by Lori Devoti
Without hesitating, he shimmered, aimed for the tiny bit of green grass he could see over the heads of his would-be attackers.
Raf solidified quickly. It was a short trip, maybe one hundred yards. His feet were on grass. He’d landed in some kind of small park, but buildings towered around him. He spun and searched his surroundings for more elves, more attackers.
A small square building sat at the bottom of the hill. Rushing towards it were a dozen or so armed elves. The portal.
Raf moved to the side, leaned against a white brick wall and concentrated on blending. The elves knew nothing of hellhounds if they thought he’d be that easy to trap.
As he watched, the flow toward the building stopped. The sound of a whistle pierced the air. The elves turned and quickly formed two lines leading to the building. The elf with the notebook stepped into view. He was talking into a headset and scribbling as quickly as he could.
Raf almost laughed at their idiocy. They were too preoccupied lining up and chatting amongst themselves to realize he stood only a few feet away—within an arrow’s reach. He was tempted to step forward and show them how misguided all their work was.
Unfortunately, while he had made it past them, he had no idea where to go from there. He could shimmer anywhere within the boundaries of a land, but only if he had an idea of his destination. Alfheim was kept uncharted—or at least any maps of the world weren’t available to outsiders. If he stepped forward, he’d have nowhere to shimmer to when the arrows started flying. So, he was stuck for a while, until the elfin guards walked through their motions, got done convincing themselves they were actually doing something to find him.
Sooner or later one would wander away, come closer. Close enough Raf could grab him and force the location of Geir’s home out of him.
Until then, he would wait.
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Chapter 6
M arina’s guards stepped from the car one by one. Her uncle had told them to escort her to his office while he groomed his horse and released it into the paddock.
The beast had twice as much freedom as Marina had ever enjoyed.
Tahl reached a hand in to assist her. She stared at it. In Gunngar she had been responsible for ruling an army of elves. She hadn’t enjoyed the job because of the act she’d had to put on while doing it, but still it was hard to switch her brain from being the person in charge, feared even, to a helpless princess to be assisted and watched.
She lifted her bound hands and slapped his away.
The other three guards smiled. That angered her even more. They took her rebuff as a sign she was like her uncle, arrogant and privileged, the person she’d pretended to be before escaping to Gunngar. Everything she did was completely misunderstood, even her anger.
She stood, and Tahl was beside her instantly. “Princess, your scarf.” He pressed the silk into her hands, slicing the binds that held her wrists together as he did.
Marina looked up, her gaze shifting from him to the other three. They hadn’t known…only Tahl…she locked the information away. Later she’d consider how to use it. The more of her reality her uncle hid from others, the more he opened himself up to being damaged by the truth.
The ties disappeared, tucked into Tahl’s coat, and Marina stepped from the car. Her uncle’d had her change before entering Fisby. She was wearing silk now, pants and a sleeveless top covered by a gauzy floor-length coat that hung open in the front. Her hair was piled on her head with a garden’s worth of flowers peeking from the white mass.
She felt and looked ridiculous.
“You look wonderful.” Ky met her at the door of the garage and covered Marina’s hands with her own. Her fingers found the indentation that the ties had left in Marina’s skin. They hesitated there for a second, but her sister’s expression never changed.
Ky looked one-hundred-percent radiant. “You have to tell me everything. Kidnapped by a hellhound. How was that?”
She tugged Marina behind her, her chocolate brown hair bouncing with every step. Ky, not being the princess, was allowed to wear hers down.
Marina followed, feeling relieved and guilty at the same time. She’d given Ky no thought when she’d blended in with the crowd and walked through the portal into Gunngar. Selfishly, she’d left her sister behind, but Ky seemed to harbor no ill will for Marina’s desertion.
Ky pulled Marina close and whispered in her ear. “I’m so happy you’re home. I never believed all that stuff the elf lords were spreading about you. Hunting witches. Seriously. Crazy.”
Her lips tight, Marina smiled. “And how have you been?”
A cloud passed over Ky’s face, but she shook it off. “Fine. Happy, but I missed you. While you were gone, uncle was different. He’s been going out more and coming back angry—especially after reading one of these.” Ky stepped next to a small round table covered with a silver cloth. She lifted the covering. Underneath sat a stack of gossip magazines. “He banned me from reading them, but Tahl brings them to me.” She dropped the cloth and plopped onto the sofa that sat beside it.
“So, tell me everything.” Her eyes were huge and hungry.
Marina perched on the edge of the couch. She suddenly felt guilty, and for an entirely new reason. She’d never really talked with her sister, never let her in on what was going on in her life. Ky had seemed so much younger before Marina had left for Gunngar, but now she was grown up and had no clue of the realities of their existence. She was still a child inside.
Marina stared down at her hands, calloused from her work in the human world. Should she tell Ky the truth? Or let her stay happy in her false world?
Ky frowned and leaned closer. “You know, one thing I never understood is how you got to Gunngar in the first place. When you first disappeared, we all thought you’d been kidnapped, and you were, later, right, by the hellhound?” Her eyes lit up, but then she frowned. “But at the very beginning, how’d you get there?”
