by Maria Lima
“That was… unexpected,” Adam said as he joined us. “Daffyd.” Adam acknowledged my cousin with a curt nod.
“The last time I felt a quake this intense,” Tucker said, “was back fifty or more years ago… and that was in north Texas, not here.” He bent down and pulled up some dirt and grass, letting it run through his fingers. “We’re more likely to get tornadoes—”
I clapped my hand over his mouth. “Stop that. Don’t tempt fate.”
“I doubt fate or fault lines had anything to do with it,” Adam said, his voice nearly as dry as the ground we stood on.
I looked at him, then at Niko and Tucker. Tucker shrugged. “Surely not Gideon… I mean, fire ants, okay, that can happen. Simple hexes and charms with some trigger spells. The fire at Bea’s. But an earthquake? That’s some heavy-duty earth magick. He’s not capable of that. Hell, Gigi’s not capable of that.”
“Nor is my father,” Adam admitted. “Is Angharad?” His piercing gaze turned on Daffyd, who met it without flinching.
“Perhaps,” he said. “My queen has many Talents she has not revealed to us all. Though this…” He crouched and like Tucker, ran his hands through the dirt. “I feel little of her magick here,” he said. “I am no expert in this matter, however.”
“We need to leave this place,” Niko said with a growl. “There is still a darkness here that I mistrust.”
“Yes, darkness that we could not cleanse,” Daffyd said as he straightened. “We rid the stones of the runespells,” he said. “There were many variations on the same thing—triggers bound to warnings bound to spells to keep us away. But yet…”
I closed my eyes against the night and listened. No sounds of birds, rustling of animals walking through the parched grounds. Not even insects humming. The aftermath of the shaking earth? Extending my sense with care, I reached forward with my thought. The hum of cleansed magick beneath, along the ground and the stones we’d meticulously de-spelled. But there was also… something else. It was as if a yawning void lay underneath everything, waiting. A slumbering beast? Or simply the residue of the dark magicks used to desecrate the land and prop open the door to Faery?
“Something’s still there,” I said. “Daffyd’s right. The cemetery is mostly safe. There’s nothing but clean energy at the surface and on the tombstones, but I feel… it’s like an oil slick or black ice hiding just below the surface.” I shook my head and looked at the three men. “I’m sorry I can’t be more clear, but I can’t identify it.”
“Booby traps upon booby traps,” Niko muttered. “I dislike these layers of magick. I do not know how to fight them. We should leave.”
“We haven’t shut the door yet,” I said. “We can still go Below. Confront Angharad. Talk to Gigi.”
“The way’s blocked,” Tucker said. “The pathway to the lower cave’s all filled with rubble. We can move it, but it will take time.”
“We won’t need that,” I said. “With Adam, Daffyd, and me here, the three of us can incant the doorway into existence. A good thing, though, the rubble will keep out any passersby. If they can’t get into the lower cave, they won’t be able to reach Faery or be trapped in the Between.”
“Then I vote we go,” said Tucker. “I’m tired of this faffing about. Let’s go to the source. Adam?”
Adam looked at each of us in turn, his gaze searching. “This is not child’s play, nor a task to be undertaken lightly,” he began.
“No, but it is a task we can do,” Tucker argued. “What choice remains? Every time we muck about in this hellhole of a cemetery, bad things happen. Do we keep fucking with whatever is guarding this place and get all the Biblical plagues along with an apocalypse? Don’t think I hadn’t noticed, Niko.” He turned, his hand on Niko’s shoulder. “I’ve studied your Bible, as I did all the legends and myths of most peoples,” Tucker said. “I get the symbolism. Whoever set this up has a twisted sense of humor. We’ve even got the dead animals. I guess we’re okay if we haven’t run across a seven horned once-dead lamb.”
Or the actual Apocalypse was coming, I thought. “Well, come on then. Let’s go. Adam, do you think we can access the door via the overhang? I wasn’t able to close it up there, but we can probably open a Way. It really is wide open.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“The line it is drawn. The curse it is cast.”
