Sorrow's Son (Crossroads of Worlds Book 2)

by Rene Sears

  Igraine sat up, eyes widening. "Really?"

  Iliesa turned, her hair glinting gold in the light from the window. Her gaze cut to me. "Even—?"

  "All of us," Morgan said. "You'll all find this useful. Javier, I don't know if you've seen a feygate before."

  "I haven't," I said. There hadn't been one close to my family's house, and my father wouldn't have been keen to show me if there had been.

  "Then you'll find this particularly educational. The feygates are conduits—"

  All of our heads turned in unison. A huge surge of magic had come from somewhere close by. Without meaning to, I pushed back, half-standing up. My chair scraped across the floor.

  "It's okay," Iliesa said.

  "It's a friend," Igraine smiled. "You'll like her. She's special." Morgan stood up, moving toward the door. The girls were still sitting calmly at the table, eating, so I sat back down and joined them.

  I heard voices from the hallway, getting louder as they came closer to the kitchen, Morgan and a man. I couldn't place his accent. Igraine and Iliesa exchanged a startled look and stood, breakfast forgotten.

  "...been gone so long." Morgan. "I thought it'd be Hawthorn, not you. Not that I'm not glad to see you. I am." There was some emotion in her voice I couldn't identify, along with clearly audible relief. It made me feel uncomfortable, like I was eavesdropping on her.

  "I'd have come sooner if I could."

  "I know. Just so you know I missed you."

  "I wish I brought better news..."

  They rounded the corner, and my jaw dropped. Beside Morgan stood a man with longish red-brown hair and weirdly archaic clothes. He was—literally—inhumanly good looking, with high cheekbones and long, attenuated features. I had never seen one before, but I knew as soon as I saw him that he was fae. My stomach flipped, my breakfast sitting heavy and cold in my stomach.

  "Who's this?" The man looked tired, some absent corner of my brain noted, while the rest was just horrified that he was here. Suspecting Morgan and her nieces' fae connections was not the same as seeing one in the flesh.

  Morgan frowned slightly as she took in my expression. "Rowan, this is Javier. Javier, this is Rowan, a friend of ours."

  "He's...he's..." I shut my mouth. My father might have been disgusted to see a fae, but my mother would have been appalled at my manners. "Sorry," I said to the man.

  "Oh, have you not met fae before?" Iliesa turned a too-wide smile on me while Igraine smirked.

  "No," I managed. "I never have." Unless you counted the hound outside the apartment, but we hadn't exactly been formally introduced. And there was the questing beast, but we had called it to us. It hadn't just walked in the door. All my life, my father had told me how the fae preyed on humans, how they hunted us, how the Association had betrayed humanity by brokering a peace with them...but this man didn't look like a monster, and these particular humans seemed happy to see him. I decided, hesitantly, to reserve judgment.

  "Nice to meet you," the man—Rowan—said. "Don't worry. I don't bite."

  "Have you heard anything about our mother?" Iliesa turned a full-wattage smile on Rowan, but to no effect. The scaffolding of his face took on a distinctly downward droop.

  "Nothing yet." He sat at the table, and Morgan sat next to him. "I'm afraid I had some other news—not good news."

  Both the twins leaned forward. Rowan exhaled a slow sigh. He glanced sideways at me. "Maybe I should wait to tell you...?"

  "No," said Igraine, while Iliesa said "Yes."

  "Javier," Morgan said, "would you mind going into the other room for a minute?"

  I shrugged, though I was dying of curiosity. I walked into the living room, shut the door between the rooms behind me, picked a book off the shelf, sat down, and pretended to read. But I allowed my senses to extend down the faint swirls of magic that drifted through the house. This wasn't even a spell, just an old, old trick my mother had shown me. She had spied on her brothers, she told me, when they had planned to sneak off into town, and she had tagged along, to their disgust. She had laughed when she taught me how to do it; one of the few times she'd laughed when speaking of her family.

  "Who is he?" The fae man's voice was tinny and faint, an echo along the energy, but I could hear the speculation in it.

  "A kid I picked up walking along the highway," Morgan said.

  "You weren't worried about...?"

