“At a hefty price,” I said.
The goddess looked down, then back up. “Yes. I wish to assure you that there will be no further repercussions. The men who were slain or wounded . . . all fatalities and injuries will be reported as the result of a covert military operation.” Another faint, rueful smile. “The lawyer Dufreyne spoke the truth. They signed away many rights.”
“I bet.”
“If others . . .” Persephone paused. “If others are found to have perished at the hands of the Wild Hunt, contact Mr. Dufreyne. He will arrange for their retrieval.”
Huh, so she was keeping Dufreyne in her service. Maybe it wasn’t her decision, since Dufreyne was on loan from Hades. I wondered if he’d find it trickier to transport dead mercenaries and military-grade weaponry without his powers of persuasion. I hoped so.
Then again, he did have a goddess in his corner. “Okay.”
Persephone gazed around the dunes. “It is a beautiful place. I am sorry I thought to despoil it.”
“Yeah, me, too,” I said.
“I will donate it back to the city of Pemkowet,” she said. “With a stipulation that it may never be sold without the Norse Hel’s approval. I hope that may help make amends.”
I didn’t say anything.
The goddess sighed, a sound like the summer wind rustling through leaves in an orchard. She handed me my pillowcase and turned to go. “Farewell.”
“Wait,” I said. Persephone glanced back at me. “Look . . . what you said about wanting your own demesne, about never having felt so alive . . . I understand it. You got a raw deal. You’ve had a raw deal for millennia. For six months out of every year, you’ve felt helpless and powerless. I’ve felt that way for months. I’m pretty sure an eternity of it would have driven me crazy, too.”
“And yet you relinquished the power you claimed today,” she murmured. “You relinquished it willingly.”
“It wasn’t easy,” I said honestly. “Even with the fate of the world at stake.”
“I am grateful for your understanding.” The goddess Persephone gazed at me, her eyes filled with sunlight and green growing things. “The Norse Hel is fortunate to have you, pretty Daisy,” she said. “I will remember this. When I return to my husband’s demesne, I will spend my season of freedom seeking companions such as you, loyal and true of heart. Mayhap it will ease my path when the cold months of autumn and my return to the underworld come.”
My throat tightened a little. “Good luck with that, my lady.”
Persephone inclined her head. “Thank you.”
With that she left, taking the summer’s warmth and the scent of sun-warmed fruit with her.
Lurine and I watched her go, the armored SUV vanishing in the distance. In the basin below us, the duegar set fire to Garm’s pyre, and smoke billowed into the sky. Almost all the other eldritch had departed. Only the lone surviving troll sat motionless beneath Yggdrasil II’s shadow, gazing at the flames.
“You’re awfully quiet,” I said to Lurine.
“Oh, that silly little bitch Persephone got me feeling sorry for her.” Lurine put an arm around my shoulders and gave me an affectionate squeeze. “But she’s right, cupcake. Hel’s lucky to have you.”
“Barely,” I said. “It was a near thing. And what I said to Persephone . . . I meant it.” I shuddered. “It was hard.”
“I know, baby girl. I know it was. But you did it.” Lurine gave me another squeeze, then released me. “Let’s go home.”
Fifty-six
The next day, I reported to Chief Bryant.
In addition to the casualties on the battlefield, three mercenaries—and seven head of cattle—had been found dead, run ragged until their hearts stopped. At least there were no human civilian casualties. For once, people had heeded my advice and stayed indoors, avoiding the Wild Hunt.
“I don’t quite know what I’m supposed to do about this, Daisy,” the chief said when I’d finished, drumming his thick fingers on his desk. “How do I even begin to investigate?”
“With all due respect, sir, I don’t think you do,” I said quietly. “These weren’t homicides. They were casualties of war.”
Chief Bryant regarded me. “I’m not sure the law appreciates that distinction.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what else to tell you, sir.”
In the end, he let it go.
I don’t think it was easy for him, and I’m pretty sure it involved a call from the private security company that Persephone had contracted. I felt guilty knowing that the families of the men who’d died would never know the truth; but then again, maybe it was better that they didn’t. Especially the men who died in terror and exhaustion beneath the onslaught of the Wild Hunt.
It’s hard to say.
One thing was for sure—those deaths were on my head, and I knew it. I’d done my best to prevent this war from happening, but I’d given the Oak King the go-ahead to summon the Wild Hunt. And if I had it to do over again, I’d make the same decision. Those mercenaries had been ruthless and efficient. If the Wild Hunt hadn’t thrown them into chaos at the outset, the battle might have been over before it began.
And there was always that chance that the entirety of existence would have unraveled if they hadn’t. So yeah, I was willing to bear that burden.
The mood in town was one of cautious relief. After our debriefing, the chief released a statement announcing that all paranormal hostilities in Pemkowet had ceased and that Persephone had had a change of heart and decided to donate the property back to the city.
Of course there were rumors and gossip—and the issue of whether or not to appeal the settlement was renewed—but for the most part, everyone was glad to have things back to normal.
Well, as normal as they ever got in Pemkowet.
