by Amy Pennza
But there were also stories that he still actively recruited followers. The high Fae had agreed to discourage worship years ago, but Crom Cruach apparently hadn’t received the memo.
And he was too powerful for any Fae to stand up to him. The ancient ones could have taken him on if they banded together, but Fae didn’t typically cooperate that way. They were very much into self-preservation. It was probably one of the reasons they relied on berserkers to do their dirty work for them.
“What are you thinking?” Hauk asked, pulling me from my musings.
Good question. I didn’t know what to think—particularly about him.
“I’m not like my father,” he said, correctly guessing the direction my mind had been headed. “It’s one of the reasons he hates me so much.”
Sympathy and relief washed over me like a balm. I knew all about evil fathers. But I’d been fortunate in that berserker society revered Harald. Outsiders only cared about his kill count and prowess in battle. They weren’t interested in his parenting style.
Still, I’d been shamed for being a nymph’s daughter. I could understand why Hauk didn’t advertise his family connections.
I stood. He put a hand under my elbow and steadied me. We faced each other in the still, quiet field.
“I know you’re not like him,” I said. “It hurts to be judged just because of who your parents are.”
Understanding lit his gaze. He smoothed a tangled curl that had fallen over my shoulder. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Elin.”
He’d lowered his hand, but the heat from his fingers lingered on my skin.
And that couldn’t happen. I couldn’t let myself want him. Not again.
I stepped back and cleared my throat. “So, why are we in Faerie?”
His expression was startled, but only for a second. He recovered so quickly, I almost wondered if I’d imagined it. “Ah, I need to know where to find Radegast.”
“You don’t know where he is?”
His smile held no humor. “If I did, you can bet I wouldn’t be here. My father will know where he is.” His smile turned grim. “Whether he’ll tell me is a different story.”
I turned in a slow circle. “Is he . . . around somewhere? Do we summon him?” Maybe he was like Asher, and we had to ask a tree or something.
Hauk walked to where my duffel lay on its side. He picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. “Have you been to Faerie before?”
“Just a few times as a kid. My uncle had some centaur friends who lived in a big forest. He used to sell them weed.”
Hauk raised his eyebrows. “Your uncle sounds interesting.”
“You have no idea.”
“Well, finding things in Underhill is a bit different than finding them in the human world. It’s more about intention than anything else.”
I frowned. “I understood that about as much as I understand algebra.”
He laughed. “It’s not as hard as it sounds.” He held out his hand. “Here, I’ll show you.”
Reluctance gnawed at me. Physical touching breached our arrangement, right? But these were special circumstances. I put my hand in his.
“Okay, now walk with me.” He pulled me forward, my duffel tucked under his arm.
“That’s it?”
“Mmhmm. Just keep looking ahead.”
We advanced forward, our boots soundless in the lush grass. The sky hadn’t darkened since we arrived—it was the same hazy purple color. Warm air brushed my skin like a caress.
“I should mention,” he said, “it’s very important not to eat anything while you’re here.”
Memories of Asher telling me the same thing swirled in my mind. “And don’t accept any gifts, either, right?”
“Exactly. Being half-breeds, you and I should usually be immune from Fae tricks, but my father’s realm is unpredictable, to say the least.”
Unpredictable, maybe, but it was also beautiful. It was hard to believe a god of death lived in such a peaceful place. I drew in a deep breath, which seemed to clear my head. I didn’t feel tired, either, despite the long day and night at the castle.
I was so engrossed in my overall sense of well-being, I didn’t immediately notice the house.
Or maybe it just appeared. One second, the field ahead of us was a gently rolling sea of grass. The next, a Georgian mansion sat on the horizon.
“Is that—”
“Yes,” Hauk said, an edge in his voice.
Three stories and surrounded by precise box hedges cut into geometrical patterns, the mansion rose from the ground like a perfect cube of red brick. Chimneys stood at the four corners, and neat rows of windows marched along the front. It was a dream home, but . . .
