by Gwen Rivers
They had been a rare sort, who would take in another mouth to feed.
His lungs hadn’t worked right. He could barely cross from the bed to the table without collapsing in a fit of coughing. By his twelfth birthday, he had been permanently bed-ridden.
Only in his dreams could he escape. When he slept he could soar above the lush landscape, the verdant fields and brilliant blue waters. He’d met others in those dreams. People who came to the enchanted realm for escape.
Somewhere lost in the haze of time was a girl with eyes the color of moss in sunlight who gifted him with the sweetest smile. They had run through golden fields hand in hand. Her laughter had been like birdsong.
Though he struggled, he couldn’t recall more than that.
They had been free in the dream, free to explore in the way their mortal bodies could not. To connect with the world, the magic and each other.
Until they had met the fae.
“How would you like to stay here forever?” The Seelie King, Pan, appeared on a hilltop before them. He was a massive male, with a rack of antlers like a great stag. He wore no clothes, his body the epitome of maleness. His voice boomed out like thunder, calling the dreamers to the place.
North had held the girl’s hand in his. They were curious. But there was no fear in the realm of dream.
Nothing bad could happen to them there.
“’ Tis not possible.” An older woman had dared to speak to the great fae. “I will wake soon.”
But the Lord of the Land had simply smiled. “I and the others of my kind can keep you here. Forever. If you leave, leave now and know you may never return.”
Some had agreed immediately. North had looked to his friend, to the girl with the sweet smile.
“I must get home,” her accent was soft, rolling. “My mother will be worried if I do not wake.”
North had agreed. As much as he wanted to stay, he knew it wouldn’t be right to turn his back on the mother and sister who had taken him in.
So he had returned to his mortal body and tried to forget the dreams of flying, of exploring. Of freedom. Tried to forget Pan’s offer.
Then the harsh winter had come. It was the seventeen-year anniversary of when his sister, now married with a child of her own on the way, had found him in the woods. The snows were so deep they had to resort to burning waste to keep warm. His lungs seized up over and over and he couldn’t draw a full breath.
“Be at ease, naydenysh.” His sister smoothed his hair back, a smile on her line-creased face. She always called him founding, made it sound like the best gift she had ever been granted.
His lungs constricted and he couldn’t draw breath to answer.
At that moment the door burst inwards. Five strangers filled the small one-room hut. They were covered in snow, their eyes more like beasts than like men.
His adopted mother screamed at them to get out. The largest one stepped forward and backhanded her across the face. She fell, her head crashing against the corner of the table. She collapsed face-down on the floor a pool of bright red blood spreading from her head.
“Take her now before the body turns cold.” The one who must have been the leader ordered.
In horror he watched as another of the brutes flipped his adopted mother onto her back and lifted her skirts, readying her dying body for their use. Her eyes remained shut, the blood oozing across the floor towards him.
He tried to rise from the bed, to protect his family. But the cold from outside made his lungs constrict even more painfully. Curse my useless flesh. He coughed and choked.
His sister blocked him with her body. Wrapping her arms protectively around her bulging belly she spoke quickly, telling the men that while they had little food, she would pack it for them to take. She begged them to accept what little they had and go.
While two of the men ransacked the kitchen the leader closed in on her. “And what if we want you to keep us warm on such a cold night?”
She panicked and backed away until she reached the fireplace. Her fingers fumbled to close around a fireplace poker. She swung. The big man laughed as he caught her wrist and squeezed until she cried out. The poker clattered to the floor with a ringing thud.
She fought with all her strength but it was no use. He was forced to watch as they tossed his sister’s skirts up, ripped her wool stockings from her body.
“Silence the bol’noy.” The leader grunted as he struggled with his pants.
The one who had raped his mother turned and pulled back a fist. The last thing he heard was his sister’s scream before the blow landed.
North had found Pan in the dream place cavorting with a nymph in the forest. The antlered fae king rutted with her in a languorous fashion. Her back was pressed up against a tree, her legs wrapped around his head. North wanted to turn away, the image of his mother and sister’s violation fresh in his mind.
But for that same reason, he needed the being’s help.
“Can you make me powerful? Strong enough to defend those I love?” he asked the god.
Slowly, Pan extracted himself from his bedmate and set her on the ground. He swatted her once on her bare ass and she disappeared inside a large oak.
He took his time traipsing to his massive throne, not bothering to look at North. “You refused my offer. By all rights I should kill you for returning here.”
“Can you do it?” North asked the being.
“I can,” the fae, who was rumored to be a god, said. “But a better question is will I?”
North waited.
Pan conjured a goblet of wine and took a deep drink. “I like you, boy. You have fire and heart but are as cold as an ice floe. Tell me why you need so much power.”
“I want to protect the weak ones.”
“The weak often die.” Pan tilted his head to the side. His large set of antlers brushed the treetops.
“Because the strong are cruel.”
“And can you be cruel?” Pan leaned forward, his eyes intent.
“To those who deserve it? As cruel as a Russian winter.”
