by Dani Harper
Brooke sighed inwardly as she drew up to the house, however. There was no sign of George and Felicia—how had she managed to overtake the speedy Carmelita? Unless they stopped for a break…She realized with exasperation what the couple had probably stopped to do. For pity’s sake, G. Couldn’t you wait till you had a room? As if the Universe were chiding her, she suddenly recalled her vision of hot, wet sex in the rain with Aidan. It played in her head in vivid detail, and she could feel twin spots of heat glow high on her cheekbones. Heat was glowing between her legs too…
Thankfully, Morgan and Rhys came out to greet them, followed by their enormous mastiff, Fred, and she was distracted from her X-rated thoughts for the moment. Brooke ran to hug them all, and she noted that while Rhys and Aidan were close to the same height, Aidan was built differently, more powerfully, across the shoulders and chest. Probably from his years of hammering metal as a smith. Whatever the reason, she had to take a moment just to admire his masculine form—and the heat returned full force.
Meanwhile, the tall and handsome object of her oversexed mind greeted her friends pleasantly enough, paying particular attention to rubbing the ears of the big brindle dog. Then something curious happened—the moment Aidan clasped hands with Rhys, Brooke’s ears popped as if the air pressure had abruptly changed. There was, well, some kind of hiccup in reality, as if a few seconds of time had abruptly speeded up, then stopped. The two big men stared at each other in disbelief, then both began talking at once. Actually talking was too mild a term. It was more like a verbal avalanche of what Brooke could only assume was high-speed Welsh. Morgan stood close beside her, and she saw that her friend was as baffled as she was. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Morgan shook her head. “He’s been teaching me the language, but they’re going too fast. I’m only picking up a few odd words here and there.”
Eventually, Rhys stepped back and put his big arm around his wife and a reassuring hand on Brooke’s shoulder. “Not a thing is wrong, only strange beyond wondering. He’s a grim—or was one.”
Brooke goggled. “How the hell did you know that?”
“Because I’ve been one myself.”
Morgan served lunch on the porch as Rhys told his story and how the spell that bound him had eventually been broken. Brooke was utterly astounded by it all. Her friend, Morgan, had never said a single word about Rhys’s true origins—but then, how could she?
Of greater concern was that the Fair Ones, as Rhys called them, had been increasingly active on this side of the waters, despite their kingdom being located under the Black Mountains of Wales. How long had this been going on, Brooke wondered. To hold the Gift is to protect the balance in all things and to restore harmony…How much harmony had been disrupted already by faeries meddling in the affairs of human beings? The problem was so much bigger than Aidan alone. She needed to learn all that she could and discuss the situation with her mentor and friend, Olivia.
Neither Morgan nor Rhys seemed offended when George and Felicia were still missing in action at the end of the meal. “It’s no big surprise. Really, I’ve never seen that guy with the same girl twice,” said Morgan. “In fact, at our wedding, he didn’t even leave with the same girl he came with! It’s just typical George to be crazy in infatuation with a new woman. By next week, he’ll have moved on to somebody new.”
“I thought he’d be over that by now. You know, mature or something,” said Brooke.
“Yeah, me too.” Morgan shook her head. “Growing up takes longer for some than others, I guess, but George is a really great guy and I love him to bits. Late bloomer maybe?”
Rhys and Aidan had headed off to the newly built forge the moment lunch was finished. Brooke wondered what kind of conversation they were having. Both were from Wales but from completely different time periods. Aidan had been born a thousand years ago. And Rhys? Two thousand. One a medieval smith, and the other a Celtic warrior. They might as well be from different countries after all. All they truly had in common was imprisonment at the hands of the fae.
At least they seem to be getting along…
With the big brindle mastiff at her heels, Morgan showed Brooke some of the horses they’d acquired since the last time she’d visited. A big dapple-gray mare hung her enormous head over the corral’s fence to greet them. “Of course, you remember Lucy, here. She’s our original. Rhys adores her, and she’s his personal mount in any and all events. Fred and Lucy have become close friends too—they play together.”
