by Bonnie Lamer
Behind the pair is a household staffer carrying two large suitcases and a garment bag. Behind him, a woman is carrying another suitcase and large satchel. “That’s all you brought? Surely you have a few more suitcases you can fill up.” Was that snarky? Yeah, it was.
Mohana sniffs. “We do not know how long we will be away from home. We need to be prepared. There is no harm in looking one’s best.” She gives me a once over as if implying I’m on the other side of the fence on the issue.
“We’re not going up against the fashion police,” I snark back. I know she’s trying to irk me but I fall for it anyway.
“Ladies,” Grandpa says, patting the hand Mohana has resting on his arm. “This is no time to fight over such trivial things. If you feel these items are necessary, my dear, then we shall bring them.” The staffers set the luggage down and quickly disappear. I wish I could do the same.
“Pick your battles,” Adriel mumbles to me.
She’s right. In the big scheme of things, Mohana could bring fifty bags and it wouldn’t change the outcome of the fight on our hands. Maybe she’ll keep herself so busy changing clothes that Mom won’t see her with Grandpa. I know, I’m a dreamer.
Not bothering to say more about the luggage, I close my eyes and concentrate on the driveway in front of Dagda’s Palace. When I have a clear picture in my mind, I tear the fabric of the realms. A gasp has my eyes flying back open. I didn’t think about the traffic that would be going in out of the castle. On the other side of my passageway, we can clearly see a Dragon lumbering our way. Great, it’s a humongous red and silver Dragon meaning it’s Ryu. He halts his lumbering when he sees me. He is definitely within firing range. Our eyes meet and I debate how fast I can seal the realms back up. Would it be fast enough to prevent my party from getting third degree burns?
“Xandra,” he rumbles with a slight nod of his head. He doesn’t sound like he’s going to char us. Maybe he and I have a truce while this business is handled?
“It talks,” Gunnar whispers, more to himself than any of us.
Ryu inhales deeply and then says, “Witches.” He inhales again and then his eyes open a little wider. I wouldn’t have thought it possible with his tight facial scales, but he manages. In surprise, he says, “Skin Walkers? Interesting company you keep.”
Ignoring his comment, Jadyn nods her head slightly in affirmation of her race. “Hello.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to bring these nice people into the Fae realm. I’d like to do it at a safe distance from you.” That was almost pleasant, wasn’t it? “Ow,” I hiss when a piece of my flesh is once again caught between Adriel’s thumb and forefinger. “Please,” I add aloud to Ryu.
The Dragon surprises me when he says, “Of course.” He moves several feet away making enough room for us to pass through.
“Is it safe?” Grandpa asks, eyeing the gigantic beast.
“If he was going to torch us, he would have done it already,” I say, hoping this is true. “But Adriel will go first if it makes you feel better.” That way she can’t pinch me if I feel the need to be snarky again. After a sour look in my direction, Adriel takes her cue and walks through the passageway without coming to harm. “See, nothing to worry about.”
“I will go next,” Gunnar says with only the slightest hint of hesitation in his voice.
The security guard squares his shoulders and bravely walks forward. Jadyn and Conor go next and then Grandpa and Mohana. Taz and I are last, of course. An exclamation of surprise has me spinning around after I close the passageway, concerned Ryu is making trouble. No, it’s only Mohana getting her first look at the Palace. It puts Grandpa’s mansion to shame.
Fortunately, Ryu is way too big to fit through the front doors so we won’t have to worry about him once we’re inside. I wonder where Dagda is housing the Dragons. Wherever it is, I plan to stay away from there. For some reason, my mouth is an oozing bottle of super-snark when I’m around them. “We should go inside,” I say and get no argument from any in my party.
I know things are bad when the doorman is happy to see me. “Thank god,” he says, showing me something besides disdain for the first time. “The King has been anxiously awaiting your return.”
I wonder how much time has passed here. Time is different from realm to realm so even though I was only in the Cowan realm for half an hour, here it could have been a whole day. “Where is he?” I ask.
“Throne room. Watch your step down there.”
