The Lethe Stone (The Fae War Chronicles Book 4)

by Jocelyn Fox

  “Haze has been spying on me?” Tess couldn’t muster the energy to feel indignant. She felt like a wrung-out sponge, dry of any more emotion.

  “Just observing,” replied Vell. She grinned a little. “And reporting his observations to me.”

  “It’s hard for me to sleep. It’s just…different.” Tess shrugged. “I don’t like feeling alone. Even with Robin there, falling asleep feels very lonely.”

  “Nightmares?” Vell asked bluntly.

  “Yes.” Tess shrugged. “But I’m no different than anyone else who fought in the war. We all saw things. We watched friends die, we faced terrible creatures and stared into the face of evil. Or at least that’s what someone told me.”

  Vell made a noncommittal sound. “Everyone is different,” she repeated. She stared into the fire. “I don’t have nightmares about the battles that I’ve fought. We are raised from birth to fortify ourselves for war.” Her gaze was distant. “But I do have nightmares about my sister. About Arcana.” She pressed her lips together and fell silent.

  “What do you do?” Tess asked.

  A humorless smile tugged at one corner of Vell’s mouth. “You’re not curious about the exact nature of my nightmares?”

  “I have enough nightmares of my own without digging into ones that belong to other people,” Tess said lightly. In a more serious vein, she added, “And I don’t think it much matters what the nightmares really are. I’d just like to know if you’ve found a way to manage them that works for you.” She took a deep breath. “Because even though I have a lot of research to do on Gates and Lethe Stones, I’d prefer to get some good sleep every now and then.”

  “Ever practical, Lady Bearer,” Vell said dryly. She pulled another string of sparks from the hearth as she thought. “I’ve tried a few things so far. White shroud works, but I don’t like the thought of not being able to wake up if I’m needed.”

  “It leaves me groggy in the morning,” agreed Tess.

  “Sometimes a hard practice session a few hours before I want to go to sleep works, but not always.” Vell shrugged. “Mostly Liam wakes me up and soothes me back to sleep.” She smiled at Tess’s look of surprise at the tender admission. “You know we’re lovers, Tess. Did you think we just rut like wild animals and go our separate ways? Although we certainly do that as well.” She winked.

  Tess’s look of surprise transitioned into a look of mingled shock and comical disgust. “I…I did not need that visual. Metaphor. Whatever.” She shook her head.

  Vell chuckled. “Well, it certainly shocked you out of your self-pity.”

  “Um, you can just tell me when you’re tired of my moping. You don’t have to scar me with a description of your love life with my brother.” But Tess was grinning despite herself.

  Vell settled back into her seat. “Now that we’ve got the emotions out of the way for a while, I think we should discuss our approach to the next council meeting.”

  “Agreed.” Tess straightened and looked at Vell. “So how are we going to make Mab do what we want?”

  As the embers in the hearth spit sparks every now and again, the two women talked, pouring lukewarm khal into their mugs and examining every possible course of action that came to their minds. Tess felt a profound gratitude for Vell’s friendship and unshakable determination, and she let the thread of hope in her chest spread its roots as they meticulously built their plan.

  Chapter 11

  By the time all three of the men had showered, thick darkness pressed against the windows of Ross’s little house. Duke stitched up a few cuts on Merrick and Luca that had been revealed beneath the lingering grime and gore. The most serious wound was a series of puncture marks on Merrick’s ribs where a creature had grabbed him.

  “We’ll have to keep an eye on these, make sure they don’t get infected.” Duke looked dubiously at the tube of antibiotic ointment in Ross’s kit. “I don’t want to use something on you that might make it worse.”

  Merrick shrugged slightly. “If you have anything that’s made from a plant, that might be the least dangerous. As far as I know, there aren’t many plants in your world that are deadly to us. If it’s good for you, I’m willing to try it.”

  Duke glanced at Ross, who raised her eyebrows as if to say that Merrick had a point.

  “I might have some hippie stuff that could be useful,” she said. Then she smiled slightly. “And by that I mean Vivian might have some hippie stuff that could be useful.” She disappeared down the hallway. Duke heard her speaking firmly to the dog as she slid through the door to Vivian’s room.

