The Phoenix Charm

by Helen Scott Taylor

  Nightshade was the first to speak: “Shit!”

  Cordelia wouldn’t have vocalized her feelings in quite that way, but he summed up her sentiment exactly.

  “This wasn’t how I imagined the entry to the Underworld,” Thorn said.

  Michael laughed, short and sharp and very un-Michael-like. “We’ll have to walk to the Sgwd yr Eira waterfall to find the way into Gwyn’s demesne.”

  “Oh, that’s all right then,” Thorn said.

  Michael pinched the bridge of his nose and Nightshade groaned.

  “Thorn, sweetheart,” Cordelia said, turning to look at him, “why do you think all these humans are here?”

  “Don’t call me sweetheart.” A telltale hint of pink crept into his cheeks.

  “They’re all going to walk to the ruddy waterfall, you dunderhead.” Nightshade punched Thorn playfully on the arm. Cordelia bit her tongue and turned away. Tamsy scooted onto her lap to escape the roughhousing. The two men wrestled on the backseat until Nightshade had Thorn in a headlock.

  “What’re we going to do?” She glanced at Michael.

  He ran his fingers back through his hair. “Park and take a jaunt to the waterfall, with every tourist in Wales, by the looks of things. ’Tis bound to take us a while to find the door. Let ’s be hopingthis lot have gone home by then.”

  He squeezed the Range Rover into a space and they all piled out. Nightshade wore a long coat and a hat, which looked like something from the 1940s and did nothing to make him blend in. Michael wore the same as usual, adding a leather jacket to his jeans and T-shirt. Cordelia slipped on her serviceable blue jacket over her roll-neck jumper and put on boots with nonslip soles. Some of the paths were bound to be steep and slippery. Thorn stood watching them prepare. “Coat, Thorn,” Cordelia said as she hitched her tapestry cat-carrying bag over her shoulder and settled Tamsy inside.

  “I haven’t got one.”

  She glanced up and frowned.

  “ It ’s the middle of summer,” he said defensively.

  “We’re in Wales. There are mountains.” She pointed through the trees to the purple peaks in the distance. “The nights get cold.”

  He shrugged away her concern. “I’ll be fine.”

  Then she looked at his feet. Michael and Nightshade both wore stout leather boots. Thorn was wearing blue plastic shoes that would have been ideal for the beach.

  Before she could say any more, he scowled. “Stop treating me like a kid.”

  With a sigh, she went back to settling Tamsy, who’d got her claw caught in the bag’s stitching. Thorn was right. She had to let him grow up. She was overprotective because he’d been an abandoned child. Letting go was difficult when he was all she had.

  “Ready?” Michael asked, glancing between them. “Better be making a move. We seem to be attracting attention.”

  The family groups walking past were all staring at Nightshade, a few of them even detouring around the far side of the parked cars to keep their distance. Cordelia sympathized with them.

  They started out, Michael setting a brisk pace up the steep path that rose between the rocks and the river Mellte. Cordelia was soon puffing, but she refused to be the one to ask him to slow down. She hugged her precious bundle of fur in the bag at her side, smiling every time Tamsy poked her head out to look around. They passed the entrance to some old silica mines, then tramped across an area of soggy moorland to a gate. Michael stopped and rested his elbows on the gate’s top rung, waiting for Thorn and Nightshade to catch up.

  He pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. “Best I try Niall again now. ’Tis unlikely there’ll be reception in the river valley.” Cordelia twisted her hands together, dreading the call to the pisky king. Michael had already tried to reach him twice on the journey to Wales, but got no answer. After a few anxious moments, Michael snapped the phone shut. “Maybe ’tis best me brother doesn’t know about his lad’s plight when he can’t do anything to help.”

  With a guilty flash of relief, Cordelia turned to gaze across acres of rough grassland dotted with ragged clumps of reeds. The falling sun hung low in the sky, painting a golden streak above the trees. “By the time we get to the waterfall, all the human tourists should be headed back. They need time to reach their cars before dusk.”

  Michael nodded and stepped aside as a man and woman came through the gate and took the path back to the car park. “ ’Tis a fair old clip to the falls. Farther than I expected,” Michael said.

