“Damn it, it’s DeWayne.”
“Oh hell. What the fuck does he want?”
“I guess we’ll find out,” she said, answering.
She listened for a moment, then let out a loud shout. “I told you to leave me alone… No, I will not! The only reason you’re calling me is because you’re after money. I told you there was nothing left after Mama J. died, and even if there was, you’d be the last person to get your paws on it. Don’t ever call me again or I’m calling the cops.” As she punched the end-call button, I thought she was going to throw her phone across the room. But she stopped short of that.
“He still trying to find out where DJ is?”
She nodded. “At least he still doesn’t know whether Mama J. had a girl or a boy. He doesn’t give a damn. All he wants is money, the loser.”
He hadn’t been heard from until the past couple months, when he called Angel, sniffing around to see if there was any money. Mama J. had died close to a year and a half ago in an accident—she was struck by a car on her way over to Angel’s place. But DeWayne didn’t give a fuck about his kid. He could do a lot of damage if he managed to get in contact with DJ, however, so we were doing our best to keep him in the dark.
“What are we gonna do about him?” I muted the TV, petting Mr. Rumblebutt, who jumped up on my lap.
“I wish I could send him over to Annwn, drop him off in Y’Bain. He’s so stupid, he’d get himself killed and then he wouldn’t be a problem.”
I snorted. “That’s not a bad idea, but somehow I don’t think we’re going to manage it. You should just change your number. I know it sucks, but it might be for the best.”
She shook her head. “No, because then he might double down on trying to find out exactly who his child is. And we don’t want that. As long as he’s dealing with me, he’s not harassing DJ.”
“True that. All right, maybe we can talk to Herne and figure out something that will help. We could have Viktor pay a visit to DeWayne. Put some muscle on him to leave you alone. I’m sure Viktor wouldn’t object.” Being a half-ogre had its uses, and Viktor was always willing to help out a friend.
Angel laughed, shaking her head. “I’m not going to get Viktor in trouble. And I’m sure that he would end up with assault charges. Once he met DeWayne, he’d probably want to punch his lights out.”
She muted her phone after checking for texts from DJ. “Let’s just finish the night without any further stress. I’m tired of worrying about things. I just want to stretch out on the sofa, eat popcorn, and let the boob tube numb my mind.”
And so, I turned the volume back up, and we binge-watched five episodes of DVR’d programs before heading to bed.
Over the next two weeks, Herne and Yutani trained me hard. I came away with so many bumps and bruises from the swordplay sessions that every single inch of me felt like it had been beaten up. But I learned. They not only taught me sword fighting, but they taught me how to go on the offense.
“You can’t wait for him to come at you. You can’t let him push you into a defensive position. You have to take charge,” Herne said, reminding me over and over that I was the one who had to lead the charge. “You’re the one who’s going to be summoning him. You’re the one who’s calling him out. You can’t show weakness.”
And so from dawn till sundown, I trained. Herne hired a masseuse to rub the sore spots away at the end of the day. The Wild Hunt took no cases during this time. Instead, all our focus went into getting me in shape. Angel cut the junk food out of my diet, fueling me with as much high-quality protein and carbs as she could. And Marilee, my magical mentor who had guided me through the Cruharach, drilled me on my water magic when I was too tired to lift the sword.
As I fought, as each session progressed, I developed more of an affinity with Brighid’s Flame. The sword felt natural in my hand, and near the end of two weeks, she felt as at home in my hand as a dagger, or as Serafina.
At one point, Marilee took me to the side. “I know how important it is for you to learn how to use the sword. But I have a hunch and I need you to pay attention to this. Your Leannan Sidhe side—that’s what’s going to help you in the very end. She will keep you alive. Don’t be afraid to let her off the leash.”
I let her words settle, then let out a slow breath. “It’s going to take more than one front to destroy him, isn’t it?”
Marilee shrugged. “I can’t answer you for certain, but yes, I think it will take a mix of blade and magic. But whatever it does take, you’ll be the force behind it.”