Peering over the balcony again, I can appreciate his sentiment. The great hall is crawling with people and, for lack of a better word, creatures. Apparently, each of the leaders has brought a large entourage with them. And I was annoyed with Grandpa for bringing two extra Witches? I probably should have encouraged him to bring more. Taking a deep breath, I begin walking down one of the staircases leading away from the door. Trying not to look as awed as the rest of my party, except Adriel of course, I take in the cultural explosion. What can only be a Sasquatch is standing near the river in a heated conversation with a Centaur. That’s not good. Isla said the Centaurs and Sasquatch have been at war for years. I should check this out. I don’t want to see the river polluted with blood.
“Wait here a minute,” I say at the bottom of the stairs. When I get closer, I see Isla has beat me to it and is already trying to mediate. The Sasquatch is so hairy, I couldn’t see Isla on the other side of him. Or her. I can’t tell. I expected a monster but instead, the Sasquatch has silky, snow white hair over its entire body except its face. With high cheek bones, full, pouty lips and an aquiline nose between deep yellow eyes, it’s the perfect model of androgyny. Beautiful without any overtures toward either gender.
“You agreed to a truce,” Isla is saying for what I suspect is not the first time.
Catching her eye, I ask, “Can I help?”
Before she can respond, the Centaur clomps a heavy foot down and demands, “Who are you to interrupt our private conversation?” I guess he and I aren’t going to be besties.
Before I can say anything to make the situation worse, Isla says, “This is Xandra. It is her doppelgänger who is wreaking havoc in our universe.”
Hmm, I’m not sure that helped the situation any more than anything I would have said. Not knowing what to say next, I go with, “Yeah, sorry about that. Apparently, I’m a real bitch in the other universe.”
Isla glares at me for my choice of words, but surprising all of us, the Centaur throws his head back and roars with laughter. His laughter is contagious and the Sasquatch joins him. Even Isla gets the tiniest of upward movement on her lips. “So, now that we have that settled,” I say, “how about we each retreat to neutral ground before things get messy.”
This sobers them up. Crossing his arms over his perfectly chiseled chest, something mythology back home got right, the Centaur eyes his furry foe. “Aye, that is for the best.”
“For now,” the Sasquatch says in a silky voice which still doesn’t give me a clue to its gender.
It finally hits me that if the Sasquatch is here, that means Kallen and Kegan are back. Looking over my shoulder, I groan. I have to figure out what to do with Grandpa and the others before I go searching for them.
Reading my mind, Isla says, “The King would like a word with your guests.”
I barely stifle another groan. “Where is he? Still in the throne room?”
“I believe he has retreated to his office.”
Oh good, there will be fewer witnesses when Dagda and my grandfather attempt to kill each other. Motioning to Adriel and the rest, I indicate they should follow me. It takes a few seconds for the others to respond as their eyes continue around the great hall. Apparently there is a way for Dragons to come into the Palace because one with blue and green scales and who is much smaller than Ryu is near the far wall speaking to a Goblin.
My eyes stop on a group of people who are most definitely not Fairies. Each of them has hair so red, it brings to mind the setting sun when it touches the ho
rizon. Their eyes are a brown so deep, they are like dark chocolate and look as delicious. Their skin is tanned and freckled with such a healthy glow it makes you want to reach out and touch them to make sure they’re real, not simply a mirage. Tinkling laughter is coming from the group. It is not the beautiful laugh of the Angels. The laughter of these beings is enchanting. It calls to you and makes you want to frolic with them.
Whoa, frolic with them? Shaking my head, I realize some sort of enchantment really is emanating from them. I turn a questioning eye to Isla. “Elves,” she says. “Be careful.”
I don’t ask her why because I’m pretty sure I already know. Whatever enchantments they weave draw people to them and, I suspect, put them under the Elves’ control. “Definitely,” I reply. The rest of the group has joined us and I notice Gunnar’s eyes are firmly directed toward the Elves. Probably best to get him out of here. “Come on,” I say, putting a firm hand on Gunnar’s arm. He walks forward but his eyes never leave the Elves until we are safely behind the throne room’s doors.
