The Wood Queen

by Karen Mahoney

No more thought, just pure emotion. That’s what seemed to trigger her power, after all. Why not use it, consciously, in an effort to do what was necessary? Love for her mother; fear of losing her; hatred toward Simon; anger at the way Aunt Paige had betrayed her; love and laughter with Navin; even her uncertain passion for Xan.

  All of these things, together, filled her entire self—body, heart, and mind.

  Donna was no longer aware of her surroundings; she was only vaguely aware of the shattering brightness that burst from her hands. Something like a gossamer-fine thread tugged in the depths of her being. She stretched out her arms, threw back her head, and envisioned a mystical gateway opening like a gaping mouth between the twisted winter trees.

  Her iron tattoos wound around and around her arms in increasingly crazed patterns. Silver light surrounded her, reflecting off the living markings on the backs of her hands.

  The last thing she remembered was the sound of Aliette’s cruel laughter and the triumphant shrieks of the gathered wood elves.

  Twenty

  When Donna came to, she was lying on the cold ground looking straight up at the starless night sky. Starless? She sat up quickly, feeling sick and spent, trying to remember what she was doing here. And where “here” actually was.

  She shook her head and rubbed her face, realizing that her hands were bare. Shivering, she looked around the shadowed ground but couldn’t see her gloves anywhere.

  And then she remembered: Ironwood Forest. The Wood Queen. The door to Faerie. The gateway that she had succeeded in opening—at least, she thought she had succeeded. At least partially. She remembered the golden light before her eyes, but then the thread of power—the sliver of first matter, prima materia, inside her soul—had seemed to catch on something and everything had stopped.

  Scrambling to her feet, ignoring the screaming resistance in every muscle, she was faced with nothing but the empty clearing and a radiant space between trees that held the shape of a huge rectangular blur. A door?

  The door?

  She had done it! And was still doing it, in fact—Donna could feel the thread tighten again, between herself and the gateway that was slowly opening.

  A tall humanoid form stood in the glowing doorway, behind a bright veil, looking around as if surveying a strange new world. It seemed as if the silhouetted figure was watching her. Long hands touched the wall of light, pressing against it like they could push their way through, but the pulsing radiance remained intact. Donna thought it looked sort of creepy, and so unreal—it was almost like watching one of those puppet shows through a sheet.

  Whoever—or whatever—was standing there, it couldn’t get out. Not yet, anyway.

  The power tugged at her stomach, as it had before, but this time was different; this time she had more control over it. Perhaps consciously using her new ability, and for its true purpose, had given her more understanding and control. Donna didn’t think she’d be opening any more ephemeral doors anytime soon, but she at least felt more confident that she wouldn’t accidently transport herself again.

  She was feeling increasingly nervous. This was taking longer than she’d thought it would, and she was horribly aware of the fact that Navin knew about her bargain with Aliette. Would he tell Maker? She had left them under such … unusual circumstances … that there really wasn’t any doubt that the Order would be in hot pursuit.

  She tried to push those fearful thoughts away; her mental grip on the door that was slowly but surely opening was so tight, she was afraid to break the intense concentration. The Wood Queen had disappeared, but Donna had no doubt she was somewhere close by, ensuring that her Iron Witch followed through completely on the terms of their bargain. Perhaps Aliette was gathering her people so that they could return home as soon as possible.

  Donna focused inward, trying to pinpoint the bright spot of power within her chest. If she had to describe what she was doing, the closest she could come was that it felt like molding clay on a potter’s wheel—taking a shard of first matter and somehow shaping it into something new.

  Sudden movement, all around, brought her back to the cold darkness of the clearing. Her grip on the glowing thread faltered, and—just like that—her tattoos stopped moving. She fell to her knees on a pile of dirt and rotten leaves. The door was still there, pulsing with power.

  She tried to catch her breath, but her whole body felt frozen and her chest hurt. She recognized Aunt Paige’s voice and her heart sank.