  Merrick sat back slightly on the couch, holding a blue t-shirt in one hand. Both he and Luca had fit into pairs of Duke’s gym shorts, thanks to the modern miracle of elastic waistbands. After some digging, Ross had found an old shirt that fit Luca – Duke thought that it might have been Liam’s at one point, mixed into his pack during one training evolution or another. Luca sat on the other side of the couch, the cloth of the t-shirt straining over his broad shoulders. Although he still looked like he could wrestle a grown bull with his bare hands, he had fallen asleep almost as soon as he sat down. Shadows darkened the skin beneath his eyes in stark half-circles, and rather than making him look better, the shower had only revealed the motley assortment of bruises, scrapes and cuts from the battle, which stood out vividly against his pale skin. At least when they’d all been coated with a light layer of grime, he could pretend that Luca didn’t look like he was sick, Duke thought darkly.

  “Found some things that might be useful,” announced Ross as she breezed back into the room. “Vivian’s a big fan of the whole natural movement, which I don’t think is a bad thing, but…anyway. Here’s an antiseptic ointment – eucalyptus, tea tree oil and calendula.” She held up a small jar as she read off the label and set it on the arm of the couch. Merrick picked it up, unscrewed the cap and smelled it gingerly. “Pure tea tree oil, some lavender oil and I know she has some tea and things in the kitchen.”

  “I’ll do a test with the ointment,” said Duke. He took a cotton swab and scooped out a small amount of the opaque salve. “I just want to make sure that I’m not poisoning you, especially letting something into your blood that could be harmful.”

  “Our healers would approve,” said Merrick, offering his arm when Duke gestured. The Wild Court warrior watched speculatively as Duke smeared the ointment on the skin at the inside of his wrist.

  “Tell me if you feel sick or the skin starts to itch,” Duke said, screwing the cap back onto the jar. “I’ll look in the morning and if you haven’t reacted to it, I think it’ll be safe to use.” He sat back on his heels and looked at Luca, grateful that the ulfdrengr didn’t have any serious wounds from the battle but wishing all the same that he could do something concrete to help Luca regain his strength. A cut he could stitch back together. He didn’t know how to treat this invisible drain on the ulfdrengr’s strength.

  “It might be the separation from his wolf,” said Merrick, pulling his t-shirt back on after Duke finished taping a gauze pad to the puncture wounds on his side.

  “Kianryk is not my wolf,” said Luca, eyes still closed.

  “I thought you were asleep,” replied Merrick mildly.

  “Resting,” countered Luca. Then he opened his eyes and sat up a little straighter as Ross walked back into the room with several thick sandwiches stacked on a plate.

  “It’s been a long day,” she said, “and I’m sure you’re hungry by now.”

  Duke was long past the point of hunger, long past the point of exhaustion, but the sight of the sandwiches prodded his stomach back to life. Luca and Merrick both took half of a sandwich and Duke grabbed one as well. “Thanks,” he said to Ross. She didn’t reply, looking at him with the expression that meant they’d be talking later, having a serious discussion, as she often termed it. But even the prospect of that conversation couldn’t dampen the simple pleasure of that first bite of the ham sandwich. He noted that despite Luca’s wan appearance, the big man
ate two of the sandwiches, which was heartening.

  They finished the plate of food in industrious silence. Merrick sighed and leaned back against the couch, chewing his last mouthful. Luca stared into the distance with pale eyes. Ross watched him as she polished off the remnants of the last sandwich.

  “I’ll go make up the study into the guest bedroom,” she said to no one in particular.

  Merrick looked at Duke. “Does she believe you?”

  “About what? That you’re Fae, or that I was in your world for almost a year by the time measured here?”

  “I think starting with our existence,” replied the navigator. He took out his scrying-glass from its case on his belt, holding it in one palm and running a finger lightly over the delicate knobs.

  “I don’t know.” Duke shook his head. “It’s a lot to ask of anyone. Your world is just legends and fairy tales here. Bedtime stories told to kids.”