The fae being offered his hand. “Then shake on it. Agree to serve the fae in exchange for power.”
His hand was already outstretched. Pan took his. A shock radiated through him at the touch that was unlike anything he had ever known.
The fae king pulled him forward. “In my court, we seal our bargain with a kiss.”’
He struggled but the bizarre feeling of coming apart increased. It was worse than not breathing, worse than the terror of seeing his family abused.
He felt the Seelie king’s burning hot lips close over his, tasted the female secrets that still clung to the fae’s mouth.
And he was no more.
North circled Nicneven’s tower as all the memories spun through him. The fae king had kept his side of the bargain. North was strong. He could throw a solid wall of wind up and around those he wanted to protect.
But only when they called for him.
Anytime Pan was attacked, he called North in to defend him. And North did because he had no choice.
He learned a lot from Pan. Mostly how to satisfy a lover. A part of him would forever be that seventeen-year-old youth who had only known one kiss, one taste of a woman from the lips of another man. In his darkest moments he thought the knowledge would drive him mad.
He had served in the Seelie court for millennia, until the Unseelie queen of the Shadow Throne had bedded down with the lusty god in exchange for all his elemental air powers.
She had traded her body for North.
For that he would always be grateful to Nicneven.
He had protected her the way he wished he could have protected his sister and mother. And she had let him travel, set him loose to roam the worlds as he would.
She let him spy.
He never knew what became of his mother or sister. Never got the justice he wanted for that brutal night of terror and pain. The night that had sealed his fate.
He could speak t
o no one, tell none his story. All he could do was witness and serve in silence. Forever faithful, forever craving more.
He moved up to the tower, spied Nic and her wolf sharing a meal before the fire.
Would he be able to communicate with them after the ceremony? To tell her who he was?
And more importantly, how much he loved her?
He sensed a shift in air pressure, the feeling like a great vortex opening up and headed away from the Unseelie Crystal Palace. The door to the In-Between stood open as the fae filed through. Liam wasn’t there but Owen, Gray’s son, stood on four paws, watching the procession of fae with a careful eye.
North swirled around the wolf. His shaggy gray fur ruffled in the shifting air currents. He was one of the few wolves North recognized in wolf form. Owen didn’t take human shape often, but he followed orders well.
The steady flow of fae paused as a body crossed through the gateway in the opposite direction. North recognized Autumn’s red-gold hair. She ignored the gawking fae, many of which had probably never seen a werewolf before, never mind a female one wearing clothes. She emanated a sense of preternatural grace and innate power.
“We’ve got a problem,” Autumn said as she reached Owen’s side.
The wolf looked up at her. North got the sense that he was asking her a question in his own wolf language that only the sons and daughters of Fenrir could hear because Autumn shook her head.
“No, our side is secure. Rubio came in to relieve me and Liam is on his way for the main event. But there have been rumors of rogue fae using mortal weapons to prey on their own kind.”
Owen’s ears flattened against his head.
“Exactly.” Autumn turned and assessed the throng. “Why would they go after their own though?”
Frustration filled North. It often did when he became invested in short-lived creatures and their business. He could ask no questions, say nothing in response, offer no guidance. Eons of experience from witnessing all the worlds had to offer and it was trapped in his consciousness like a genie in a bottle.
Autumn shifted her weight. “I don’t know where they got the weapons or why they would do that. It might be a Seelie vs. Unseelie thing.” The female werewolf lowered her voice. “Liam doesn’t think so and I agree with him. But the rumors are spreading. If they reach this side, we might have a rebellion to contend with. I need to warn Underhill.”
Owen growled low, but North didn’t stick around. He headed back through the in-between and to the mortal realm.
He didn’t have much time to investigate.
North found Liam in his home in the PR. The werewolf was in his bathroom, hands braced on either side of the sink.
Hopefully he’s shaving that awful chin ferret. North didn’t hold out much hope of that. The Alpha seemed particularly attached to his facial hair.
The window was open a crack and North eased inside, making the blinds rattle.
“No, Addison,” Liam growled into his phone. “I don’t have confirmation that the rogue fae came through our in-between. We have yet to verify their identities.”
“I’m in contact with the mortal authorities,” the One True Queen’s soft southern drawl filtered through Liam’s phone speaker. “Apparently, a cache of weapons was stolen from a military base in New Jersey.”
Liam dragged a brush through his hair. “Was anyone hurt?”
“No, thankfully. But all the soldiers on duty fell asleep.”
“All of them?” Liam scowled at the phone.
Fae bane. North had seen it used to take down enormous predators, even giants. A small dose would send a human to sleep, a large one could incapacitate a powerful supernatural, like Liam or Aiden or Nic.
“What’s especially odd is that their electronic surveillance went out at the same time.”
“So we have no photos or voice recordings.” Liam set the comb down and reached for his toothbrush. “This is bad.”
“I know.” Her voice turned smaller, more childlike. “Uncle Liam, if those weapons get into the PR—”
Liam spit out the toothpaste so he could cut her off. “They won’t.”
