* * *
The sun felt warm on my face, and green shapes flashed just beyond the glass as I opened my eyes. The green, wooded hills around us signaled a dramatic change in the landscape.
“Where are we?” I managed with a thick tongue.
Ronnie’s voice was soft. “Welcome back to the world, sleepy head. We’re close to some place called, Fruen-den-stadt, or however you say it. We’re about half an hour from Strasbourg I think.”
“That close to Strasbourg? Already?”
“Hardly. It’s ten a.m. You’ve been asleep for almost twelve hours,” he said.
“Wait, you’re driving now?”
He laughed. “Yeah, we stopped five hours ago—Candace has some food for you in the backseat.”
“Not more donuts, I hope?”
“No, she found you something healthy—granola and fruit. Earth muffin food.”
Candace handed me a bottle of juice and a banana, and ran her hand through Ronnie’s thick black hair. “If you keep eating processed sugars, you’ll ruin the beautiful body Gavin gave you.”
“Hello pot, meet kettle. You’re the one who ate an entire package of those Hanuta things. You practically had a big O in the back seat.”
Candace laughed, “Well, true, and they were freakin’ amazing. I have a really high metabolism.”
“So I slept through Germany? How can you sleep through an entire country?”
“Well, it’s small, and you didn’t miss much if you ask me. All you need to know is that the tallest building in any town I’ve seen for the last sixty kilometers—however far that is—was the church. All the towns start to look the same. Until we got to the hills, it reminded me a lot of driving through the Midwest. This really is the best part so far.”
“Six countries in six days. That’s insane,” I said.
Ronnie laughed. “You know what day it is?”
I didn’t. “Um, Sunday?”
“Nope,” he said proudly.
“It’s Monday,” Candace said.
“But do you know what Monday?”
“No, not really—August something,” Candace answered.
“It’s Monday, August twentieth,” he said.
“Oh…” she responded.
I had no idea why that was important, so I prodded. “And?”
“Candace and I are supposed to be in class in about eight hours,” he laughed. “We’re college freshmen.”
“School starts today? I hadn’t even thought about school since the day of the hurricane. I’m so sorry, this is totally screwing up your lives.”
“Stop, already. The U of A will be there when we get back—well, I think.”
“Yes, Fayetteville survived the earthquake relatively unscathed—it was everything east of Little Rock...”
“Well, see? Besides, I wasn’t all that excited about chemistry,” Candace said.
“Chemistry? Good lord, I’ve never even asked what you were going to study. I totally suck.”
“No, you don’t suck. I’m thinking pre-med,” she said.
“Ronnie, what about you?’
“I’m thinking one of two things…maybe doing legal studies and poli-sci, and then going to law school. I think I’d be great in front of a jury.”
Candace made a gagging motion. “You’ll hate law. Just ask my mom, or my dad after a scotch or two. Why don’t you do pre-med with me? You’d make a great doctor.”
“I don’t like science, that’s why. And I’m not so good with blood,” he said. “I was also thinking about business. Logistics or management—then an MBA.”
“You’d be great at marketing, I think. Maggie, what about you?” Candace asked.
Facing Ozara seemed less frightening. “I don’t know. I never actually picked a school—I wanted to go to Arkansas, like both of you, but with everything that happened, and Ozara wanting me out of Arkansas, I just forgot about it.”
“Well, that settles it,” Candace said. “When this is over—“
“After you kick Ozara’s butt,” Ronnie interjected
“Yes, you’re going to swim for Arkansas, just like you wanted.”
“I am?”
“Yes. I see another national championship in your future. After freshman year, we can get an apartment together—the three of us—somewhere close to Dickson Street. We’ll hang out, and we’ll go to every game. Have you thought about majoring in horticulture?”
“That’s what Mom always says I should do. Who knows, maybe I will…if I get the chance.”
There was resignation in my voice and both of them heard it. The car grew quiet and they tried not to stare at me. They’d both read my journal, so they knew, just like I did, that I wasn’t going to enroll at the U of A or anywhere else. The conflict had begun.