  "Nah. He's human, and you should have seen the state of him." I squirmed in discomfort, but I knew I'd looked pretty pitiful when she met me. "Besides, I scanned him. I knew I could handle him if I needed to. And, well...But I can tell you about that later. How bad is it?"

  "The situation in Faerie is worsening. When the queen closed the feygates—" My pulse sped, and for a moment, I couldn't hear over the beat of blood in my ears. This was the reaction to what my father had done. The note he left me hadn't said exactly what his plan was, only that he was trying to fight a threat against all spellcasters and that he might not come back. It had gone wrong, turned against the people he was trying to protect. It wasn’t hard to see that the threat he'd meant was Faerie, and they knew he'd been trying to attack them before he killed so many spellcasters. Bitterness was almost a taste in my mouth. If Morgan and the twins found out who I was, what my father had done, they would hate me. I only prayed no one knew exactly what had caused the Savannah flu.

  Rowan went on. "—something went wrong. There's supposed to be a connection between this realm and than one. In the time there wasn't, a, a—flaw was introduced into Faerie. The balance of magic was disrupted. Pieces of the land are going wrong. Dying."

  The girls and Morgan leaned back, made noises of sorrow and disbelief, but I couldn't feel it. They were only words to me, a place I'd never seen. My father would've been pleased. The memory of his smile pierced me, mingled with the horror I'd just felt at the thought of their finding out who I was. The words on the page in front of me blurred together.

  Rowan went on. "There's no word of your mother. The queen has sent all the ambassadors of the human world back through the gates—not just North America, but all of them. But none of the others had family among the fae." Wait, what? "Her majesty has banned all humans from her court." Morgan made a noise. "She has appointed a new Blade and sent him out to bend her people to her will."

  "What does that mean?" Igraine said.

  "The new Blade is beating people up," Morgan said softly. She sounded...regretful? I couldn't read her tone, not without seeing her face.

  "The worst of it is—she knows." Rowan's voice dropped. "She knows you're important. She called on an oracle in Faerie who said the girls were needed to heal the land. She looked in Faerie first, but she knows you're not in her realm. She may even know you're with a relative, or how to find you. I'm not in her confidence. I don't know how long we have. I don't know exactly what she plans."

  A chair scraped back. Morgan's voice faded as she paced. "That's a lot of disclaimers. Just say it."

  "I heard she was sending the Blade after them."

  I flinched. The Queen's Blade had featured in both my parents' stories. The Blade was the queen's assassin and bully, tormenting and murdering her human enemies—and now, it sounded like, her own people as well. The Blade was supposed to have retired when the fae made peace with humanity decades before I was born. It couldn't mean anything good that she'd brought the position back.

  "Well," Morgan said after a moment. "We're not staying here. Girls, get your bags. We're going to Strangehold." What? "Igraine, would you get Javier?"

  I hastily dropped the thread of energy I'd been eavesdropping with and flipped a page of the book. I couldn't have said what the title was. The door opened, and Igraine stood framed by sunlight, her face somber. I set the book down and walked to join her.

  "I'm afraid we're going to have to leave," Morgan said without preamble. "There are some dangerous people looking for us."

  I stared at her dumbly. I wasn't sure I wanted to go with these people, who were
so easy with the fae and the Association, but I had just found a place, just found help, and now they were leaving me. My life had been a string of goodbyes for months now, and I wasn't ready for another.

  "I'm sorry to run on you, Javier," Morgan said, "but you can't stay here. It isn't safe. These people don't mess around." She opened a kitchen drawer, yanking on it when it stuck, took out a pad of sticky notes and a pen, and scribbled down a couple of numbers. "Can you drive? Are you old enough?" I nodded, though I didn't have a license. My aunt had taught me a little. Morgan handed me her keys and the scrap of paper. She had written down her number and another with the name Anil next to it. "You can take my truck. Anil lives in San Antonio, and he doesn't like the Association either." I twitched, and she smiled at me. "Call me when you get there and leave a message if I don't answer. The place we're going doesn't always have great reception, but I'll get it eventually."

  "Thank you for—for everything."

