“I told you. I’m taking you someplace safe.” Sonny smiled at her gently.
“And you don’t have to, uh, work tonight?”
“Tonight, you are my work.”
“Oh.” She didn’t exactly like the idea of being some kind of assignment.
“What’s the matter?” Sonny glanced down at the tone of her voice.
“Nothing. I just thought…never mind. I guess being a princess means I get to have a bodyguard, huh?”
“Something like that,” he said. “The Janus all agreed. You should be protected.”
“I see. The Janus all agreed, did they?” Kelley pulled away from Sonny, hugging her elbows tight to her body.
“Did I say something wrong?” Sonny frowned worriedly.
“No.” She sighed. “No…I’m just having a little trouble adjusting to all the fuss over me, I guess. I should have known…never mind. So where exactly are we going again?” He hadn’t answered her question the first time.
Sonny stared at the road ahead of them. “Somewhere where there are others who can protect you. In case I’m not there. I hope I am….”
“Why on earth wouldn’t you be there?” she said, laughing. “You’re always there. Even when I’ve told you to go away!”
Sonny took both of her hands in one of his. She could feel his long, strong fingers laced with hers, and felt her heart racing. Sonny laid the fingers of his free hand alongside her cheek and tilted her face up.
“Please be there,” Kelley whispered, suddenly afraid.
“Believe me, Kelley. If I’m not…it’s because I’m already dead.” He stroked her hair, and she could feel his breath warm on her forehead, like a kiss. “Because anyone that would seek to hurt you would have to kill me first.”
That is not exactly the comforting notion that he thinks it is.
She shivered, and Sonny put an arm around her.
She thought about Auberon’s words to her in her dressing room. About how it wasn’t in Sonny’s nature to love what she might become. Whatever that was. In truth, Kelley knew so very little about the world she was heir to.
Just as she thought that, Belrix rounded a bend, pulling the buggy up in front of the Tavern on the Green, and Kelley realized that she was about to find out a whole lot more.
Kelley had been to Central Park’s famed Tavern on the Green once before. In the first week after her move to New York, Aunt Emma had come to town—a rare thing, since she hated the city—and taken Kelley for dinner there. Inside it was a maze of mirrored halls, rococo stained glass, stag antlers mounted on chestnut-paneled walls, and fairy-tale murals. The main dining room was a glass gazebo festooned with a whimsical assortment of chandeliers of all colors and sizes, fracturing light into rainbows that danced across walls painted with cloud castles and winged horses.
Outside in the courtyard, every tree was wrapped with strings of tiny electric lights, and garlands of paper lanterns swung between the overarching branches. The bushes that surrounded the garden were trimmed into fantastic shapes—a prancing horse, a mermaid, even—with a New York sense of humor—a great, green, shrubby King Kong.
It had all seemed so fantastical.
At the time.
But on this night, Kelley knew she was in for something infinitely more fantastical. For one thing, there were no cars in the parking lot. There was, however, an old-fashioned coach-and-four that looked like a movie prop from Disney’s Cinderella.
Sonny swung himself down from the carriage, holding out a hand so that she could step to the ground without injuring either herself or Tyff’s gown. Kelley wasn’t used to wearing shoes with such high heels. He stuck out an elbow, beaming, and Kelley took his arm. She felt as though she might actually be blushing so she looked away, in time to notice that the doorman in the green top hat and long frock coat wasn’t wearing pants. He didn’t have to—beneath the hem of his coat, his legs were shaggy with brown fur and ended in delicate, cloven goat’s hooves.
“Master Flannery,” he greeted Sonny. Kelley noticed that he raised a saturnine eyebrow at the Janus, a silent question implicit in the expression. “Long has it been since you have honored Herne’s house with your presence. And the lady…?”
“The lady is my guest. I would have her exceptionally well looked after. She is…important to me. To all of us, I think.”
“Then she is welcome here, of course,” the faun said as he swept his hat off in greeting to her. Kelley tried very hard not to stare at the tiny horns curling back from beside his tufted ears. The strange little doorman gestured them up to the front doors, which swung wide at their approach.
