by Amy Sumida
“And that was on your own,” Gage pointed out. “Imagine what we could do together.”
“Well, let's stop this monster thief first, and then we can talk about future missions,” I suggested with a smirk.
“All right,” he agreed softly. “I see you that you don't believe as I do yet, but I have faith that you will.”
“Faith is a dangerous thing,” I teased him.
“And a powerful one,” he added with a wink. Then he looked up and nodded toward something. “Here we are; the Nest.”
“The Nest?” I asked as I looked over the building he indicated.
“It's the gathering place for our community,” Amaron explained as he led us through a group of griffins. “We keep our records here, make tribal decisions, and store important artifacts.”
We had come to the end of the central lane. The waterfall was directly before us; it's rippled pool spreading out among mossy boulders before narrowing into a stream that ambled past us. The sound of falling water and gurgling stream were soothing, and despite the gathering of people, could be heard easily. Griffins were not the rowdy sort. They murmured to each other quietly and waited patiently for Amaron to make introductions. Once that was out of the way, and another round of greetings and questions navigated, we headed into the building they called the Nest.
It was another stone structure; massive and formidable outside while airy and orderly inside. Corridors led off from the main hall, and Amaron took us down one of them without explanation. Again, the corridors were spacious enough for people twice our size, and I suspected that they were to allow for the passage of...
A griffin came striding down the hallway toward us. I stopped walking and just stared. You have to understand; I've seen all sorts of magnificent, magical creatures, but the griffins had moved to Torr-Chathair long before I was born, and I'd never seen one in their griffin form before. I'd seen drawings of them, but nothing that could prepare me for the sight of this King of Creatures.
It walked with grace and power, its back half rolling with the flow of a predator cat; lions paws padding silently over the stone. In direct opposition to that grace, its front half struck the ground with the beat of a prancing horse, as if forcing the floor into submission; eagle talons tapping and scratching. A massive eagle head flicked to the side to survey us with one shiny eye. Elongated lion ears rose high on that avian head, giving it added nobility. Pure white feathers darkened down into tawny ones and then into golden plumage that matched the lion mane beneath. It was a smooth transition from feathers to fur that was hard to catch at first. Just as smoothly, the front legs went from muscular lion limbs into thinner bird talons. As the griffin approached us, its lion tail flicked with curiosity, and its enormous eagle wings fluffed before settling along its back.
Suspicions confirmed; the hallways were made to accommodate griffins; very large griffins. Well, of course, they were for the griffins. What had I expected; a bunch of dragons to come running through?
“Trathon,” Amaron nodded in greeting. “My son has returned with a mate. She is a spellsinger and is working with the witches to investigate the monster abductions.”
The griffin shimmered and transformed into a naked man. I focused on the man's stern face; staunchly refusing to look any lower. He was sharper-looking than Gage and leaner. Definitely older too; not that I could see it in his skin—he was as healthy as any immortal—but it was in his eyes. This was a man who had been around for a very long time, and he had seen some shit.
“That was a lot to process, Amaron,” Trathon came forward and looked me over. “A spellsinger, a mate, and a monster hunter?”
“I suppose.” I shrugged. “I'm a modern gal; I can be many things.”
“And I suppose you're here to collect our evidence,” he shot back.
“If you wouldn't mind sharing, Mr. No-Pants,” I said.
Trathon laughed and sent Gage a smile. “She's got spark; I like her.”
“Do you like me enough to find some pants?” I asked dryly, and Trathon laughed more.
“If you see something that bothers you, girl—grab it,” Trathon waggled his brows at me. “Grab it and hold on tightly.”
“So that I may chop it off,” Gage added.
“Oh, the newly mated.” Trathon rolled his eyes and then turned away. “The evidence is in here. Come along, children.”
I kept my eyes firmly on the back of Trathon's head. Gods-damned griffins were all fit—very fit. They shouldn't be walking around naked when they looked like that. On second thought; I guess it was better to have a hard body walking around in such a manner than a flabby one. But damn it all, it made me want to drop to the floor and do some crunches.
Trathon took us into a room full of bookshelves; not just built into the walls, but also freestanding shelves set in rows down the room. Except these shelves weren't full of books, they were stocked with stuff. Woven baskets were placed neatly on each of them. Trathon didn't head to any of the shelves, though; he went to a heavy table set before them. There was a glass jar on the table which he picked up and handed to me without further ado.
“This was found at the latest location,” Trathon said. “It smells like a shining one, but none which I recognize.”
I wasn't too surprised by the shining one revelation; I had already been leaning in that direction. So, I didn't have much of a reaction to that; I just peered into the jar at the single hair. I was impressed that they'd been able to find such a tiny piece of evidence out in the open. It was hard to tell the color of a single hair until you held it up against a solid background. So, I used my hand for lack of something white. The color blazed to life against my pale skin, and I gasped. Orange; the hair was flaming orange, and I'd seen that exact shade before.