—Bob Dylan, “The Times They Are A-Changin’”
Once again, as we’d done in Vancouver, I found myself following Adam in a circle, walking widdershins, as he spoke cool, rolling words in the Old Language. Words I now knew more intimately, with my own magick and Talents imbuing them with strength of will. Beside me, Daffyd, hand-in-hand with me as we repeated the words, using our Sidhe powers. Niko and Tucker took our six, also with joined hands, there for comfort, protection, and love.
Round once, twice, thrice. Our steps measured and precise. The air shimmered with energy, the very molecules dancing with power and light. Step by step, the barrier between worlds thinned as we spoke the final words. Closing the circle one last time, we slid from the world Above to the one Below. Underhill and beyond ken of mortal humans. A world I’d long since forsaken, yet which remained too much a part of me even now.
The shape of a man appeared, silhouetted against the outpouring of light. Odd, I wondered if this were what some people saw as they died on an operating room table. Bright lights, dim shapes. Could the barrier stretch at that time, allowing humans to see, if only a glimpse, into the Shining Lands? That would certainly make a great deal more sense than some amorphous heaven full of harp-wielding chubby angels and dead relatives. I always preferred the flaming sword version of angels, myself. If you equated them with the elf-warriors of my childhood, then yeah. Same thing, different Bible.
“She is waiting.” The shape spoke and as we approached, formed into that of a tall blond with icy silver-gray eyes. A face I recognized only too well—he’d been my mother’s sidekick/mentor/toady—I was never sure which exactly. It was due to Geraint’s insistence that I’d been cast out of Faery in the first place. Huh. In retrospect, maybe I owed him one.
“Father.” Daffyd bowed, the gesture from son to sire.
“Geraint.” I nodded, keeping it curt and far from obeisance. Only a greeting. “She knew we were coming?”
“Of course.” He turned, his green robes flowing and twisting with his movement. “Follow me.”
“Once more, unto the breach…” I grinned and took Adam’s arm. Despite the fact that I was dressed in a wrinkled pair of cargo shorts, a cotton tank top and Docs, I was going in there as a queen in my own right, Adam as king—a royal pair with our Protectors. Niko and Tucker took their usual flanking positions, Niko careful to roll up a sleeve to expose my Mark—a magickally imposed tattoo signifying my House. This Mark was part of the blood-bond I had with all my Protectors—Niko, Tucker, Rhys, Ianto, and Liz. To the world we were entering, it was the same as livery. A silent declaration they were under my protection, as well. Any harm to them was harm to me.
As before, when we’d visited the Unseelie realm, we strode through blank corridors, the doors to other places in Faery—Seelie this time—closed to us. A direct path to the lion’s den… or something like that. I barely remembered the high queen herself, though I was far from a stranger to her ways and her decisions. I mostly remember my mother and Geraint speaking about her and what she’d done, said, seemed to say. No different from a gossipy corporate environment or a mortal royal court and its environs, though with the added bonus of real power and the very handy ability to simply destroy your more vocal opponents—literally, not metaphorically.
Soon, we’d arrived at the entrance to the Great Hall. I remembered this place well. I’d spent my early days cringing in corners, behind tapestries, hoping to remain unnoticed. Oh yeah, the times were most definitely a-changin’.
Glittering throngs of Sidhe lined what I liked to refer to the red carpet, the aisle that led to the throne. Instead of a carpet of any color, th
e pathway was littered with flower petals and leaves. Oak and ash, exotic orchids and petals of most flowers under the sun Above covered the floor. The courtiers and their ladies fair simply stood, cups of wine or mead in hand, curious as to the identity of these visitors. The Sidhe entertained few anymore, the days of free congress long over, way before my time. As the modern world progressed, the Sidhe regressed, became smaller somehow, its world tighter and less open.
Ahead of us, she sat on a throne of wood and bone, woven together with strands of hair, cemented with tears and blood. At either side, a man: Lugh, Protector of the Realm and his son, Cúchulainn, named after the one of legend. They were her guardians, her strength and consorts. Both men were dark of hair and eye, pale of skin. They’d been the bane of my existence once, teasing me, taunting me. I let my gaze pass over them as if they were nothing more than furniture. Lugh remained steady, unmoving, but his son flinched—only a little, but I saw it. Good.
