Oak & Thorns

by Yasmine Galenorn

  I stared at him, stopping in my tracks when I realized he was wearing a pair of camo pants. I blinked, trying to take in the juxtaposition in his dress.

  Herne led me up to the throne, where he went down on one knee, bowing his head. Since I wasn’t wearing a dress, I felt odd curtseying, so I followed suit, lowering myself to one knee beside Herne.

  Cernunnos towered over us, he was at least seven feet tall. He stared down at us for a moment and, as I snuck a peek, he caught my gaze and the haughty smile widened into a grin.

  “Well met, Ms. Ember Kearney. So, I finally get to speak to the woman who has stolen my son’s heart.”

  And that stopped me cold.

  Chapter 10

  BESIDES ME, HERNE snorted. But he didn’t contradict his father.

  Cernunnos leaned down, inches from my face as he held my gaze. I was afraid to look away. I didn’t want to appear rude, or anything like that. After a moment, he held out his hand. I stared at the massive fingers for a moment, then took them, allowing him to help me to my feet.

  “Welcome, Ember, to my home. Herne, mind your manners and bring over a bench so she’ll have a place to sit.”

  Herne jumped up and, without a word, carried back one of the marble benches as though it were light as a feather. He sat it down in front of the throne and I obediently took a seat, still staring at the god that Herne called “Papa.”

  “Thank you,” I finally got up the courage to say. “Your Lordship,” I added hastily.

  He leaned back in his seat, his elbows resting on the arms of the throne, as he contemplated both of us. “You may call me Lord Cernunnos. I don’t stand on ceremony.”

  “Yes, sir,” I started to say, then scrambled to add, “Yes, Lord Cernunnos.” I felt all the world as though I was in the principal’s office again, only this time the principal could probably strike me dead with a lightning bolt.

  “You are enjoying my son’s company?”

  I blinked. What the hell was I going to say? No? But grateful I could tell him the truth, I nodded. “Yes, I truly am. Herne has been wonderful to Angel and me.”

  “Ah. Your best friend. So, you like working for the Wild Hunt?”

  Again, I nodded. “It beats what I was doing before, to be honest. And it’s fascinating work. It also… You know my heritage, I assume?”

  He inclined his head. “Yes, but I never let my prejudices interfere with individual relationships. I have to admit, the Fae have the potential to be an incredible people, but with the petty warring that goes on between the two factions, they push my patience to the very edge. However, my personal feelings beside the point, Morgana speaks highly of you. And your father was a faithful acolyte to me.”

  “I never even knew he was pledged in your service.”

  “Your parents were fairly close-mouthed. Pity about their deaths.” He seemed to muse over his words for a moment. “Ah, well. It’s good to finally meet you. And I’m glad that my son and you are happy. But I didn’t call you here just for social banter. I actually have something serious to discuss with you both.”

  He snapped his fingers, and a moment later a servant rushed in, though how she heard him, I wasn’t sure. She gave him a deep curtsey, then stood back, waiting for orders.

  “Bring us mead. And bread.” As she ran off, he turned back to me with a big smile. “I have developed a taste for what you call French bread. I had one of my servants go over to your realm in order to learn how to bake it. I could eat it day and night.”

  I couldn’t help it. I dissolved into slightly hysterical laughter.

  Cernunnos stared at me for a moment, looking puzzled. “I said something funny?”

  I shook my head, trying to stop laughing. “No—no. It’s just that… I’m standing here in front of the Lord of the Hunt and we’re talking about baking bread. It seems like such an odd juxtaposition.” I wiped my eyes, trying to compose myself.

  “Ah,” he said, still looking bewildered. “Well then, onto more serious subjects. You are working on a case now for the Foam Born hippocampi, aren’t you? Up on Whidbey Island?”

  Herne nodded. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

  Cernunnos paused as the servant returned with a tray heaped with freshly toasted baguettes slathered in butter, along with three goblets and a huge bottle of mead. She poured our drinks, handed them around, and then handed us plates filled with a crunchy, yeasty bread. It smelled incredibly good and I realized I was hungry. With a curtsey, she left.