“You recognize the hair?” Trathon was shocked. “You haven't even scented it yet.”
“I don't have your sense of smell,” I said. “But I don't need it to know whose hair this is. Her ex-husband was our first suspect, but he doesn't have the power to pull this off. In fact; she doesn't either.” I scowled at the hair. “But it has to be her.”
“Who?” Gage asked.
“Ava; the last Queen of Sapphire.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I used my contact charm to call Declan as the griffins argued over the best way to stop a fairy from breaking into a realm that was originally discovered by the Shining Ones. As soon as Declan answered, I told him the news.
“It's Ava!”
“What?” Declan asked in shock. “You mean the one bringing monsters into the Human Realm is the ex-Sapphire Queen?”
“Yep.”
“How the fuck do you know that?”
“Gage's father contacted him this morning,” I explained. “They found a hair at the last abduction scene, and I just got a look at it. It's fucking orange! Bright orange!”
“But what about the pale-haired man you saw in your vision, and the large footprint?”
“Maybe an accomplice?” I suggested. “I don't know, but there's no mistaking that shade. It's her, Declan.”
“That gods-damned bitch!” Declan swore.
“I know,” I agreed. “What can we do about it?”
“I can go over to... where the fuck did Ava go after the war?” He lost his thunder to contemplation.
“Shit; I don't remember,” I huffed. “I'd ask Torin, but...”
“Yeah, let me take care of it,” Declan offered. “Don't worry; I'll find Ava, and then we can end this.”
“We can't just kill her, can we?”
“Who's going to stop us?” Declan's voice held sass and vengeance—a strange combination.
“Fair enough,” I agreed. “But shouldn't we collect more proof before we do something so final?”
“More proof than her hair in Torr-Chathair, right at the abduction site?” Declan asked.
“Yeah; you're right,” I conceded. “I just...”
“What?”
“How did she do it, Declan
?” I asked what was starting to really bother me. “You shining one royals grounded most of her power.”
“Ava is not without friends, my love,” Declan reminded me. “And you can be damn sure that we'll find those allies of hers too.”
“All right, I'll let you get to it,” I said. “I have to go to a griffin party. I should be back later tonight.”
“A griffin party?” Declan asked in surprise.
“To welcome me into the tribe,” I whispered.
“You're being welcomed into the tribe?” Declan hooted. “How deliciously primitive.”
“Shut up,” I huffed. “They're really nice.”
“The griffins?” He chortled. “The fiercest shapeshifters in all of the realms are really nice?”
“Goodbye, Declan.”
“Goodbye, lover. I'll see you tomorrow.”
I pulled the charm out of my ear as I turned toward the men. They were all watching me expectantly.
“I've just spoken to the Alexandrite King,” I reported. “He's going to locate the suspect, and then we can take care of this.”
“Just like that?” Trathon asked with some disappointment. “Don't we get to hunt?”
“You want to go to Tír na nÓg and hunt a fairy on their own turf?” I asked, expecting him to say no.
“Yes,” he said immediately—along with Amaron and Gage.
“Well, you're not.” I grimaced at them. “There's no way that the Shining Ones are going to be okay with me bringing a flock of griffins into Tír na nÓg to hunt one of their old queens.”
“We are on good terms with the Fey,” Amaron declared.
“Great; let's keep it that way,” I said firmly.
“We'll need proof that the thief is dead,” Trathon bargained.
“You'll have it,” Gage assured him. “They may not let in an entire flight of us, but I'm going with Elaria, no matter what. I'll verify the kill.”
“I'm satisfied with that.” Trathon nodded then looked to Amaron. “You?”
“I trust my son implicitly,” Amaron agreed.
“Excellent.” Gage grinned. “Then there's just one thing left to do.”
“Feast!” Amaron declared.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Griffins know how to party. The celebration began at Gage's parents' house and spread throughout the whole village. Instead of making my way across a room, Gage and I drifted down torch-lit paths to every house in the valley. We ate and drank and danced in between receiving blessings for our happiness and even a few gifts. But before we even began the party crawl, Gage and I had dined with his family, and I got to meet the siblings.
Gage's brothers were both massive warriors with courtly manners, just like him. The brothers, including Gage, had a similar look to them, but I thought Gage was the most attractive of the bunch. Perhaps I was biased, though. Kryana—Finteren's mate—sure seemed to disagree with me. She had only eyes for her husband, and he was just as obsessed with her.
“They've only been mated a decade,” Sashaena whispered to me. “Still a pair of lovebirds.”