Angharad’s hair flowed unbound, waves of pure gold rippling nearly to the floor. Her gown was nearly the same color as the gorgeous locks. Her face, a paragon of beauty. She was the definition of the word. I began to feel self-conscious, dirty, in my mundane clothing. My hair was the wrong color, I was attired improperly. I was nothing. I wanted to hide. A sneak peek out the corner of my eye. There, my old tapestry. The one I used to hide behind—
Adam took my hand and my mind cleared. No. I was no longer the queen’s castoff, no longer the filthy urchin child with no magick. I shook off the strands of her will, ignoring her attempt to belittle me for now. I remained silent, biting my tongue against the nasty words that were forming. I wanted to curse her for making me feel that way again: soiled, worthless, filthy.
“Daughter of Branwen, you come seeking your kin.” Sounds like bells wove throughout the words, her voice dancing within the music. My heart soared at its song. All I wanted to do was to please my fair lady.
Another squeeze of Adam’s hand and I took a deep breath, bolstering my shields. “Stop.” I gazed directly into those icy gray eyes, so similar to my own. “No tricks, Angharad. I won’t stand for it.” Whispered sighs of disbelief spread through the crowd behind us. I’d addressed their queen by name. “I’m not that sad little girl you once threw out with the gnawed bones of your meals. We came here to get answers, and to get my clan chief back.”
“We have no time for Sidhe trickery,” Adam said, his voice as cold as I’d ever heard it. “Things are happening Above, things that can be traced to only you. All of this must stop, Angharad. The human world is no longer your playground. Produce Minerva Kelly and stop your petty games.”
“Games? I play no games, Aeddan son of Drystan. Your father can tell you that.”
“My father does not soil his hands with the like of Seelie politics,” Adam replied. “I do not know your intent, nor do I care. You’ve had enough fun. Where is Minerva?”
Another tinkling laugh, this one reeking of roses and rue. “Minerva is quite comfortable,” she said. “We are in the midst of negotiations. I doubt that she would appreciate this interruption.”
“And I doubt that we appreciate your continuing to block us,” I said. “I want to see my clan chieftain. It is my right.” Behind me, more twitters and whispers. I’m sure they were all absolutely fascinated with this event unfolding in front of them.
Angharad’s smooth brow furrowed, her mouth grew tight. “You vex me, daughter of my sister.”
“Well, aunt, the same could be said about you,” I quipped.
The entire room hushed, all sound stilled as if someone had pressed the mute button. I knew I was being impertinent, but I didn’t want to play the honey-tongued political games of the Sidhe. I was crap at it and I knew it. Even Adam wasn’t so hot at it anymore—as Unseelie, he’d rarely had to fence with his language. As vampire king, he no longer needed to. Verbal sparring was a Seelie game, one I never learned, nor wished to.
“You are certainly direct.” Angharad rose, a flowing, liquid motion as if she had no bones. “Very well. Lugh?” Her Guardian whirled and disappeared behind a tapestry. I knew it concealed the entrance to the Queen’s Chamber… a place I’d never actually been. The queen remained standing, but did not descend the steps from the dais to the floor. “I am sorry we must meet again under such… inauspicious circumstances. I welcome you, nonetheless. You are my Guests.”
I heard her capitalize the word, using the ancient meaning.
“I accept… for now.” I gave her a slow nod.
She nodded back, and the room filled with music again, the hidden players in an alcove somewhere above us. I couldn’t deny the music filled my soul and my heart. Sidhe music was meant to do that. It Called to those of blood and enchanted those mortals foolish enough to try to catch a glimpse of the Fair Folk during full moons at Faery mounds. Too many mortals became ensnared, enslaved because they were too arrogant or just plain dumb.
