by Amy Sumida
“I love you just as much, Dragon, and that was one of the most romantic things you've ever said to me,” I said with a soft smile. “But I feel horrible for not helping a friend.”
“Vervain,” Odin said gently, “do you really want to fight the Tuatha dé Danann? I know that I don't. There are gods in their number whom I still hold in high esteem. We are torn between loyalties and friendships here. This is not a battle that we should join.”
“Then maybe it's one we should stop,” I said.
“How are you going to do that?” Arach asked. “Will you stand between them and cry out 'Cease!'?”
My sons started to cry–scream actually.
“Mommy!” Rian shrieked and pointed at Kirill.
“Vervain!” Kirill shouted at the same time, and we all turned toward him.
Lesya was shaking in his arms while giggling hysterically. My jaw fell open in shock as my daughter's skin blackened, her giggles changing to cackles, and then to caws, as feathers sprouted all over her little body. Wings thrashed in Kirill's grasp, and a black beak lashed out at him. Kirill hissed, pulling his wounded hands away, as a bird flew out of his arms to circle the ceiling. Not just any bird either; Lesya had turned into a crow.
Dexter growled and bared his teeth at the bird. Its cawing turned into a shriek and then a cackling laugh. Rian was clinging to my leg, and Brevyn was crying hysterically. All of us stared up at the bird who had once been my daughter. I couldn't even process what had happened; I just stared at it in shock. Then the crow alighted on top of an armoire and cocked its head to regard us with one beady, black eye.
“Hello, Godhunter,” Morrigan's voice came out of the crow's beak.
“No, no fucking way,” I whispered.
“Surprise!” The crow cawed. “Ha! If you could see your faces! Thought I was dead, did you? Fools. The Morrigan cannot be vanquished so easily. I saw you coming, morons. I saw everything, and I planned for it.”
“Vhere is my daughter?” Kirill roared.
Dexter started barking.
“Oh, what a temper.” The crow clicked its beak. “She's safe, lion-baby-daddy... for now.”
“You evil bitch!” I rushed the bird, and it swooped up into the air again.
“Careful now, Godhunter,” the crow said. “Hurt my emissary, and you will never discover what you need to do to get your daughter back.”
“This is impossible,” I snarled. “I held Lesya; it was her.”
“A little of Lesya's blood, some of her hair, and my birdie became a baby,” Morrigan crowed. “I saw Sekhmet's plans, way before she had even begun to think of them herself, and I countered them with my own.”
“A changeling,” Arach whispered. “I had no idea that gods were capable of creating such magic.”
“A type of changeling, I suppose. More like a glamour. Similar to the one cast upon you by your faerie mother, Vervain.” The bird landed on the window sill.
“How?” I whispered, my head spinning.
“I took your daughter just minutes before Sekhmet arrived, and replaced her with my crow-baby,” Morrigan said. “Then I concealed all of us in darkness–even Sekhmet and my Lesya-imposter. Then I removed my cloak from Sekhmet and my crow, reconnecting you to that small piece of your daughter's essence, just as you cast your counter spell. You believed that you found her all on your own. But you didn't. You'll never find the real Lesya. Not until I want you to.”
“This cannot be happening.” I swayed on my feet. “She was home. I held her. Lesya was home.”
The dream I'd had came back to me; Lesya's anxious cries, the way she gave up on me and called for her daddy. I sobbed, bending over with the pain of failing my daughter yet again. Rian hugged me tighter, and Dexter hurried over to us, knocking his head up beneath my hand. I held them both to me, and they leaned into me: Dexter supportively, and Rian for comfort.
“Losing your mind, Godhunter? Yes, I saw that as a possibility,” Morrigan declared. “That would be sweet indeed, but I'd prefer that you didn't. I have a need for you and your particular skills. So, buck up, bitch. You'll get your brat back, but only after I've had my fun.”
“But Brevyn saw Lesya.” I was trying to work through it so that I wouldn't lose my mind as Morrigan predicted. “He had a vision of her with Sekhmet.”
“I am the Morrigan!” The crow declared. “I am the Great Seer, the Phantom Queen! Your little borrower cannot best me. He saw what I wanted him to see.”
“Bad birdy!” Brevyn cried in admonishment.
