Rhiannon brushed her palms against her pants, her expression turning from irritated to anxious. The demon scars on one of her cheeks stood out a little more as her face paled.
The witch was no doubt nervous because the four of them were about to come face-to-face with Rhiannon’s newly discovered father, the king of the Drow.
Hannah wondered how she’d feel if she found out her father was one of the Dark Elves—and a traitor.
A determined look came into Rhiannon’s eyes. “Let’s do it then.”
The four strode through the thick forest. Only the light weight of Banshee on her shoulder, and the slight bump of her pack against her hip as she walked, kept Hannah’s thoughts grounded.
“A waste of time.” Keir’s expression was thunderous, which was not unusual for the six-foot-six warrior. “I find it unlikely the stubborn bastard will agree to join our battle.”
Rhiannon frowned as she looked up at her husband and she sounded edgy and unsure as she spoke. “Even though he said no before, maybe this time Garran—my father—will agree.”
Right. Hannah held back her own opinions. It wouldn’t do any good to rail again about not trusting the Dark Elves. Two of their sister witches insisted they could and should give the traitorous bastards a chance.
Hannah considered the fact that the Drow had sided with the warlock Darkwolf at one time. No, thank you. It didn’t matter that they’d had a change of heart later on.
However, the D’Anu witches, Tuatha D’Danann warriors of Otherworld, and the Paranormal Special Forces of San Francisco desperately needed the help of the Dark Elves against Ceithlenn and the Fomorii.
If only they could convince the Drow king to commit his forces to battle.
This time they would.
This time they had to.
The moment the trees parted to reveal a meadow and the transference stone, her gaze riveted on a woman who stood on the opposite side of the stone. Hannah couldn’t help but catch her breath in surprise and something like wonder.
Stunning. The woman was absolutely stunning. No high fashion model could begin to compare.
It was impossible to look away from her. She glowed. Or was it the air around her that did? Such blue, blue eyes. Long, flaxen hair hung in a waterfall of silk to her toes, and she had delicate pointed ears. Her filmy clothing ruffled in the soft wind like the leaves of nearby trees.
The woman stood in her bare feet beside a bridge that spanned a small stream. Water made a tinkling sound as it trickled over stones. The scent of wildflowers and rain-cleansed air swept through the meadow.
Hannah tipped her head to the side. This must be the Great Guardian her sister witches had spoken of countless times. An Elvin woman of indeterminable age, who was reputed to be wise, intuitive, and prophetic.
Strange warmth flowed through Hannah as she stepped closer to her companions. Vaguely she was aware of Keir and Eavan laying their weapons on the ground before the Guardian.
“Rise,” the Great Guardian said in a voice that was like a song to Hannah’s ears.
It was then she realized all of her companions had bowed. Rippling warmth spread along Hannah’s skin. With her upbringing, she had been taught to never bow to anyone but a queen or king of a foreign country. This Elvin woman was far more powerful than any royalty Hannah had met, and a part of her wished she had bowed with her companions.
The Great Guardian smiled, her gaze lingering on Hannah.
Some strange force drew Hannah toward the woman and Hannah didn’t resist. She walked closer to the Guardian until they were only a few feet apart. Banshee stirred on Hannah’s shoulder, but didn’t react with alarm.
“Much troubles your soul, reluctant traveler,” the Elvin woman said, her words directed to Hannah. “Tell me what burdens you.”
Hannah held back the sudden diatribe that rose up in her throat. What burdens me? Let’s see—my Top Ten, or the whole freaking list?
“Speak freely.” The Guardian’s gaze firmly held Hannah’s and a pulling sensation tugged against her mind.
There was simply no choice but to answer. Words spilled out so fast Hannah almost couldn’t believe she was saying them.
“To start with, who wouldn’t be upset if their world was falling apart, overrun by a goddess-bitch and a slew of demons?” Hannah’s voice held a bite that she hadn’t intended, but she went on.
“We’ve lost our homes and had to flee to Otherworld. But more importantly, thousands—thousands are dead because of Ceithlenn.”
