Old Dog, New Tricks

by Hailey Edwards

  Her brittle laughter shattered my panic.

  “Shaw is mine.” Sliding down her body, I used my weight to flatten her knees to the ground and keep her still. Spreading my hands, I blocked out the vile, detailed fantasies she spewed at me and let my focus narrow to widening the mouth of the bubble. Sweat poured down my temples as I cleared the crown of her head. Her pupils disappeared, leaving black voids of terror.

  Magic shimmered between my thighs. Skin and cloth turned to feathers. Mass shrank until the legs vanished under my butt and her waist shriveled. Her face elongated into the weathered, orange beak.

  Heart pounding, I fought her transformation. Once she turned into a crow, she could expand her body until it was the size of an elephant. I had ridden her that way, watched her gulp down a hound while in that form, and I did not want to be her next meal.

  With an ear-ringing caw, her body morphed into that of a crow. One oily wing wriggled free. My pulse sprinted, hands tightening on the wing still inside the bubble. Her squawk of frustration set my nerves jangling. Her voice rang deeper. Her pinching beak snapped closer. I couldn’t hold on much longer.

  Risking it all, I released her wing, and the writhing, cat-sized crow hit the ground. She landed on twiggy feet and hopped. Her wings snapped out to her sides, and I clapped my hands over her head.

  “Buille,” I shouted, and magic gathered between my fingers. I spread my hands a foot apart and fell forward on top of the Morrigan. She beat at the walls of the pocket, but the barriers of her invisible prison held. Scooping my hands underneath her—which earned me a peck hard enough to rip tender skin from my palm—I sealed the pocket and rocked back onto my knees. Panting, I gasped, “Eitilt.”

  The bubble, now stretching about two feet in circumference around the giant bird, rose from the ground and bobbled on the breeze inches from my nose. The Morrigan’s beak opened, but the pocket muted her screams. A tingling sensation on my nape pushed me to stand, and I breathed, “Imíonn.”

  Between blinks, the Morrigan vanished, but the uneasy feeling persisted.

  Act casual. Not like you’ve got a death goddess and current ruler of Faerie trapped in a bubble.

  Thank God for the annulment. At least Daibhidh got that much right. After pulling this stunt, I did not want my ex-mother-in-law tapping into my power through any lingering familial bond to burst her prison before I was long gone and she had no way of retaliating.

  If that made me a chicken, well, cluck, cluck.

  Unhurried steps brought me closer to the safety of Mac’s den. I exhaled when I spotted the tree, then cursed when a flock of Aves landed between it and me. Clearly, they wanted their master back.

  Too bad I had no intention of setting this little bird free. Not now. Not ever if I could help it.

  “Move aside,” I ordered them, exhaustion thick in my voice.

  “Move aside,” the nearest one said, head tilting.

  “Move,” the next said.

  “Aside,” a third parroted.

  From there a wave of nonsense broke across the flock, and they all did that freaky head-twisting thing that makes birds look like their necks have been wrung. I stifled a shudder and took a step. A rustle of feathers made me cringe as the largest bird—a female?—did the same. Aggression or more mimicry? I wasn’t sure. I took another step. She did the same. So did the two Aves closest to her. No way to know, but I was betting those were her mates. Maybe those three were the head tweety birds?

  No attack. No aggression. What gives?

  I braced my feet apart. “What do you want?”

  “What do you want?” the centermost one queried.

  Tired laughter shook my frame. “A hot shower, some food and a safe place to sleep?”

  Fat chance of me getting even one out of the three anytime soon.

  A scrawny bird shoved its way forward, bowing to the female and keeping its head tucked when the males began hissing at him. Inching nearer to me, the tiny Aves studied the scuffed tops of my boots.

  “Want Morrigan,” he said on a soft hiss of breath.

  My gaze pegged the slight male. “You can’t have her.”

  The small bird bobbed his head. “Want Morrigan gone.”

  “What?” I cocked my head. Crap. Now they had me doing it.

  “Dog Girl rule Faerie.” He hopped in place. “Dog Girl rule Aves?”