“The dog and the horse?” As if in answer, Fred touched noses with the big mare, his tail wagging. She snorted and blew grass all over him, which made Morgan laugh.
“Eeewww!” said Brooke. “Your brindle dog is green now!”
Morgan chuckled. “As a vet I can testify that there’s always a lot of eeewww around animals, but they’re worth it. He’ll shake it off or jump in one of the ponds. Anyway, horses like company and they tend to pick their friends. Dogs too. These two hit it off as soon as they met. Kind of like love at first sight.”
Brooke thought of Aidan. Had that happened to her? Did that explain the depth of feelings she had for him when she’d barely even met him? Not realizing her friend wasn’t paying attention, Morgan continued talking. Brooke tuned back in in time to hear—
“And those black ones over in the far pasture are purebred Friesians, and we have some Andalusians and Percherons as well.”
“You’re raising all these big horses for Renaissance fairs?”
“And training them too. That’s the most important part. Medieval sporting events have become very popular, and yes, people buy trained horses to use in tournaments.”
“So, are you talking about jousting? Knights in armor and all that?”
“Absolutely. It’s a real spectacle, and it requires a skilled horse as well as a skilled rider. The weapons aspect has really taken off as well. Rhys is a gifted warrior—hell, he grew up with a sword in his hand—so now he teaches classes here. Broadsword, archery—you name it. That’s one of the reasons we have the forge. Two of our friends work in metal. They’re wonderful craftsmen and they’re re-creating swords from various time periods—or at least that’s their goal. Although their work is beautiful, they haven’t produced a blade that Rhys approves of yet. I have to keep reminding him that it’s pretty much a lost art.”
Brooke couldn’t help but wonder if making weaponry was one of Aidan’s skills. If so, his work could be in demand, and he could find a niche for himself in the modern world, without having to leave the old one completely behind. That was exactly what Rhys appeared to have done. As they walked, Morgan pointed out the innumerable horseshoes and iron nails that decorated everything from the rooflines of each building to the top of every fence post that surrounded the two-hundred-acre farm. “Some of these were mounted by Rhys for protection against the fae before the Wild Hunt came. Since then, we put up more all the time. If you look closely, there are little copper wires and bells and all sorts of strange little gizmos attached to a lot of them. My favorite is a horseshoe out by the machine shed, which has a silver fork and spoon dangling from it. It looks like some strange art form, but actually, it’s a kind of magic. All of the iron you see has had protective charms added to it by our friend, Ranyon. He’s an ellyl from the faery realm, and kind of a refugee.”
“An ellyl? What’s that? I didn’t even know that faeries were real until Aidan showed up.”
“The term faery takes in a lot of different creatures. Ranyon is a little guy between two and three feet tall, all covered in brown leaves. He’s got the brightest blue eyes, and a great sense of humor. The Tylwyth Teg destroyed his clan and enslaved him—that is, until Rhys got hold of him.”
The strange name was familiar. Aidan had said that Celynnen was of Tylwyth Teg. “Is this Ranyon here on the farm?”
Morgan shook her head. “I really wish you could meet him but he lives with our friend, Leo, and the two of them are in Toronto right now at a Blue Jays game.”
> “A faery wanted to go to a ball game?”
“Not just any baseball game. Ranyon’s crazy for the Jays. And he loves Leo too—they’ve been good for each other.” Morgan ran her finger around an exceptionally large horseshoe wrapped in copper wire and tiny bells. “Except for Ranyon, Queen Gwenhidw declared our farm off limits to the fae, but even though she’s my friend and I trust her, Rhys and I don’t take chances. There are too many factions working against her, and they don’t care what she decrees.”
“Hold it right there. The queen herself is your friend?”