If Marina told her she had run away, she’d have to explain everything else—overhearing the royals plotting, knowing they were planning a rebellion with Marina as a figurehead. She just wasn’t sure her baby sister was ready to hear all of that, that she would understand what all of it meant—to Marina and Alfheim.
“It was a mistake,” she murmured. “I was out shopping. The crowds were huge. I didn’t realize the elf lords were sending the Jagers through to Gunngar that day, then shutting everything down.” She glanced at Ky. Her sister’s expression didn’t change. Marina continued, “Elves were gathered by the portal. I stopped to watch and somehow I got caught up in everything. The next thing I knew I was in Gunngar and there was no way to get back.”
Ky sighed. “That is so incredible. Such an adventure.”
Marina lifted her gaze; her sister’s face glowed. Again, Marina considered telling her all, explaining the “adventure” for what it was—dark and terrifying. But then she’d have to explain what she had done, too, how she’d been the one terrifying all those beings in Gunngar.
She couldn’t say it, not to Ky. “Yes, it was…exciting.”
Tahl walked into the room, and Marina let out a breath. “Your uncle would like you to wait for him in his office.”
She muttered an apology to Ky and hurried out of the room, for once grateful for her uncle’s interference. She fisted her hands as she walked, tried to concentrate on what she was going to say, what she was going to do.
She knew the royals hadn’t given up on their plans to stage a revolution and to shove her into the forefront. She’d ran away when she’d heard of their plans before. Now she was back, but she wasn’t that princess anymore. She’d been through too much. She was smarter and more confident.
She could face down her uncle. She could tell him no. She would not be responsible for putting a group she didn’t respect back into power. She would not be their puppet.
It was time to take a stand.
Marina was sitting in an upholstered chair her hands resting lightly on t
he chair’s wooden arms when her uncle stormed into the room.
He stopped and pulled back as if surprised when he saw her. “What, no argument? No having to hunt you down and drag you in here?” He stalked around her chair; his riding gloves snapping against his palm. “Perhaps there is hope.”
He paused then, “I’m not going to ask how you got to Gunngar. I’m not even going to ask if you were truly doing as the elf lords claimed—working as one of them.” He threw his gloves onto his desk. “I’m simply going to tell you what I did while you were gone. You’re a smart girl. I think that will be enough.” He strode to his desk, jerked open a drawer and pulled a tiny box from inside. He handed it to her.
Marina stared at the box for a second. Her fingers tingled. Without even cracking the lid, she knew there was some kind of elf magic inside.
“Open it,” he said.
Marina flipped open the lid.
Nestled inside was a tiny fleck of clear crystal.
“Your sister’s was red, fitting her name. Tahl said you were speaking with her. Perhaps you noticed it?” He tilted his head.
Marina shook hers, but kept her gaze on the stone.
Ky was elfin for ruby. She’d always reminded Marina of the stone, intense and alive, filled with life and beauty—nothing at all like her cold older sister.
“It’s…pretty,” Marina replied. She lifted a finger to touch the thing, but paused. Something wasn’t right. Her uncle didn’t give gifts.
“It is, isn’t it? I’d planned to give you this before you disappeared. The other royals thought it was wise. I argued with them. Told them, you were with us, that you understood how important our cause was. But you proved me wrong.” His voice turned hard.
Marina’s fingers tightened on the box. The crystal caught the light, winked at her. A chill traveled down her spine. She wanted to set the box down, but she didn’t. She licked her lips and looked up, kept her gaze steady.
“Did you see your sister’s? I had the surgeons place it right here.” He tapped a spot on his neck under his right ear. “She’d been begging for one of these tacky insets for months. After you left, I realized I’d messed up, and I needed to rectify that.”
Marina lowered the box to her lap. Her voice tense, she asked, “Rectify how?”
He took the box from her and pulled the sparkling crystal from inside, held it to the light. “It is pretty, isn’t it? You’re a very lucky girl, actually. If I’d listened to the royals and given you this before you left…” He tilted his head. “Well, you wouldn’t be sitting here in front of me now. You would be dead, and your sister would be princess.”
He stroked the crystal. “And that would have been okay then—before the elf lords built you up even more than you had been. You were popular with the masses before, but since leaving? You have an almost cult following.” He walked to a cabinet and pulled open a door. Envelopes flowed out onto the floor. “Fan mail. You get fan mail.” He turned to his desk and swept his arm over its top. Papers, statues, his computer, all went flying. From someone else the outburst would have been unexpected, but from Geir…Marina didn’t even jump.
“No one, not even your parents, had the following you do. Which makes you and your cooperation crucial to the success of our plans.” He walked around the desk and sat down.
His chest was heaving and his eyes glittered. He held up the crystal. “Which brings me back to this. This is a miracle of modern elf technology and magic. It had been meant for you. That had made sense at the time—it was just a little insurance. But then you ran off and became indispensable. So, we adjusted.”
Marina’s body was stiff, tense. She wanted to scream at him to tell her what he had done, what the crystal implanted in her sister’s neck could do.
“Do you love your sister?” He twisted the clear crystal between his fingers, then glanced at Marina.