  The sun gilded each wave of Michael’s hair with gold. He leaned forward, gripped the top of the gate, his hands strong, capable. The muscles in his thighs and backside tensed beneath the soft denim of his jeans. Finian’s fate had kept her mind occupied; now Michael’s nearness swamped her senses. His earth elemental nature gave her an anchor. The beat of his psychic presence close to her heart was warm, strong, and reassuringly solid.

  Simmering behind his earthy nature, she sensed a hint of a power she couldn’t categorize. That unusual part of him must come from his father. Frustration pricked every time she remembered her brush with Troy. What strange type of being was he?

  Thorn stumbled up, folded his arms on top of the gate, and rested his head on them. “How much farther? My feet are killing me.”

  Cordelia and Michael exchanged a knowing look. For a second, mirth sparkled in his blue eyes, before it faded to be replaced by an ache of concern that echoed in her own heart. Instinctively, she reached to touch his hand, draw out his pain, heal in the way she’d been born to do.

  Before she could touch him, Nightshade stepped between them. He slapped his own hand on top of the gate beside Michael’s, making her step back. He angled his head toward her, long black hair whipping around his face in the breeze. The wicked white points of his fangs flashed beneath his top lip and his eyes narrowed to cruel silver slits.

  Memories she’d hidden deep beneath layers of remorse and shame swarmed up: fangs, pain, the metallic stink of blood, so much blood, hot, sticky. A cry clawed at her throat but she clenched her teeth and bit the sound back. Cordelia lurched away. Vaguely aware of treading on Thorn’s foot, she pushed past him to put some distance between herself and the vampire.

  “What’s the matter, lass?” Michael strode toward her, confusion creasing his forehead.

  He was about to put his arms around her, comfort her; she read the intent on his face. If he embraced her while her defenses were weak, she’d melt into his arms. She stepped away, pressed her back to the fence, and held up a restraining palm. “No, don’t. Just—” She glanced from Michael to Nightshade, noted the stalker’s tight lips, clenched jaw. “—just leave me alone.” Her hand found the soft tapestry bag at her side, pushed inside to reach the comforting warmth of Tamsy’s sleeping body.

  Michael halted and turned, scanning the area, a puzzled look on his face. “There’s nothing to be scared of yet.” Cordelia shivered. If he’d met Nightshade’s father, he’d understand her fear of nightstalkers.

  After a few minutes, the tension eased from her shoulders sufficiently for her to move away from the fence. Her heart still raced, but she was in control again. Thorn watched her, squinting with concern while he rubbed his foot. “All right, Dee?”

  She wished he hadn’t talked her into letting him come. His only power, weak glamour, wouldn’t protect him from harm.

  “Let’s get a move on,” Nightshade said, giving his words a critical edge.

  Michael touched his hand to his forehead in an exaggerated salute, then pointed along the path. “Onward and upward. Nightshade first, Thorn second, Cordelia third. I’ll bring up the rear. I don’t want to leave you two behind again.”

  “Huh!” Nightshade turned on his heel and stomped off through the gate. Thorn waited for Cordelia to reach him, then pulled her into a hug. She returned the embrace, proud of the young man he’d become, yet also sad he was no longer her little boy.

  As they made their way along a path between the prickly pine-scented branches, they met five g
roups of walkers coming toward them. Finally, she heard the rushing of water. After the path descended to the river’s edge, they walked beside the water for a short distance, then the white tumble of Sgwd yr Eira falls appeared through the trees.

  Michael paused as they approached the cascading waterfall, a tremor of anticipation running through him. He’d only felt half alive since Fin was trapped. Now he was one hidden door away from entering Gwyn ap Nudd’s realm and getting his nephew released.

  “Sgwd yr Eira falls,” he said under his breath, scanning the area for humans. “Now the work begins.” He snapped his fingers at Thorn. “Give me the instructions you photocopied from A Thief’s Guide to Unlocking Magical Doors.”

  Cordelia’s eyebrows shot up when Thorn dug in his back pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. She stepped closer and peered over Michael’s arm when he took the page and started reading. “The door should be behind the falls.”