“Why are you doing this?” Odin asked calmly.
“Why?” Morrigan cried. “Why? Why? Why?” Her voice turned into cawing. “Vervain could have helped us, but she didn't. My people were driven from their home, forced into hiding, and as if that weren't bad enough, you came to murder me in a sacred sanctuary!”
“Yes, how did you manage that trick?” Trevor asked. “We watched you die–some of us even participated in the killing–and it was right before Lesya disappeared.”
“You saw an illusion die,” she said gleefully. “All while I was busy stealing your child. Perfect, wasn't it? It was timed with the greatest accuracy.”
“If you were taking Lesya, then who was creating the illusion of you dying?” Re asked.
Re. Fuck. He had punished his daughter for something she technically didn't do. He stared at the crow with burning hatred.
“My lover, Arawn,” Morrigan said smugly.
“Arawn!” Odin growled. “That backstabbing, traitor! That piece of filth!”
“What? You expected solidarity between Lords of the Hunt?” The bird cackled. “Because you and the Fire King here are so close?”
Odin slid a grim look at Arach.
“What do you want, Morrigan?” I asked, calm at last. I wasn't going to let this break me. My daughter needed me, and I had to save her. I wouldn't fail her again.
“What I've always wanted: for you to fight for the Tuatha dé Danann,” Morrigan declared. “I searched every possible outcome, and the only way we win is if you stand with us.”
“Fuck me,” Arach whispered. “We'd be fighting against the High King.”
“You will not,” I said. “You're going to stay here with our sons.”
“Vervain, we've already discussed this.” Arach got into my face. “If you go to war, then I go with you.”
“Not this time, dragon,” I said gently. “You know that you can't. I can argue that my allegiances are split, but for you, it would be high treason; an act punishable by death at the hands of your own Wild Hunt. And our people would never hunt you, which means that it would be war.”
“The very war you prevented,” Arach whispered. “Sweet sleeping phookas, does it never end? Are we never safe from that fate?”
“Time is tricky,” I noted. “Messing with it can have repercussions.” I glanced at Re, who had been one of those repercussions. “Let's try not to add to them.”
Arach's face fell, and he pulled me into a hug.
“Oh, how sweet.” The bird cooed.
“How do we know for sure that you have Lesya?” Trevor asked the Fowl-Morrigan.
“Or zat you vill give her to us vhen zis is over?” Kirill added.
“What do I want with your wailing babe?” Morrigan huffed. “I'll be happy to hand her over when Tara is once again in the hands of the Tuatha dé Danann. Lesya's as much of a pain in the ass as her mother is.”
“So be it,” I said. “I am now invested in this war. You will have Tara and if you don't give me my daughter afterward, I will burn it to the fucking ground.”
“Agreed.” The bird shot out of the window.
“And you're going to pay for calling Lesya a pain in the ass,” I growled.
Now that, I didn't see coming. Faerie said.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The dismal weight of what I was about to do settled on my shoulders. It was so dismal, in fact, that it took me a moment to realize that it wasn't just me, the room had actually dimme
d down to a gloomy darkness. I scowled and looked around me in confusion. What fresh hell was this?
“Vhat now?” Kirill mimicked my thoughts.
“Mommy,” Brevyn said as he reached for me, “I borrowed the bad birdy's magic.”
“What?” I took him from Odin. “Is this you, Brevyn? Did you make the room dark?”
“To hide us,” he whispered conspiratorially. “Now birdy can't see us. Nobody can.”
I looked up at Odin in shock. He blinked from me to Brevyn, and back.
“Brevyn, can the birdy see the plans we make? Can it see what we're going to do in the future?” Odin asked him.
“Nope,” Brevyn said cheerfully. “I have birdy's magic! The bad bird won't see us.”
“That's a huge help, Brevyn. Well done,” Trevor said. “Now, we can finally fight back.”
“But I'll still have to go to war for her,” I said grimly.
“Nope,” Brevyn sang out. “Nope, nope, nope. No war for Mommy, only for wolves.”
“Wolves?” Trevor eased closer. “What do you see Brevyn?”
“I see a big wolf,” Brevyn said solemnly. “Big wolf eating bad birdy.”