An unsettled feeling drifted down my spine.
It was a perfect house, so why did it creep me out?
Then it hit me. It’s too perfect.
In the real world, bricks were weathered. Shingles got stained by rain or faded by the sun. Windows had streaks. But this mansion was pristine—a Barbie house on a spread of grass that looked like it had been trimmed with scissors.
High-pitched feminine laughter echoed from the hedges.
I tensed, but Hauk squeezed my hand. “It’s okay. Just stick with me. Remember, you’re Fae, too.”
Not like this. Not like he was. My family members danced around trees and tended flowers.
The laughter sounded again, and a woman peeked her head over a tall hedge. I got a glimpse of yellow hair and a dark blue feather before she dropped out of sight.
“Steady,” Hauk said, his accent more pronounced than usual.
More laughter. I clenched my jaw. The sound was jarring, like someone imitating what they thought a laugh should sound like.
We reached a walkway—or maybe one just showed up. Suddenly, there was fine gravel under our boots. It led to a white front door adorned with a shiny brass knocker in the shape of a sneering cherub.
A woman strolled out from one of the hedges. Her hair was the color of a tennis ball and swept up her head in a mass that seemed to defy gravity. A large blue feather stuck out from one side. The rich color matched her dress, which looked like something Marie Antoinette would have worn. Ruffles spilled down the front of a stiff skirt shaped like a bell. More ruffles decorated the edge of the parasol she carried over one shoulder.
“Ah, a dryad!” she exclaimed, walking toward us. Her beautiful face blossomed into a warm, inviting smile. “What a treat.”
I probably should have ignored her, but something about her drew me. Like the house, she was . . . off. Perfect, but painfully so. I met her gaze as we walked toward the door.
She stopped and made a low curtsy. Her corset gaped away from her chest, revealing impressive cleavage and rouged nipples. “Lord Hauk, it’s been an age.” When she straightened, her face changed. The shift was abrupt, like an out of order frame in a movie reel. Her expression was serene—and then it wasn’t. For the briefest second, something vicious and feral flashed in her face. I got the impression of bared fangs and far too many teeth.
Hauk gave my hand a squeeze.
I glanced at him. Had he noticed it, too? Maybe he could see through her glamour all the time. I suppressed a shudder.
“Morgana,” he said, offering her a formal bow. “Is he accepting visitors?”
She tipped her head to the side, making the feather curl against her cheek. A beauty patch near her mouth lifted as she smiled. “If it was just you, I’d have to say no.” She drifted forward, her emerald gaze on me.
The color sent shock waves through me. My mother had eyes like that. Even as I thought it, her face changed again. In the space of a breath, her face became my mother’s.
Then a cool hand cupped my cheek. “But since you’ve brought one so lovely,” she said, standing in front of me now, “I think he’ll make an exception.”
I recoiled, jerking my face from her touch.
She withdrew her hand, then gave Hauk a cheeky look, her face back to normal. �
�Oh, do tell me you’ll let me play with this one.” A thick yellow curl slipped over her shoulder.
“Sorry, Morgana.” Hauk placed his free hand over mine and tucked me more firmly against his side. “We’re working. No time for play.”
She made her lips into a pout. “Boring berserkers. Big, bad, boring berserkers.”
Hauk was silent, apparently unmoved by her alliteration.
The pout disappeared, and her manner became irritated. She swept a hand toward the door. “Well go on, then. Don’t keep him waiting.”
He gave her another bow, then moved us up the steps. As we gained the top, the white door swung open of its own accord.
“That’s not creepy at all,” I said under my breath. I looked back to see if Morgana was following us.
She was gone.
Even if she’d sprinted—which was doubtful in that dress—there was no way she could have moved that fast.
I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Hauk . . .”
“I know,” he murmured. “Don’t worry about it. Focus on what’s in front of you. Don’t get distracted.”