  All four of them looked up together. A sheet of bubbly green water pelted down onto a stepped rocky ledge before thundering into the pool below.

  “How the heck do we get behind it ?” Thorn asked.

  “There’s a path behind the cascade. ’Tis obviously not visible from this angle.” Michael took a step forward and paused for Cordelia to move aside so he could squeeze past on the slippery rocks. Her cat poked its head out of her bag, whiskers twitching, eyes wide with curiosity.

  “Shame you’re not a sniffer dog, fur ball.” He rubbed a knuckle behind Tamsy’s ear. “You could sniff out the door for us.”

  “She’s not frightened of water like ordinary cats. I’ll ask her to take a look.” Cordelia crouched, scooped the cat out of the bag, and gently set the creature on its feet. After a delicate shake, the cat turned to lick the fur on its shoulder. Michael waited, curious to see how Cordelia would give the cat instructions. She crouched and rested her hand lightly on its back. Then she straightened and watched the cat pick its way along the path toward the falls.

  In profile, Cordelia’s small nose tilted up at the tip. Her lips glimmered temptingly with a trace of pearly lip gloss. She watched her cat, her tongue pressed to the corner of her mouth in concentration.

  Whenever he saw her at Trevelion Manor, she gave the impression of being self-contained, aloof. Yet when she let her guard down, she was warm, vulnerable, and strangely alluring. Something about the quality of her touch mystified him: soothing, yet arousing at the same time.

  With a wave of certainty that stilled his breath, he wanted to kiss her. When Fin was safe and they returned to Cornwall, he’d take her away somewhere quiet. He’d kiss her for hours until she melted in his arms and begged him to live the image they’d seen in her divining mirror.

  He cleared his throat, gave himself a shake. Best concentrate on what the cat was doing.

  Tamsy stopped near the waterfall to lap at a puddle. Her little pink tongue curled at the edges like a rose petal. The cat glanced back at Cordelia, then disappeared behind the waterfall.

  “Tread quietly so we don’t startle her,” Cordelia said as she moved forward.

  Michael followed, his gaze sliding down to her neat, heart-shaped bottom. The instinctive stir of need low in his belly made him groan inwardly. He ran a hand over his face.

  Behind the falling sheet of water, they discovered an uneven rocky path leading to the woods on the other side of the river. Cordelia crouched at the edge of the tumbling water, just clear of the misty spray, and watched Tamsy sniff along the moss-covered rock wall behind the falls.

  When Michael stopped, Nightshade’s hand landed on his shoulder. He had to make a conscious effort to relax and accept the touch. Now wasn’t the time to break his bond with Nightshade and start the inevitable arguments and bad feeling.

  For five minutes, the cat wandered back and forth, sniffing and scratching at the ground. Michael thought this had more to do with the smell of rats and voles than searching for the door to the Underworld. But he was proved wrong when she stood on her hind legs, scratched at the moss, and mewed.

  “What have you found, poppet?” Cordelia stepped forward and traced her fingers over the wall by Tamsy’s paws. Michael followed her through the cool cloud of spray onto the path behind the waterfall. He bent to examine the wet, mossy rock face, dotted with clumps of ferns. A whisper of breeze brushed his face. He was almost sure the draft came through the wall.

  “There’s a crack.” Cordelia used a sharp stone to scrape the moss away, then ran her fingers up and down a fissure in the rock. “Look.” She pointed to a symbol carved in the stone. “The sign of the maze represents the Underworld. That’s promising.”

  Michael took the stone from her hand and cleared away the moss higher up where she couldn’t reach. He felt beneath the shadowy overhang of a rocky outcrop. “There’s a hole, but I can’t get me finger in.” Looking down, he tapped the base of t he rock wall with his boot. “Can you hear an echo as though there’s a space behind, lass?”

  Cordelia put her ear to the rock while Michael kicked the wall. She screwed up her nose in frustration, giving a cute little huff. “Don’t know.” She grabbed the stone from his hand and cleared more moss from the base of the wall. Michael squatted beside her.