Shaking his head as if to clear it, he asks, “Who were they?”
“Elves,” Adriel says with a pinched face. “You will want to avoid them if you do not want to become their slave.” Gunnar’s eyes widen in surprise but he doesn’t say anything.
I lead them across the room and behind Dagda’s throne. I open the door which leads directly into his office and am relieved to find my gorgeous husband with him. Kallen’s face breaks out into a huge grin and he comes forward to give me a hug. He stops mid-step when he sees my Grandfather and his friend. He turns questioning eyes to me. I shake my head slightly and give him an ‘I’ll tell you about it later’ look.
Dagda’s eyes have narrowed in my grandfather’s direction as well. The two men size each other up and I believe they each find the other lacking. Despite this, Dagda says in his velvety voice, “King Sveargith, welcome. I am certain this has come as quite a shock. May I offer you a scotch?” He holds his own glass a little higher.
Clearing his throat, Grandpa says, “It certainly has. A scotch would be nice, thank you.”
Wow, such civility on both sides. Amazing. Dagda nods to Sindri who quickly walks to the table with the scotch to pour some out for Grandpa. Turning to the rest of my party, Dagda walks forward and says, “Welcome. It has been a very long time since I have had the pleasure of a Skin Walker’s company.” He leans forward and kisses Jadyn’s cheek and then he shakes Conor’s hand. “Can I offer the two of you a drink, as well?”
“Definitely,” Conor says which earns him a disapproving look from Jadyn. “No, thank you,” she says.
Dagda nods in Gunnar’s direction. A show of respect for his station as guard but of course he doesn’t offer him a drink. He’s on duty. Lastly, he brings his eyes to Mohana. “I did not realize we would have the pleasure of a Seductress Witch.” I am wondering why his words are full of venom when Dagda says, “You will find most Fairies immune to your…charms, as you see I am.”
Oh. Mohana was projecting someone else’s façade. I assume Tana’s. It is difficult to see the blush flooding her cheeks due to the dark pigment of her skin, but it is definitely there. She’s not here five minutes and someone is already calling her out on her lame ability.
Startled, my grandfather asks Mohana, “What does he mean?”
Petting his arm, Mohana purrs, “It is simply habit, my sweet.” Grandpa isn’t buying it but he doesn’t say more. He takes the scotch Sindri offers him and takes a stiff drink.
Kallen closes the distance between us and pulls me into his arms for the hug we both need. Stepping back after a moment, I say, “I see you and Kegan were successful with the Sasquatch.”
A darkness passes over his face before he can school it. “Yes,” he says tightly. I want to ask him more about it, but I suspect it is a story best not shared with everyone. I let it drop.
“Sindri, please have chairs brought in so all of our guests may sit,” Dagda orders. To the rest, he says, “As the only ones from a closed realm, I thought we should discuss a few diplomatic and safety issues before you are thrown into the melee.”
Good thinking. I admit, I need this information as much as our visitors do. “Thanks, Sindri,” I say, accepting the chair he places behind me. He smiles and directs another Fairy where to put the two chairs he is carrying.
When we are all situated, Dagda sits down behind his desk. It doesn’t escape my notice that this is a bit of a power play on his part. He has announced himself to be the most important person in the room by separating himself from us with his desk. I’ve never really thought about it before, but from the look on Grandpa’s face, the same thought has crossed his mind. He is not at all happy about being placed in a subordinate light. The testosterone in the room is on the rise and I’m afraid I may start sprouting hair in unwanted places from it.
“It is quite an array of races you have assembled here,” Jadyn says. I don’t miss the assessing gaze she gives my biological father. He is handsome, after all.
“Indeed,” Dagda says. “It has been millennia since so many have come together in one place and there are reasons for this.”
“We’ve picked up on the animosity out there,” Conor says.
“Can you guarantee we are safe here?” Grandpa asks. It sounds more like a challenge than a question.
Coolly, Dagda says, “I can guarantee you are safe providing you do not seek out trouble.”
