Storm Crossed

by Dani Harper

  Yes. He died before Fox was born.

  Then he has missed meeting an intelligent and talented son. Trahern inclined his head. Nor has he seen what a fierce and devoted mother you have become.

  Lissy willed herself not to tear up as she continued aloud. “Sometimes despite everything you try to prepare for, you get surprised anyway, and this is one of those times.” On more than one level! “So, Fox and I will adjust. It’ll be hard, but we’ll get through it. But I have other, bigger concerns.”

  “You are worried about Fox being safe,” supplied Trahern.

  “There are different kinds of safety, and many ways to harm someone,” said Lissy, feeling her way along. “I could use some reassurance that you fully understand that. For instance, Fox has needs, and it’s usually not a good idea to take him out of familiar surroundings. I don’t know where you thought you’d hold these lessons of yours, but some deep, damp wizard’s cave in the middle of nowhere is completely out of the question.”

  Magic does not require dampness. Was he teasing her? “I am quite capable of instructing your son wherever he is most comfortable, including at your home. I will defer to your judgment on the location.”

  She nodded, trying to sort her thoughts. There was one thing above all, one thing more important than everything, and she struggled to find a way to express it, even to herself. And then the right words welled up inside her, quiet but sure.

  “I told you about my son’s heart, that one of the most wonderful things about him is how kind and compassionate he is,” she began. “So I need to know that you will do nothing to change him.” I will fight for this. Lissy held Trahern’s gaze as if challenging a tiger, but there was no answering challenge in his ever-changing eyes. Only steadiness and reassurance now, as certain as if he held his hand out to her. I need to hear it from you, she persisted. Say the words. Say the words now in front of my friends. “Tell me that magic is not going to change who my son is.”

  “To change Fox would be to harm him, and I have already vowed not to do that. I will train him so that he will not become a helpless slave to his own power or a puppet to another’s desires. Instead, Fox’s magic will serve him as he truly wishes, and what he wishes will be his choice and no one else’s.” Trahern drew an ornate silver dagger from his waist and pricked his left wrist with the tip. “Permit me your hand, good lady,” he said. “Llaw chwith—the left.”

  Lissy didn’t know what was coming, but no way was she going to look afraid. She thrust her hand toward him, and his strong fingers were gentle as he turned it palm up.

  “Rwy’n addunedu ar fy mywyd.”

  As he spoke the strange syllables, he allowed nine large, dark drops of his own blood—omigod, it’s blue!—to spill upon her palm, then folded her fingers back upon it and held them in place for a long moment. “I will take my leave for now and scout our surroundings for any further dangers,” he said. “Later, you and I will agree upon a plan for Fox’s lessons.”

  He vanished from sight then, leaving Lissy still holding her hand out in front of her. I sure hope faery blood’s not a biohazard to humans! Slowly she opened her fingers, expecting a fistful of blue yuck. Instead, she discovered a curious design upon her dry palm. Its intricate curves glowed like the fire within an opal for a moment, though she felt nothing but a cool tingle. A heartbeat later, it was simply a deep sapphire pattern in her skin. “Goddammit, he tattooed me!”

  “Nay,” said Ranyon. The little ellyll’s expression was uncharacteristically solemn as he and Brooke both examined her hand. “He’s given you his very life.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s as literal as you can get. His life is in your hand if he breaks his oath,” explained Brooke. “Morgan told me it’s the most ancient and powerful contract in the faery realm.”

  “So if he screws up, I get to kill him? Come on, he’s got to know I wouldn’t do such a thing no matter how much I wanted to.” And I’d want to if he ever hurt my son. Of that much she was certain.

  Ranyon removed and replaced his baseball cap, adjusting it with both hands as if trying to rearrange the thoughts beneath it. “Lissy, dearie, ya won’t be havin’ to do a single thing. If Trahern breaks his promise to ya, he’ll simply die.”

  Shocked, she stared first at the ellyll, then back at the design on her palm.