The days wore on, and I spent each night curled in Herne’s arms, or cuddled with Angel and Mr. Rumblebutt, wanting to soak in as much of my life as I could. Just in case…I told myself. Just in case there was a slipup. Just in case I went down fighting. Just in case my destiny ended with Nuanda.
Finally, the day before the full moon, I was sitting in Herne’s bed, trying to gather my equilibrium. Tonight, we would journey to Annwn, to Cernunnos’s palace, and tomorrow I would summon Nuanda. And then…we would wait for him to respond.
“What if he doesn’t come?” I asked. “What if he ignores me?”
“He’ll come. He’ll hear you. Trust me on that,” Herne said. “Stop second-guessing yourself.”
“Am I doing that again? Is that what I’m doing?” I pressed my lips together, crossing to the window to look out onto the dreary skies. It was pouring rain, but the snow was gone, all melted off. Mid-February was always a bleak time of the year.
“I’m afraid so,” he said. “You have to go into this so resilient that if he manages to drive you back, you can come out swinging again.”
I nodded, but my mind was a thousand miles away. I felt the need to walk by the water, to feel the energy of Morgana surround me. I might be going into battle with Brighid’s sword, but I was rooted in the water, in the depths of the ocean.
After breakfast, I told him I wanted to be alone for a bit, and after he left, I drove myself down to the docks, parking on one of the side streets near Puget Sound. It was a rainy, gloomy day, chilly as most February days were, but I didn’t care. The city had built a new pier that ran around part of the sound, before the ferry slips.
A few fishermen were lined up by the railings, trying their hand, although I wasn’t sure what they expected to catch at this time of year. Most of them were old men, sitting on the benches on the edge of the walkway, staring out into the water. A few of them were smoking cigars, and one older man was sitting with a young boy. I recognize them as wolf shifters, so the boy was probably his great-great-grandchild, given how long they lived. The man tipped his cap as I passed, and I gave them a little wave. A solemn smile on his face, the boy waved in return, then turned back to his fishing pole.
The gulls were out, screeching as they flew over the water looking for scraps of food, and the waves of the sound were blowing against the boardwalk, fueled by a stiff wind. I finally came to a bench that was unoccupied, and I sat down, staring at the waves that lapped against the girders below. It was high tide, and the water reached almost to the edge of the boardwalk. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, watching the silver sheen of the sound. It was drizzling but not raining full force at this point, and a melancholy resignation stole over me.
I sat there, trying not to think, just communing with the water. After a while, I sensed someone standing behind me. I turned around and saw Morgana, wearing a long velvet dress and a cloak. No one else was looking at her, but then again, she was able to pass when she wanted to.
“Scoot over,” she said.
I made room for her on the bench, and she sat down next to me. She crossed one leg over the other, leaning back as she pulled her cloak around her.
“I know this all seems so unfair,” she said.
I thought before I spoke, wanting to get the words right. “I don’t so much feel like this is unfair, but it’s a burden I wouldn’t have chosen if I had the choice. Why me? Why can’t somebody else carry the sword? And before you say anyth
ing, I realize it’s woven into my tapestry. But seriously, couldn’t the Fates have picked on somebody else?”
“They could have. But they didn’t. And not even the gods can countermand the Fates. They’re beyond our reach. We can appeal to them, but it usually does no good.” She gave a little shrug, staring at the water. “It’s choppy today. You know, the ocean can be as gentle as a ripple on the wind. And she can be mighty and fierce. She’s more dangerous than any force on this planet. And you are part of her, as am I. I sense you learned much about yourself on this trip.”
I nodded. “I learned about my father’s blood. I learned that I enjoy being a predator when both sides of my heritage rise up. That scares me, but not as much as it would have before the Cruharach. At least now I feel like I can control it to some degree.”
