by P. C. Cast
“Warriors have stopped coming to me,” Sgiach said in a completely emotionless voice.
“Warriors haven’t stopped coming to you, Queen Sgiach, the Great Taker of Heads. We’re here, Kevin and me.” Beside him, Kevin went to his knees as well.
“I would swear to your service as well, Queen Sgiach,” Kevin said.
“Will you accept us? Will you teach us how to guard the rest of our world like you guard this island?”
Sgiach hesitated, but only long enough to share a look with Seoras. Then she lifted her hand, palm out, and spoke with such power it caused a great wind to whip around them.
“Failte gu ant Eilean nan Sgiath. Welcome to the Isle of Sgiach. You may enter.”
Side by side, Stark and Kevin entered the Isle of Women.
4
Other Kevin
Even though he was a red vampyre and the sun would fry him like bacon, Kevin wished he could see Sgiach’s island in the daylight. Seoras had very grumpily told them to get into the back seat of a Jeep Wrangler, and currently they were bouncing along an unpaved road toward a speck of light in the distance. Kevin suspected the old Scottish dude was hitting every rut and rock on purpose.
“Hey, where’s Sgiach?” Kevin asked, suddenly realizing the queen was nowhere to be seen.
“Sgiach doesna need the motor tae be traveling her island,” growled the Warrior.
“What does that mean?” Kevin whispered to Stark.
Clearly, the old dude’s hearing was perfectly fine because he frowned at Kevin in the rearview mirror and said, “It means what the queen already told ye, wain. Sgiach’s affinity is to her land. She commands it.”
“Shit! You mean on Skye the queen is like a living transporter beam?” Kevin blurted, then realized there was no way Seoras could understand that, and he added. “Um, what I mean by that is that she can—”
“I know what ye mean. Like Star Trek. ’Tis a fine explanation.”
“You know about Star Trek?” Stark asked.
Seoras snickered. “Aye, wain. And runnin’ water too.”
“I knew you had to be connected to the outside world,” said Stark.
“Well, she’s a queen. Not a fool.”
They traveled on in silence as Kevin stared out the window. They’d come around a bend in the narrow road. Ahead and to their right, a castle sat a couple football-field lengths away. A stone bridge–like path that led to it was raised over a boggy stretch of land. Torches, like the ones that had been on the bridge from the mainland, lit it with a spectral light that flickered in the cold wind.
“What is that?” Stark pointed to their left, pulling Kevin’s attention from the castle.
A strange-looking forest grew to the muddy road. Tree trunks were twisted and gnarled, but they held up a canopy of green that was thick, beautiful, and verdant. His eyesight, better at night than a blue vamp’s, allowed him to peer into the forest, which was covered with a thick carpet of moss. Within, even in the darkness of full night, white boulders with the same silver veins as the arch they had so recently passed under, glinted and twinkled like jewels.
One tree in particular stood out. As Kevin stared, he realized that it was actually two trees that had grown together, their trunks and branches irrevocably entangled, and from the branches, long strips of fabric waved lazily, almost like they were welcoming him.
“’Tis the Craobh—the Sacred Grove. Sgiach’s castle is just there, across from it.” Seoras was saying.
Kevin wanted to ask him about the twisted trees with the fabric, but Seoras had driven past it and had pulled off the road in front of the pathway to the castle. On foot they approached the raised stone walkway, and Kevin noticed that the castle was perched on the edge of a cliff that looked out across the sea.
“Impressive,” Stark said. “Even without the protective spell it would be tough to breach.”
“Tough?” Seoras snorted. “More like impossible, laddie.”
The castle was beautiful. It was made of the same stone that filled the forest across the street. Kevin looked up and up as a cold gust caused a long flag to whip through the air. From the topmost turret of the castle it flew, illuminated by more torches. Painted on it was a massive black bull with the shimmering image of a goddess—or maybe a queen—within the body of the bull, stretched out across its back. When he pulled his gaze down to the pathway, Kevin felt a jolt of shock. Torches weren’t all that lined the stone bridgeway to the castle. Between each pair of flaming torches were thick stakes that held decapitated heads.