  The Lord of the Hunt bade us eat, and we spent a moment or two tearing into the bread. The mead was also good, though it went to my head immediately and I realized I needed to take very small sips or I’d end up drunk off my ass. Apparently, the gods made their booze stronger than humans did.

  Herne noticed as I shakily sat down my drink. “I should have warned you. The mead here is probably comparable to 151-proof rum back at home. I suggest you drink it slowly.”

  “I kind of figured that out,” I said. “I’ve probably had enough for now.”

  Herne glanced back at his father. “So, is there a problem? The case didn’t seem like something to bring to your attention. I don’t think it actually has anything to do with the Fae, except there seems to be attempted coverups for several murders over some time. Actually, what looks like twenty murders now that we’ve pried into it.”

  Cernunnos finished another chunk of the bread. “The Light Fae woman Astrana has approached me. You obviously know who she is, so I’m not going to reiterate her history. She has petitioned to have you removed from the case. I need to know more about it so I can make an informed decision. She said it has nothing to do with mitigating the Fae war, but I feel that she’s hiding something and I don’t like being led on a wild goose chase.”

  “We were approached by Rhiannon, the Matriarch of the Foam Born, to look into an unsolved murder case. Her cousin’s death.” Herne relayed everything that had happened since we arrived at Whidbey Island. “I’m getting extremely irritated with Astrana, given it looks like we have a serial killer on our hands. Twenty murders that went cold, buried under silence, and that doesn’t even account for the forty-odd people who were reported missing and never heard from again. Most of the murders were attributed to random vampire kills, but I will tell you this, there’s no way in hell that a vampire killed them.”

  “What do you think is happening?” Cernunnos asked.

  Herne shrugged, frowning. “I’m not certain. However, Ember and I found a stand of blackthorn on the island, and those trees are sentient. They attacked us, and actually managed to do some serious damage to Ember here. Take off your bandage and show my father your puncture marks. Marks of the kind that have been found on every murder victim, as far as we can tell.”

  Cernunnos blinked. “Blackthorn? Blackthorn isn’t supposed to grow around there.”

  “I know. And the doctor told Ember that she was imagining it. Not the wound, but that it was from a blackthorn. He categorically denied that there was any on the island.”

  The Lord of the Hunt shifted on his throne, frowning as I undid the bandage and showed him my wounds. They hadn’t festered, but they were deep, and didn’t look like they were healing as fast as I usually did. Once the open air hit them, they hurt like hell and I winced.

  “Oh dear. That makes me—hold on a moment.” Cernunnos reached down and rang a bell by the side of his throne. Once again the servant returned.

  “Bring me Ferosyn. And tell him to move his ass. This is important.” As the servant ran out of the room, he turned to me. “Ferosyn is my chief healer. He’s one of Brighid’s grandsons. He’s part human, so he’s a demigod, somewhat like my son although not quite so powerful. But as a healer, there are none better.”

  I hadn’t realized demigods existed before I met Herne. I had never thought about it.

  Cernunnos gently took hold of my arm as I held it out. He could have crushed my wrist with his fingers, but his touch was light and
comforting. He held my wounds up so that he could see better, then snapped his fingers and one of the flickering lights sailed down and hovered right over my wrist. It illuminated the punctured skin as brightly as an LED light bulb would.

  “Ferosyn will know for sure, but this is more than just a blackthorn wound. They can be nasty, and the plant itself has a horrendous temper, but there is something…else here.”

  Herne crowded in, staring at the puncture marks. “The wound doesn’t look like it’s healing up as fast as it should.”

  “I know,” I said, getting more worried by the moment. “I don’t think it’s infected—at least not yet. But I heal quickly. I’m not sure what’s going on. I’ve been using the salve the doctor gave me.”

  At that moment, a tall, lithe Elf walked into the room. He looked young, but the aura of age surrounded him. He was probably at least a thousand years old, given how long the Elves lived. He bowed low before Cernunnos, then glanced at Herne and me.

  “You know my son, Herne. Meet his consort, Ember.”

  Ferosyn murmured what seemed like an appropriate greeting, then turned back to Cernunnos. “What can I do for you, my lord?” Like many professionals, he was all business.