  Merrick smiled a little. “When I was young, my mother would tell me tales of the mortal world before I went to sleep at night.”

  “So you pointy-eared bastards do have parents,” said Duke, raising an eyebrow.

  “I think by definition that means we are not bastards, doesn’t it?” Merrick’s gray eyes gleamed.

  Duke chuckled. “And you’re fast on the uptake. You’ll do fine here, as long as we can keep you away from iron.”

  “That might prove to be difficult. It is a constant feeling, the nearness of it.” Merrick shifted. “It feels a bit like the morning after drinking too much laetniss.”

  “A constant hangover?” Duke shook his head. “That blows.”

  “It makes it difficult to concentrate at times, but I’ll manage,” replied Merrick. “I believe Luca is faring worse.”

  “I can still hear you,” rumbled the ulfdrengr, sliding out of his trance to look at the Vyldgard warrior.

  “I didn’t say anything offensive.” Merrick shrugged slightly.

  “Has this ever happened before to you?” Duke asked Luca. “The seizures, the sickness…do you have any idea what it could be?”

  “My best guess is that it is the withdrawal from Kianryk. The stretching of our bond.” Luca paused. “When I was a prisoner, they held Chael and Kianryk while forcing Rialla and me to track the Bearer. I felt something akin to this then, but much less severe. And I had a dagger imbued with a Dark spirit bound to my hand, so…” He spread his hands. The scars on his right hand looked fresher, redder, than Duke remembered. Perhaps it was just because Luca was paler.

  “So what happens if this bond continues to be stretched?” Duke asked.

  Luca took a breath. “Most likely I will become weaker and weaker, until I die. The bond between a warrior and their wolf is normally like…like a loop.” He searched for words. “My energy goes into the bond, and into Kianryk, but I receive his energy back. It is a balance. It does not take from either of us.” He paused. “If man or wolf is killed, the bond is broken. It ceases to exist. But since we are both still alive, in different worlds…I believe it’s draining my life force. And that of Kianryk.” He smiled tiredly. “Though it has been said before that wolves are much more resilient than men, and I hope it is so.”

  Duke felt cold dread settle into the pit of his stomach like a stone. “How long do you have?”

  Luca met his eyes. “I don’t know.”

  The wiry Southerner looked at Merrick. “Can you open a portal back from this side?”

  Merrick sighed. “If I could, I would. But I feel as though I can barely light a candle right now.”

  Duke muttered under his breath and ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Well, one of you can sleep on the futon and I inflated the air mattress next to that,” said Ross, walking back into the room. “There’s a few extra blankets on the chair by the desk.”

  Merrick stood and nodded gracefully to Ross. “Thank you for your hospitality. We are grateful.” He placed a long-fingered hand over his heart.

  “You’re welcome,” said Ross, two spots of color appearing on her cheeks.

  “I do have another favor to ask,” continued Merrick. “I’d like to put up some wards on your house, and it would be easiest if you had chalk or charcoal. I will clean it in the morning.”

  “Some wards,” said Ross faintly. “Um, sure.” She walked over to a chest of drawers standing by the entryway and fished out a cardboard packet of chalk. “Here. I hope the color doesn’t matter, it’s just plain white chalk.”

  “It will serve its purpose.” Merrick took the chalk and walked over to the door, studying it for a few moments before beginning to sketch runes on the doorframe. The chalk was almost invisible on the cream-colored paint. Ross watched him, seeming more amused and perplexed than anything else, and then her eyes found Duke. She raised her eyebrows in silent question. He tilted his head and motioned for her to watch.

  Merrick worked on the front door industriously, the chalk scratching against the paint as he marked runes with quick, sure strokes. He stepped back, surveyed his handiwork, and then marked a complex rune in the center of the door itself. He held out a hand to Duke. “Your dagger, please.”