Kevin couldn’t stop staring at them. What skin remained looked like leather—the mouths gaped open—eyes were missing. He thought they were moving, maybe even grimacing at him, and then as he passed the first one he realized that it was just what was left of their long, stringy hair lifting with the breeze.
He spoke to Stark in a low voice. “That’s some gross shit.”
Stark had opened his mouth to agree, but Seoras, who walked before them, beat him to it. “Och, dinnae worry. They’re just what’s left of impertinent wains.” The old Warrior glanced over his shoulder at them, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Or maybe ye should worry.” Chuckling to himself, Seoras picked up the pace so Kevin and Stark had to scramble to keep up with him.
Two Warriors, dressed like Seoras, stood silently before the huge, arched wooden doors. As the three of them approached, they nodded respectfully to Seoras before opening the doors to reveal a shockingly gorgeous interior. The floors were made of more of the silver white marble, and they gleamed from the blaze of chandeliers and candelabra that filled the enormous entry room. Kevin noted that the castle did have electricity, though there were still a lot of thick taper candles lit everywhere.
The stone walls were covered by incredible tapestries that depicted all sorts of different scenes—from peaceful landscapes with shaggy cows to amazingly realistic battles. They passed through the entryway, walked down a long hallway, and had come to an immense double stone stairway. Seoras halted and pointed up the stairs.
“If ye need to rest, or fix yer makeup, there leads to yer rooms.”
“We don’t have time for any of that,” Stark said.
Seoras looked from Stark to Kevin, who shrugged nonchalantly and said, “I left my makeup at home.”
To his surprise, Seoras barked a laugh before saying, “Aye, then, it’s to the Queen and the Chamber of the Fianna Foil I’ll be takin’ ye.” The old Warrior turned from the stairway and continued down the hall until he came to a huge set of arched double doors. Kevin thought they had to be at least twenty feet tall and a foot thick, and he watched eagerly, waiting for Seoras to use some of that old muscle to pry them open, but all the Warrior did was whisper, “Yur Guardian asks permission to enter, my Queen.”
With the soft sound of a woman’s sigh, the massive doors opened to a room so incredible Kevin had to remind his feet to move so that he didn’t just stand there gawking.
Warriors, all fully armed and dressed in ancient kilts, stood around the perimeter of the large room, looking somber and ready to protect their queen. In front of a wall of windows there was a triple-tiered onyx dais that held a white marble throne on which Queen Sgiach sat. Seoras went to the dais, bowed low to his queen, and then took position standing beside the throne on her right.
Sgiach wore a long, formfitting dress made of golden velvet, belted low around her waist by the same plaid Seoras wore. A wicked-looking sword rested beside her, and the hilt of a dirk peeked from her plaid belt.
The throne on which she sat was like nothing he’d ever seen. Intricate knot carvings danced and swirled up it. Kevin thought he saw animals and people woven into the knots, but it was the floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows behind the queen that truly captured his attention. Though it was dark, the moon shining through the panels provided enough light for Kevin to make out the full-color sc
ene that depicted Sgiach, hair streaming behind her, sword raised, holding a severed head in her hand as she stood on a cliff overlooking her island. Warriors kneeled to her and sprites hovered all around her as white-capped waves crashed in the background.
“So, young Warriors, I have considered your request. I agree. We must know if Neferet has used the sprites to open the portal between worlds, and I will ask them. But you must understand that if she has already passed through to that alternate world, I cannot condone the use of Old Magick to take you there.”
At his side Kevin felt Stark stiffen, and before he could say something that might piss off the queen, Kevin spoke. “Okay, Your Majesty. Let’s just take this one step at a time.”
Stark sighed heavily but said, “Yes. We do appreciate your help.”