“I’m still not used to it myself,” laughed Morgan. “But yes, it’s true. She was best friends with some ancestor of mine, I guess, and we happened to hit it off when I visited Wales. Plus Nainie—my grandma—gave me some kind of mojo, to be able to see and know a few things, so the fae can’t hide from me very easily. It made a real difference the night of the battle here.” She laughed again and put her hands on her hips. “But it’s nothing compared to what you can do, lady! I thought you ran some sort of cute little New Age shop, and now I find out that you’re a powerful practicing witch! I mean, holy crap, that is so awesome!”
“Do you remember when we had to write that paragraph for grad about what we thought our futures would bring?” asked Brooke.
Morgan snorted. “I planned to be a veterinarian, and that certainly worked out fine. But the rest of my life? Or Rhys? Never saw it coming. You too, huh? How serious are you and Aidan?”
Brooke’s smile faded. “I guess loved him the first time I saw him. I’m crazy about him. But Aidan’s a good man, and an honorable one—”
“He’s not married is he?”
“Oh, hell no, not married. It’s not that. A thousand years ago, a fae princess killed his fiancée. He’s made a solemn vow to avenge her before he moves on with his life. With our life together.” She swallowed hard. “I’m just hoping he lives through it so we have a life together.”
Morgan put an arm around her shoulders. “Believe me, I know the type. My husband would cut off his own arm before he’d break a promise or a vow. It’s admirable and scary at the same time. But it’s how things were done in the past.” She paused for a long moment. “Does this particular faery know where Aidan is? Or you?”
Brooke nodded. “As a matter of fact, yes. She found Aidan at my shop in the middle of the night a little over a week and a half ago. I guess she sent him a creepy message. I was in bed with him at the time, so if she was scrying, then I assume she saw me too. We moved out of the building immediately though, and we set up all kinds of magical protections in the house we’re staying in, and—”
Morgan looked around and motioned Brooke to a bench. “Look,” she said. “I don’t want to scare you, but I have to scare you—understand? If a faery has your number, they’ll never stop hunting you. It won’t matter where you go on this planet, they’ll find you sooner or later. You’re going to have to be on your guard constantly.” She smiled weakly. “It’s become a lifestyle for us.”
“But it’s wrong for them to interfere in mortal lives.”
“They don’t care about that. They want what they want, Brooke. And they live practically forever, so they’ve got all the time in the world to spend on getting it.”
They want what they want. George had said some people were just like that, and she’d certainly had more than a few potential customers that fit the mold. “Then what do we do? What can we do? I don’t want to live my life in fear.”
“Maybe Aidan’s doing it. Maybe killing this Celynnen is more than a matter of revenge for him. He might be doing the only thing that will protect you and everyone you love.”
“I have a hard time with that. It seems wrong to do harm.”
“Yeah, I hear you,” Morgan sighed. “I’m a veterinarian, and that makes me a healer first. Speaking of which, maybe you could give me some advice on my four-legged patients. Right now I have a pudgy spoiled lizard named Petrie that has a skin infection, and I just can’t seem to find anything that will treat it effectively.” They resumed their walk as they discussed herbs and charms that Morgan might try. Brooke offered to go to the clinic the next day and see what she could do for the little lizard with her magic. As they rounded the corner of the barn, however, a loud argument reached their ears. It was coming from the direction of the forge.
Oh crap, thought Brooke, hurrying after Morgan to see what was going on. And I thought things were going well.
“You’re a damned twpsyn,” Rhys shouted. “Only a fool would think you could just walk into the realm and make one of them do as you please. By all the gods, you’ll be a grim again in a heartbeat, if they don’t feed you to a hungry bwgan a piece at a time just for the fun of it.”
“They fear iron. It is their weakness.”
“They don’t fear it from a distance, and you’ll never get close enough to them to use it.”
“’Tis Celynnen I’m after. And, aye, she’ll let me near enough all right. She wants me to bed her. It’s what she’s wanted from the damnable beginning.” And because of it, he would get very, very close if he appeared willing to finally give her what she wanted.
“And how will you secrete an iron weapon on you then? Up your arse?”