Trevor started to smile.
“And Mommy holding Lay-lay,” Brevyn went on, and we all went still.
Shivers coasted over my skin as a feeling of fate settled over me. Faerie had seen a future for us, one that she thought I'd been heading towards. But she hadn't seen past Morrigan. The future had been trifled with, again, and it looked as if this time, my son was the one who'd help me to fix it.
“Do you know where your sister is, Brevyn?” I asked as my heart pounded in my throat.
He nodded and laid his hand to my cheek.
The vision was sharper and more detailed than his usual ones. Morrigan's magic was damn impressive. I saw myself running across a field, a pride of lions at my back. I was flanked by Kirill and Odin; Kirill in his lion form, and Odin riding Sleipnir. Odin's horse seemed to hover above the earth, and behind him, there rode an army of ghostly hunters atop steeds as spectral as they were. Spectral because they were outside the boundaries of Asgard. The Norse Hunt had been set loose, and it was not the only Hunt in attendance. In the sky above us, the Wild Hunt of Faerie flew with Azrael at its head. The Angel of Death was leading a different type of Host. Strange. Where was Arach?
Behind my lions and Odin's Vikings, the earth-bound fire fey rumbled forward, their cries like nightmares on the wind and their tread like earthquakes. A sparking mist roiled and frothed around them, connecting them to the Host above them. Ahead of us rose a castle tower, starkly white against the sharp blue of the sky, and gathered before it was yet another Wild Hunt. This one was composed mainly of hounds.
And at its head stood Arawn.
My vision shot past him, to a stone room at the top of a winding stairwell, where my daughter laid in a large crib. She was all alone, except for the hound lying at the crib's base. Lesya was wailing, waving her arms about wildly; not at all like the giggly little girl I had rescued from Sekhmet. This child was frightened, but she was also angry, very angry.
Where are you? I thought and my vision panned out in response to my question. I seemed to rise up and up, out of the castle and above the land, until I could see its shape. It was an island, but being raised on one didn't make me an expert in the shape of them. I had no idea which island it was until I posed the question and its name simply appeared in my mind. Damn; no wonder Morrigan was nearly impossible to beat.
“Ireland,” I whispered. “Of course. How predictable of her.”
“Kind of brilliant in its predictability,” Odin noted. “We'd never have thought to look there.”
“She's in Ireland?” Kirill asked urgently. “Do you know vhere, exactly?”
“Yes.” I started to smile. “Brevyn, you've made Mommy very proud and very happy. Thank you, baby.” I kissed his soft cheek. “I'm so lucky to have you.”
“You did well, Son!” Arach declared, just as proud as I was. “That was an ingenious move, worthy of a dragon prince.”
“Dragon King!” Brevyn shouted.
“Technically, he is a king.” Odin chuckled. “He rules Alfheim now.”
“He is not a king until he is old enough to hold a kingdom on his own,” Arach protested. “That is the rule for dragon princes.”
Brevyn made an annoyed face at his father.
“Brevyn, can you keep Mommy hidden, even when I leave Faerie?” I asked him.
“I'm going too!” Brevyn declared.
“Then I'm going!” Rian cried. “You can't take Brevyn and leave me, Mommy.”
I looked at Arach. He was staring at our sons with a thoughtful frown.
“You can't possibly be thinking of bringing them to war with us,” I exclaimed in horror.
“They won't be going into battle,” Arach reasoned, “just watching.”
“I don't think that I want them watching me kill people,” I growled.
“Brevyn has seen it all already in his visions,” Arach pointed out. “Which means that Rian has probably seen it too.”
“Vervain, ve must go,” Kirill said urgently. “You are vasting time.”
“I know, honey”–I held up a placating hand–“but we need to do this right and not go running off unprepared. We have to make sure that Morrigan doesn't see us coming this time.”
“We will get her back”–Odin grabbed Kirill's shoulder firmly–“but only if we do this carefully.”
Kirill nodded his acceptance, but he still looked anxious.
“I'll hide you, Mommy,” Brevyn said. “Birdy won't find you.”
“Thank you, Brevyn.” I kissed his cheek again.
Dexter yipped.
“No, Dex, you're not coming,” I said firmly. “It's bad enough to have three of my babies at a battle. My fur-babies are not going. If Nick has to stay home, so do you.”