“Did he say Herne’s house?” Kelley whispered as they moved up the steps.
“He did,” rumbled a deep voice from beneath the archway. “I am Herne. Welcome to my Tavern on the Green…”
“My lord.” Sonny bowed deeply to the magnificent figure standing before them.
Kelley felt her jaw drop. She sank into a curtsy, silently grateful for the semester of ballet classes she’d taken back in theater school. Herne was exactly as she had seen him in the vision Sonny had shown her, like nothing so much as a god from an old storybook of Celtic tales.
Herne the Hunter—in the flesh.
XXX
H erne wore a deep-green sleeveless tunic that fell in folds to the floor and was held together over his bare, muscled chest with a heavy gold chain. His breeches were of dark leather, with ragged unfinished hems over bare feet. His wrists were circled with thick gold cuffs, and around his throat he wore a heavy gold torc. His dark hair was swept back, and on either side of his head a pair of stag antlers arched from an elaborate headdress that circled his brow. His eyes blazed like a fire in a hearth as he welcomed them.
Sonny couldn’t keep from gazing at the shining girl at his side as she dipped gracefully in a curtsy of respect. Together they walked into Herne’s Tavern.
Sonny took the Hunter aside and spoke to him in low tones, informing him of his companion’s true identity, as he watched Kelley out of the corner of his eye. Her eyes tracked through the room, following the people—the normal-looking people—that drifted about all around them. They were insubstantial, almost shadows—ladies with handbags and high heels and men in suits and ties, they ate and talked at tables that were simultaneously plainly occupied by leaf-winged Fae and silvery-skinned selkie girls with big dark eyes, among others of the Fair Folk in all their infinite variety.
“Are they really here?” she whispered, indicating a shadowy young couple—tourists from the look of them.
“Almost,” Sonny said. “Or, rather, we are almost there. Herne’s Tavern and the Tavern in Central Park exist side by side, occupying virtually the same place—just in slightly different worlds.”
“Are we in the Otherworld?”
“No. This is a place apart from any other realm. A kind of safe haven created by Herne where the Lost Fae—the ones who have crossed over and the ones like Tyff who were trapped or chose to stay when the Gates were shut—can gather without fear. It is still in the park but it is, well, sort of sacred ground, I guess you could call it. Sanctuary.”
“He means the Janus cannot touch us here,” said an ethereal girl who appeared suddenly at his elbow. She had skin the color of new leaves, and in her fist she carried a slender bow. “They cannot kill us here.”
“Now, Carys.” Herne’s voice was gently chiding. He came and stood behind them. “I would not have you show disrespect to our guests.”
“None offered, my lord,” she said, but Sonny could see that it was plain in what regard the huntress Fae held the Janus.
“And none taken,” Kelley said firmly, stepping up beside him and placing a hand on Sonny’s elbow. “I understand that Sonny’s isn’t exactly the most popular profession among your people. I also understand that he wouldn’t be what he is if he hadn’t been stolen from his world by your people in the first place. By doing his job, he saved my life, and probably the lives of others, from a creature I
believe you call a Black Shuck.”
Carys’s eyes went a bit wide, and Herne’s brow clouded with an impressive frown. “The shuck have come through the Gate?” he asked.
Sonny cleared his throat. “Just the one, lord, as far as I could tell.”
“A harbinger,” the Hunter muttered.
“I hope not. The Janus are trying to keep it that way. But Auberon does seem to think that someone—perhaps Queen Mabh herself—is trying to wake your former companions, my lord.”
“For what purpose?”
Sonny’s gaze drifted to where Kelley stood by his side. “The shuck was tracking Kelley. I believe she is the one being hunted.”
“Then she is in great danger,” Herne said. “And she is not the only one. The Wild Hunt will not be sated with a single quarry. This lady’s world—and the lady herself—are in terrible peril.”
“Which is why I brought her here.”