* * *
We descended out of the hills and into a broad, green valley. Just across a river, Strasbourg appeared larger than I thought it would be—when I heard the name for the first time, I pictured a tiny village of a few hundred people. We blended into the late-morning traffic and wound our way past a myriad of buildings, old and new. Some looked very German, with stucco and timbers, while others appeared French, with mansard roofs and dormers, but the building that caught my attention immediately was an enormous reddish-stone cathedral. From half a mile away, it was simply shocking—I’d never seen anything like it.
While I marveled at the giant red monolith in the distance, a Fae entered my senses, approaching from the North. Anger caused my body to shake when I recognized its dark, twisted vibe. Chalen was in Strasbourg.
TWENTY-SEVEN
POURING SALT
“Do I want to know why you’re upset?” Candace asked, reading my face like a playbill.
“Chalen is here. Ronnie, can you go that direction?” I pointed to the west.
Ronnie frowned. “I could, but I’m not going to.”
“What? Stop the car.”
“Maggie, I love you and you know it, but I’m not going near Chalen,” he said.
“Ronnie’s right,” Candace added. “Freya said to keep a low profile. I know you want to kill him—I don’t blame you—but you need to stay focused on finding Bastien.”
My anger boiled. “Stop the car, or I will.”
“Why?” he snapped. “Are you going to kill him in the middle of the city? There are thousands of innocent people here. Do you really want to risk hurting any of them?”
“I can get him before he hurts anyone else. Maybe he’s here to hurt these people. Have you thought about that?”
Ronnie looked to Candace in the rearview for help. She didn’t offer any. My gut told me to listen to Ronnie, but a darker part of me wanted to avenge Aunt May, Kyle, and everyone else Chalen had hurt. Reluctantly, Ronnie turned west. Chalen moved to someplace near the cathedral, and stopped.
“Go there—please.” I pointed again.
He didn’t answer, but he did drive in the direction I pointed. I began plotting. If I could get close enough, I could mince Chalen with Quint and then disappear behind a cloak. It was a simple plan, but I embraced it. Ronnie parked the car when I asked. I jumped out and began moving through the crowd. The cathedral sat in the middle of a large paved square, surrounded by stone and stucco buildings of the same mixed architecture of the rest of the city. Tourists meandered about snapping pictures. Chalen prowled the plaza among them, but out of view. My inner voice scolded me. Ronnie is right—you’re being an idiot.
The little voice stopped me in my tracks and I began having second thoughts. Past a heavyset brunette woman wearing khaki pants and a white blouse several sizes too small, I caught a glimpse of Chalen in his younger form—dark hair, pockmarks, foggy blue eyes. My blood went cold and any reservations I had melted away—all I could think about was ending him. He stared east and seemed completely unaware of me as I moved closer. I closed to within thirty feet—a few yards more and I would have a clear shot. He began compelling the people around him. They seemed dazed. My heart skipped a beat as I
tried to anticipate his next move. Was he going to attack them? Would he destroy the cathedral?
“Now,” I said to myself.
To my utter shock, the instant before I formed Quint, he shifted to Naeshura and shot to the west. I stood still with my mouth open, people brushing past me, trying to figure out what had just happened. He didn’t see me. I was sure of it.
The answer came from behind me. Across the brilliant blue sky, a dozen Fae pursued him. Two peeled off from the rest and entered the square as birds. Victoria and Sherman landed on the flying buttresses high atop the cathedral.
The disappointment of not killing Chalen stung, but the excitement of seeing my old friends seemed like a fair trade. I turned toward the massive doors. Candace and Ronnie watched me from a sidewalk restaurant that sat under the shadow of a six-story stucco building. I shook my head and raised a hand, hoping they wouldn’t follow, and walked inside the monstrous red building. In a whisper I asked Victoria and Sherman to follow me.