  She shook her head. "It isn't enough, and I feel bad about that, but...good luck. Anil can help you, too." She offered me her hand and I shook it, then ran back to the guest room to get my stuff. I slid the iron band my father had given me around my wrist, on the hand opposite the corded charms I'd woven for myself. Whether there was a fae assassin after the girls, or just—just!—the yath hound after me, it couldn't hurt to have it.

  The girls and Rowan were waiting impatiently by the door. Morgan locked the door carefully behind us as we walked outside, muttering a charm into the lock.

  I approached the truck cautiously—I had only ever driven my aunt's Volvo, and not often since I didn't have a license. The truck was much, much bigger. "Good luck," Morgan called, and the girls echoed her. Rowan only stood, waiting, looking toward a path that led into a stand of trees a ways from the house. The surge of magic I'd felt had probably been Rowan coming through a gate. I'd never seen one, and I was curious, but now was not the time—

  A howl split the air. All five of us turned in unison. Another howl joined it, and another, until the wailing sound was a wall of dread. I'd never mistake it for the questing beast. I took a useless step back. Impossible. I'd thought they were unable to attack in the daytime. Here in the sunlight, with the taste of bacon and orange juice still lingering on my tongue, it seemed impossible that they could even exist.

  "Javier!" Rowan yelled, though they weren't that far away. "Come on!"

  I did. I bolted toward them as though my life depended on it. The one hellhound sniffing around my aunt's apartment was frightening, sure. But this was what my father had been talking about: creatures of fae terrorizing humanity. The howls ran up and down my spine, bringing cold sweat and the knowledge that when it came to it, I was prey. My backpack bounced against my back as I drew even with the girls.

  Iliesa stuck out a hand and I took it, and we all ran. A bracelet at Morgan's wrist was glowing. "Sorry, Javier," she said between strides. "Looks like you're coming with us."

  "The Hunt." Rowan wasn't out of breath at all. "The Hunt has not walked mortal lands for decades."

  We followed the narrow trail through the woods, and Iliesa let go of my hand so we could jog single file. The morning looked so normal: sunlight on leaves, birds calling from trees around us, the burble of running water somewhere ahead. But behind us, the howling, coming closer. A horn sounded, and even though I was running, my skin chilled. It was a terrible sound.

  The path split to follow along the creek, and Morgan bore right, upstream. The creek was shallow and clear enough today to reveal blue-gray pebbles along the bottom. We followed the path to a bridge across the water. On one side of the bridge, the bricks were inset with lighter stones in the pattern of an arch. Morgan sprinted right to it, put her hand to the arch, and muttered something. The stone shimmered, turning bright silver, an empty mirror that reflected nothing.

  "Morgan—" Igraine's voice sounded unusually hesitant. She and Iliesa were holding each other's hands.

  "I know," Morgan said gently, "but there's no other choice."

  The horn sounded again.

  I couldn't help it—I turned back to look. The howling was louder, though I couldn't see the Hunt yet. The sky boiled with dark clouds, and in the center of the clouds was profound darkness. They had not waited for night to hunt us—and which us? The girls or me?—but had brought the night with them.

  "Javier."

  I turned. While I'd watched the approach of the Hunt, the girls and Morgan had already gone through. Now it was just me and Rowan, and a bright needle of new fear pierced me, a single sharp note in the symphony already playing: I was alone with a man of the fae. What if he left me for the hunt? What if he killed me himself and left me here? No one would ever know.

  "You have to take it off." Rowan jerked his chin toward me.

  I stared at him, dumbfounded. "What?"

  "The iron you have on your person. Don't take it through the gate. You might break the spell and end up gods know where." His eyes flicked over my shoulder at the approaching night. "Hurry."

  I pulled the iron bracelet my father had given me off and tossed it back the way we'd come, away from the gate. I brushed streaks of rust from my wrist, hoping they wouldn't affect the spell. Rowan took my hand and examined the old blood color the bracelet had left on my skin. His hands felt just like anyone else's.

  "That's fine—there's no cold iron left." He looked up. His eyes were the green of moss in shadow. "Now go through."

