Storm Warned (The Grim Series)

by Dani Harper

  Caris knew the answer to that question. “He’s an elemental. His power is drawn from the earth, and it’s not the same as fae magic at all.” She looked at Ranyon, hoping he didn’t mind. “There are many in the Nine Realms who say that the magic of the Ellyllon is far stronger than that of the Tylwyth Teg.”

  Morgan goggled at him, but he only shrugged. “’Twas not strong enough to save my clan from betrayal and murder,” he said quietly. “And the blow of it robbed me of much of my strength. Oh, I can still make a powerful charm, dontcha know. I have all the knowledge I ever did, and I’m forever learnin’ more. But my talents are not what they once were.”

  “I’m truly sorry about your people, Ranyon.” She put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and he reached up to clasp it with his twiggy fingers. “But I think you’re the cleverest fellow I’ve ever met, and your charms and talents are truly amazing.”

  Morgan’s words had the desired effect, and a small but genuine smile returned to the little man’s face. “I do believe there was some mention made of a meal?” he asked.

  “Well, we’ve been working on it, but the windows didn’t just break, they exploded. There are glass slivers from hell on every surface in this room,” Morgan explained. “I’ve cut my finger twice trying to wipe the counter, and frankly, I’m afraid to get any food out just yet.”

  “No food!” It was Ranyon’s turn to goggle, as he clasped both hands over his stomach. “Well, we’d best be remedying that!”

  “If I may, I think we need to remedy quite a few things,” added Caris. “From what I can see, the rest of the house is the same as the kitchen or worse. We can’t have Liam coming home to such a mess. With that lump on his head, he’ll be having to rest—and not even a lazy man could relax in a house like this. I’m thinking I could start upstairs and . . .”

  Ranyon winked at her. “Not to worry, good lady. The house is as anxious to be in order as you are to tidy it up.” He scrambled up the tower he’d made on the chair, motioning to Caris to sit next to him. She did so just as he spoke a few words in a faery language so old she’d seldom heard it spoken (and her time as a grim had exposed her to countless languages both mortal and fae). A drawer in a massive oak buffet flew open, and Morgan jumped back out of the way as a variety of silver items flew to the table: teaspoons, saltshaker lids, pickle tongs, and tiny creamers. A kitchen drawer by the stove spit out several iron trivets and a cast-iron ladle.

  “What did you mean about the house?” asked Caris. “You made it sound like it was alive.”

  “Well, most houses are, dontcha know. At least, they are after enough years go by. They gain a sense of themselves, so to speak, and they don’t like to be disturbed overmuch.”

  Morgan sat down abruptly at that. “But I was planning to paint my kitchen!”

  Ranyon chuckled. “Yer dear old farmhouse won’t mind a bit of paint, good lady. She’ll be like a woman with a new dress. Same if you move the furniture, or hang a fine picture. Nay, it’s the bigger things that disturb a house’s peace. Leo’s neighbors, the ones that just moved in, barely introduced themselves to the building afore they were knocking out walls and windows, and building on a whole new wing. That poor old house has been grumbling for months over it now.”

  Caris looked around, wondering what Liam’s house thought of the three strangers sitting around the table. I hope it knows we mean well.

  While the little ellyll’s skin appeared wooden, his movements were anything but. Ranyon was quick to select a number of things from the pile, then pulled out some treasures of his own, stones and gears and wire. His long fingers were adept at fine work, and Caris watched in fascination as he rapidly assembled a growing pile of copper-wrapped kitchenware. Each was bound to some little item with a flourish—a feather, a stone, a button, even a pencil—and the wire was knotted and woven into intricate designs. Ranyon’s lips wove words over his creations, and in no time at all, he was finished.

  “They’re all quite pleasing to the eye,” she said, and Morgan agreed.

  He nodded in satisfaction. “Clean magic often is.” Scooping up all his creations, he deposited them into a large bowl that Morgan had found. “Caris, with all the heaps o’ glass everywhere, I’m thinking yer the one fer the job. Ya have the stoutest shoes of any one of us.”

  She tapped the boxy toes of her borrowed footwear together and chuckled. “I surely have the biggest shoes.”