  This wasn’t good; it really couldn’t get any worse. If the alchemists arrived now, things could fall apart. Perhaps the door would close if she hadn’t gotten it fully open before being interrupted … she didn’t understand how these powers of hers worked yet.

  Aunt Paige had gotten here way sooner than she’d expected. It should have taken longer for Maker to rally the troops.

  Just then, Aliette and two more of her dark elves—accompanying her like twisted, vine-covered bodyguards—appeared on a pathway on the far side of the clearing. The alchemists were filing into the clearing as well, staying close to the furthest edge, their faces eerily lit by the glow of the open door to Faerie.

  Maker was there, and Donna was surprised that he could possibly have managed the journey without his chair. He was walking, carrying his stick and leaning heavily on the arm of a tall, skinny young man at his side.

  Donna felt strangely glad to see Robert, although she wondered why he was still helping the Order of the Dragon, especially after how he’d tried to warn her about it. Maybe Miranda had told him to stay close? When they’d talked on Ironbridge Common, Robert had made it sound almost like the Order of the Crow was monitoring its American counterparts.

  She didn’t know what it meant, but his face was serious when their eyes met.

  Quentin, Simon, and her aunt completed the group. They were all carrying flashlights, and Donna desperately searched the trees for any sign of Navin.

  He wasn’t there, and for that she was intensely glad. The tension in her stomach eased back a couple of notches—her best friend was safe. Maker would have insisted that he stay behind, and there was no way Simon would have permitted a “commoner” to join them, anyway.

  Donna couldn’t help a slight smile. Nav would have argued up a storm, but he wouldn’t have stood a chance against the Order of the Dragon. For once, she was glad of the control they felt entitled to exert over everybody around them—whether human, alchemist, or fey.

  Before anybody could break the eerie silence, the steady light in the door between the trees flashed bright red—blood red—and the clearing was filled with the sound of an otherworldly screeching that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The noise was different from the cry of the Skriker, though it still made all the hairs on the back of Donna’s neck stand up.

  Aunt Paige’s bloodless lips pulled back in a wordless snarl. There was a spot of lipstick on one of her teeth, savage and crimson like blood.

  “What have you done, you stupid girl?”

  Donna pushed herself to her feet, wondering if she had the strength to stand. She felt wrung out like an old cloth. Her throat was parched and her legs trembled. “I’m just sending them home—I saved Mom!”

  “And damned the rest of us,” her aunt retorted.

  “What are you talking about?” Donna’s voice seemed too loud as the nerve-shattering noise stopped. “Maker, tell her!”

  But Maker wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  The Wood Queen stood to one side of the door, watching the scene unfold with a strange expression on her face. She showed no sign of fear, despite being effectively surrounded by her enemies.

  Simon was crouched beside Quentin, who seemed to have fallen to the ground when the screeching started. The Magus was solicitous as usual, but his face was a mask of horror—an expression that Donna wasn’t used to seeing on the odious man’s face.

  She stepped toward the Archmaster. “Quentin, what happened?”

  Simon blocked her path. “Don’t touch him,” he hi
ssed.

  Donna felt her heart go cold. She knew there’d been every chance that Aliette would trick her in some way, yet she’d still gone ahead with their bargain. She didn’t understand what was so terrible, but she knew everybody else believed it was pretty bad.

  “What?!” Donna glared around at the gathered alchemists. She searched out Robert, looking for some kind of reassurance. “All I did was open the door to Faerie—they can go home now. No more wood elves.”

  She tried to push down the rising wave of panic that clawed at her throat. “It’s a good thing—right?”

  Aunt Paige’s eyes were pinched with barely repressed fury, but at least she seemed to have regained some measure of control. “Faerie can only be opened one way, you little fool. From the inside.”

  “I … I don’t understand …” But Donna was beginning to. Her feelings of anxiety and uncertainty were slowly morphing into black-winged horror.

  Robert was nodding. “I’m sorry, Donna. Faerie really can only be opened one way—and it’s not from our side of reality.”