She struggled not to clench her hands into fists, showing her emotions. “Not to mention we can’t get any Anu-blessed help from the armies here, except a few D’Danann.”
Hannah’s control had nearly shattered, which shocked her like a jolt to her chest and caused her to step back. Banshee sent a warm wave of his magic through Hannah and she sensed his attempt to calm her. Still, she felt anything but.
The Guardian’s expression remained serene. Despite her respect for the Elvin woman, Hannah fought not to ball her fists at her sides from the frustration, anger, and fear boiling up inside of her. It was all she could do to keep her own expression as collected and controlled as possible.
“You have much to be angry about.” The Guardian’s blue gaze continued to hold Hannah’s. “You seek the Drow once again for aid. Perhaps you will find some solace for your rage in those dark places below our ground.”
That’s supposed to make me feel better?
Hannah’s belly clenched. More words bubbled up inside her, angry words, but the Guardian had already turned to Rhiannon.
“Your father represents his people, and he must have a reason to lead them into battle. It is true the Drow lean toward what benefits them. It is their way, one we must respect.”
“Respect?” Rhiannon’s cheeks flushed. “How can I respect a race that isn’t willing to help others for the sake of the common good, rather than for their own gain?” She propped her hands on her hips. “Even if I am part Drow, I can’t accept that.”
“You must.” The Guardian looked from Rhiannon to Hannah. “Tell King Garran it has been decided that, providing the Drow help in the battle against Ceithlenn, he will get what he most desires for his people—conditionally. And he must come to me alone to receive my gift.”
Following a brief moment of shock that the Light Elves would help the Drow, a twinge of hope sparked in Hannah’s belly. “We’ll tell him.”
“Thank you, Guardian.” Rhiannon gave an audible sigh of relief. “Anything that can help us defeat Ceithlenn is a good thing.”
“Anything?” The Great Guardian’s gaze moved from Rhiannon to Keir to Eavan and finally landed on Hannah. “Think well on choices you may be forced to make.”
As she continued to study Hannah, the Guardian added, “You will know what you must do in the far reaches of the ground, Hannah.”
Hannah blinked. Confusion tumbled through her like a landslide.
Before any of them could respond, the Guardian turned, stepped onto the bridge, and faded from sight.
For a moment, Hannah and her companions remained quiet. Only the sounds of wind whistling through branches and birds singing interrupted the silence. The breeze ruffled flower petals and dandelion fluff floated in the air.
“Why does she do that?” Rhiannon grumbled and marched to the transference stone. “I hate it when she speaks in riddles.”
Light laughter tinkled through the surrounding forest but was gone almost as soon as Hannah heard it.
Rhiannon apparently wasn’t wasting any time. She stepped onto the stone, Keir following as he held her hand. Rhiannon looked from Hannah to Eavan and said, “Hold tight.”
Hannah watched as Rhiannon’s and Keir’s forms wavered like sunshine on the surface of a pond, and then they were gone.
Eavan looked down at Hannah and seemed confused. “Hold tight?”
Hannah raised her fingers to Banshee’s beak and he nuzzled his head against them. “It means to wait for her and she�
��ll be right back.”
“Ah.” The warrior’s eyes were deep brown, an arresting contrast to his white-blond hair. “Then we have a moment to ourselves,” he said in the deep Irish brogue of the D’Danann. “A moment for you to tell me why you avoid me so?”
I don’t have time or mental space for this right now.
Hannah met his gaze as she lowered her hand. “I made it a policy not to date anyone who flies.”
He raised an eyebrow. D’Danann were powerful Fae warriors who had the ability to unfold their great wings when they wished to, and then to tuck them away so that they vanished as if they didn’t exist.
She mentally shook her head at the thought of any of her acquaintances in the city getting a good look at a man with wings. She almost smiled. Wouldn’t that set them on their asses?
Eavan opened his mouth as if to say something when Rhiannon’s form wavered on the transference stone.
“Time for you to head back to the village,” Hannah said to Banshee. “It’s not natural for you to go underground.”