  It was Brooke who finally broke the silence. “Yeah, I might be going out on a limb here, Lissy, but I think Fox is pretty safe with this guy.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Most rooftops in the downtown area were hot, dusty places, with strange vents and stranger posts and poles, all crisscrossed with wires. The top of Brooke’s building, however, was a lush oasis in the middle of a barren desert. Lissy passed the large greenhouse and a wall of rolling carts supporting raised garden beds. On another day, she would have been content to remain among the soothing greenery. But there was more to the rooftop beyond the sea of plants. She looked in that direction and—dammit! A moment’s inattention allowed a stray melon vine to bring her down, skinning her left elbow in the process. She sat for a moment, picking tiny bits of grit and roofing tar from the wound and catching her breath. And wasn’t that just like her life with Fox? Things would go along fine for a while, then bam!

  This whole magical thing was one of the biggest surprises she’d ever had, though. As Lissy got up and dusted off the knees of her jeans, she wished again that it could all be a mistake. No magic here, he’s just an ordinary boy. Well, as ordinary as a brilliant kid with a big heart . . . and as ordinary as the world would permit a child with Asperger’s to be. Still, those challenges seemed very small compared to what she and her son now seemed to be facing. Could the universe just cut me a break for once?

  She paused to peer over the edge of the raised skylight that illuminated Brooke’s second-floor apartment over the shop. Aidan and Fox—plus three cats and a giant grim—were currently piled together on the big couch in front of the TV. Everyone looked happy enough, even Aidan with his arm bound up in a sling. Man and boy were laughing over something . . .

  Normally, Lissy tried not to hover, but it had been damn difficult to let her son out of her sight again so soon. Yet how could she talk freely in front of him? Not about this stuff. Not yet. Hell, maybe never. She’d lingered for several minutes after Brooke and Ranyon left, and it was only the knowledge that Trahern patrolled the neighborhood and Ranyon had painstakingly reinforced the wards on the building against evil intent that permitted her to walk away at all. Even a housefly with a bad attitude couldn’t get inside now.

  For that matter, the ellyll had used his magical talents to “set the storeroom to rights,” as he called it, restoring everything from boxes of stock to furniture to the walls and floors themselves. There was no longer the slightest sign that anything had ever happened, no hint that a creature from hell had nearly destroyed the place. Yet Lissy knew that no one was going to go in there alone for a very long time . . . except perhaps Fox. He seemed completely matter-of-fact about the whole incident. “Braith said the monster was just hungry,” he had told her. “And then Trahern came in and blasted it, just like I do in my games. He didn’t get any gold coins or energy stars, though.”

  She didn’t know whether to be grateful for her son’s video games or concerned that he played way too many . . .

  As Fox and Aidan began wrestling with Braith, Lissy pulled herself away and continued to a pretty terrace of terra-cotta tile. Large clay urns burgeoning with fragrant flowers defined the space, helped by an L-shaped wall of vine-covered latticework. Somewhere a hidden fountain provided the soothing sound of tumbling water, and in the midst of it all, an enormous copper-colored umbrella shaded a glass-topped table and half a dozen comfortable chairs. Brooke already sat in one while Ranyon teetered precariously atop a stack of very old phone books. They just don’t make a booster seat that’ll suit an ellyll. Especially one that never sits still. Normally it would have brought a smile to her face. In fact, normally, all of the
m would be smiling and laughing together. But nothing felt normal to Lissy, not now. She simply took a seat and nodded at her friends across the broad table. Though she already knew the answer, “How’s Aidan doing, for real?” was all she could think of to say.

  “His arm is broken, but he’s not in any pain. Ranyon worked a charm with it.”

  “It’ll be bright as rain in a day or two,” said the ellyll, and neither Lissy nor Brooke bothered to correct the idiom.

  “And you’re absolutely sure he’s up to having Fox hang out with him?”

  “Hey, you saw it yourself. The guys have all the raw materials for male bonding—food and movies galore. Besides, I told Aidan to ask Fox how to play Minecraft.” Brooke said it lightly, though Lissy could tell her friend was as rattled as she was. Maybe more. “They’ll have a great time together.”

  Lissy forced a smile. Better than we will. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. I still don’t know how that thing got through my wards and protections—you know I’ve put safeguards on this building against the fae.” Brooke put her hand over her heart and closed her eyes for a moment, as if calming herself.