  “Then …” She stumbled over a fallen branch as she backed up a step, not looking where she was going. “What have I opened?”

  Aliette’s face split into a wicked expression of triumph, her lipless mouth slashing her cheeks almost in half.

  But before Donna could direct her questions at the manically grinning queen, the figure in the doorway moved. She had to scrunch up her eyes against the bright glare that burst out of the door, bathing the entire clearing with an unforgiving white heat.

  A tall figure stepped out of the radiance and into the clearing.

  He was … beautiful. Stunning, in an inhuman way that went beyond anything she ever could have imagined. Xan was handsome, sure, but this was something else entirely. There was an intoxicating quality to this being’s presence, something that went beyond the mere beauty of his physical perfection. Whoever this newcomer was, his aura was filled with a power so charismatic that he had his audience reeled in before he even opened his mouth.

  He was tall and slim, with silver hair that brushed the shoulders of his perfectly cut black jacket. His face looked as though it had been chiselled out of the finest marble, and his eyes looked like two pieces of gleaming onyx.

  And he was looking right at her.

  “Greetings, human.” His voice was low-pitched, almost melodious in its lilting rhythms. “You may call me Demian. The Otherworld is grateful to you for the gift of freedom.”

  Donna’s legs gave way, and she fell to her knees once more on the carpet of dead leaves. Whether it was the shock of his words and the creeping sense of horror taking its toll, or whether it was physical exhaustion from opening the door, she couldn’t say. Maybe it was even the painful weight of Demian’s presence. Whatever it was that had caused her sudden weakness, she hated herself for it, even as she tried to drag herself back to her feet.

  “Let me help you,” the stranger said, courteous in the manner of someone who belonged to another time and place. He reached toward her, and she found herself allowing him to grasp her bare hand in a cool grip that spoke of hidden strength.

  Pulling her upright with no effort at all, the man called Demian spoke again. “Donna Underwood, you have fulfilled a task we did not expect of one such as you. We thank you, truly. We are in your debt.”

  He kept hold of her hand, seemingly fascinated with the spiralling patterns across her skin.

  “We?” Donna found her voice and took comfort in the fact that it didn’t shake. She tugged her hand free, pleased that her strength clearly surprised this newcomer. “Who are you talking about?”

  She already knew, in that dark place of terror she was trying to stuff down in order to stop from screaming.

  What have I done? The words echoed around her head, as though in an empty chamber. She tried to meet this stranger’s eyes as she waited for the response that would seal her fate—and seal the fate of too many people to count. If she really had made such a terrible mistake, she should, at the very least, suffer the consequences. The pain in her heart whispered of the price she might truly pay later on, but for now, she simply attempted to remain upright in the face of the most beautiful evil she had ever seen.

  Demian’s face broke into a smile that broke her heart with its perfection. His black eyes glittered with the weight of centuries.

  “It is the demons who offer you their gratitude. We are free after almost two centuries of imprisonment at the hands of the alchemists—and it is all thanks to you.”

  Twenty-one

  Donna remembered to breathe just as all Hell—quite literally—broke loose.

  Simon was trying to drag Quentin from the clearing, while Robert guided Maker to another gap in the trees. Aunt Paige seemed frozen, watching the demon speaking to her niece by the glowing doorway.

  A door that was, even now, beginning to fill with more silhouettes.

  Demons.

  How many of them there might be, Donna couldn’t say, but the portal to the Otherworld was at least partially open, and she only knew that they had to get out of here—all of them. Even her aunt. Much as Donna wanted to hate her, she couldn’t let Aunt Paige just stand there.

  Demian turned his attention to the wall of light holding his people back, and Donna took what could be her one opportunity.

  She ran the other way. “Aunt Paige, run!” When the woman didn’t move, Donna grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “I said, get out of here—now!”

  Giving her a shove toward the path that Simon had just taken, she headed back for Maker and Robert.

  “Donna,” the young alchemist said, “it seems you really know how to get the party started.”

