by E.J. Stevens
“Wait until you taste the brownies,” Donn said.
I just hoped he meant the chocolate pastries we could smell baking in some remote corner of the castle. When you’re talking to a death god who looks like Santa Claus, but has a guardian who weighs sin by eating people’s hearts, you never can be too sure.
Chapter 20
Donn was a surprisingly gracious host. He led us past an armory that would have made Jenna salivate, and into the castle’s library where we were greeted with spectral servants bearing tea and brownies.
I don’t know how ghosts could carry trays of refreshments. Perhaps it was a quirk of Tech Duinn. And while nearly a dozen souls of the dead flit about like servants, others poked their heads in for a peek at their master’s guests—literally. Heads protruded from book lined walls, and more than one ghost stared down from the ceiling. Even the taxidermied creatures interspersed amongst the books lining Donn’s shelves seemed to take our notice.
“Come, this way,” Donn said, gesturing to an arrangement of chairs and small couches.
We’d stepped around a painted screen and, though the conversation nook was void of monsters, I froze.
“Ah, yes, the hearth,” he said. “You will have to tell me why you’re so interested in my hearth. Or have you come to visit Skilly?”
“Skilly?” I asked, brow furrowing.
I looked to my friends, but Ceff gave a miniscule shake of the head and Torn lifted a shoulder in a one armed shrug.
“Our resident hearth brownie,” Donn said. “But no, I suppose not. You are faeries, but I don’t think you’ve come to visit with Skilly.”
“Um, no, but now that you mention it, I’d like to leave Skilly a gift,” I said, belatedly remembering my manners. I did not want to get pranked by a strange hearth brownie I’d never met before. “May I?”
“Yes, of course,” Donn said. He hooked his thumbs into the suspenders that held up his red trousers, eyebrows raised to his hairline. “I dare say our Skilly hasn’t received a gift in some time.
“Why?” I asked.
Now it was my turn to look surprised. A person would have to be a fool not to provide a gift to a hearth brownie. Hob was my friend and he’d still pix me six ways to Sunday if I ever forgot.
“We don’t get many visitors here who are able to bear gifts,” Donn said. “The dead do not bring their physical wealth when they enter this world.”
No, I suppose they didn’t. I winced, glad I wasn’t one of the dozens of spirits living here in the castle. They may be incorporeal, but I was sure Skilly would find a way to exact his revenge. Hearth brownies were as clever as they were stubborn.
“Well, thankfully, we’re not dead,” I said.
I retrieved a small packet of glitter from my pocket, and set it gently on the mantle, careful not to step so much as one toe on the hearthstone. I needed to get a better look at the hearth, but first I needed to appease the hearth brownie and this castle’s master.
I held a breath, but there was no sign of Skilly. After a moment, I turned and took a seat beside Ceff. I sat on the edge of the hard sofa, and met Donn’s steady gaze.
“Yes,” he said, as if there’d been no pause in our conversation. “I noticed that.”
Shadows coalesced around Donn, and he no longer resembled a jolly old man. The gleam in his eye was but one star in a galaxy so vast, it made my heart ache. Round cheeks became sharp as a razor, and the red and white of his suspendered pants resembled a mortal wound so deep it exposed the bone.
I came to my feet, nearly knocking over the table that held our tea, but the darkness was gone. I blinked, and the benign man with rosy cheeks was back. The only clue that I wasn’t going a crazy was a crow perched on his shoulder.
“Morrigan, my love, come for a brownie?” he asked.
His words were spoken to the bird, but his eyes never left my face. A smile tugged at his lips, and I fought to keep my hands from shaking.
He’d made his point. Donn was a powerful badass, a god. He might not appear as terrifying as the baphomet, but he was a much larger threat. They didn’t call him the Dark One for nothing.
And if he wasn’t just toying with us, the bird on his shoulder was no less powerful. Kaye’s occult library had been sparing when it came to details on Donn, but there were plenty of entries about the Morrigan. The goddess of war had left a mark on the human world, much like the blood and scorch marks of the battlefields over which she presided.