  “Not for much longer,” said Morgan. “My truck’s out by the road. As soon as we’re done, I’ll go see if there’s a pair of my runners in there that you can use instead of those work boots. They’ll be much more comfortable for you. You know, I might have some other clothes too.”

  The ellyll cleared his throat. “When yer done with yer fashion planning,” he said, handing the bowl to Caris, “Would you be so good as to take these and place one on the sill of each and every window or any other opening ya happen to notice. Don’t miss a one, now, even if it’s not broken.” He patted her hand. “Top to bottom always works best, so make yer beginnings in the attic. It helps the magic.”

  As soon as Caris went upstairs, Morgan turned to the ellyll. “It helps the magic? Are you kidding?” she whispered fiercely. “You’re not just fixing glass, you’re charming all the entrances to the house.”

  “Aye, well, the glass will be put to rights too, so where’s the harm? And top to bottom does help with some spells, dontcha know? Ask yer friend Brooke the next time we visit her fine shop.” To Morgan’s surprise, Ranyon deposited several of the strangely wrapped charms into her palm. She could have sworn he’d put them all into the bowl. “Yer a tall lass, so could you be placing one of these o’er the top of each door that leads to the outside? Set the rest along the kitchen sills, if you please. And best to be checking the cellar fer windows as well.”

  Morgan complied as quickly as she could. Hell, if the ellyll had asked her to run around the house three times naked, she’d probably do it—she trusted him that much, and his unusual brand of magic had saved many a situation. But she had a feeling he wasn’t telling her all he knew. When she returned she laid a hand gently over Ranyon’s twiggy fingers. “Are we still in danger?” she whispered. “I’ve never heard of an anghenfil. You said it wasn’t mortal or fae, so what the hell is it?”

  “Anghenfilod are shadow creatures, beasts of the Inbetween.”

  “The what?”

  She must have looked as blank as she felt because Ranyon patted her hand as if she were a child and started over. “D’ya know how Lurien brings his Wild Hunt all the way from Wales to here, or how Gwenhidw comes to pay you a visit, or how any of the Tylwyth Teg travel over the Wide Waters to this place?”

  Morgan nodded. “Sure, they use what they call a way. It’s some kind of magical shortcut or a door between places, right? Sort of like being in Los Angeles, and on the other side of the door is New York. Jay and Brooke got into a big discussion one night, and they think the ways are really interdimensional gateways or space-time wormholes.”

  “Worse things than worms dwell in the Inbetween, good lady.”

  She was about to explain that there were no actual worms involved, but the solemn expression on his face stopped her. In fact, his uncharacteristic seriousness was more than a little scary. “Ranyon, are you saying that some kind of creatures actually live inside the ways?”

  “Aye, and not just Anghenfilod,” he continued. “There are as many kinds of monsters in the Inbetween as there are fae in the Nine Realms. Maybe more.”

  Of course there are. The more things Morgan learned about the faery realm, the more it sounded like a bad sci-fi movie that she couldn’t walk out of. I don’t even get popcorn . . .

  “Most of the ways are very small.” The ellyll held up a long, twiggy finger. “One person can come and go. Or one grim, but few will hold more than that. ’Tis how I made my own way here, dontcha know.”

  �
�You had to go through a way?”

  “Aye, and a narrow one it was. If I had ta be doin’ it again, I’d be choosin’ an airplane. It must be a brammer of a way to travel—ya don’t have to use a bit o’ magic!”

  There was no point explaining that modern air travel was anything but a wondrous experience. Instead she asked, “Can anyone go through a way?”

  He shook his head. “Only if they have enough power to do so. Even a small way requires a great deal of magic in order to use it. Ya must open the way, and hold it open long enough to pass through, but ya must also repel the creatures that live there.”

  That doesn’t sound good. “What happens if you don’t?”

  “Then you won’t be returning, good lady. The creatures of the Inbetween feast upon magic, which is why they devour travelers like the Fair Ones whenever they can.”

  “But . . . But Queen Gwenhidw . . . and Lurien. They both travel here a lot!”