  She gasped with shocked laughter, knowing she was close to a breakdown. “Yeah, I’m a party girl. You got that right.” She reached for Maker’s arm. “Let’s get him out of here.”

  Robert nodded, and they half-carried the old man from the clearing.

  As they made it onto the main part of the pathway, Donna realized that she hadn’t seen the Wood Queen leave.

  Closing her eyes briefly, she swallowed down a wave of bitterness. Maybe Aliette considered them “even” now. Was this all about revenge, for destroying the elixir and double-crossing her the last time? Would the queen really bring about Hell on earth as payback? There had to be more to this—freeing the demons must somehow benefit the wood elves. The puzzle wasn’t complete, but Donna hardly had time to worry about filling in the missing pieces now.

  When Aunt Paige met them on the branch-scattered path and took Maker from them, putting her arm around the alchemist’s shoulders and guiding him over the rough terrain, Donna really began to think they might be okay. At least, the others could escape—that’s what counted.

  She turned to Robert and smiled, looking for a sign of encouragement from him as they watched her aunt lead Maker to safety.

  His face was serious again, but at least he was still standing beside her.

  Donna touched his arm. “Is Navin safe?”

  A half-smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “They had to more or less lock him up in Maker’s workshop to get him to stay put.”

  Relief flooded her, but then adrenalin immediately returned. She glanced nervously back at the clearing that held a doorway to Hell. “Listen, we don’t have much time. I need to go back there.”

  “I’m sorry, I must have misheard you, what with the bloody apocalypse almost upon us. Did you just say you have to go back?”

  Donna pressed her lips together and simply nodded.

  “Are you quite mad?” Robert asked. “You can’t possibly—”

  “I’m sick of being told what I can and can’t do. Robert, I opened that door, so I figure I’m the only one who has any chance of closing it.”

  He was shaking his head, a determined expression stamped across his face. “It’s too late for that. We should get out while we still can.”

  “You’re not listening to me!” Donna hadn’t
meant to shout, but well … there it was. She was furious. Not with Robert, and not even with the Wood Queen. Not really. She was disgusted with herself. “I have to make this right.”

  The sky above them flashed to life, as though some ancient god had switched on a long-forgotten light switch. Bolts of pure energy snaked through the inky blackness, jagged and bright against the cold night. Donna ducked, instinct taking over, even though the impossible lightning was miles away.

  Robert grabbed her wrists, holding the tattoos as though they were nothing. “Donna, trust me when I tell you this: you won’t be able to close that door again. The legends say it took a dozen alchemists to secure it, two hundred years ago. Breaking a lock, even a magical one, is far easier than fixing it—do you understand?”

  She did. She understood what he was telling her, but she had to try. Dammit, she was responsible for releasing a species potentially far more powerful than the wood elves.

  The ground shuddered beneath their feet, bucking and rippling so hard that Donna would have stumbled if Robert hadn’t had a tight hold on her. A sound like thunder smashed through her whole being, and for a moment she let herself consider just getting out of this place.

  But only for a moment.

  She twisted her arms from the young alchemist’s grasp, not even bothering to apologize when he cried out in pain.

  “Bloody hell, woman! What did you have to do that for? I think you broke my fingers.”

  Ignoring him, she turned and ran back toward the clearing—to the door that would unleash an army of demons at any moment. She heard Robert crashing through the undergrowth in pursuit.

  Which was when two shadows slipped from between the trees and blocked the path ahead of them.

  “Move!” Robert yelled, pushing her into a large patch of prickly bushes.

  “Hey, watch where you’re—”

  But Donna didn’t get to finish whatever she was going to shout at him. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw the two shadowy figures move toward Robert with inhuman speed. From her position half-collapsed in the undergrowth, she watched in growing horror as the figures made a grab for him. They were moving so fast it was difficult to see what they truly looked like, especially in the near darkness, but she was beginning to realize that they were under some kind of glamour. Only it wasn’t a glamour she’d ever seen before—not like an elfskin, used by the dark elves, and not even like the shimmer of disguise she’d detected on Ivy when they’d first met.