“You’re born of two predatory races. Marilee wasn’t at all off-base when she warned you to remember your mother’s blood as well when you’re fighting Nuanda. There are times when compassion and mercy have to go by the wayside. I predict that compassion is your greatest enemy in this situation. Don’t feel sorry for the enemy. It’s either you or him. There’s no in-between. No other choice.” She turned to me, her eyes luminescent, reflecting the silver of the sky and water. “When you come out of this—and I do believe and hope it will be when, not if—you’ll be entering a new phase of your life. A new phase of your training.”
“I’ll still be working with the Wild Hunt, won’t I?” I suddenly feared that I’d be pulled away from the agency, pulled away from Herne.
Morgana laughed at that point. “Of course. The Fae will still be after each other’s blood, even more so than before because once their common enemy is removed you know they’re going to be back at it. Typhon will be a rising threat. And my son would be bereft without you. He truly does love you, I hope you realize that.”
I nodded. “Yes, and I hope he knows how much I love him. I never expected to fall in love with a god, and sometimes I’m not sure how to deal with it.”
Morgana gave me a soft smile. “I uttered those same words so many thousands of years ago. Remember, I am The Merlin’s daughter, and my mother was Fae. I did not start out as a goddess. I’m one now, thanks to Cernunnos. I started out as one of the magic-born. I could have gone into the Force Majeure if I had chosen.”
I wasn’t sure exactly how to phrase what I wanted to ask next, but I finally decided to just blurt out the question. “How did… What did you have to do to become a goddess? I mean, I know Cernunnos elevated you to deityhood, but did you have to go through something like the Cruharach?”
Morgana turned back to stare over the rolling waves. “In a sense. I had to shed my mortal shell, I guess is the best way to put it.”
“That makes it sound like you died,” I said. “Like when someone is turned into a vampire.”
“In a sense, yes. I did die, and was reborn as a goddess. It is a lot like being turned into a vampire, when I think about it. The body changes when you’re reborn a god. Only I’m not one of the undead. Similar process, different outcome.”
“Cernunnos didn’t drink your blood, did he?” The thought of that made me queasy.
Morgana laughed then, shaking her head. “No, nothing like that. I can’t tell you any more—it’s something I’m not comfortable discussing. But yes, I went through a rite of passage. Now,” she said, standing, “you should go home and spend the afternoon resting. You’ll need all of your strength for tomorrow.”
“Herne keeps telling me I’m second-guessing myself. I keep wondering how Nuanda will know that I’m summoning him? Will he hear me? Will he answer?”
Morgana offered her hand to me and I took it as I stood. “My son is correct. You need to stop second-guessing yourself, and you need to stop second-guessing the Fates. Nuanda will hear you, and he will answer. You should be focused on steadying your nerves for the battle. Not on whether or not the battle will occur.”
And with that, she walked down the boardwalk as a wave splashed over the pier, spraying her with a fine mist. I blinked, and in that single second, she vanished. Feeling oddly calmed, I turned to make my way home.
Chapter Twenty-Three
We were standing on a hill, near Cernunnos’s palace. Down the incline was a lake. Unlike Lake Discover, this lake was vast, so vast that I couldn’t see the other side. The surface was still, with patches of ice here and there, and at one point I saw a stag walk out from the forest, onto the ice before it turned around and loped back down the shore. I had spent the night in a restless attempt to sleep, finally curling up with Mr. Rumblebutt on the sofa at three a.m. before I managed to drop off until six a.m. Once again, the entire agency made the trip, meeting Brighid and Morgana at Cernunnos’s palace. Shortly after we arrived, Brighid drilled me on what I needed to do in order to summon Nuanda.
Now, it was time.
The palace was about three miles away, and everybody was gathered nearby to watch and wait. I felt like a gladiator, with the weight of my people hanging heavy on my shoulders. I stood near the crest of the hill, gathering my courage. It was up to me now, and while I didn’t appreciate being funneled into this battle, at least it was about to begin. I just wanted it over with.