I nodded sagely and hoped that my lovebird stage lasted as long with my men. Speaking of which; no mention was made of the Rooster Spell, and I hoped we'd continue to be able to hide it. I'd hate to see Gage's family disappointed. They were a loving group who hadn't hesitated in bringing me into the fold.
“So, how did you meet?” It was Rentar, the middle brother, who asked.
Gage was the youngest—which meant that he broke out of his egg last. Yes; I was still trying to get over the egg thing. But I wasn't the only one with issues; Amaron's eyes went wide when Rentar posed his question, flicking from his wife to me. Then he shook his head just the barest bit. Right; I wasn't supposed to mention Vivian.
“There happened to be a Witch's Ball the evening that Gage arrived at Coven Cay,” I tried to not chuckle at Amaron's antics. “I was on stage, singing, when Gage came into the room. He just walked up to me, and I reached out to him. He took my hand, and that was it.”
“You took a stranger's hand while you were singing at a Ball?” Kryana asked with wide eyes. “Then what?”
“Then I lifted her off the stage and danced with her while she continued to sing.” Gage smiled softly at me.
“That's so romantic,” Kryana whispered.
“Thanks a lot, dingleberry!” Finteren growled at Gage. “You just made me look bad.”
“Our death spiral was the most romantic moment of my life, Fin,” Kryana purred. “You will never look bad to me.”
Finteren got a goofy look on his face.
“I guess you're off the hook,” I said to Gage with a grin.
“Griffins are very romantic,” Gage said proudly. “Finteren wasn't really worried. He wooed Kryana for months before they spiraled.”
“Fin camped outside my village,” Kryana added. “He wouldn't leave until we were mated.”
“Oh, you're from another tribe?” I asked.
“That's usually where male griffins find their mates,” Finteren explained. “We journey around the world, searching the tribes until we find our mate. It's a quest.”
“Did you go on a quest?” I asked Gage.
“Three times,” Rentar teased his brother. “I guess we know why he was unsuccessful.”
“Maybe you should go to the Human Realm too, Rentar,” Sashaena said gently. “It could be that your mate is outside the tribes as well.”
Rentar blinked and then nodded. “Perhaps you're right, Mother. I should return with Gage.”
“After this is settled, you can come for a visit,” Gage quickly added.
“Tell me that you couldn't use another griffin out there,” Rentar challenged.
“We have too many warriors as it is,” I tried for some diplomacy. “The witches might see another griffin as an insult to their capabilities.”
The table went quiet; evidently, those were the perfect words to get griffins to back down. No one wanted to insult another fighter's abilities... especially not allies.
“After it's over, then,” Rentar agreed.
Gage shared a relieved look with me.
After the meal, Sashaena threw open the main doors of her home and invited her neighbors inside. That's when the celebration truly began. Gage and I were whisked out onto the lawn amid his tribe, and the torches were lit. We were welcomed warmly by every family and drawn along on a happy tide. We were making our way down to another palatial home when Rentar stopped us.
“Sing for us, Spellsinger!” Rentar called to me across someone's front yard.
The griffins gathered around us, and musical instruments were brought forth. Musicians came forward eagerly, and I looked to Gage. He shrugged; it was my call. So, I pulled out my iPod and thumbed through it until I found a song that I thought would be appropriate for griffins; one that would take my magic to a good place. I played it once for the musicians so that they could get the melody. They marveled a bit over the machine that performed like a host of men, but then they listened, and finally nodded their agreement. Alessia Cara's “Wild Things” had an easy enough beat to follow, even without modern, electric instruments.
As soon as my griffin band started to play, the tribe went silent and began to bob to the thumping rhythm. This type of music was new to them; I could see it in their widened eyes and even wider smiles. When I noticed that, I was glad I'd chosen this particular song. It was joyous; a story of self-acceptance and pride in being different. My voice lifted on the wings of my magic and flowed among these wild things; my new family. Feet started to pound the earth as the drumbeats moved the tribe to dance. I swayed in sublime pleasure; the feeling of acceptance and family soaking from the lyrics into my heart. Soon, I was entirely enthralled by the song, wrapped up in the sound of home and hearth; the warmth of wild things and their jubilant ways. The griffins spun each other around and leapt about, as caught up as I was in the music. Primal and passionate; the thudding rhythm carried us along until it finally faded away, a
nd left us laughing with delight.
After that, the musicians played on without me. Gage and I left them to it and wandered the village for hours until finally, it was time for us to leave. We bid everyone goodbye, and Gage led me up the path to the mountain ledge. We held hands and stared out at Saeiqa Village for a few moments. Firelight warmed the night along with the sound of music and laughter.
“I am unbelievably happy,” Gage said to me.
“You know what, feather-face? I am too.” I smiled.
“Feather-face?” He chuckled and pulled me into an embrace.