She had the strangest sense that she wouldn’t be seeing him for a while. An empty feeling settled in her belly. Banshee had become a part of her when she was thirteen, when he had appeared out of the night sky just before she’d performed a moon ceremony alone. When he’d landed on her chest of ritual tools, she’d known instantly he was a witch’s familiar. He had filled her with the strength of his magic, imbuing her with warmth and power and heightening her senses.
Sometimes she wondered what witch had belonged to Banshee, and he to her. Somewhere in the world that witch had likely passed on to Summerland. What had brought Banshee to Hannah, she didn’t know, but she’d thanked the goddess Anu many times that he had come.
The falcon made a low sound and tugged at her hair with his beak, and she knew it was to reassure her. She held out her arm and he sidestepped until he was far enough away from her face to spread his wings. He pushed away from her arm as he took flight.
Hannah watched Banshee for a moment as he circled above her before vanishing beyond the forest. She swallowed back a feeling of loneliness that crowded her throat.
Hannah secured her pack on her shoulder, turned back to the transference stone, and headed onto it so that she stood beside Rhiannon.
The strength of the tension between the two of them collided and Rhiannon took a step aside and cleared her throat. She always made it clear that she hated for most people to invade her personal space.
Hannah knew she was pushing buttons whenever she got too close to Rhiannon. Right now they didn’t have time for her phobia, or whatever it was.
“You’re just going to have to let me inside that little box of yours,” Hannah said, “if we’re going to get there anytime soon.”
“Whatever.” Rhiannon’s eyes sparked before she looked at Eavan. “Come on, I can take both of you.” With an expression of distaste directed toward Hannah, Rhiannon held out one of her hands to Hannah, and her other to Eavan.
Currents of discomfort ran through Hannah’s arm as she clasped Rhiannon’s cool hand. Hannah wondered if the dark Shadows inside of Rhiannon were reacting to her in some way, since Rhiannon didn’t really want to be touching her.
After seeing in the last battle what the power of those Shadows could do, Hannah felt more than a stirring of unease, like something crawling, under her skin. What if Rhiannon lost control over the Shadows she had inherited from her Drow father?
Maybe going on the transference stone with Rhiannon was a bad idea.
Maybe it was a terrible idea.
“Here we go.” Rhiannon clenched Hannah’s hand.
The world went hazy then black. Hannah couldn’t hear, couldn’t see, and her skin numbed.
For a flash, Hannah couldn’t feel Rhiannon’s hand, and a burst of fear clawed at her throat. What if she became lost in whatever kind of vortex Rhiannon was taking them through?
Bright light suddenly shone in Hannah’s eyes and Rhiannon’s hand grasped hers hard enough to scrunch her bones together. Hannah’s feet met grass, and she was certain she would have tipped over if Rhiannon hadn’t had a hold on her.
Hannah composed herself and shook her hand free of Rhiannon’s. She glanced at her companions and saw that Eavan had made it as well, although he looked a little tipsy himself.
Keir stood beneath an apple tree at the center of the meadow. A rock outcropping took up a great stretch of room on one side. From the top tier of the rocks, a waterfall spilled into a couple of pools before disappearing into the ground, and the place smelled of grass and flowers that were being tended by a group of tiny Faeries.
Hannah hadn’t been here before, but one of her sister witches, Copper Ashcroft, had been trapped in this place for over a year. Hannah glanced up at the apple tree. No wonder Copper wouldn’t eat anything made with apples.
Hannah noticed that Rhiannon blinked as if the sunlight bothered her, and her skin was already starting to redden. Rhiannon had always had some sensitivity to the sun, and it wasn’t until she learned she was half Drow that she discovered why.
In a voice that lacked enthusiasm, Rhiannon said, “Come on,” and gestured for everyone to follow.
Hannah flexed her hands at her sides as if she were about to battle the Drow.
The Dark Elves weren’t to be trusted, and Hannah wasn’t about to start.
2
Rhiannon led Hannah, Eavan, and Keir around the outcropping of boulders.