  “And they command a great deal of power, dontcha know. Enough to use the Great Way that King Arthfael discovered, a way that leads directly from the Nine Realms to Tir Hardd. The Lord of the Wild Hunt alone has enough magic that all who follow him can travel it freely. ’Tis a fine highway I’m told, wide enough that five or six can ride abreast. A’course, there’s a bit of a drawback,” he said, and rearranged his Blue Jays cap on his head. “The monsters in it are bigger too.”

  Of course they are . . . Morgan rubbed her head as if trying to work Ranyon’s words into her brain. Where the hell was Jay when she needed him? This interdimensional travel stuff was definitely his department.

  “The Great Way is where the Anghenfilod live,” continued the ellyll. “’Tis the only place big enough to hold them. An anghenfil is a great huge shapeless beast, like a soulless shadow, and blacker than anything in yer mortal world. They exist nowhere else—and thank all the stars fer that—and never have they been known to leave.”

  “Um, wasn’t there one outside just now?”

  Ranyon folded his arms. “Well, now, some fool’s been stirrin’ the pot, now hasn’t he?”

  “Maelgwn.”

  “Aye, it’s his fault fer certain, that idiot prince and his private band of troublemakers, that an anghenfil came here. It’s not likely Maelgwn would have enough magic of his own to open up the Way, mind ya, but all he’d need is a bwgan stone or two to magnify whate’er power he’s got.”

  “I thought those stones were pretty darn rare.” Her husband, Rhys, had one, a big one. He’d been forced to battle a monstrous bwgan that the Tylwyth Teg had sent to kill him, and had pried the dark glittering stone from the skull of the creature after slaying it. Morgan couldn’t help but shiver as she thought of the horrible, toothy skeleton that was buried somewhere on their farm . . . Archeologists in some distant future are going to have a field day with that thing.

  “As a member of the royal family, Maelgwn likely was given a bwgan stone of his own. If not, he knows where to find a few of the cursed things. One way or t’other, he’s opened the Way.” Ranyon looked thoughtful for a moment. “If he was too stupid to close it properly, one of the monsters might have trailed him, hoping to make a meal of a grim or two. The prince had at least half a hundred of the great black dogs with him when he ran his hunt through Liam’s farm.”

  “Grims? They like to eat grims? You didn’t tell me that part!”

  “I told ya, they’ll eat anything fae, even warths and bwganod and the Fair Ones themselves.”

  “And ellylls like you?”

  He slapped a twiggy hand over his heart as if it pained him. “I keep tellin’ ya, ’tis one ellyll, and two ellyllon!”

  “Sorry. I do try to remember, but the language still confuses me.”

  “Hmpf. But as fer yer question, no. ’Tis as Caris said: elementals have an older, deeper magic from the earth itself, dontcha know, and ’tis fair to say”—he held up a narrow fist—“it doesn’t agree with the likes of Anghenfilod.”

  Just as Morgan was starting to relax a little, he added: “The creatures of the Inbetween do seem particular fond o’ death dogs, though. I don’t think one’s been eaten in the past hundred years—they’re far too quick to be caught as a rule—but the Anghenfilod aren’t about to give up the notion.”

  “But Caris was a grim! Surely, she can’t be safe here? And what about my husband? And Aidan?”

  “Now that’s a different story, dontcha know. Neither of us detected Caris, did we? If it weren’t for the silver collar we found, we’d never have known what she used to be.”

  Morgan wasn’t convinced. “What about smell? Or—or maybe the color of her aura? Is there anything to give her away, anything at all that you or I might not notice, but one of these monsters would?”

  The little ellyll shook his head. “The only thing that could detect her now is another grim. Remember when Rhys and Aidan met? They knew each other’s secret the moment they shook hands. But an anghenfil wouldn’t be interested in them or in Caris, ’cause none of them are grims anymore. They’re human.” He shrugged. “No magic in ’em. And it’s only magic the beasts are after.”

  Morgan wanted that in writing. The whole story just didn’t fit in with any of the faery stories she’d read as a child—although she had to admit, Monsters of the Inbetween hadn’t exactly been on her bookshelf. “Just for my own sanity, Ranyon, tell me again that they don’t eat humans. Please?”