  “’Twas not yer fault,” declared Ranyon. “Yer protections are still strong. Someone dug away the salt and herbs from a basement window, is all. They even pulled all the iron nails from the frame and smudged away the ward that ya drew on the glass.”

  “Someone human?” asked Lissy, and the ellyll nodded.

  “Aye, a fae creature couldna touch it. But some could charm a scurrilous mortal to do it fer them,” he said.

  Just as Lissy tried to think if scurrilous was a real word, Brooke suddenly burst into tears.

  “It is my fault!” she said. “Ever since that horrible faery tried to kill Aidan and George, I’ve checked our perimeters every day and reinforced the spell just in case. Every day. But I was so tired this morning that I must have forgotten.” She sucked in a sobbing breath. “I screwed up, and Aidan and Fox could have been killed!”

  Lissy put her arms around her friend. “Honey, you’re pregnant. Of course you’re tired!” She got an idea. “Maybe it’s time for someone else to take over, just for a while until after you have the baby.” Sure enough, Ranyon piped up right on cue.

  “I could do that for ya! Lissy has the right of it, ya need to take care of yerself and that wee son o’ yers.”

  Brooke shot a look at him through watery lashes. “You can’t really tell what it is—”

  “Well, a’course I can! It’s a brawny boy, and he’ll be just the image of Aidan.” The ellyll looked genuinely perplexed. “Didn’t ya know?”

  She laughed a little then and leaned her head on Lissy’s shoulder. “Not yet. I was still trying to decide whether to work a spell to tell me, ask the ultrasound tech, or just be surprised. Omigosh, Aidan’s going to be over the moon about this. He’d dote on a little girl, too, you know, but he’s old school enough to be extra excited about a son.”

  “It’s definitely a guy thing,” agreed Lissy. “But about the wards here, why don’t you take Ranyon up on his offer? You know he’ll do a terrific job.”

  He puffed out his little chest beneath the bright Blue Jays shirt. “Aye, there’s nary a creature nor a mortal that’ll want to tangle with one o’ my charms.”

  Brooke frowned. “True enough. But you have to go home to Leo in Spokane Valley in a few days. How are you going to—”

  “Pfft! Distance is nothing. Ya know that yerself, sending out protections and wards to those who need them. And I’ll just be takin’ over that job, too—ya need yer rest, dearie.” Ranyon suddenly stood on his chair with his spindly hands on where his hips must be. “Where is that high-and-mighty son of Oak?” he demanded. “Shouldn’t he be attending this meeting o’ the minds?”

  Lissy rubbed her palm, the one Trahern had marked, on her jeans. There was no question that the fae’s blood vow to her had vastly improved Ranyon’s attitude. “I guess he’s still busy.” For her part, she was just as glad the fae wasn’t present. Not only did it seem unfair to question Ranyon about the past in front of a stranger, she wanted a chance to hear and digest his answers first. Especially when she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like those answers very much. “Let’s just get started.”

  “Well, all righty, then. But it seems to me, ya can’t tell a story properlike if you don’t have good food to help things along!”

  “I really don’t think—” That was as far as Lissy got before the empty table all but groaned under an inviting spread: giant latte cups piled high with foam, a steaming French press of rich coffee, and thick slices—make that slabs—of chocolate cake generously festooned with dark frosting and cherries. And there was so much more. Lissy counted three kinds of fruit tarts, a plate of at least a dozen cheeses, a tray of cold meats, a basket of buttered bread, and, last but not least, a bowl of the biggest dill pickles she’d ever seen in her life. They towered upright in a crock near the center of the table like a dwarven patch of saguaro cactuses.

  Brooke looked as stunned as Lissy. “Good goddess, Ranyon! I only asked you to bring up the snacks I left on the kitchen table.”

  “Aye, and they’re all right here with not a thing forgotten. I just filled in a bit of a gap here and there, like a proper pint of ale fer meself. And pie. And fixins for sandwiches, a’course. And everyone knows ya can’t be havin’ sandwiches without pickles!”

  “Was that bit of a gap the Grand Canyon?” asked Brooke. “How many people are you feeding?”