Beside a pine tree was a flat, rectangular rock surface. It was the shape and size of a large door and surrounded by dirt, no grass. The flat stone had strange markings scratched into the surface along all sides.
Without looking at her companions, Rhiannon stomped on the door five times—probably with a little more force than was necessary—then stepped back.
A fraction of a moment passed before the stone door shuddered and started moving across the ground, to the left. It made horrid screeching sounds as it slid to the side, causing chill bumps to rise on Hannah’s skin. If she had any say, first thing she’d do was have that door greased.
Keir insisted on leading and stepped onto a set of stone stairs that disappeared into the darkness of the Drow realm. Only one person could walk down the stairs at a time. Rhiannon then Hannah followed Keir, with Eavan taking up the rear. Torches flamed to life along the walls the moment Keir’s boot hit the first step. Hannah blinked as her eyes adjusted to the change from sunlight to near darkness.
Cool air touched her cheeks and her hair lifted slightly from her shoulders as a breeze rushed up from below. As she made her way down, Hannah avoided touching the dirt walls. The last thing she wanted to do was get filthy.
The passageway smelled of damp earth and moss, not unpleasant scents—but it was still dirt.
The only sounds were Rhiannon’s and her own breathing, the slight noise of small stones and dirt shifting under their shoes, and the snap and hiss of the torches. The D’Danann were eerily silent as always.
After what seemed an eternity, when they were deep underground, the four of them stepped off the stairs into a large, circular hall. Only a few torches were lit, giving them just enough light to see. Hannah’s gaze swept the room, taking in the forms of warriors carved into the walls in all manner of action.
Her heart jumped a little when four men solidified from the partial darkness—two on either side of Hannah and her companions.
She contained her surprise at how stunningly handsome each one of the bluish-gray skinned Dark Elves were. Their tall, muscular, tattooed physiques were so well defined they could have been sculpted from marble. Shining hair rested on or fell below their broad shoulders, their hair in shades ranging from silvery blue to gray to black around their pointed ears.
Leather straps attached to breastplates crisscrossed the Dark Elves’ bare chests. They also wore metal shoulder plates and snug leather pants. Quivers with arrows were secured to their backs. The arrows looked to be created from pewter and probably some other
alloy to strengthen them.
Hannah narrowed her gaze. The detailed edges of their shoulder and breastplates were twenty-four-karat pure white gold with touches of yellow gold. If anything, she knew her fine metals and gems. Each of the Dark Elves wore a small fortune.
“Keir of the D’Danann, who may we have the pleasure of meeting today?” asked a warrior with a deep voice and an unusual accent as he and one of his cohorts blocked the way.
Keir turned slightly to allow the Drow to see the rest of the group behind him. “You should remember the king’s daughter, Rhiannon. Our companions are Hannah of the D’Anu and Eavan of the D’Danann.”
“Forgive us, Princess,” the deep-voiced Drow said. Each man bowed to Rhiannon. “If we had seen you, we would have taken you to the king at once.”
Even in the dim lighting Hannah saw Rhiannon’s cheeks redden. “Yeah. Well, we would like to see Garran, my, ah, father, right away.”
A small burst of adrenaline heightened Hannah’s senses at the realization they were about to meet the infamous king of the Drow.
Rhiannon’s discomfort was obvious and Hannah found herself feeling a little sorry for her even though they didn’t get along. To find out the king of the Drow was her father—Rhiannon must have been torn in so many different directions.
The men bowed again, then turned and led the way as Hannah, Rhiannon, Keir, and Eavan followed.
Hannah raised her eyebrows when they were taken to a chamber that resembled half of a geode. The entire room sparkled from the natural crystals, including the ceiling. At the back of the room was a door that looked to be made of obsidian. An oval black granite table, surrounded by high-backed padded granite seats, took up one side of the room. Freeform carvings of Drow warriors graced the chamber.
A large, black padded granite throne commanded the center of the room. A matching smaller throne stood to the side of the larger one.
Hannah’s throat grew dry and she felt a quivering sensation under her skin at the sight of the man reclining on the larger throne.
The Shadows Page 2