  Their knees bumped. Her head jerked up. She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut and returned to her task, hugging her knees to her body with her free arm. He remembered her adamant denial that there could be intimacy between them. A plan of seduction had just started forming in his mind when a huge hunk of rock smashed onto the path a few feet away.

  “Shit!” Nightshade and Thorn jumped back. Nightshade slapped at the dirty splatters on his black jeans.

  “Where in the Furies did that come from?” Michael left Cordelia scratching at the rock behind the falls and followed the other two men into the open. He shoved his hands on his hips and stared up at the rock face.

  Movement caught his eye at the exact moment Thorn pointed and shouted: “Look. There’s someone…something at the top of the cliff.”

  A lumbering brown form ducked behind a boulder. A moment later, another missile hurtled down toward them. They scattered, Michael retreating beneath the waterfall, the other men running back up the path.

  More rocks followed in quick succession. Some rolled into the water; some smashed, scattering sharp shards in all directions. Michael turned his back, putting himself between the flying fragments and Cordelia.

  She wrapped her arms around Tamsy and pressed her face against the cat’s fur.

  When the barrage ceased, Michael looked up. “What’s your problem?” he shouted.

  Silence met his enquiry.

  “Right.” He gritted his teeth and beckoned Nightshade. “Get up there and stop the idiot before one of us is hurt.”

  “Can I go with him?” Thorn asked, breathless with excitement.

  “Not unless you’ve sprouted wings in the last few minutes, lad.”

  “Oh.” Thorn looked crestfallen. Nightshade pulled off his coat and shoved it into the young man’s arms. He popped his hat on Thorn’s head, then stepped back where he had room to spread his wings. With a grunt, he thrust up from the ground with his powerful thighs, the draft from his flapping wings making them dip their heads.

  Nightshade ducked and dived between the trees. Then he disappeared behind a rock, and a pitiful wailing filled the air. A few minutes later, the stalker reappeared with a hulking creature suspended by its collar. Their descent was more of a controlled fall than actual flight. From a few feet up, Nightshade dropped the culprit in a heap before landing hard, knees bent, breathing heavily.

  They all stared down at dirty brown hair, a wrinkled face covered with a tangled beard, and a thick dirt-encrusted coat tied at the waist with frayed, greasy string. The creature’s feet were bare, the size of dinner plates, each trimmed with eight stubby toes.

  The instant after Michael had taken in its appearance the stench hit him. He lurched back, a hand to his mouth. “Sweet bejesus.” Bile stung the back
of his throat and he swallowed. He drew in clean air to clear his nose.

  Nightshade cursed and plunged his hands into the river, rubbing them vigorously. “If I’ve caught lice from that thing, someone’s going to be sorry.”

  “Why were you throwing rocks at us?” Cordelia asked, stepping up beside Michael.

  The creature’s beady eyes glinted through the filthy mass of hair. “My job,” it squeaked in a surprisingly high voice.

  “What job?” Michael ground out. If any of those rock shards had hit Cordelia’s face, she could have been scarred for life.

  The creature huddled into a tighter ball, covering its head with two grubby hands.

  “You’re all right. He won’t hurt you.” Cordelia laid a hand on Michael’s arm. As if by magic, the anger drained out of him.

  “I won’t hurt you,” Michael repeated dutifully, infusing his voice with reassurance and compulsion. “Just tell us why you’re here.”

  “Guard the gate.” The beady eyes blinked behind the greasy knots of hair.

  “The gate to the Under world?” Cordelia crouched at Michael’s side, taking herself down to the creature’s level.

  The shaggy head bobbed up and down.

  Cordelia rose to her feet and leaned in to Michael, speaking softly. “I think it’s a coblynau, one of the Welsh mine fairies. We passed mines earlier, so they’d be in this area. They’re not really dangerous.”

  Michael slanted her a sideways glance. “If one of those rocks had landed on your head, lass, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

  She frowned and gave one of her little huffs. “At least we know we’re in the right place.”

  Michael nodded. She had a point. He turned his attention back to the coblynau. “You’re going to open the gate into the Underworld for us.”

  “Oh no, no, no.” The creature hugged its head tighter and wailed. “Them Teg ain’t nice to coblys. They’ll hurt me.”