“Morrigan?” Torn asked, leaning forward. He squinted at the bird, and smiled. “It’s been a while. I didn’t recognize you.”
Torn knew the Morrigan? That was news to me. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. Cat sidhe hoard secrets like dragons hoard gold.
The bird shot upward, and spun. I lifted an arm against the winds unleashed by a magic tornado, wondering if maybe Torn and the Morrigan weren’t on such good terms after all. One of my throwing knives hit my palm, and I stood, ready to strike if it came to that. I swallowed hard as a woman wearing gunmetal gray armor and a cloak of black feathers strode from the spinning vortex.
The Morrigan’s prominent nose and pointed chin were not classically beautiful and, like Torn, her face was crisscrossed with scars. But there was something magnetic about her confident stance, muscular body, tanned skin, and black, short-cropped hair. This was a woman who men would follow into battle, a goddess many had voluntarily given the ultimate sacrifice. Some women were born for the stage, but the Morrigan was at home in the theater of war.
Mab’s bones, if this woman touched me, I’d never regain my sanity.
How many dying men had seen those jet black eyes on the battlefield? How much blood had been spilled at her command? My knees weakened, but I held my stance. It helped that Ceff had also come to his feet to stand beside me. We were a united front.
Torn may be a pain in the ass, but I’d claimed him as an ally and he’d accepted. We’d come here together, and I would not leave him behind. And Ceff would never leave me behind. I wasn’t sure if that made us brave or certifiable. Considering the Morrigan’s idea of a good time was being on the front lines of a combat zone, I was going with the latter.
I reached inside my jacket pocket, rubbing gloved fingers over my father’s key. If only we could make it out of here without a fight. I flicked my eyes to the hearth, but there was no obvious keyhole. If we made a run for the portal, I had no idea how long it would take to open it. I clenched my jaw, and focused on the Morrigan.
“You dare draw your weapons against me?” she said, head tilted to the side as her eyes slid to my blade and Ceff’s trident.
“Don’t worry about these two jokers,” Torn said. He waved a hand at us, and gave a quick jerk of his head, but he kept his eyes on Morrigan as he smiled. “They’d never really try to attack the goddess of war. They wouldn’t be that stupid.”
I got Torn’s message loud and clear. We slid our weapons away, and I forced a smile on my face.
“Sorry, force of habit,” I said. “Nothing personal.”
“We are pleased to make your acquaintance,” Ceff said. “I have heard much about you, but have never been blessed with your company. You honor us with your presence.”
Ceff was pouring it on thick, but it seemed to be working. We’d ruffled the Morrigan’s feathers, but she seemed willing to overlook our bad manners, for now. Rather than draw her weapons, she stroked the pommel of her sword with one gauntlet clad fingertip.
“Well, I do understand the instinct,” she said.
She smiled, and an oily sensation slid through my gut. The Morrigan might be giving us a pass for drawing our weapons, but I had a feeling she’d never forget it.
“You are beautiful as ever,” Torn said. “Been working out?”
Donn narrowed his eyes, and I prayed that Torn would stop hitting on the war goddess. Was that too much to ask? I thought about my experiences with Torn over the past year, and winced. He was pathological in his flirtations.
Oberon save
us all.
“So, um, how did you two meet?” I asked.
I winced, hoping that it hadn’t been at some mass orgy. There’s only so many things my brain could take, and stories of Torn’s sexual exploits was not one of them. Plus, I had a feeling that Donn wouldn’t appreciate reminders of Morrigan’s past romantic entanglements.
“It was at the siege of Carthage, wasn’t it?” Torn asked.
“Now that was a good battle,” Donn said.
“It was a thief’s paradise,” Torn said, a faraway look on his face. “And the secrets humans were willing to bargain for freedom…those were the days.”
“I remember that siege like it was yesterday,” Morrigan said with a smile. “The screams, the clash of weapons…”
“Death,” Donn said, slipping an arm around her waist.