The queen’s raised brow said she believed Stark’s frustrated sigh more than his appreciation, but she said nothing and stood. She walked to the edge of the top tier of the dais and took the dirk from her belt. Sgiach lifted her hand and with one swift motion, sliced through her palm.
The scent of her blood hit Kevin. It was rich and delicious—like Grandma’s chocolate-chip lavender cookies and sunshine mixed together and sprinkled with honey. He wanted to rush to her, fall to his knees, and beg her to let him drink, just a drop. He glanced at Stark beside him. He, too, was staring wide-eyed at the queen’s bleeding hand.
You cannot move, Kevin told himself. Stay the hell right here. Don’t slobber. Don’t embarrass yourself and piss off this queen.
Before Kevin lost the slipping grip he had on his self-control, Sgiach cupped her hand until the blood welled. She spoke words that Kevin didn’t understand, but felt in every inch of his body, and finished by shifting to English and saying in a voice that was filled with command, “Come to me, oh mighty sprite of the earth!” Sgiach opened her hand and flicked her wrist. For a moment Kevin thought that her amazing blood was going to rain over Stark and him, but instead of spattering them or falling to the gleaming marble floor, the drops of scarlet hovered in a crescent moon around the queen.
There was a sound like the rustling of autumn leaves in a windstorm as something rushed into the chamber. It whirled like a minitornado, absorbing the droplets of sparkling blood before it came to a halt before Sgiach and materialized.
Kevin’s eyes widened and his heart went cold as he recognized the earth sprite who had helped him before—and who had also led Aphrodite to her death. Without realizing it, Kevin started to move forward. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, only that his body was telling him he needed to fight—needed to make her pay for taking his love away from him.
Stark’s strong hand closed on his wrist, holding him in place and giving Kevin time to get control of himself.
This isn’t about me. This isn’t about Aphrodite. This is about saving a world—maybe two, Kevin reminded himself.
His gaze met Stark’s and Kevin nodded once, quickly. Stark released his wrist.
The humanoid sprite hovered several feet above the floor facing the dais with her back to Kevin and Stark. Her bark-colored skin was iridescent in the light of the chamber. She was naked, though vines twined around her nubile body, concealing much of it. Her hair was maidenhair fern and her voice was as compelling as Kevin remembered.
She nodded slightly. “Queen Sgiach, you summon me and make blood sacrifice. What small task do you wish as payment for such a price?”
The queen, too, dipped her head to the sprite before replying. “Oak, it has been some time since we have spoken, though I have felt your recent restlessness. Is all well with the fey folk?”
“Is that the question for which you spent your precious blood?”
Kevin gritted his teeth at her nonanswer, but kept his lips pressed firmly together.
“No. That was just an observation, and it seems you would rather not answer me, so I will dispense with small talk and get to the point. I want information. Has a High Priestess named Neferet called on your services, and if so, what did she want?”
Oak didn’t answer. Instead she turned in a slow circle until she was facing Kevin and Stark. Her large dark eyes narrowed with recognition.
“Ah, Redbird Boy. I know you.”
“And I know you too, Oak.” Kevin managed to grind out the response through his anger.
She gestured at Stark. “I see you have made friends with your enemy. Tell me, was that a difficult thing to do?”
Before Kevin could say anything, the queen’s voice cut through the chamber with an authority earned and owned by centuries of commanding Warriors.
“If you wish information from my guest, you will pay him a price—the same as you would demand from any vampyre who dared to question you.”
Anger flashed across Oak’s face, but she shrugged and continued her circle until she was, once again, facing the queen.
“I will leave your playthings alone. For now.”
“Enough games, earth sprite! Answer me.” As Sgiach spoke, the floor vibrated, as if the isle itself growled in anger with its queen.
Oak spoke quickly, her voice laced with contempt.
“High Priestess no more, Neferet did come to me—paid dearly, she did, to open a door no others can see.”
Kevin’s cheeks heated and his stomach clenched.