  “Examine her wrist. A blackthorn bush attacked her. She didn’t fall into it, the bush reached out and wrapped itself around her arm. What do you make of that? And why isn’t she healing as fast as she should be?”

  “I’ll need to take her into the examination room, Your Lordship.”

  “Then do so. Return when you have your diagnosis. Herne, go with her.” Cernunnos gave me a kind smile, and I realized that he understood how nervous I was. I was starting to really like Herne’s father, even though he still scared the shit out of me.

  We followed Ferosyn out of a door opposite the one we had come in, and down a long corridor that was filled with Elves. I realized that we were in the heart of the palace now. The passage we had entered through hadn’t been one of the main thoroughfares. The Elves passing by all gave Herne respectful bows, but their eyes were locked on me, and I realized they probably wondered what the hell one of the Fae—especially a tralaeth—was doing here.

  Ferosyn led us into a room off one of the main corridors. It looked remarkably like a regular doctor’s room, with beakers and lab equipment on one side table, an examination table that seemed to have been pilfered from our realm, and enough of the flickering lights that the room was bright. He motioned for me to hop up on the exam table, and I grinned as I did so. Apparently the gods weren’t above borrowing human know-how and technology.

  “Are you allergic to anything that you know of?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I can’t tell you for sure, but I’ve never encountered a problem yet.”

  Using an eye-dropper, he began to drip various substances on different puncture marks. Some of them stung and I grimaced, but forced myself to sit still. Others seem to have no effect. As I watched, a wisp of smoke came up from one of them and I wondered what the hell he was doing to me. Herne didn’t seem concerned, though, so I tried not to worry. After a few moments, one of the puncture wounds turned a brilliant, vivid green around the edges.

  “Bingo. We have an answer.” But then, the joy in Ferosyn’s voice vanished and a look of concern filled his eyes. That had me worried. When an Elf actually looked concerned, it made me nervous.

  “What is it? I can tell you’re disturbed.” It wasn’t that I wanted bad news, but it was better to know about it and start treatment, than wait till it became an even bigger problem later on.

  “Oh, it’s blackthorn, all right. But it’s more than just the bush. We need to talk with His Lordship.” He paused, looking through several vials. Finally, he found one and handed it to me. “This should heal you up faster. Use it twice a day. Rub the salve in carefully, making sure to get it inside the puncture wounds. It will sting, but it will definitely heal you up. You won’t have to wear a bandage unless you want to, but try to keep the wound clean.”

  I gave Herne a curious look, and he returned it, shrugging. We followed Ferosyn back to the throne room, where Cernunnos was waiting. He motioned for Herne and me to sit down again.

  “Well? Did you find out what’s going on?”

  “Yes, Your Lordship. She definitely was attacked by blackthorn bush, there’s no question of it. However, there was more to the poison than just straight blackthorn. I detected Ante-Fae magic. I gave her some medication to heal the wounds. Otherwise, they would eventually fester.”

  Cernunnos blinked. “Ante-Fae? Are you certain?”

  Ferosyn nodded. “Most definitely. I suggest you find out which of the Ante-Fae rule that area. One name in particular comes to mind, and I suspect you’ll find out better than I can.”

  Cernunnos held his gaze. “You’re talking about Blackthorn, aren’t you?”

  Ferosyn nodded. “It would make sense. But I don’t know if any of the others use the blackthorn tree as a weapon. As I said, you’ll know better than I would.”

  “Very well. Thank you, you may go.” As Ferosyn exited the room, Cernunnos turned back to Herne and me. “So, that answers one question. Several, perhaps.”

  “What are the Ante-Fae?” I had never heard of them.

  “They’re highly dangerous,” Herne said. His smile vanished, and the look of puzzlement darkened into a scowl. “In fact, they can be as dangerous and as powerful as the gods.”

  “If you had been raised with your family, your parents might have told you about the Ante-Fae. If they knew about them, that is. Not many of the Fae actually know they exist. Astrana must have somehow stumbled onto one. Given what I suspect, she has a reason to want to keep those murders under wraps. Her life may depend on it.” Cernunnos’s expression was as dark as Herne’s.