“I will see to her safety, then, personally.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Herne gestured them farther into the Tavern. Music wound around them as Sonny and Kelley walked out to the courtyard, where high, thin clouds stretched across the sky like torn lace curtains. Kelley gasped as she realized that the fairy lights in the trees were actually Faerie lights in the trees: thousands of tiny winged beings flitting to and fro among the branches.
“It won’t be long now until I have to go and return Lucky to Queen Mabh,” Sonny said. “But I want to show you around a bit first. You needn’t worry—you’re under Herne’s protection here. He knows who you are and he is the most powerful guardian I can think of to trust you to. And this place should keep you safe.”
“Even from something like the Hunt?”
“Don’t worry about that.”
“That was not answering my question. That was avoiding my question.”
“I know.” Sonny grinned, ignoring the look she shot him. “Come on. Let me show you around the place.”
Over in the corner where, in the mortal realm, the King Kong topiary stood, a massive leafy creature crouched. Vines and vegetation clung to the giant, twining in the green ivy of his beard, sprouting like bunches of marsh grass on his huge mossy head and shoulders.
“The Greenman,” Sonny said reverently. “He is an ancient spirit, older than all of this. The Greenman has been in the worlds longer even than the Fair Folk. He is the soul of the natural world. He also likes a good whiskey now and then.” Sonny whispered, “Herne has an excellent cellar, I hear.”
The Greenman winked at Kelley and raised an enormous earthen mug, and Sonny watched, grinning, as Kelley smiled shyly and waved the fingers of one hand at the leafy old god in return. They continued past him, toward where the splashy music of a fountain entwined with the sounds of tinkling laughter. They saw the flash of a long rainbow-silver fish tail.
“Was that a mermaid?” Kelley asked, moving toward the stone rim of the pool.
Sonny put a hand on her arm. “The Water Folk are…tricky. Dangerously unpredictable.”
“I think I saw one,” Kelley murmured. “A mermaid, I mean. The night I rescued Lucky from the Lake.”
“That was a Siren,” Sonny said, trying hard to keep the bitterness from his voice. “Her name is Chloe. She saved your life.”
“I should meet her then,” Kelley said. “Thank her.”
“You should stay as far away from her as you possibly can,” he said, and pulled her away from the fountain.
They approached a band of Faerie musicians, and Sonny smiled as Kelley swayed gracefully to the unearthly music. His Firecracker. He was painfully aware that she would in all likelihood not remain “his” for very much longer. Not if she decided to accept her true identity. “Take up the mantle of a Faerie princess,” as she’d said earlier, in the carriage. It was a choice that bore consequences that remained veiled to him. Sonny made up his mind. Whatever path Kelley ultimately chose to walk, and whether he would take that journey with her, he certainly wasn’t about to waste the time they could share together.
He turned to her suddenly and held out his hand.
Surprised, she glanced down at his outstretched palm and then back up at his face. Sonny knew clearly that he would do anything, give anything, just to be able to make those green eyes sparkle. He swept her a low, courtly bow and gazed up at her. She smiled down on him.
“Will you dance with me, Kelley?” he asked.
His heart swelled as she put her hand in his.
XXXI
T he band played beautiful music.
Time spun out around them.
The stars whirled overhead in the heavens.
And they danced.
On and on, they danced.
Sonny’s hand at her waist was strong and steady, and Kelley let her head rest on his chest—carefully, mindful of the bandages under his shirt. She closed her eyes as she felt Sonny draw her closer. She thought that she had never felt so much at home as she did right at that moment. But it wasn’t the place. It was the person.
“I don’t belong here, Sonny,” she murmured, her senses dazzled by the sights and sounds of their surroundings. “I mean, look at these people….”
A troop of Seelie Fae swayed to the music, unearthly in their beauty. Kelley felt like one of Cinderella’s stepsisters at the ball. She knew her big clumsy foot would never fit into the glass slipper, and the only thing she couldn’t figure out was why the handsome prince was still dancing with her. Sonny said nothing, but she felt his hands slide up her shoulders and under her hair. He undid the catch on her necklace and eased the silver chain from around her neck.