  “Well, all of us, a’course! I put the same on the table fer our boys downstairs.”

  Lissy shook her head. Maybe it was lack of sleep, maybe she’d finally gone insane, or maybe it was simply the tension falling away from her shoulders after the attack of the vicious cyhyraeth, but laughter abruptly burst from her lips, and soon her friends joined in. Moments later, she took her first full breath in what seemed like hours and reached for a tall iced latte. “I don’t know if you’re trying to distract me or bribe me, Ranyon. But just because the food is good, and you happen to be cute, doesn’t mean you can keep secrets from me. I’m still upset about that, you know.”

  “Me, too.” Brooke grabbed her hand and squeezed, even as she directed her words to the ellyll. “I’m not sure you realize just how serious this is.”

  “I promise ya that nothin’s been done save to protect and defend our Fox,” said Ranyon, and lifted his tankard. “We’re all of us friends first and always.”

  Tough to argue with that. Whatever the story was, at the bottom of it would no doubt be an enormous desire to help. Of course, good intentions could sometimes cause more harm than good . . . “You know darn well we’re not just friends. We’re family,” she corrected. Ranyon’s strange, woody skin dappled with flecks of color, his version of a blush. One twiggy hand shot forward to seize the biggest pickle, but not before Lissy spotted the quick swipe of his eye with the other hand. Sitting back, the ellyll made a show of getting comfortable, thoughtfully munching the big brined cuke as if trying to decide where to begin. Lissy was biting her lip by the time he finally began to speak.

  “Our Fox, ya see, was born on Samhain.”

  “He was not! His birthday is November twelfth.”

  “Mortals who still celebrate Samhain do so on Halloween, but ’twas not always so. Old Samhain falls on November twelfth, when the Seven Sisters rise.”

  “The Pleiades,” supplied Brooke. “That cluster of stars in the constellation of Taurus.”

  “I know what it is. But what do stars have to do with my son?”

  “’Tis not about the stars, Lissy dear. ’Tis the season they mark, when magic is at its most powerful. The gates between the worlds, all worlds, are open wide, and spirits roam where they will. The Wild Hunt is strongest then, too, dontcha know. Did ya not see the storm that night?”

  That night . . .

  She’d barely passed the eight-month mark when a strange thunderstorm erupted in the autumn n
ight, its black clouds smoldering with green fire and fierce lightning. A storm seemed to erupt inside her, too, and her water broke.

  Everything after that was a blur. Almost everything . . .

  “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Come to think of it, the weather was pretty weird.” During the frantic ambulance ride, it had seemed like the end of the world both within and without.

  “The Hunt was in the neighborhood, so to speak. And the Lord of the Wild Hunt paid a visit to our new little Fox, just afore the sun rose.”

  Green flame consumed the bodies of the water leapers, reducing them to their most basic elements and bearing them away in a swirl of smoke. It didn’t take away the stench, however, an unholy blend of warth piss and rotted fish. The smell would dissipate. The danger would not.

  Arms folded, Trahern waited by the sign that named the pleasing collection of tall trees and winding paths as Pioneer Park. A moment later, a small flock of barn swallows swooped out of the sky and landed along the top of the sign, all bobbing and bowing their tiny cobalt-and-russet heads. They reminded him of the blue passerines that circled the uppermost turrets of the Royal Palace. With a careful spell, he’d conscripted them to help him search for fae creatures in an ever-widening circle around Handcastings.

  The swift birds soon found the nest of venomous creatures under a small concrete bridge. Each llamhigyn y dwr carried enough poison to kill many humans, and the largest one attempted to sting Trahern before he dispatched them all with a word and burned their remains.

  He released the little swallows with a blessing and a quick glance toward a gathering of women playing with their children on the other side of the park. The mortals saw and heard nothing, of course, but the young man who had so easily spied the pwca earlier had made Trahern wary. At least nothing else has wandered here from Tir Hardd this day. But it was only a matter of time. Not only were more faery beings certain to cross to the mortal plane, they would be drawn directly to this place, to the city where Fox lived. There was no denying that his unique and powerful energy had become a magnet for all things nonhuman.