  “Um, no.” I backed up a step like they held a crown aimed at my head. “I’m going to pass on the whole ruling-Faerie thing.” A collective hiss spread through the flock. “That means I won’t be ruling the Aves either.” I gestured toward the tree. “Do you mind? I would like to get inside for a minute.”

  Turning to the others, the male beside me whistled and clicked a string of information to his kin. I was about to ask what that was all about when the lot of them launched into the sky, lighting on the lowest tree limbs. Even the smaller male, my apparent interpreter, had flown up there to watch me.

  It was damn creepy.

  Before droppings rained from the sky, I strode toward the door and held it open long enough for my pocket to drift inside. I closed it with a thud and let my back hit the solid wood. On wobbly knees, I caught my breath. The spider-web-sticky sensation of having an additional air pocket made me want to swipe my hands down my arms. Now that I had captured the Morrigan, what should I do with her?

  I thumped my head against the door behind me, and when I lifted it, I saw my answer.

  The Hall of Many Doors.

  Perfect.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The trouble with any brilliant idea is planning its execution.

  Pacing the Hall of Many Doors, I felt both my pockets jostling the air behind me. One held my skins, and I needed those. The other held the Morrigan, and I wanted to deposit her in here beneath the pixie lights for Mac to deal with after he shook off his most recent death. He and I were the only ones able to operate the doors. No one else could get into the hall or use any of the doors either.

  Not that those led anywhere anymore. They opened on solid walls of compacted dirt.

  The one door that still worked led to Mac’s study. I passed through it, bubbles in tow, and sat on the edge of his desk, glancing around, wondering if I would ever see this place again. Or worse, if I would see it every day for the rest of my life. A pang arrowed through my chest. Home was so far away.

  Shifting my hips, I knocked over a small inkwell that spread black ichor across his desk. I leapt to my feet, snatching papers out of the black liquid’s path and setting baubles on the floor. I spotted an old shirt of mine, one Mac must have brought back with him, and used it to mop up the mess I’d made.

  Crisis averted, I dropped into his chair with a fistful of papers and started shuffling them. One of the cleaner pieces caught my eye. It was a note—sort of—addressed to me. My name was written in a neat script. Below that a series of numbers—coordinates?—were listed. Underneath those it I read, “Tethers may be established from one point to another so long as fresh blood ties the ends together.”

  Taking care not to smear more ink on the writing, I folded the paper and tucked it into my backpack for later. An idea was itching the back of my mind, but I couldn’t stop now to devote brainpower to the pondering of logistics. I had to stash the Morrigan, and then I had to go after Shaw. That ought to be fun.

  Bháin was hard to read. He had shown Mom kindness. But had he chosen to do so, or had he been following Rook’s orders?

  Like so many other things, I just didn’t know for sure.

  I never thought I would actually wish Rook was around. I had so many questions.

  Word of the Morrigan’s capture would spread quickly. Even if the Aves kept their beaks closed, the trees and rocks had eyes and ears in Faerie, and it was too dangerous to assume the flock was the only witness to our altercation. That meant I had to get moving. Fast. Before word reached Bháin.

  Fifteen minutes and twice as many failed attempts to extricate myself later, I slapped the door to
the Hall of Many Doors shut behind me. Straining my senses, I winced at the discordant sensation of having one of my air pockets trapped. The slight pull on my essence reminded me of shutting the door on a lock of hair and having them yanked out as you walked away.

  It hurt, yeah, but I could deal.

  Turning a slow circle in the living room, I decided I had all I needed for the final leg of the trip.

  Outside, chirps and whistles rained down on me from where the Aves kept their perches. Great.

  I tugged the elastic band from my hair and ran my fingers through it, twisting it up into a sloppy bun that kept the stragglers from my eyes. Determined to see this through, I set out for Rook’s home.

  Faerie’s nifty travel magic made the journey back to Winter a quick one. The problem was I had no idea how to reach Rook’s house, and without him or Mac to lead me, my campaign spluttered out.

  Hours lost in the blizzard conditions of Winter turned me around, twisted my perception and left me standing in a barren field. White stretched as far as the eye could see. The extreme cold began to punch through the heat spell on my armor, and I shivered. My breath frosted in the air.

