The Shadows

by Cheyenne McCray

  Garran leaned back in his chair in a casual pose, his elbow resting on one arm of the chair while his free hand stroked his chin. No longer did Hannah see the teasing light that had been in his liquid silver eyes, but the seriousness of a warrior, a king.

  “You have come once again to seek the aid of the Drow.” Garran looked to Rhiannon and to each of her three companions in turn. “Tell me why my people should assist you?”

  Rhiannon frowned. Hannah felt a pinch in her gut that told her this wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d begun to hope.

  Hannah thought it best to speak first and start with the urgency of their situation. “Ceithlenn has killed thousands in our city,” she said. “Somehow the goddess collects their souls and the souls make her stronger—strong enough that she was able to bring her husband from Underworld.”

  Astonishment showed on Garran’s face. “Balor? In your San Francisco Otherworld. At this moment?”

  Rhiannon nodded and gripped her tankard in both hands. “The god is searching for his eye. Darkwolf still wears the eye on a chain around his neck, and if Balor gets a hold of it—”

  “All who stand in his way will perish,” Garran said in a flat tone.

  “That’s why we need your assistance.” Hannah relaxed her hands when she realized she was clenching them on the tabletop. “We can’t do it alone.”

  Rhiannon leaned forward in her chair and pushed her mead out of her way. “There are only a handful of us—the D’Anu witches, what D’Danann warriors the Chieftains will give us, and the San Francisco Paranormal Special Forces.”

  “But this matter does not concern us.” Garran’s voice remained calm and Hannah’s temper rose in a slow burn. “Balor is not in Otherworld,” he added before taking a drink of his mead.

  Rhiannon’s face turned nearly scarlet and her scars stood out against her cheek. “Don’t you care about me and those I love? You’re supposed to be my father. Won’t you help your own daughter?”

  As he studied Rhiannon, Garran said softly, “I would.” Then he raised his voice as he thumped his tankard on the tabletop. “But I am the king of the Dark Elves and I bear the responsibility of making the decisions as to what is best for my people.”

  “The good of the few outweighs the good of the many?” Hannah’s back was rigid as she spoke. “That is such—such—”

  “Bullshit,” Rhiannon said, her green eyes burning with fire. “Thousands, if not millions, need you. That is the many. You are the few.”

  Keir’s expression had turned thunderous and Eavan narrowed his gaze. Likely they were reining themselves in from locking horns with Garran.

  It was obvious that no matter how hard they pleaded, Garran wasn’t going to budge. Hannah looked at Rhiannon, who nodded.

  Hannah leaned forward in her seat, her eyes fixed on Garran’s. “What if we were able to offer something to your people in return for helping our people?”

  “Then you would have my interest, as king as well as a father and a man.” Garran drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “What do you bring to barter?”

  Hannah took a deep breath. “The Great Guardian said she will give you something you want for your people in exchange for helping us.”

  Garran stopped drumming his fingers. Shock registered along the strong lines of his face, making Hannah wonder what could be so important that it would affect the king so strongly.

  “The Guardian said this?” he asked, a hard edge to his tone.

  Rhiannon wrapped her hand around her tankard again, but didn’t take a drink. “The Guardian met us at the transference stone right before we came here.”

  Irritation was evident in Garran’s expression. “You failed to mention her offer immediately, for what reason?”

  Rhiannon sounded like she was talking through gritted teeth. “Because I wanted to know if you would do it out of the goodness of your heart. Apparently, you don’t have one.”

  Garran’s look turned thoughtful for a moment as he met his daughter’s gaze. He glanced toward Hannah again. “What exactly did the Elvin Guardian say?”

  “You’ll be given something for aiding us, something your people want.” Hannah swept the lock of blond from her face to join her dark hair. “Conditionally.”

  Rhiannon added, “She said you have to go alone to talk to her.”

  Garran leaned back in his chair again and stroked his chin with one hand while his stare seemed to travel somewhere in the distance, as if he didn’t see any of them at that moment.