Marina bit her lip. Of course, she loved Ky. She’d never said it, but…
Geir walked around to the far side of the desk. “You will play the role we give you. You will pose for pictures. You will give speeches. You will ride at the head of our first attack. You will tell the people the royals are their future. And, once we are back in power, once every elf lord is dead, you will take the throne and go back to being the pretty little princess you were raised to be—one who smiles for cameras and does as she is told.”
Marina sucked in a breath. This was the conversation she’d ran away from once before. Not this time. “And if I refuse?” she asked.
He smiled and retrieved his laptop from the floor. Marina stared at him when she saw it in his hand. Royals didn’t do technology.
He sighed. “I know. See how desperate you have made me? I’ve even allowed elf lord ‘improvements’ into this house. I hate myself for it, but there you have it. What’s a misplaced royal to do?” He tapped his fingers against the laptop’s hard lid. “Actually, I’ve been rethinking the whole no technology thing. Technology does have its purpose, one the royals would do well to discover. But…” He placed the computer on his desk. “I’ll never be convinced it’s for the masses.” He pressed the power button and met her gaze. “Technology, whatever comes of it, should be contained, available only to the ruling parties—which with your cooperation will soon be us.” He spun the computer so it faced her.
A drawing, the floor plan of the mansion, appeared on the screen. There was little detail to it, just lines showing walls, breaks in the lines showing windows and doors, a very simple design. But in one room, the sitting room where Marina had left her sister, a light blinked, slow and steady like the beat of a heart.
“Ky,” she murmured. “It’s a tracker.”
He arched a brow. “Of course, but it’s more than that.” He tapped another button and the light flickered.
From the floor below someone yelled, and Marina’s uncle smiled.
Marina jumped to her feet.
Chapter 7
“A hellhound. How unusual.”
Raf jumped at the words. He was still watching the portal, still blended with the wall behind him, hidden or should have been from anyone except another hellhound.
And the male facing him, most definitely was not a hellhound.
He smelled of fresh cut grass and sun-warmed earth. Happy smells. Raf found it ironic that they were associated with elves.
The elf was tall, only a few inches shorter than Raf, but much slimmer. He was dressed casually in a thin sweater and canvas pants, both gray, and on his face were a pair of extremely odd-looking goggles.
He nodded toward the portal building. “They called me, told me there was a hellhound on the loose. I’m wondering if you might be looking for me.”
“Are you?” Raf kept his face blank. He had never met his contact with the elf lords. They had only corresponded electronically. This elf might be him, or he might not. Either way, Raf was in no hurry to identify himself.
The elf studied Raf through his goggles. Raf lowered his brows. Dealing with elves was bad enough, but add the goggles and it was clear this particular elf saw him as some kind of specimen.
The elf must have sensed Raf’s reaction; he jerked the goggles off of his face.
“Sorry. I don’t need them now anyway, not since I’ve found you. You know that, right? That once you have spotted a hellhound who is blending or realize he is there, the talent doesn’t work?” The elf tilted his head as if truly interested in Raf’s reply.
Confused by the strange male’s behavior, Raf crossed his arms over his chest and nodded.
“I thought you did, but you never know. I encountered a troll once who refused to believe that our sun would turn him to stone.” The elf shook his head. “If you want to see him, he’s located in a park two blocks over. He’s quite popular with the children.”
Raf shoved himself away from the wall. This conversation was going nowhere.
A small object, round and cold, pressed against his temple.
“I’m sorry. I can’t let you leave. As mu
ch as I like hellhounds, I’m afraid most of Alfheim fears your kind quite irrationally. It wouldn’t be responsible of me to let you just wander the streets. Unfair, I know. I mean, you do have your talents. You are, for example, infamous for being difficult to kill.” He paused, seemed to think for a second. “Perhaps now would be a good time to assure you that one pull on this trigger and your brain will explode inside your head. That is a very difficult injury from which to recover. Don’t you agree?”
With the muzzle of whatever weapon the elf held pressed against his skull, Raf recognized the question for what it was—rhetorical.
“Now, that we have our realities established, what brings you to Alfheim? Are you here to see me?” The elf’s voice had changed, grown deeper, not menacing so much as businesslike. Raf had no doubt the male would do as he’d claimed, splatter Raf’s brains over the inside of his skull.
Raf suppressed the growl that formed in his chest. “Am I looking for you? You tell me.”
The elf smiled. The gun still pressed against Raf’s temple, he held out his unoccupied hand. “Sim, Lord Sim to be exact. And you are?”
The name of his contact. “Raf Dolg.” Raf let out a disappointed breath. He’d begun to hope the elf wasn’t his contact. The male and his toys had burrowed under Raf’s skin. It would have been nice to have had no reason to “play nice.”
The muzzle pressed against his temple moved. The elf stepped back, taking the weapon, which Raf could see now was little more than a pipe with a trigger attached, with him. The elf motioned with the barrel. “I assume you have evidence?”
Raf reached into his pocket and pulled out the elf lords’ locator.
The elf took the cylinder, flipped it over and studied the script etched on its side. He looked up, his gaze steely. “You called us, and you didn’t have her.”
“I did at the time.” Raf felt no need to explain further.