Pretty soon, they’re going to be smacking each other in the face with gloves and fighting a duel. I know which one would win. Grandpa would be no competition for Dagda. “Can we get back to the topic at hand? You guys can snipe at each other later.”
If Adriel hadn’t snuck off when she caught sight of Raziel talking to a Faun in the great hall, she would be pinching me about now. I half expect Kallen to put a warning hand on my shoulder but he actually looks amused. Dagda and my grandfather do not.
Regardless, Dagda does get back on topic. “I realize you may have limited information regarding these other races from your mythology in your realm. Most of them left the Cowan realm long ago but tales of them still exist. Unfortunately, as have the stories of the Fae, the information has been greatly watered down. Very little remains of the truth.”
“Is this to be a lesson in Cowan mythology or are you going to get to the point?” Grandpa huffs. Seeming proud of her ‘man’, Mohana wraps her arm through his again in encouragement.
I feel Dagda pulling magic and the danger levels in this room have surpassed any we walked through to get here. “Grandpa, please let him finish.” Dagda stiffens slightly at my use of the familiar term, but what he doesn’t know is how much my grandfather hates to be called Grandpa. Why should he care what I call him, anyway?
Red faced, my grandfather doesn’t respond. After a moment, Dagda continues. “The Dragons are going through a time of great change in their realm. Because of your granddaughter’s,” this word seems to stick on his tongue like a stray dog hair, “efforts, they have changed their diet from Goblin to beef.”
“They ate Goblins?” Jadyn says in surprise. I’m not sure if she’s aghast that they ate them or that they stopped. Goblins don’t have the best reputation in the Cowan realm.
Dagda inclines his head. “Yes. Once, the Goblins were little more than a food source as they had the intellect of cattle, but as they evolved, they became sentient beings. The smarter ones separated from those who had not moved up the evolutionary ladder and they struck a bargain with the Dragons. They offered up the less intelligent members of their society as food in exchange for their own freedom.”
Mohana gasps. “How barbaric.”
“They’re Dragons, not bunnies,” I grumble. I don’t know why I’m defending them, I helped bring about the end of this practice. Kallen gives me a questioning look but I ignore it.
“No, they are fire breathing monsters,” Grandpa says.
“Probably best not to share your opinion with any of them,” Kallen says dryly.<
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“But you are correct about the fire breathing,” my biological father says. “Most have a range of approximately ten feet. It is best to keep at least this much space between you and one of them.”
“Ryu, the one we met outside, has a longer range due to his side. Best not to go near him at all. And you should probably avoid telling him you are related to me,” I say.
Grandpa turns hard eyes in my direction. “Someone else you have offended beyond redemption?”
Sitting straighter in my chair, I say, “What I did was melt his insides so that he became a pile of scales on the floor while keeping him conscious enough to feel the pain before I healed him and made him good as new.” This shuts Grandpa up. Jadyn and Conor look at me with renewed respect, or fear I can’t tell which, and Mohana looks upon me with disdain. It’s mutual.
“A deed which went a long way in convincing the Dragons to discontinue their diet of sentient beings,” Kallen adds, pride in his voice.
When I turn my attention back to Dagda, I see pride on his face as well. I try not to squirm in my seat. I don’t like them being proud of me for committing such a horrific act. “Moving on,” I say.
Dagda takes his cue. “Yes, moving on. The Sasquatch and Centaurs are here under a temporary truce. Their races have been at war for as long as anyone can remember.”
“Why?” Jadyn asks. “What could beings so different have to war over?”
“The same things most wars are over,” Kallen says. “Power and land.”
“Are they from the same realm?” Conor asks.
“No,” Dagda says. “But the Sasquatch are hard on the land they occupy in their realm. The race as a whole has suffered from an extreme mutation of the tyrosinase gene. Because of this, they have very little pigment in their skin, hair and eyes. Though we may see this as a defect, this lack of pigment is prized among the Sasquatch. The less melanin in their bodies, the happier they are. To maintain this effect, they eat foods rich in flavonoids. In their systems, this further inhibits the production of melanin.”