A shiver lifted the hairs on my nape. He made a good point. Predators often hunted in packs—and they used lower ranking members to stage little attacks on their prey’s flanks. Eventually, the target got exhausted and anxious.
And that’s when the real threat showed up.
The inside of the mansion was just as immaculate as the outside. A black-and-white-checkered floor stretched in front of us.
And stretched was the right word. We stood in what might have been a foyer, except it seemed to go on forever. It extended so far in front of us, the sides narrowed to a point in the distance.
“Intention,” Hauk said, patting my hand. “Let’s keep moving.”
As we had in the grass outside, we continued walking forward. He still carried my duffel. I thought about telling him to put it down but discarded the thought almost as soon as I had it. Leaving personal belongings unattended in this place—where anyone might happen upon them—was probably a bad idea.
Besides, my mother’s mirror was in there. I didn’t want someone like Morgana getting her hands on it.
This time, we seemed to walk for hours. My heels burned inside my boots, and a trickle of sweat snaked down my back. I hadn’t eaten since lunch on the Dragon Tower earlier in the day.
Or was it yesterday?
So much had happened, I couldn’t keep track anymore. And gods knew how time worked in this place. Faerie could be weird that way. There were dozens of tales of humans who had wandered into Underhill by some stroke of misfortune. The lucky ones came upon a benevolent Fae who led them out rather than killing them on sight. But escaping was sometimes worse. Time passed differently in Faerie, and it didn’t follow any particular rules. A few seconds could be centuries in human time. Or it could be days. Or a month.
Just when I was ready to tell Hauk we should give up, noise to my left made me turn.
Enormous gilt doors stood ajar. Through them, a man sat at a desk, his head bent over a document as he wrote with a quill. The scratching sound was what I’d heard through the door.
Hauk stopped. Voice grim, he said, “Whatever happens, don’t leave my side.”
I was too nervous to speak, so I nodded.
Arm still linked through mine, he escorted me to the doors and pushed one open so we could squeeze through.
The room was clearly a study—the kind used by noblemen in past centuries. The furniture was ornate, with delicate legs and carved decorations. Behind the desk, French doors led to a wide terrace. Sunlight poured through the glass, which was odd since it had been twilight when we entered the house.
The man spoke without looking up. “I know why you’re here, and I’m afraid I can’t help you.” His accent was Irish yet not Irish. Like Asher’s, it held something far older. The cadence was almost musical.
Hauk moved us forward until we stood a few steps from the desk.
“Can’t or won’t?” he asked.
The man threw down his quill and stood.
I caught my breath—and realized I was truly seeing him for the first time. Through glamour or some trick, he’d made himself the least interesting thing in the room.
But not now.
Now, it was impossible to look away. Well over six feet tall, he was Disney prince perfect. Blond hair fell over a broad forehead, and his chiseled jaw held just enough golden stubble to stop him from being too pretty.
And that was just his face.
Black pants hugged powerful thighs that led to knee-high riding boots. His white shirt was unbuttoned, exposing a smooth, tan chest. The hollow of his throat was curiously sensual—a gentle dip that moved as he spoke.
Wait, he’s speaking?
I forced my gaze from his throat. As I did, it was like someone flipped a switch, restoring the sound in the room.
“—and you made your choice a long time ago.”
Beside me, Hauk stiffened. “It’s hardly fair to deny me help when you’re the one who cursed me in the first place.”
The man smirked. “Fair. You sound like a human.” He looked at me. “Now, here’s one who understands all too well that life isn’t fair.”
Time stopped. Or maybe it just no longer mattered. Nothing did, really, because the most amazing man was looking at me like I was the only woman in the world.
“You could be, you know,” he said.
And just like that, we were on the terrace.
Alone.
Panic flooded me. I spun around. Hauk was gone, the room empty.
“Don’t worry about him.”
I turned, my heart in my throat.