“Did this ex–High Priestess pass through the door?” Sgiach asked.
“I have answered you true—and now I shall leave as I have much, much to do.”
The queen seemed to grow so that she filled the room. Her eyes blazed amber. There was movement behind her as Seoras drew his sword and stepped forward. Sgiach’s voice echoed from the stone walls as wind filled the room, lifting the queen’s long silver hair so that she looked eerily like the stained-glass battle scene behind her. “My blood is unique. It commands that you speak!”
Kevin and Stark staggered back a step as the power in Sgiach’s voice battered them.
Oak cringed and also moved back, but when she spoke her voice was filled with spite. “Of course she stepped through—what else would she do? Her payment was clear—the sacrifice dear. I could open the door for you, but Neferet’s payment you must outdo.”
Sgiach said nothing for several breaths and Kevin realized she had locked her gaze onto the sprite. Finally, Oak’s head turned to the side and she looked away, which is when the queen spoke.
“Remember that this isle obeys me—all that happens here, I see. Like autumn wind you bluster and blow. But I am queen. I command. Now leave my presence—go!”
And then, with a crack of thunder, the earth sprite disappeared.
Sgiach returned to her throne. As she reached Seoras, he took her bloodied hand and gently, intimately, drew it to his lips and licked the blood from it, closing the shallow wound instantly.
Stark swallowed hard, and Kevin understood completely. At that moment he would’ve given almost anything to take Seoras’s place.
Sgiach didn’t sit on her throne, instead Seoras returned to his place beside it as she paced back and forth across the dais in front of it.
“We’re too late,” Kevin said while the queen paced. “Neferet’s in Zoey’s world right now.”
“It would appear so,” said the agitated queen.
“But is that sprite telling you the truth?” Stark asked. “She, uh, seemed pretty—”
As Stark paused and searched for the right words, Seoras spoke sharply.
“Rude. Disrespectful. And unusually crabbit, even for that prickly fey.”
“Your Majesty,” Kevin said. “Is Oak always like that with you?”
Sgiach stopped pacing to meet his gaze. “She’s the leader of the fey, and over the centuries has often been arrogant and difficult, but until today she has never shown such outright disrespect. She said she knew you. Was it Oak who granted you access to Old Magick?”
Kevin nodded.
“It was. She was there every time I invoked Old Magick. And she was there when Zoey called on the sprites to restore the humanity to the red vampyres in this world.”
“Ah, I see. The payment for something like that must have been immense.”
Kevin forced himself to speak through the knot in his throat. “It was. It cost the life of Aphrodite, who was a Prophetess of Nyx and the vampyre I loved.”
“I see. That must have been very exciting for Oak. No wonder she singled you out.”
“Are all sprites so mean?” Stark asked.
“Not mean. Not usually. But they are bored, and they make their own rules. They do not choose Light or Darkness but walk somewhere in the middle—a place neither vampyres nor humans can tread safely.”
“So, how do we get her to reopen the door to the Other World?” Stark asked. “Kevin and I have no choice now. We have to follow Neferet and warn Zoey and her House of Night.”
“I have been on this isle more than five centuries,” said Sgiach. “And I have never seen Oak like this. Before, I was reluctant to allow you to use Old Magick for the same reasons I have been guarding it and keeping it mostly confined to Skye all these many centuries.” The queen ticked off the reasons on her fingers. “The sprites are capricious. Where they go, trouble often follows. The sprites always demand payment—a payment that gets higher and higher the more often you ask for their help. And, finally, Old Magick is addictive to anyone who does not have an affinity for it—and in the centuries of my long life, I have never known Nyx to gift any vampyre with such an affinity. As I said, the payment increases with each use, but ultimately, you pay with your sanity. Mortals were not meant to wield Old Magick. Respect it—yes. Appreciate it—yes. Even leave offerings to the sprites that embody it—yes. More than that and you are taking a chance with your mind and your spirit each time you make a request of it.