  A single black feather caught on a drift and swirled around my ankles.

  My heart leapt into my throat.

  “Rook?”

  A dull thud and a blur of dark feathers hit the snow. Shaking off the flakes, the Aves translator, who I decided to call Pie, as in four and twenty baked in a, blinked up at me with his beady black eyes.

  I blinked right back. “Where did you come from?”

  “I followed.” He puffed out his chest. “We followed.”

  Well shoot. I thought they had ditched me on the edge of Autumn.

  He bobbed his head. “Walk circle?”

  Heat prickled in my wind-chapped cheeks. “I’m lost.”

  His feathers rustled. “I can direct.”

  Hope warmed my chest. “Do you know where Rook lives?”

  Pie hopped in place to keep his feet from sinking in the snowbank. “Ice house.”

  “Yes, the ice house.”

  “This way.” He took to the air and vanished sixty seconds later.

  “Slow down,” I yelled. “I can barely see my own nose in this weather.”

  Okay, so visibility was closer to six feet in any direction, but I felt claustrophobic trapped in my circle of whited-out sameness. A wispy voice startled me, and I sucked down an icy breath while scanning for its origin.

  “Too late, too late,” it whispered. “You came too late, too late to save him.”

  I froze in place, cold panic seeping into my bones. “Who said that?”

  “Master likes you, likes you.” Trilling giggles. “He likes you, likes you enough to spare you.”

  A shimmer of white light zinged past me.

  The master? Surely the voice didn’t mean...

  “Wait.” I stumbled after it. “Who are you?”

  A squawk jerked my gaze skyward. When I glanced back down, the light had vanished.

  “You follow.” Pie hovered over the frigid ground. “This way.”

  I lurched ahead, wading through drifts. Some came to my ankles, others to my chest. Pie kept in view, his erratic flight a smudge against the flawless white perfection of the snow-laden Winter sky.

  Try as I might, I didn’t hear the singsong voice again.

  I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad one.

  Around the time my eyelashes stuck together and I slipped on a spot of ice I hadn’t seen, a light swung into my line of sight. Sort of. I couldn’t see much. The orb of golden light was real, wasn’t it?

  “I heard you had arrived.” The silky voice slid through me. “We’ve been expecting you.”

  Firm hands grasped my upper arms and hauled me to my feet.

  “Bháin.” My lips were so numb, his name came out as mushy as baby food. “I came for—”

  “Your incubus.” He chuckled at my ear. “Even if the master had not informed me who he was, I would have known him by the turn of his thoughts. His hunger... It is as stark and endless as Winter. You are all that keeps him sane, and he is far from it at the moment. You may have waited too long.”

  “I didn’t have much of a choice,” I snapped.

  Save the mortal realm from a deranged goddess bent on devouring it or rescue Shaw.

  Oh God. Maybe he was right. Maybe I made the wrong choice. Maybe I should have...

  “Love is complicated, is it not?” he mused. “The worth of such love—how can it be measured?”

  “Was the Morrigan telling the truth?” I swallowed hard. “Did she give Shaw to you?”

  “Yes.” A thoughtful pause lapsed. “It was a most unexpected boon.”

  Jerking from his grip, I let simmering magic fill my palm. “Take me to him.”

  “First—” he ignored my threat and grabbed me again, “—the master wishes to speak with you.”

  “R-Rook?” I stammered. “He’s here?”

  He’s alive?

  “You are not the only half-blood to inherit a burdensome gift from a fae parent.”

  Befuddled as I was, I caved to the inevitable and allowed Bháin to drag me inside Rook’s home. This was much less you shall not pass and more come inside, but you can never leave than I had expected.

  Ushered over the threshold by Bháin’s tight grip, I sighed as warmth hit my face. A dozen steps later, he clamped his hands on my shoulders and spun me around. He pushed down until my knees gave, and I dropped into a chair.

  He snapped his fingers, and the room grew several degrees hotter.

  “The elemental?” I reached up and examined my frigid cheeks. “I remember from last time.”

  “It is indeed.” He tapped the crook of his finger beneath my chin to tilt my head back. “This might burn. Hold still.”