  “Tell me what they are.” I had a feeling I was about to find out something that I would regret knowing.

  “Before the Fae traveled over the Great Sea to your realm, before the great cities of TirNaNog and Navane rose in Annwn, and before the Fae grew to become so powerful, there were the Ante-Fae. They were the forerunners of your race—both sides of it. Herne is correct in that some of them are as dangerous and as powerful as the gods. They are ancient and treacherous, and each one is unique with different powers. Most of them are rooted deep within the earth and water, although some are connected with the elements of sky and fire.”

  I sucked in a deep breath. I knew what he was talking about. There had been tales of such creatures—mythology was full of them. Each one was named, and each one seemed to have been the mother or father of a branch of Fae. A lot of the sub-Fae seemed to descend from them.

  “You’re talking about creatures like Jenny Greenteeth, or the Black Annis, aren’t you?”

  Cernunnos nodded. “Those are two of the more famous ones. There are hundreds of them, perhaps thousands. They inhabit wild areas, and ancient caves, but some of them live near civilization. They hide in plain sight. The one Ferosyn and I were talking about is named Blackthorn, the King of Thorns. He’s a deadly, dangerous, and greedy soul. I need to find out where he was last located. Morgana and I keep track of the Ante-Fae as much as we can, because although they do not bother themselves with the Light and Dark courts, they sometimes stir things up and put humans in peril. We can’t do much about them, but if this one—and I’ll bet my boots it’s Blackthorn—has enlisted Astrana to cover up murders, then we have a problem spilling into the mortal world. I assume not all of those who were killed were Fae?”

  Herne shook his head. “No, a few were human. Then we can stay on the case?”

  “Most assuredly. Especially now that I know the Ante-Fae are involved. I’ll inform Astrana that there is call for you to investigate. Unfortunately, she will then, no doubt, relay the information to Blackthorn. Be on your guard. The covenant we have with the Light and the Dark Fae does not include the Ante-Fae.”

  “What’s that mean?” I asked.

&nbs
p; “It means if Blackthorn attacks you, I can’t step in directly. All we can do is try to control the damage and keep the Light and the Dark from taking part in it. This is a delicate matter. Bluntly put, we have to put a stop to it, but Blackthorn is free to fight back.” Cernunnos looked troubled.

  “So, we can intervene, but unlike with the Light and Dark courts, he doesn’t have to offer us protection,” Herne said.

  “That’s about the size of it.” Cernunnos stood. “I need to talk to Morgana and see if she has any ideas. Meanwhile, return to your realm. I’ll contact you as soon as we can verify which of the Ante-Fae you are facing. Meanwhile, walk softly. One of the first things you need to do is locate where he’s hiding.”

  “We were going to talk to the families. If we can ascertain where the victims disappeared, then we may be able to triangulate a common point. We also have forty missing people who vanished from the area over the past thirty years and no clue of what happened—the stories, again, were buried. As far as the dead, four of the families seemed to come into a spot of good fortune shortly afterward. Sixteen didn’t, and they’re the ones who moved. Marilyn said she was notified about some insurance payout that she assumed was a scam because she had already received a check, so that could be related.” Herne stood, motioning for me to join him.

  As I did, Trospos entered the room. “I have your key for the portal,” he said. “Please hold out your hand—your healthy one.”

  I did as he asked, and he pressed his hand over mine. A warmth rippled through my fingers and as he pulled away, I could see a faint gold sigil under the skin. “How do I use this?”

  “Just hold your hands up to the twin oaks, and they will register the energy within the sigil. When the portal opens fully, you’ll feel a shock in your hand. I’m sure Lord Herne will teach you how to use it. This will open any portal to Lord Cernunnos’s realm.”

  Cernunnos watched Trospos, then turned back to Herne. “If the murder victims’ families were paid to keep their mouth shut, regardless of who handed out the coin, they’re not likely to be very friendly to strangers.” He gave me a quick bow. “Ember Kearney, I’m glad we met. I hope that you continue to enjoy working for the Wild Hunt. Your father’s death saddened me. We will speak again, hopefully sooner than later.”