“Oh yes, there was quite a lot of death,” she said, licking her lips.
Donn’s hand most definitely slid lower to cup the Morrigan’s ass, and I tried to think of something, anything, to change the subject. Ceff cleared his throat.
“A memorable day indeed,” he said. “But perhaps we can once again focus on the present.”
Right, now it was my turn. Maybe I could take advantage of Donn’s present good mood, and grill him for answers about his hearth.
“Yes, as much as we’d, um, love to stay and chat, our mission is time sensitive,” I said.
“A mission?” Morrigan asked. “What is your objective?”
“To find the portal hidden inside your hearth,” I said.
“Finding the portal will do you no good,” Donn said. “Only someone with a key can open that door.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I brought this,” I said, pulling the key from my pocket.
I held the key out so that they could get a good look at it, but I didn’t hand it over. My fingers ached from gripping the key so tightly.
Donn’s eyes widened, and he let out a bellowing laugh.
“You are full of surprises!” he said. He squinted at me, and nodded. “I should have known you were Will’s spawn. He’s one of the few living souls ever to pass through this place.”
“You knew my father?” I asked, heart racing.
That was something I hadn’t anticipated.
“For a time,” he said. “He hightailed it out of Faerie like a horde of demons were hot on his heels.”
“Did he ever disclose the reason for his rapid departure?” Ceff asked.
It was a good question, and I was relieved that at least one of us was still thinking straight. I was still reeling from the realization that we were retracing my father’s footsteps. I’d been searching months for clues, any possible hint, about my father. I held my breath, waiting for Donn to respond.
“Something to do with the Unseelie Queen,” he said. “This was before the kings and queens left Faerie, of course, and Mab was on a rampage. Someone had stolen something from her, and Mab and her minions left no stone unturned in her search for the traitor and her prized possession.”
“Some say that is why Mab left Faerie,” Ceff said. “To find that which was lost.”
“Why haven’t I ever heard this before?” I asked, frowning. “And if that was true, why would Oberon and Titania also leave Faerie?”
“Balance,” Morrigan said. “The plains of the Otherworld are all quite different—Faerie, Tech Duinn, Mag Mell—but they have one thing in common. The darkness must always be balanced by the light.”
“It is true,” Donn said, nodding and stroking his beard. “Even here, there must be an equal number of souls that head into the light as there are that fall into the pit. When Mab left Faerie, she tipped the scales in favor of the Seelie Court. Oberon had no choice but to leave.”
“And Titania?” I asked. “If that’s true, shouldn’t she have stayed? One Seelie King for one Unseelie Q?”
“You’re assuming Oberon and Mab are equals,” Torn said.
“Well, aren’t they?” I asked.
“Not even close,” he said. “It’s like the difference between a grenade and an atomic bomb. So when Mab left, Titania had to join Oberon to make up for the shift in power.”
“And now they’re in the human world,” I said.
My friends were in the human world. Jinx, Jenna, Kaye, Marvin, Hob, Sparky, Galliel…I’d left them behind, believing that they were safer staying at home. But the faerie equivalent of nuclear weapons were back home, and who knew when those bombs would go off. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming.
“Do not worry,” Ceff said. “No one has seen Mab in over a hundred years. It is possible that the rumors are true, and the king and queens of Faerie are sleeping through the centuries of human technology.”
“To answer your earlier question, Princess, no one really knows why they left or when they’ll return,” Torn said. “No sense losing sleep over it.”
He had a point. Worrying over the possibilities was as useful as a cat chasing its tail.
“Did my father mention anything else about his escape from Faerie?” I asked. “Was he protecting the person who stole from Mab? Or maybe he was just trying to get out before the roads between the worlds were closed?”
Before leaving Faerie, Oberon, Titania, and Mab had sealed the pathways to and from Faerie. As king of the wisps, perhaps my father had received word of the closing borders and wanted to leave Faerie before that happened, although I couldn’t think of a reason why he’d want to leave his court behind. Maybe he didn’t believe the borders would remain closed for so long. He couldn’t have been motivated by his love for my mother. Two hundred years ago, they hadn’t even met. She, a human, hadn’t even been born.