  The night was almost to us, and I had no time to be afraid of the gate when snarling, toothy death was so close. I walked into the flat, empty silver.

  *

  It felt like stepping through a sheet of water, but without the sensation of wetness. There was pressure, and warmth, and a feeling of—friendliness was the best way I could describe it. Like whatever was on the other side of the gate wanted me there.

  I stumbled through the other side and almost ran into Igraine. Morgan and the girls—and now me—were standing on a rickety wooden platform above an abyss that stretched above and below me. There were other little platforms at intervals around the tree, floating unsupported in midair. Just like we were?

  Vertigo struck me. Growing up on the island, I'd never been in a structure above ground level until I'd gone to visit my aunt for the first time as a child. I stepped back and bumped into Rowan, who caught my arm and steadied me.

  A thin bridge made of vines and nothing else connected our little platform to a tree fortress on the other side of the pit. An enormous tree the size of a skyscraper came out of the void and went up until the top of it was lost to sight, and down, down, until it faded into dizziness. The air around us was thick with more magic than I'd ever seen, more magic than a hundred leylines could contain. I wouldn't want to cast even the most basic spell—I'd burn myself up. The concentration of magic was nearly enough to distract me from the terror that filled me at the sight of the drop.

  "It was built this way to keep out armies," Rowan said conversationally. Igraine shot me a look. It didn't matter. I might be ashamed later, but right now, my mouth was dry and my stomach whirling. It wasn't just fear of falling; it was a sudden fundamental doubt that I didn't trust me not to fling myself over the edge.

  "We'll cross two at a time," Morgan said. Rowan and Igraine started over the bridge, the vines bouncing underneath their feet. I stared fixedly at my new shoes.

  "It's not as bad as it looks," Iliesa said. "The magic makes it feel firmer beneath your feet than it looks."

  "God, I hope so," I said. Javier! The memory of my mother's voice. Don't take the Lord's name in vain.

  "This place is called Strangehold," Morgan said. "It was built by some friends of ours. The Hunt and the Blade can't find us here. Look, they're across. Our turn, Iliesa. Javier, just hang on. I'll be right back for you."

  I watched their progress across the swaying bridge until it made me dizzy and then I looked at my shoes again. I wanted to step forward, to cross by myself, but I couldn't. Move, I told myself. Just go
. Don't make Morgan come back for you. But no matter how many times I told myself to take the first step, it didn't happen. The thought wouldn't connect to whatever synapse needed to fire—or I was too scared to move, take your pick.

  "Javier?" It wasn't Morgan. It was Rowan. He had crossed back. I could see Morgan and the twins, three small figures on the other side of the abyss. I made myself keep looking up until I met the fae's green eyes.

  "I'm not sure I can do this," I said. "I think I'm afraid of heights."

  "It's a rational fear." He turned back to the bridge and examined it. "Here is an irrational consolation: Strangehold will not let you fall. You've come as a friend."

  "Really?" I glanced at him sideways, but he looked serious.

  "The woman who built this place put in safeguards to defend against those she didn't want to visit, and ways to defend those she did." He turned with a small smile. "But even if your head believes that, it won't help your gut. So my suggestion is pick a point on Strangehold and fix your eyes on it while we walk. Don't look down; don't look up. Just look ahead. Start walking. I'll be right behind you."

  "Okay." I looked at the weird tree fortress. There was a lot to take in. The building curled around the giant tree, hugging its sides, burrowing into the tree in places. A giant staircase spiraled down, out of my line of sight, where I was not going to let my gaze fall, and it went up, curling above the highest turrets, on and on. I stopped trying to look up, either. Thinking of whether there were an infinite series of Strangeholds all up and down the tree trunk like beads on a string made my head hurt. I looked to the midpoint of the building and picked what was either a remarkably lifelike carving of a tree, or a smaller tree growing out of the fortress and stared at it.

  The first step was the hardest. I told my foot over and over to go, and finally it was the thought of Rowan waiting patiently behind me that made me move. I hadn't been thinking of having a fae at my back, until suddenly I did, and then I wanted to be on the other side of the bridge, in the company of other humans.