Crom Cruach—because it couldn’t be anyone else—stood on the edge of the terrace. Except it wasn’t a terrace any longer. It was a balcony. The genteel decorations were gone, replaced with primitive-looking stone.
He was different, too. His hair was longer and tied back from his head with a strip of leather. Instead of riding pants, he wore red armor the color of blood. I looked closer.
Yep, that was real blood.
His blue eyes found mine, and it was like someone punched me in the gut. His resemblance to Hauk was uncanny.
“Actually,” he said, “Hauk resembles me.”
I swallowed. “You can read my mind.”
He inclined his head. “Of course. That’s something you’re going to need to work on if you have any hope of defeating Radegast.”
“I thought you said you can’t help us.” Not that I knew what kind of help Hauk needed.
Crom sighed. The movement made his armor glisten. Bile rose in my throat, and I swallowed again.
“Come,” he said, extending a gauntleted hand. “I want to show you something.”
I didn’t move. “Where’s Hauk?”
He frowned. For the briefest moment, I got a glimpse of why it would be very stupid to cross him. His whole face seemed to darken, and the deep blue eyes went empty and black.
Then his expression cleared, and he waved me forward. “Come, come, I’m not going to harm you.”
My feet wanted to stay put, but I forced myself to approach him. His gauntlet melted away as I put my hand in his.
He pulled me gently to the balcony’s railing, then braced his hands on the stone.
I looked over the edge, and my stomach dropped. We had to be hundreds of feet in the air. Far below, a battle raged. Everywhere I looked, men in armor clashed. Humans and Mythicals scattered the field.
That meant the scene had to be a memory. It had been thousands of years since men and Mythicals lived openly alongside each other. They fought as one now, centaurs and Fae, humans in conical helmets and leather armor. Giants strode through the mix, swinging axes the size of boulders. Berserkers sliced their way through the melee, lightning licking over their broadswords. Wizards in long robes cupped balls of light in their hands, then hurled them at the enemy.
Horses galloped around the edges, their riders carrying pen
nants that snapped in the wind. The ground underfoot ran red. Men screamed. Metal clanged. The thick, coppery scent of blood reached my nose.
“Exquisite, isn’t it?” Crom looked out at the field, his expression almost lustful. He closed his eyes and inhaled. “All that life in the air.”
“It looks like death to me.”
He opened his eyes and gave me a patient look. “Ah, Elin, don’t you see? It’s one and the same.”
I held my tongue. It didn’t seem like a good idea to argue with a guy wearing blood armor.
“You don’t like the battle?” His tone was polite, as if we were discussing our favorite foods or the types of television shows we liked to watch.
Not that he even knew what TV was.
He tsked. “You make assumptions. That’s dangerous.”
Shit. I’d forgotten about the mind reading. “Sorry.”
He waved it off. “I’m actually quite interested in television. Video games, specifically.” He smiled, looking more like Hauk than ever. “I’ve experienced something of a renaissance thanks to video games. It turns out I’m a really popular character. Humans do love a villain.” He turned and leaned against the railing. “Did you know some of these young people will spend all day gaming? I mean, hours and hours. They worship the stuff. I get more juice from them than a whole village of druids.” His tone turned bemused. “It really makes you wonder about the state of parenting today.”
I almost choked. He’d stripped his own son of immortality, and he had thoughts on modern parenting?
“I see Hauk’s been filling your head with tales,” he said.
“It seems kind of cruel to curse your own kid, don’t you think?”
Crom shrugged, and his voice became wistful. “He’s an ungrateful child—a trait all my children seem to share, unfortunately.”
Hauk had siblings? Although, it made sense. Crom was thousands of years old. And he had a habit of kidnapping wives.
“Now I know you’ve been fed a line of bullshit. Sigrid came here of her own free will.” He shuddered—an emotion that seemed genuine. “Anyone’s who ever met that female knows she’s as stubborn as a pixie. It’s not my fault she wouldn’t be reasonable during the divorce negotiations.”