  Finally, he shifted in his seat and looked to each member of Hannah’s group. “I will visit the Guardian to hear what promise she can make me and my people. Then I will make my decision.”

  Rhiannon’s shoulders relaxed and the tension coiled inside Hannah unwound a little.

  “But I have my own condition.” He looked to each person. “One of you will stay with my people and serve as liaison to yours.”

  Hannah frowned. “Why?”

  “My reasons are my own. That is my condition.” He turned his gaze on Hannah. “One of you will stay here while I talk to the Guardian. And if we go to battle alongside your people, that person will remain with the Drow and at my side during the war. Do you accept?”

  It couldn’t be Keir or Rhiannon—neither of them should be separated like that. And Eavan—Hannah glanced at him. Definitely not the liaison type.

  Yes, she needed to do what was necessary to help out an entire city, if not an entire world.

  “I’ll do it,” she said before anyone else could respond. “I’m the best woman for the job.”

  A pleased smile crept over Garran’s features even as Eavan growled, “I forbid it. I will stay.”

  Hannah swung her gaze to Eavan, fury burning her insides. “Do not ever think you can tell me what I can or can’t do. I will stay and that is final.”

  Eavan opened his mouth to say something but she let her expression speak louder than her words. “You do not want to argue with me.”

  She cut her gaze back to Garran. “I have my own condition.” The coiled tension in Hannah’s belly magnified and she had to force her hands to relax on the tabletop. “No one is to attempt to use any Drow magic on me.”

  A slight smile curved the corner of Garran’s mouth. “Done.”

  “No godsdamn way,” Eavan said as he stood. His chair almost toppled, but Hannah caught it with a quick tug using a rope of her magic.

  “Sit, Eavan.” Hannah’s glare met Eavan’s as he shot his gaze toward hers. “I made the choice. If it’s the only way we’re going to get the help we need, then I’ll do it.”

  “Then I will stay, too.” Eavan made a low growling noise in his throat, his expression thunderous as he scowled.

  Garran’s voice was firm. “Not more than one of your delegation.”

  “It will be me.” Hannah looked at Garran who was once again casually relaxed in his chair with a hint of humor in his smile.

  When Hannah glanced at Rhiannon, she saw that Rhiannon’s lips were parted and she was staring at Garran.

  “You should all go back now.” Hannah pushed her chair from the table. “You have a lot of work to do if we’re going to fight Ceithlenn in San Francisco.” She caught Garran’s eye as he got to his feet. “And we have a lot to do here to make it happen.”

  If eyes could literally twinkle, Garran’s did.

  Eavan grumbled a lot more and Rhiannon scowled, while Keir had the same dark expression that he always did.

  Except when he gazed at Rhiannon. When Keir looked at Rhiannon, it was like the whole world revolved around her and as if she were something treasured and precious to him.

  Sometimes Hannah wondered what it would be like to have a man look at her like that.

  Right.

  She shook her hair back as they reached the stairs. After all the men who had run through her mother’s fingers like water, and had taken all they could from her, Hannah didn’t believe very in solid, real, loving relationships.

  S
he had seen four of her sister D’Anu witches find men who seemed to fit the bill, but she knew it was different for them. She was Selena Wentworth’s daughter. She was different

  Hannah’s muscles tensed as she spoke to Rhiannon. “I need you to watch over Banshee while I’m gone. Take him to San Francisco when you go back. Please.”

  Rhiannon looked surprised and paused a moment before she said, “No problem. I’ll make sure he’s taken care of.”

  A feeling of relief mingled with sadness flowed through Hannah. She hadn’t been parted from Banshee since he had first come to her. Not like this—for who knew how long.

  “Thank you,” Hannah said before she took a step back.

  “Are you certain?” Eavan’s expression softened and his eyes appeared concerned when he turned to Hannah. A part of her felt touched that he was worried about her.