The morning sun beamed through the stained glass windows high above the nave. Despite the light, the inside of the building was dark and felt cold. I took a seat in the emptiest area and prepared my Air barrier. I felt both of them walk through it. They looked exactly as they did in Arkansas, the last time I saw them.
Sherman sat to my right. He studied me, a slight smile on his square face. “It is good to see you, Maggie.”
“I want to hug you both.”
Victoria chuckled and wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “When I saw you, I thought, that could not possibly be Maggie O’Shea stalking Chalen—not half a world away. But here you are. Why are you in Strasbourg?”
“I’m here to find Bastien.”
“In Strasbourg?”
“No ma’am, west of here.”
“And how do you know where he is?” Sherman asked.
“The Kabouter.”
“You saw the Kabouter? When?” She asked.
“The night before last.”
Like always, Sherman and Victoria didn’t communicate with words—they said everything by exchanging looks.
“Have you heard?” I asked.
Victoria nodded slowly and deliberately. “Yes. Were you there?”
“Yes. Dersha and…the Second.” I didn’t mean to hesitate and both of them stared at me.
Victoria let go of my shoulder and turned in her seat to face me—intense brown eyes focused, muscles clenched in her square face. “You know the identity of the Second.”
I had trusted Victoria and Sherman in the past and I felt like I should trust them again, but Freya’s warning to tell no one sounded off in my head. I wasn’t prepared to answer. I hadn’t expected to see Sherman and Victoria and had no idea whether telling them would be a mistake. More than anything I wanted to talk to Candace and Ronnie to get their opinions, but they were across the plaza. I made a decision.
“I’m going to trust you again, because you’ve helped me in the past. But please be careful who you share this with.”
“Maggie, one does not exist for a million years without knowing when and to whom to divulge information—you can trust us,” Sherman said.
“A million years—so young,” Victoria said, smiling at him. “You can trust us, Maggie.”
“You don’t understand. What I’m going to tell you changes everything.”
Sherman gasped softly and ran his fingers through his thick white hair. “Ozara. I was correct.”
Victoria nodded and turned her intense brown eyes to the ceiling more than a hundred feet above us.
“You knew?”
“No,” she said, “But we suspected it was possible.”
“What about the attack on the Council?”
“How do you know about that?” she asked.
Sherman chuckled and shook his head. “She knows because she was there. That is how you know it was Ozara at Veluwezoom, is it not?”
“Yes, I projected. But how did she pull off the attack at the Weald?”
“We were inside an Aether barrier. We could not sense what was happening beyond it. The attack was an illusion.”
“I could sense it—to some extent at least—there was energy across the lake.”
“Yes, hers.” Sherman said. “Your sensitivity may be stronger than ours, but from inside the barrier, even you have limits. The witnesses outside the barrier when the attack occurred were destroyed—some died during the attack and the rest were hunted down. Reylam, a former Seelie guard who returned to the Kobold after the attack, gave us evidence that led us to suspect Ozara. He was a mile away when it occurred. Curiously, he disappeared during a border patrol five weeks ago—dead, I suspect.”
“Maggie, do you have incontrovertible proof that Ozara was at Veluwezoom?” Victoria asked.
“I saw her and Dersha talking behind a Clóca barrier—heard them planning something for the Winter Solstice. I’m supposed to be dead before then—me and my family.”
They exchanged looks again. “Four months, that’s much sooner than we assumed,” he said.
“Do you know what she’s going to do?” I asked.
Sherman’s lips dropped to a frown and his expression grew hard. “I suspect she will move on the independent clans. What you may not know, Maggie, is that before the Kabouter were destroyed, Ozara sent envoys to each of the clans promising protection if they joined the Alliance. The Kabouter refused. Their fate will weigh heavily on the rest of us. You also need to know she offered seats on the Alliance Council to the elders of each clan—she’s promising them a voice.”
A voice? That was out of character for Ozara. “Have any joined?”
