance in a minute. At the base of the bluff where I hid from Cassandra two years earlier, Amadahy crouched. In the low light, I could only make out the shape of a large cat. It was a little unnerving.