“He was protecting someone, a child,” Donn said. “Though whether she was the kin of the one who betrayed Mab, or some other faerie babe, I do not know.”
“Where was this child you say was under his protection?” Ceff asked. “Was he carrying her with him when he passed through this place?”
“Yes, of course, it’s one of the reasons I let him leave Tech Duinn with his soul intact,” Donn said.
“You were going to steal his soul?” I asked.
That also begged the question whether Donn was planning the same fate for us. For all his tea and brownies and rosy cheeked smiles, he was the god of death. Collecting and sorting souls was his job, and we’d barged into his workplace.
“Don’t worry,” he said, waving a hand. “Things were different then. I hadn’t learned to delegate yet, which meant I had to personally weigh the sins of every new soul that entered this realm.”
I grimaced, imagining Donn doing that job day in and day out. It was like picturing Santa Claus tearing into the chest of every newly dead person to cross over to Tech Duinn, pulling out their heart, and eating it to see if you’d been naughty or nice. I inched further away from the death god, stomach churning, happy that I hadn’t accepted any of the tea and brownies.
“He was grouchy, and stubborn,” Morrigan said, rolling her eyes. “It took him centuries to finally hire a guardian beast.”
A guardian beast that we’d killed. I probably owed Cora a fruit basket for taking over that job.
“I was overtired and overworked, so my first instinct was to take his soul regardless of how strange it looked,” he said.
“But he convinced you to let him live because of a child,” I said.
“Yes, the babe began to wail, and I finally snapped out of it,” he said. “I went from running on autopilot to really listening to what Will had to say.”
“Autopilot?” Ceff asked.
“Donn is a huge fan of modern aviation,” Morrigan said.
“I do love anything with wings,” Donn said, raking her with his eyes.
“So, um, what did my father say?” I asked, trying to bring Donn back to our original subject.
“He pleaded for me to spare the child’s life, promising never to pass through this way again,” he said.
“Did he give any indicatio
n of who the child was, or why he was taking her from Faerie?” Ceff asked.
“Only that the child must be hidden at all cost,” Donn said.
“And you say that the child was a faerie babe, not a human…you’re sure?” Torn asked.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Donn said. “I read her soul. It was one of the reasons why I let them go. Pureblooded faerie children are rare. So few are born, and even less survive until adulthood.”
“I wonder who she was,” I said.
“I never saw Willem with any child but you,” Torn said. “She must have been sent into hiding as soon as he reached the human world.”
“Perhaps his task was solely to aid in her escape,” Ceff said. “It would not have been difficult to find a fae family to foster her, not with how rare our children are.”
He stared down at his hands, and impulsively I reached over, squeezing his hand with my gloved one, a rare public gesture due to my psychic affliction. Thanks to that same psychic gift, I knew firsthand just how much Ceff had suffered when Melusine murdered their children. It had been centuries since their deaths, but the grief was always swimming just beneath the surface.
I also knew just how much it hurt to lose a parent.
“I wonder if she has any living family,” I said.
“If they were the traitors who screwed over Mab, they better hope they’re dead,” Torn said. “There are much worse fates than death, Princess.”
Torn was right, but the hurt little girl I’d been still yearned for the father she’d lost. I swore that if I discovered anything during the search for my father that would reunite that other girl with her family, I would do my best to bring them together. In a way, it would be like continuing my father’s work. He’d obviously cared enough about the child to risk the perils of Tech Duinn, not to mention Mab’s wrath.
I smiled, eager to find a way to feel closer to the man I’d loved so completely before a magic geis stole my childhood memories. While so many of those memories had returned over the past few months, I still longed for more.
I stood, eager to be on our way. What secrets had my father left for me at the wisp court? Would I discover the name of the child he’d taken to the human world? Were her parents members of his court?