Aidan shook his head. “’Twill not be the kind of weapon she expects. I’ll have a dagger for show, and she’ll take it from me, thinking she’s disarmed me. But I have another idea, and I believe it will work.” The slim iron blades would be small, but just one would be more than sufficient if he used it well. A wound made with iron would not close, not without considerable magic from a healer. If he was alone with Celynnen, he would have to ensure that he aimed for something vital. Like her flawless white throat…
Rhys took a deep breath as though calming himself. “I understand revenge more than most. I have hungered for it more than most,” he said. His voice had lowered, yet it felt far more intense than when he had been shouting. “The Romans made war upon my people, burned my village, killed my family. And when they were done with that, they made me fight for my life in the ring, over and over again. They were cruel and I hated them. But they were men, human, each of them mortal like me. When the Tylwyth Teg took me, I found I hated them far more than the Romans. Because their hearts were ice. Their cruelty was worse because of their apathy. I was but a toy to them at best, an insect in a jar.
“’Twas Morgan made the difference. Because of her kindness, I escaped the Fair Ones. And I escaped the craving for revenge as well. The love I have here with this woman is worth far more than the satisfaction of standing over a thousand dead fae.”
“Aye, I’m wanting a life with Brooke too,” declared Aidan. “But I’ll be true to my vow to avenge Annwyl’s murder. I must settle the past before I build the future.”
“Then you really are a twpsyn,” said Rhys. “Because you have no future if you go after a fae, especially one of the Royal Family. And Brooke will have no future either, because once you’re dead, the tywysoges will come after her and everyone connected to her.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” growled Aidan. “All you’re giving me are more reasons to kill Celynnen. We’ll have no peace until she’s gone.”
“There is no peace to be had in this time. The faery realm is in chaos right now, everyone vying for power and conspiracies springing up everywhere. The queen is honorable enough, and powerful beyond words, but even she can’t control all of her subjects. She can’t control her own family, or Celynnen would not be keeping so many pets.”
“I’ll not be spending my life in hiding, behind walls of horseshoes and charms, like you are here. You’re living in fear, man.”
“If we were that fearful, we wouldn’t have chosen to stay here, to make our stand here. The entire Wild Hunt has ridden through this very farm, so the Tylwyth Teg know exactly where we are,” said Rhys, bristling. “We’re living with an abundance of caution because some things are worth fearing, and that’s reality.”
“Some t
hings are worth fighting for, and that’s reality too,” declared Aidan.
Rhys’s voice dropped to a dangerous tone. “Don’t speak to me of what’s worth fighting for. I’ve seen far more battle than you have.”
“You didn’t take on the whole Roman army at once. You picked them off, here and there. You chose your fights and you harried the Romans at every turn. They feared you. You were not called the Bringer of Death for nothing.”
Rhys appeared stunned. “How would you know? I didn’t tell you all of that.”
“Did you think you would not be remembered? In my time, the stories were still being told of you. As a boy I pretended to be you, with a wooden sword my tad made for me.”
“The Romans were not immortal. And neither are we, not now. Taking on even one faery would be suicide—or worse.”
“Evil must be opposed,” declared Aidan.
“Among humans, yes. But the Fair Ones are a law unto themselves. They do not think of things as we do.”
“It matters not what they think,” said Aidan, and threw down the hammer he was holding. “You said the fae are making their mischief here on the mortal plane, in this time and place. We cannot allow them to do so unchallenged.”
“Perhaps you should spend another thousand years as a grim—you didn’t learn a damn thing about the fae while you were there the first time.” That was as far as he got before Aidan’s great fist blindsided him.
Brooke looked on in horror as the two men grappled and rolled on the ground outside the forge, throwing punches and elbows, and straining to gain the advantage. Morgan was more philosophical.
“They’re pretty evenly matched,” she said. “I’m in favor of letting them work it out their own way. In fact, let’s you and I go put the dishes in the dishwasher and have some coffee and dessert. I have a chocolate cheesecake in the fridge that needs to be tasted to be believed.”