  “Of course.” She forced a smile. “I’m always confident in my choices.”

  Sure you are, her mind whispered, and she mentally slapped it down.

  Eavan gave a single nod then stepped onto the stairs that eventually led up into the sunlight.

  “I will see you soon, daughter,” Garran said when Rhiannon glanced at him.

  She studied him for a long moment before she went up the stairs behind Eavan.

  Keir did that old handshake with Garran and followed Rhiannon.

  Keep cool.

  Hannah resisted fidgeting and tugging down on her leather shirt. “Are you going to see the Great Guardian now?”

  His silvery-blue hair shimmered in the low lighting when he shook his head. “When it is dark, sweet one.”

  “Excuse me?” Hannah folded her arms across her chest. “My name is Hannah.”

  Sweet one, my—

  Garran looked like he wanted to laugh. “Come. Let me show you our realm. If you are to serve as liaison, then you must know and understand my people, at least at a basic level.”

  3

  Rich scents of earth and minerals swirled in the cool air brushing Hannah’s skin as she walked beside the king. She gripped the strap of her pack tight before releasing some of the tension coiled inside her and letting her hand fall away.

  They strode across the great round hall with numerous doors around its circumference. Her shoes made soft sounds against the marble, but Garran was as silent as the D’Danann.

  The man was gorgeous. It would have been impossible not to appreciate the litheness of his movements, his grace—and power. Power in every flex of his muscles, in the way he held his head, in his very presence. He was a king in every sense of the word.

  Garran paused and gestured to the excellent carvings on the walls. “Some of our finest craftsmen created these grand works of art.”

  The carvings were mostly of male warriors in battle. Then heat burned Hannah’s skin as she slowly looked around the enormous circular hall. Were women kneeling to the men in some of the artwork? Oh, my goddess. Most of the Drow women even wore collars.

  Hannah’s gaze snapped to Garran’s. Heat flared her body and she clenched her hands at her sides. “Don’t you dare tell me”—she pointed to the carvings—“that Dark Elves treat women as subservient?”

  Garran raised an eyebrow. “It is our lifestyle.”

  “Oh, no.” She shook her head as she ground her teeth. “You cannot make me believe female Drow enjoy being treated like that.”

  His shrug was casual. “They would have it no other way.”

  Hannah considered decking him. Or better yet, using her magic to make him a collar—and a leash. “You probably don’t give them a choice.”

  “Certainly we do.” He tried taking her by the elbow and guiding her to a door, but she jerked away from his touch. “However, it is a rare thing for a woman to choose not to serve a Master.”

  A Master?

  The thought of Garran on the floor with the magical collar and rope looked better and better.

  He swept his arm out in front of him, indicating they should go through a large arched doorway that spun off from the great hall. “You will see.”

  Her lips tight with anger, Hannah walked beside Garran as they entered an underground city. For the moment awe replaced her anger.

  Stalactites spotted with glowing lichen projected down from the great cavern. The entire ceiling sparkled and more lichen caused a blue glow to give a soft light to the city.

  Homes clung to rock outcroppings and footpaths wended their way around the cavern walls. Most of the city was spread out across the smooth, obviously well-worn floor of the cavern. Narrow streets wound from one building to the next. It reminded her of the D’Danann village, yet not.

  Wonderful aromas spilled from shops that sold bread and other bakery goods, including what smelled like coffeecake. Hannah’s mouth watered even though she was still full from dinner.

  All she saw were males who gave low nods to Garran as she and Garran passed them. In return he inclined his head and greeted each person by name. The respect in their gazes and voices, and the way they responded to him with their gestures and expressions, told her how well they thought of their king.

  Where are the women?

  As they strolled—Garran acknowledging every male they walked by—they came across a butcher shop, a place that offered leather goods, as well as a smithy that made the breast and shoulder plates most of the warriors wore. It seemed everything one could think of could be found in this underground city.

  Except a Starbucks.