He whispered, “My Firecracker…”
Then her own eyes went momentarily blind from the wave of iridescent brilliance that filled the room, flowing out from where she stood. All around her the brightness of the beautiful, wondrous Fair Folk seemed to dim and flicker—and then answer her own shining luminescence like moons reflecting the light of the sun.
Sonny’s gray eyes blazed with fierce pride—and something else. As Kelley gazed into them, she felt her heart swell with unnameable emotion.
She felt tall. Ten feet tall. Taller even than Sonny, she realized, as she looked down at him. She was flying. Well—floating, at least, about six inches off the floor. Kelley gasped and kicked her feet, but that only served to send her another several inches into the air. At her elbow, Sonny held out a hand to catch her before she floated away. She twisted her head and saw a pair of delicate, fiery wings that seemed to have sprouted from her shoulders. They were ethereal, ghostly almost, and glimmering with iridescence and light, like the lacy wings of a silvery dragonfly.
Herne dipped his antlered head to her in respect.
All around her, the people of the Faerie realms knelt and bowed and smiled at her.
She blushed and felt her wings shiver and their strength give way, and she fell back down toward the floor. Sonny caught her in his arms and she clung to him.
“You’ll have to work on that,” he whispered in her ear as he clasped the chain around her neck. Her brightness dimmed, but it did not fade altogether. The music swelled once again, and they held each other and danced.
Later, when they sat watching others glide across the dance floor, Sonny started—as though suddenly remembering something—and reached into his leather satchel, lying on the bench beside him. He pulled out a much-rumpled stack of pages, held together with brass fasteners.
“My script!” Kelley exclaimed. “I was sure Bob had stolen it!”
Sonny laughed. “He tells me he’s actually a lousy thief. I’m sorry; I’ve been meaning to return it. In all the excitement, I sort of forgot.”
She took it from him and hugged it against her chest like a treasure. “Thanks. I guess I’m not going to need it, though.”
“You know all your lines, then?”
She chuckled dryly. “In theory…But let’s face it, Sonny. I’m an awfully long way from the Avalon. I get the feeling I won’t be wearing my
little gauze wings again anytime soon.”
Sonny stood abruptly. “Come with me,” he said, and held out a hand. “There’s one more thing I want to show you before I go.”
He led her down an oak-paneled corridor that slowly transformed until, eventually, they found themselves walking through a green, leafy archway, a living tunnel.
“Where are we?” Kelley asked.
“Think of this place as something like the wall in your play. The one with the hole in it, through which Pyramus and Thisbe can see and speak to each other. Herne’s Tavern rests on the very cusp of the Otherworld—like a little bubble suspended, balancing between the Faerie lands and the mortal plane. It is the one place in all of the worlds where the two realms meet and meld.”
When they emerged from under the leafy canopy, Kelley found herself standing on a forested shore lapped by gently rippling water. Sonny pointed in front of them: there, across the misted waters of a still, silent lake, was an island. At first it looked to Kelley as though the branches of its trees were heavy with snow. But even from across the glassy water she could smell the scent of apple blossoms.
“This is as far as we can go,” Sonny said. “Any farther and we would be in danger of crossing over and perhaps getting lost in the Otherworld. But I wanted you to see this place.”
“It’s beautiful. What is it?”
“A place of legend. The storybooks call it Avalon. Just like your theater—you see? Not so very far as all that.”
Kelley gazed at the distant island and sighed. “Oh, Sonny…This place is so full of wonders. Why does it make me so sad?”
He thought about the question for a moment, his head lowered. “Maybe it’s because it feels a little like home to you. The home you never knew was yours.”
She shook her head, staring through tear-rimmed eyes at the island in the mist. “That Avalon is yours. Not mine. Mine’s a rundown old theater full of a bunch of misfit actors and a crazy director. And I’m about to let them all down horribly. I’ll never get to stand under those lights and wear those wings and speak those words.”
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