Dexter nudged me with his pointed nose and then pulled his lips back to show me his sharp canines.
“I will have other people to protect me,” I said gently to the nurial. “Don't worry about me.”
“I'll protect you!” Rian declared.
“That's my job, Son.” Arach patted Rian's head and then picked him up. “But you can watch my back.”
“All right, Daddy.” Rian went serious. “I got you.”
I exchanged a sweet look with Arach over the phrase that had obviously been picked up from me. But then something occurred to me, and I gasped.
“That's why you weren't leading the Hunt,” I said to Arach in revelation.
“What?” He scowled.
“In Brevyn's vision,” I explained. “I saw Azrael leading the Wild Hunt of Faerie, instead of you.”
“Me?” Azrael's eyes brightened into diamonds.
Arach blinked, processed, and then nodded. “So be it,” he agreed. “You may lead the Host on this one occasion. I would rather see to the safety of my sons, and I think the Host may enjoy the irony of the Angel of Death leading them.”
“Aw, my dragon has become a daddy,” I said softly. Then I stared at our twins. “It looks as if we're going on an adventure, boys.”
“To save Lay-lay!” Brevyn cried.
“And kill a birdy,” Trevor growled.
“You need to fetch Fenrir and head straight to Tara,” I said to Trevor.
“I'd rather be with you”–Trevor scowled–“but you're right; I need to be with my father. The Froekn will handle Morrigan while you recover Lesya.”
“And take Torrent with you,” I added. “You'll need to unmake Tara's wards.”
“Right,” Trevor said, “the Tuatha dé Danann got in because it's their territory, but their wards will try to stop us.”
“They'll try, and they'll fail,” Odin said arrogantly, and Trevor smirked at him.
Torrent was a hell of a secret weapon.
“Go,” I urged Trevor, then kissed his cheek. “I love you, Honey-Eyes.”
“I love you too, Minn Elska,”
he said. “Bring our little lioness home.”
“I intend to.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
After I had shared Lesya's location with everyone, Trevor went to fetch Fenrir and Torrent. They would then head to Tara. Odin had already gone to Asgard to collect his Viking Hunt and our sons. Arach and I gathered our sons and our own Wild Hunt, while Kirill went back to Pride Palace with Re to round up our lions. Azrael, of course, remained with Arach and me. He was nearly giddy at the prospect of leading the Hunt, though it was hard to see, what with him being in his Death guise.
The fire faeries were riled up, ready to ride into the Human Realm for the first time in thousands of years. The Hidden-Ones were especially excited; they had children who'd be going on their first hunt, and this was kind of their thing. As the scariest faeries in the realm, the Wild Hunt was something the Hidden-Ones excelled at. I was a little hesitant to have Taog and Fionnaghal's toddlers joining us, but they were nearly four years old now, and for a Hidden-One that was more than old enough to get blooded. Before you make any judgments, consider that lion cubs join their first hunt at age two; a fact that was pointed out to me when I tried to stop the children from joining us.
It was a long procession that made its way to the Great Tree at the End of the Road. Every fire faerie who could joined the Wild Hunt. Even our little pixies, though that wasn't entirely surprising; they'd been on the last Hunt as well. In addition to our littlest faeries and our scariest faeries, we had leanan-sidhe, redcaps, goblins, phookas, imps, and assorted fire sidhe. I knew what it was like to be hunted by these faeries, so I could say from personal experience that Arawn didn't stand a chance. If he were smart, he'd surrender as soon as he saw us.
When we reached the tracing point of Faerie, we found that we weren't the only ones heading through the Great Tree. There were armies from the Kingdoms of Water, Earth, Air, and even Darkness, lending their aid to the High King's forces. But they all pulled back in respectful wariness as the Host roared and screeched its way forward. Arach and I rode at the front of the Host for now, in human form, on the back of fire-eyed phookas in their horse forms. I held Brevyn, and Arach held Rian. Above us, Azrael led the winged Host, acid dripping from his star-filled eyes and shrieks echoing hollowly from his skeletal throat. His feathered wings beat the air, leaving him hoodless, and making him even more terrifying than when he was cloaked.