  Duke had an idea about what was going to happen with his blade, but he handed it to Merrick hilt-first anyway, hoping that Ross wouldn’t completely freak out with the faerie voodoo going on in her entryway. Merrick finished chalking the circular rune, pricked his finger decisively with the tip of Duke’s dagger, and pressed a bloody print into the center of the door. The hairs on the back of Duke’s neck stood on end as the air tightened in the room, and he saw Ross stiffen as she felt it too. Two small sparks of silver flashed out from the center of the door, tracing the frame and then zipping away in opposite directions around the walls, outlining the window frames in the living room and dining room like frenetic fireflies before zooming away toward the bedrooms. Duke heard May’s sudden barking in Vivian’s room.

  “There,” said Merrick, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. He swallowed and swayed, reaching out to steady himself on the chest of drawers and missing. Ross grabbed him, grimacing as she kept him from falling. Duke quickly rescued his dagger, wiping it clean before sliding it back into its sheath.

  “I think that’s enough of whatever that was for one night,” said Ross, guiding Merrick toward the study-turned-guest-room.

  “Didn’t want…anything…coming in during the night,” gasped Merrick, letting her steer him down the hallway. Duke watched them for a moment, thinking, and then retrieved Merrick’s sword and one of Luca’s axes from the hall closet. He’d slept with his rifle beside him in the mountains of the Northern wilds, and though a little house in southern Louisiana was a bit different from that untamed wilderness, Luca and Merrick were still in a world not their own.

  “Come on, big guy,” Duke said to Luca, offering him his free hand. “Might as well get you settled for the night too.” To his surprise, Luca took his hand. Duke grunted as he hauled the ulfdrengr upright. “Feels like you weigh more than half a mountain.”

  Luca chuckled as he stood for a moment and made sure his legs were steady. “If you think I’m big, you should have seen my brothers.”

  Duke opened his mouth to ask – it was rare that the ulfdrengr talked about their families – but then he pressed his lips shut. If he’d lost everything and everyone, he sure wouldn’t want some curious asshole digging into the wound. He shadowed Luca to the guest room. May still whined low in her throat behind the door of Vivian’s room, uneasy after the sweep of Merrick’s spell over the walls of the house.

  Merrick stood by the single window of the study, Ross watching him with a hint of wariness. The room was small and simply furnished with a desk, a tall silver lamp, a bookshelf and an old leather wing-backed chair in the corner. Ross had pulled the futon away from the wall and made it up like a proper bed; the air mattress, too, had sheets and pillows and a blanket, situated a few steps away from the futon against the other wall.

  “I’ll take the…air mattress,�
� said Merrick, tasting the words on his tongue. The navigator gazed out the window for a moment more, staring into the heavy darkness of the Louisiana night, and then let the curtain fall back into place.

  Luca didn’t argue, padding over to the fold-down bed. He paused and turned to Ross. “As Merrick has already said, thank you for opening your home to us. We are strangers here.” He smiled faintly. “I am sure you have many questions. I think Duke can answer most of them, but I am also sure he will not tell you of his courage and steadfast loyalty in the battle for our world.”

  Duke felt his neck heat with a flush as he laid Merrick’s sword by the air mattress and positioned Luca’s axe within easy reach of the futon. He hated the part of war that came after the actual fight, the talking and the evaluation and the assignment of awards. It was one thing to talk about it with his brothers. That he didn’t mind. It was when someone tried to talk him up or an outsider offered their analysis that he bristled. Well-intentioned on Luca’s part, and he did feel a prickle of gratitude – maybe it would help Ross believe him – but it made him uneasy all the same. War was ugly. People died, in ugly ways. He didn’t like it when people tried to romanticize it and package it in pretty words. But he bit his tongue. If anyone had earned the right to talk about the battle, it was Luca.

  A slight frown creased Ross’s brow. “What do you mean, the battle for your world?”

  “If I tried to tell the whole story tonight, I think I’d keel over in the middle of it,” said Luca with another faint smile. The shadows under his eyes looked even more pronounced in the light of the study’s lamp. “But Duke and his companions helped to save our world. I saw the destruction of my people and my homeland, and I was held captive by this evil. I thought I had seen the last of light and hope in my life. But then the Bearer freed me from the darkness, and her brother and his companions helped free us all.” He paused as if to gather his strength. “It was a great battle, and not one easily won.”