  His ice-cold finger traced the chilly lines of my eyelashes where they had frozen on my cheeks. I hissed at the burn, his touch like fire in the depth of its frigidity. The pressure vanished, and I blinked.

  Bháin dusted powdered frost from his fingertips, which were stuck to his skin like iron shavings to a magnet.

  I traced the chilled imprints of his fingers on my cheek and shivered. “I appreciate the assist.”

  He bowed slightly. “I will go fetch the master.”

  “Is Shaw all right?” I grasped his wrist then yanked my hand back when his icy flesh stung me. “Tell me that much.” I held my hand out to the elemental, a roaring flame standing on cartoonish feet next to me, and let it thaw my fingers. “You were very kind to my mother. I remember how well you treated her.”

  His sigh circulated a nippy breeze. “He is as well as can be expected.”

  My gut cramped with sympathetic pain. “His hunger.”

  “He is starving.” He turned to leave then hesitated. “I will try to prevent him from killing you.”

  Throat tightening, I bobbed my head.

  Shaw was alive. That was all that mattered. Rook was here. Did he know about his mother yet? I doubted it. If Bháin or the Aves sentries had tipped him off, then Rook would have greeted me at the door with a gleam in his eyes and a scheme on his lips. Good. I could use that then.

  “I wondered how far down on your list the incubus fell.”

  The calculation in Rook’s voice snapped my head up.

  “I understand that Faerie is now cut off from the mortal realm.” He glided into the room and sat in a chair near the hearth of the spacious seating area where Bháin had situated me. “Where does that leave you?” Bitter laughter spilled over his lips as he held up the shell. “Or me for that matter?”

  I slid to the edge of my seat. “Do you want to live in the mortal realm?”

  “Not particularly. I don’t belong there any more than I do here.” He shrugged. “I would have—for her. Tell me... Is she well?”

  “She was recovering the last time I saw her.”

  Red splotches mottled his pale gray cheeks. “Explain.”

&
nbsp; Knowing this for the game it was, I filled in the blanks of Branwen’s life. I told him how the Morrigan sent Balamohan to kidnap his sister from her selkie husband. How she had remained entombed until the day Shaw rescued me, hoping to ingratiate Shaw to him. I informed him of Dónal’s passing and Branwen’s grief, how she had begged me to save her brother. I ended it with the shell she had given me, so that whatever his fate, she could know it with certainty.

  “After all this time, thanks to your efforts, she was within my reach,” Rook murmured into the silence. “And yet, thanks to your efforts, she has never been farther away.” He stared at the conch shell. “Am I such an affront to the gods that their joy stems from my pain? Is being Earth-born that foul? Is my blood tainted so that the loving embrace of the one person who has ever cared for me is forever denied me? All this...my life...all for nothing.”

  I shifted on my seat, trying to appear attentive when I wanted to jump up and search the place.

  Rook’s dreary sentiment rang eerily similar to his mother’s, and that had me nibbling my lip.

  “I came for Shaw,” I said, when he remained quiet.

  “I know.”

  He snapped his fingers, and the fire elemental scampered back to its blackened hearthside perch.

  I gripped the arms of my chair. “I sense a but coming.”

  “I had goals, Thierry, a plan. I labored to get into Mother’s good graces, did unspeakable things to earn her trust, all so I could mount an effort to rescue my sister and those like us.” He leaned back in his seat. “Then fate presented me with a perfect opportunity to realize those dreams. You fell into my lap, the best gift I had ever been given.” His head tilted back, eyes closed. “I wed you. I fought to have you named queen. I even argued in favor of your sabbatical, which I see now was my mistake.”

  My nails pierced the leather upholstery. “Everything you did was to further your own agenda.”

  “Yes.”

  “You lied to me, almost got me killed, married me without my consent, foisted the wellbeing of an entire realm on me, and you expect what from me—pity? You want me to be grateful that you, in all your selfish scheming, experienced a prick of remorse and let me go home?” I snorted. “When we both know the real reason you lobbied for it was so I would name you prince regent and let you steer the realm while I was gone. You weren’t doing me any favors or a kindness. You did it for yourself.”