“Yes. The Jinn have joined and we have heard rumors that Hulijing and the Yokai are making overtures. That places a great deal of pressure on the Ancient Ones.”
“Why? I don’t remember hearing about those clans—except that the Second attacked the Hulijing.”
Sherman nodded. “The Hulijing are a small clan in western China and Mongolia. The Yokai are the predominant clan in Japan. The Diwata of the Philippines were nearly wiped out by the Rogues a week ago. I suspect that is weighing heavily on the rest of the Asian clans.”
“This just keeps getting worse, but what I don’t understand is why any clan would trust Ozara?”
“Given what we’ve just learned, the plan is as insidious as it is effective,” Victoria said. “None of clans that have joined Ozara has been attacked—now we know why. The Rogues are ravaging the clans that have remained independent. Any clan siding with the Rogues, or even assisted them, has been attacked by the Alliance—the elders killed and the rest divided into groups within the Alliance. From what we can tell, former allies are separated, forced into regiments with old enemies.”
“Old enemies don’t trust one another, so they’re not likely to rise up against the Alliance. That’s how she maintains control,” Sherman added.
Victoria nodded. “Yes, and there is more. Those clans who agree to side with Ozara are stripped of their elders—ostensibly to take their places on the Alliance Council. Powerful Fae loyal to Ozara are placed in control of the remaining clan. Anuket now controls the Jinn.”
“What is Ozara’s endgame?” I asked.
“If I were to guess,” she said, “The unification and consolidation of the clans.”
“How is that possible? Ozara can’t hope to control all Fae.”
“Can she not? Those who oppose her are being eliminated. Those who have joined the Alliance have been promised something Ozara has never promised before.”
“What’s that?”
Victoria and Sherman exchanged looks again and I immediately felt uncomfortable.
“Total discretion to restore their lands.”
My mind flashed back to Ireland and what Dana wanted to do. “You mean discretion to eliminate the human race?”
“Yes. Complete Restoration is what they’re calling it—returning the physical world to its condition before the human race. As a show of good faith, O
zara oversaw the deaths of many millions of people this week. I’m sure you’re aware?” Victoria asked.
“Wait, you mean she admitted to killing millions of people?”
Sherman shook his head. “Admit? She celebrated it. You see, child, without a demonstration that her position on humans had changed, none would believe her.”
“Do you believe she intends to allow it—allow all of us to die?’
Sherman exhaled and ran his hands through his thick white hair. “That we do not know. I find it hard to believe that after ten thousand years of risking her own life to preserve your species, she would condemn it to extinction now.”
“True,” Victoria said, “but to maintain power afterward she must.”
“After what?” I asked.
“After she defeats the Second—”
“Who, conveniently enough, does not exist,” I interrupted.
Victoria nodded.
“If Ozara is serious, if she has changed, then your species is in danger. There is an equally plausible alternative—she may be isolating the elders who have always opposed her. She may be planning to wipe them out, rendering their clans powerless to resist,” Sherman said.
“Even if that’s the case, how many people will die for her plan to work?’
“Some of us are resisting,” he said. “Do you remember Ostara?”
I nodded. Ostara was a member of the Seelie Council.
“Ostara left the Seelie when we did. She returned to the Alfar. Avery, another Council member, returned to the Portune in Scotland. The Kobold, the Alfar, and the Portune have begun negotiations for an alliance of our own.”
“The Ohanzee and the Sidhe have made the same deal.” I said.
Victoria nodded. “The Sidhe have reached out to us.”
“Freya said the Kabouter were abandoned by the Sidhe…and the Kobold.”
“Yes, many of our elders feared becoming entangled—that was an unfortunate mistake. The Kabouter did not die in vain. It is because of them that the European Clans are talking. Freya survived?’
I nodded.
“She will be hunted. So will you, and that is why finding you standing in the middle of a plaza trying to attack Chalen is so disturbing. If the enemy finds you, they will stop at nothing to destroy you. If Ozara knew—“
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