“I’m just not sure making them all leave is the right thing to do.” Addison’s voice sounded more like the teenager she was instead of the ruler of all the Unseelie fae of Alba.
“We don’t have a choice, kiddo.” Liam dropped his towel and strode naked into the other room, phone in hand. “This place is safe, your great grandmother made it herself for us. There is no better location for the fae than right here where my pack can protect them from any threat. If it will make you feel any better, we’ll call on one of the gods and have them reinforce the wards for us.”
“And what will that cost me?” There was light humor in Addison’s tone.
Liam paused in the act of pulling on his pants. “If you want, we can have your mom do the negotiating.”
If North had lips he would have grinned at that. Underhill may not be as powerful as the gods and goddesses of Asgard, but he’d put his money on his queen to fight dirty.
“So I can have the lot of them breathing down my neck? No thanks. Maybe I’ll send Chloe.”
Liam visibly shuddered. “Better them than me.”
Addison huffed. “I still don’t understand why you two don’t get along.”
“She gave me a flea bath,” Liam snarled.
“You were infested with vermin.”
“That’s beside the point. I’m the Alpha. It was undignified.”
Then stay away from mangey bitches. Oh, what North wouldn’t give to say that part out loud and see Liam’s expression when he did.
“You could have refused,” Addison’s voice held a note of humor.
“No, Addison. You could refuse. I am neither important enough nor brave enough to stand up to the final fate.”
She laughed. “Whatever you say. I’ll see you tonight.”
Liam hung up the phone, a smile splitting that hideous beard for a moment. Then he looked into the mirror. For a moment North thought he was admiring his own reflection. Then he spoke.
“I know you’re there.”
North froze.
Liam turned, his gaze searching. “You’ve been following me around for a while now. Are you one of the trapped spirits?”
Yes. North wanted to shout with joy. He swirled around Liam, causing the drapes on the giant four-poster bed to flutter.
Liam tensed for a moment, but then relaxed. “My instincts are telling me that you’re all right, one of the good guys. I guess we’ll find out soon enough. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what happened to you. There’s nothing worse than being stuck in a cage.”
He sounded as if he knew firsthand.
North swirled faster and faster. The covers were yanked off the bed, the curtains pulled down from their rods. Pictures rattled on the wall. Trying to telegraph something, anything.
Liam nodded once and pulled a long-sleeved shirt out of a drawer. “Okay then. And no more spying on me when I have sex. It’s creepy as hell.” When the shirt was in place, he left the room.
North gathered himself, his thoughts as jumbled as the linens on Liam’s bedroom floor.
He’d known. The Alpha had known. Why did he wait until tonight to say anything?
Because he might not get another chance.
North could sense the others congregating around the Unseelie Crystal Palace. The energy around the place was tense. The souls trapped in their elements had been drawn there by the presence of the two Seelie Kings, Taj and Jedda, as well as Addison Sophia Jager, the One True Queen of the Unseelie.
And Underhill, her demi-god lover and the giantess, Laufey who had created the PR. All the power in the land centered in one place at the same time.
If North remembered what it was like to have feelings correctly, he would have to say that his current one was best described as uneasy.
All the eggs in one big, sparkly basket. And mortal weapons in the hands of the rogue fae.
A slash appeared in the sky and a woman wearing a winged helmet rode through the precise cut, her steed galloping on air. Freda, First in command of the Wild Hunt. Beside her in her dragon scale armor which glittered even in the dim light rode Nahini, the wise woman and mystic, Second in command behind Freda and the queen herself.
Then came the ghosts. They fanned out like a rolling wave of fog, faceless, nameless. The souls of the damned who had earned their eternal place in service through the vile deeds in their mortal lives.
Many of them had been tethered to the Hunt by Nic, before she was old enough to vote.
Freda crouched low in the saddle and directed her mount to the ground. The clattering of hooves on the rough stone rang out as she and Nahini approached the tower.
“Create a perimeter,” Nahini ordered the ghosts. “All but you, Nightweaver. You come with me.”
“Yes, Second,” a sibilant voice answered.
One section of the fog detached itself and formed into the shape of a Valkyrie. Half-bird, half-female, the shieldmaidens of Odin and Freya were responsible for walking battlefields and deciding which of the mortal warriors should live and which were brave enough to reach the fabled halls of Valhalla. Though they could wear glamour of beauty and grace, their true forms were hideous and twisted. North had heard many of the mortals complain they smelled like blood, shit, and rotting meat.
In other words, swipe left as fast as possible.
Freda, Nahini and Nightweaver dismounted and headed over the moonstone causeway that led to the throne room. He was about to follow when he heard the sound of an angry female voice.
North circled around the highest spire, to the One True Queen’s tower. She had only visited once before, on her mother’s insistence. Nic, wearing a gray tunic over black leggings paced. Her daughter stood taller than her by a head, but Nic’s will took up more room. She was bottled emotion, a pressure cooker ready to blow.
“I don’t like this.” Underhill swiveled on her heel and paced the confines of the sitting room. “Liam should be here.”