The queen motioned to a set of chairs that appeared next to her, two of them matching hers, only less ornate and at a lower level on the dais, one in a different kind of wood and set one level between ours and hers. Ours, yes, I knew this game. I looked at Adam, who nodded. Well then, here we go, I thought. With as much élan as I could muster, I closed the distance to the dais, mounted the steps and settled into the right-hand chair. Adam, regal as ever, sat in the one to the left. He looked the part, dressed in his usual black shirt and black trousers. Me, I knew I was just playing a part that had been handed me thanks to the cruel genetics dance. Sure, I’d subsumed my anger at having been dealt this hand. I was learning to live with it, with being the heir to a clan that spanned the entire globe. Of having to play politics, learn to manage those who managed multinational conglomerates, all in the name of Kelly solidarity. But I’d not consented to this type of charade, though I’d follow through with it. I had to.
We listened politely to the musicians, Tucker and Niko silent beside us, Niko on Adam’s left, Tucker to my right, both standing in guard posture.
“He is a pretty one, your vampire.” Angharad leaned to Adam, her whisper more stage than sotto voce. “He looks rather familiar.”
Adam simply returned her lascivious gaze with his own neutral one. “My thanks for the compliment, Lady.”
I knew Niko was practically vibrating with humiliation and anger, though he concealed it well. Our bond let me sense some of his emotions if I didn’t shield from him, and here, I’d done what I could to open up to Adam, Tucker, and Niko, while closing off to the Sidhe. I wanted to pat Niko on the arm and tell him to ignore her. She was a right bitch.
As the song came to a flourishy finish, Lugh returned, Gigi at his side. Adam and I stood as we saw her. She looked fine. No outward evidence of any injuries. She was dressed in a simple white gown, her own Mark sewn in vivid red on the right shoulder, her dark hair worn loose to her shoulders. Compared to the rest of us, she was tiny, small-boned and delicate, but she carried her power with grace and strength. No one there would underestimate her, despite her dainty appearance. Her simple hairstyle and garb outshone the fuck out of Angharad’s pretentious regality. I’d seen Gigi’s dress before, only once. It was a high ceremonial gown that she’d worn to the celebration of her most recent century. She’d had it sewn of Faery silk and woven with spells of protection. Smart woman, my great-great granny.
“My dear,” Gigi approached us with hands outstretched. I ran down the steps and grasped her hands, pulling her into a hug.
“You okay?” I whispered.
“Fine,” she whispered back. She stepped away from me and smiled at Adam, who’d joined us. “Adam, so good of you to come.”
“Minerva.” Adam bowed his head, a deeper bow than he’d given Angharad. “We were worried, my lady.”
Gigi laughed, her own musical voice cleaner and more wholesome than that of the high queen, though until now, I’d thought it pretentious. Maybe it was something all leaders learned to do, speak volumes with a simple laugh.
“You are becoming
so like me, my child,” she continued, studying my face. “You’ve done exceptionally well.”
With a sinking feeling in my heart, I knew that she was only stating the truth. The one thing that I’d wanted to avoid was to become like Minerva Kelly, cold and passionate only about the state of the clan, willing to sacrifice anything that threatened her way of life and that of her people. Like her? As I recalled everything I’d done in the past few days, I knew I was becoming her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“Come at the king, you best not miss.”
—Omar Little, The Wire
As I mentally swallowed that tidbit of information, I let Adam take the lead. “Minerva. Lady,” he said with a slight nod to both. “We did not only come Below to ascertain the health of the leader of our family, but to request an audience. Your majesty, if you would be so kind as to grant us a private consultation? There are matters that would best be discussed within.” He motioned toward the tapestry in the doorway.
Angharad descended, silks flowing as she moved. The motion of the fabric reminded me of Grace Rose, and her own unhurried movements. Two of a kind, though one mortal and the other Faery. Fey blood left a mark, no matter how diluted.
“I grant your request, Aeddan ap Drystan. Join me, you and your ladies. We shall meet in my chamber.” She floated past us, without even a backward glance. Adam, Gigi, and I followed, with Tucker and Niko falling into step behind us. One of the door guards made as if to stop Niko. I turned and gave him what Bea’s Tia used to call the stink-eye. “He is my Protector. He goes where I do. They both do.”
The guard simply fell back to his position.
“Huh, that worked.”
Gigi chuckled. “Did you not expect it to, child? You are royalty here, no matter how much they wish to ignore it or deny it.”
“Royalty,” I snorted. “Fat lot of good that does me. Gigi, why—”