  “Anghenfilod can’t eat anything that belongs to the mortal plane,” he said. “Now meself, on the other hand, I’m more than fond of the food here. And I’m fearful if that meal doesn’t happen along soon, I’ll be lying on the floor, too weak from hunger to move so much as a finger.”

  Ranyon proceeded to mug his most pathetic expression, complete with big sad eyes and quivering bottom lip, until Morgan couldn’t help but roll her own eyes.

  “I am so not letting you watch Shrek anymore,” she said. “And we’re definitely not done with this conversation. What I’m hearing is that we have a bunch of very large monsters running around that won’t eat humans but might kill them anyway if they get too close. Am I right? Is that why you’re charming the house?”

  “No fae creature has come near yer own home uninvited lately,” said the ellyll. “And yer the dearest of friends with the queen herself. Yet you and yer good man still take plenty o’ precautions just the same.”

  It was true. If someone melted down all the iron horseshoes and nails that studded every roofline, every doorway, and every fencepost of the Celtic Renaissance Training Center, they could probably make a cauldron the size of a ten-person hot tub. Rhys added more iron charms all the time and regularly salted the fence lines and gateways for good measure. As much as she’d like to believe they were finished with the darker forces of the faery realm, she knew better. There’s never going to be an end to it. They’re going to come back, sooner or later. “We’re just trying to be prepared.”

  “Aye. And I’m preparin’ too.” The ellyll sighed deeply. “Because it’s worrying me greatly that the anghenfil might not be alone. Where there’s one, there’s usually many, dontcha know. And if they’re still here, then maybe Maelgwn hasn’t left at all. Otherwise, they would have followed him back into the Inbetween.”

  “Now wait just a minute! I thought the hunt had to return to the Nine Realms before dawn. It’s a rule!”

  “The true Hunt, the Wild Hunt led by Lurien himself, must return to the kingdom at the end of the night. Private hunts are expected to return as well. And if fer some reason they cannot make the trip in time, they must camp where’er they be until the night comes round again. That’s only because it’s written in the fae law, mind ya, not a’cause of any necessity. They’re not like umpires that sparkle in the sun, dontcha know.”

  “Vampires. And in most books, they don’t sparkle—they burn up.”

  “Aye, well, a hunt doesn’t do either one of those things
.”

  “Then why have a law?”

  Ranyon looked aghast. “Good lady, the law was made to allow respite for the mortal realm during the sunlight hours. ’Tis not fair to humans for the fae to trouble them all the time.”

  She wasn’t sure how fair it was to have the Fair Ones troubling them at all. Just the thought of the Wild Hunt roaming freely 24-7 made her feel ill. “Well, then, what about a rogue hunt, like Maelgwn’s?”

  The ellyll sighed again. “They’ll do as they please, now won’t they? Until someone from the realm stops them. But I imagine the prince has prepared for that.”

  Morgan studied Ranyon’s face carefully, and what she saw there astonished her. “You think Maelgwn left the Great Way open at this end on purpose! But—but he’s Tylwyth Teg, isn’t he? You just told me that these creatures eat his kind.”

  “That they do. And he might be counting on that very thing. Caris did say that the prince wanted Tir Hardd for his very own. But he’s far from strong enough to take it and keep it by himself.”

  It didn’t take much to put it together, but it was nearly overwhelming to say out loud. Her voice came out as a whisper. “What if—what if he’s formed an alliance with the residents of the Inbetween?”

  Ranyon’s expression said it all.

  TWELVE

  Despite her relief at being indoors, away from whatever might be skulking about and watching them, Caris felt like an intruder herself to be wandering through Liam’s home without him. And that feeling was amplified by Ranyon’s revelation about the house being alive in some strange way. Was it aware of only itself, or was it aware of her as well? Did it understand her intentions? Her curiosity was huge about other, more basic things, too—whatever did Liam do here in such an enormous space all by himself? It would take two of her father’s stone farmhouses to fill it, and there’d be room left over. The attic alone, filled with dusty boxes and old furniture, would shelter a fair-sized family.