  She shook her head. First thing she was going to do when life returned to “normal” in San Francisco would be to buy one of those Frappuccinos she’d been craving.

  Her gaze riveted on a glittering blanket of gems ahead in a windowless display. Goddess, a fortune in jewelry was spread out. Diamonds the size of eggs, rubies as big as a fist.

  Gem-encrusted leather collars?

  Hannah’s head snapped up. She brushed her crescent and moon armband with her fingers before dropping her hand to her side as she caught sight of a few women on the path in the direction she and Garran had been heading.

  The women were scantily clad—their tops were so short they exposed the roundness of the underside of the women’s breasts. They also wore short skirts that hardly reached the bottoms of their ass cheeks.

  Most of the women wore collars.

  Collars, for Anu’s sake. Like dogs or other animals, they wore collars and served a Master.

  Heat filled her as she watched the women. Their skin was smooth and supple in the cavern’s soft lighting, their curves in all the right places—their bodies virtually perfect.

  A couple of the women whispered to each other when they saw their king with Hannah and they bowed to him almost shyly. But otherwise the women smiled, talked, and laughed among themselves. Despite the fact they wore collars, they appeared happy.

  “Explain to me,” Hannah said through gritted teeth, “why these women allow themselves to be collared and why they are practically naked. Are they sex slaves or something?”

  Garran came up short and they stopped in front of the jewelry store as he glanced down at Hannah. “The collar means a woman belongs to a Master.”

  His expression softened. “Sex is important to any consenting adult relationship, but our way of life is not ‘all about sex’ as you would say.”

  Hannah braced her hands on her hips as she glared up at him. He was so damned tall she had to tilt her head. “Then what is it about?”

  “Come.” He touched his hand on her elbow. “We will talk.”

  One thing Hannah never did was cause a scene in public. She clamped her jaws shut as she realized that was what she’d just about done. She blanked her expression and held her carriage high as she usually did.

  Garran guided her past a fish market, the scents reminding her of home and the wind off the bay, calling up memories of her old life and a twinge in her belly.

  They strolled beyond the market to a display of wooden figurines and children’s toys. Then the smells of fres
h fish and wood drifted away as they continued on to what appeared to be a park.

  Children wearing rough-spun tunics and pants laughed and played on the flat, moss-covered rocky area filled with boulders and stone statues.

  Hannah couldn’t help a smile as she and Garran stopped outside the park and watched the children racing, kicking black leather balls, climbing boulders, or sitting cross-legged on the mossy ground playing with toys.

  They had wooden dolls and figures including something that looked like the ugliest troll she could imagine. Some of the male dolls were dressed like warriors wearing breastplates and leather chest straps, and even leather pants. The female dolls tended to have iridescent clothing that fully clothed them and shimmered in the blue lichen lighting.

  Barbie and G.I. Joe had nothing on these dolls.

  Hannah touched one of the smooth boulders surrounding the park. “I never thought about Elves having children.”

  When she glanced up at Garran, he wore an amused expression. “Did you think we are created from stone?”

  “Actually, I had been wondering if you were.” She turned her attention back to the park. Several women were dressed in a little more clothing than the ladies Hannah had seen in the village, but they still wore collars. They sat on rock benches at various places around the area, many talking as their children played.

  A pinging sensation bounced around in Hannah’s heart. The mothers looked so happy, as did the children.

  Hannah hadn’t had the kind of childhood where she was allowed to play with other children. She’d been sheltered, watched by a nanny, before being sent to boarding schools where fraternization was discouraged.

  One of the children threw a baseball-sized black leather ball that overshot the kid he’d been throwing the ball to. It rushed straight for Hannah. Garran snapped his hand up and caught the ball before it would have slammed into her face.

  Relief whooshed through her. That would have hurt like hell.

  A young boy dressed in a royal-blue tunic and pants trotted toward them with a chagrined expression. “I—I didn’t mean to—”