The wind whipped my hair around my face, and I paused to gather it back into a braid, which I coiled against my head. Fastening the braid firmly with two beautiful barrettes that Herne had given me—they were cloisonné, a beautiful black enamel with delicate flowers—I pinned my hair close to my head, not wanting to give Nuanda any advantage. Any loose hair, even a hanging braid, was a good handhold for an enemy to grab hold of.
Finally, I began to breathe evenly, a quiet sense of certainty washing over me. I glanced back at my friends, the gods, and Cernunnos’s servants, who were all watching. Ferosyn was there, and I imagined he was prepared to help me should I end up injured, though it was a fight to the death and Nuanda wasn’t going to leave me alive if he managed to cut me down.
I walked over to a flat area on the hilltop and used the sword to draw a circle. Stepping inside the circle, I inscribed a ring of runes—actually, it was an incantation written in Celtic ogham—around the ring, creating an inner circle. I had made the ring a good twenty feet in diameter. Finally, I walked to the center, driving the sword tip into the ground as I kept hold of the hilt. I could easily remove it, but the blade needed to be placed thusly for the spell of Summoning.
Finally, there was nothing left to do. It was time. I took a deep breath and, with my hands on the pommel of the sword, in a loud, clear voice, I sang out the enchantment that Brighid had taught me when we had arrived this morning:
You who would destroy my people.
You who bear the shield of Longlear.
I summon thee through the Aether.
Hear my command loud and clear.
You who are the one known as Nuanda.
You who are my mortal foe.
I summon thee to the battle.
Your force and power to overthrow.
The Fates have bound us one to one.
We must the call and summons heed.
There is no turning from this meeting.
From my summons, you shall not flee.
As the last of my words faded away, the skies opened up and a cold sleet began to pour, pummeling me. There was a loud crash as thunder broke through the skies, lightning jaggedly forking overhead. Still I stood, all too aware that I could become toast if one of the brilliant forks hit me.
But then, a mist began to rise in the circle and a silhouette shimmered into view. He was tall, a giant of a man, and he held a spear and shield. I flashbacked to my recurring dream. This was the vision I had seen, only instead of at a distance, I was now face-to-face with my adversary.
Out of the fog that wafted through the circle, stepped Nuanda. Half Light Fae, half Fomorian, he was easily seven feet tall, with hair the color of burnished wheat caught back in a ponytail. His beard came down to his chest. He carried a spear in one hand, the
shield Longlear in the other, and a sword hung from his waist. His eyes glittered with anger and bloodlust, and he looked at me, then let out a laugh that reverberated across the hilltop.
“You are the one that the Fates sent to me? But I have seen you in my dreams.”
I caught my breath, pulling the sword out of the ground and standing ready. “We’ve met in my dreams as well. It ends now, Nuanda. I give you one chance to stand down, to surrender. If you decline, then the battle is set and we fight to the death.”
He lifted his spear, and brought it down, tip first, to skewer it into the ground. Then, withdrawing his sword from its sheath, he brought up his shield. “To the death, then. So it was ordained, and so it comes to pass.”
And just like that, the fight was on. The most important fight of my life.
Nuanda glanced at the circle. “You’ve defined the battlefield.”
I knew what he meant. Unless I crossed the circle, breaking it, we were locked within the magical ring, neither of us able to get out until one of us lost. If I came through victorious, I could break the circle. If I died, the circle would break on its own.
I wasn’t going to insist on a fair fight. In a fair fight, I’d have no chance of winning. Instead, I gave him a nod and backed away to the edge of the circle. He moved to the opposite edge. I watched him carefully, trying to pick up any movement that might clue me in to any sign of weakness or hidden vulnerability. The half-giant moved with a remarkable grace. It was as though he had been doing this his entire life and this was just the culmination of his life’s training.
I held fast to my sword, trying to remember everything that Herne had taught me.
I wasn’t wielding a shield because I couldn’t manage both it and the sword as well. While I could handle the sword with one hand, I did much better with two, and right now I couldn’t sacrifice quality for the extra protection.
A Sacred Magic: A Wild Hunt Novel, Book 9 Page 23