Although that wasn’t entirely true. Word got out about a convoy of Fairfaxes and Outcast converging on Doc Howard’s clinic after the battle. Between that, Cody’s challenge to Persephone at the town meeting, and generations’ worth of mysterious wolf howls in the wilderness, enough people finally put two and two together that the Fairfax clan was officially outed.
It went over surprisingly well. Despite their clannish ways, the Fairfaxes were well liked, considered to be solid citizens and good neighbors, so if they were werewolves, werewolves must be okay.
And of course everything had changed for the Outcast.
I had dinner with Stefan at the Market Bistro a few days after the epic battle. It felt strange to sit across from an ordinary—well, not ordinary, a formerly immortal Bohemian knight was never going to be ordinary—mortal man instead of a supernatural predator. Strange to know that Stefan could no longer read my emotions like a book, strange not to be able to gauge the extent of his hunger in the waxing and waning of his pupils.
Hell, speaking of hunger, it was even strange to see him eating and drinking with genuine relish.
Stefan even looked different. The pale sheen of otherness was gone from his skin. He looked younger and more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, laughing at my account of how peeved the vampires at the House of Shadows, especially Bethany Cassopolis, were to have missed the entire battle.
“So how is it?” I asked him when we were lingering over after-dinner drinks. “Being mortal again?”
“It is difficult to put into words,” Stefan said slowly. “Every day, I feel as though I am discovering the world anew.”
“And that’s a good thing, right?” I asked.
“For the most part, yes.” He inclined his head. “I regret that I can no longer provide solace to those in need, such as the residents of the Open Hearth home, but to be free of the endless hunger . . .” Stefan took a deep breath and released it. “It is as though a great weight has been lifted from my soul.” His expression turned grave. “Forgive me for not trusting you atop the dune, Daisy. I was wrong to attempt to stop you.”
Yeah, we hadn’t talked about that yet.
I shook my head. “No, you were right. You
didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“You did, though,” he said.
“Not until I saw your face,” I said. “That’s when I understood. If you hadn’t tried to stop me . . . I don’t know.”
Stefan’s brows rose. “If you had not yet thought to attempt to bargain with God, why did you begin the ritual?”
“The Norn told me to trust my heart,” I murmured. “And all my heart was telling me was that I had to stop what was happening.”
We sat in silence with that for a moment. I thought about the fact that now that Stefan was mortal, we could actually have a normal relationship. I could fall asleep in his arms. We could raise a family. We could grow old together.
It felt strange to think that, too.
I didn’t have the chance to think it for long.
“There is something difficult I wish to say to you, Daisy,” Stefan said in a somber tone. “You have been an unexpected delight in my life, and I will always cherish those memories, as I will always be grateful to you for restoring my mortality. But I think the time has come for us to part ways.”
“What?” I stared at him. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“You’re not truly in love with me, Daisy,” Stefan said gently. “Nor I with you. How long do you think it would take us to discover that this violent attraction we have felt no longer exists now that I am free from the curse of being Outcast? How much our passion was fueled by danger?”
“That’s not fair!” I protested. “Stefan, you have to give us a chance! At least we have one now.”
“And then there is the matter of the wolf,” he continued.
“My feelings for Cody—”
“I know what you feel for Cody,” Stefan interrupted me. “And I know what he feels for you. Atop the dune, he did not hesitate. Against all reason, he trusted you.” He rubbed his shoulder. “I bear the mark of his teeth in my flesh as a reminder,” he said wryly. “I am quite sure that wolf is in love with you.”
I was silent.
Stefan swirled the port in his glass. “You know I am right, Daisy.”
“It doesn’t change anything,” I murmured. “I’ll never be a suitable mate.”
“I think you may find that the wolf is ready to make that determination for himself,” he said. “You should go to him.”
I gazed at Stefan. “You seem awfully sure about this.”
He smiled a little. “I am.”
“What about you?” I asked. “What will you do with your life?”
“Oh, I plan to travel.” He raised his glass and sipped his port. “For all that I have lived in this world for centuries, there is so much of it I have not seen, having been tied to places with an underworld. I would see the rest of it. And I would return to places I have been to reunite with old friends. Those of us who have been Outcast for so long may help each other learn to live in this new world.”
“So you’d just totally abandon the life you’ve built here in Pemkowet?” I said. “Forever?”
Stefan hesitated. “I cannot say. That life has changed. But a piece of my heart will always reside here,” he said. “And a part of you will always reside in my heart.”
So there you have it.
That was that.
I hashed it out with Jen the next night over pizza and beer, after making her promise that no matter what, the evening wouldn’t end in drunken texting.
“I can’t believe you’re still holding that against me,” Jen complained. “Okay, so how do you feel about Cody? Is the hot ex-ghoul right? Are you in love with him?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I mean . . . Cody confuses me. He annoys me. That whole back-and-forth, dithering I-want-you-but-I-can’t-have-you business is seriously annoying.”
“Yes, it was,” Jen agreed. “But what if he really is ready to choose you over his clan?”
“It’s not like he’s said so,” I pointed out.
Jen shrugged. “He’s recovering from a gunshot wound, girlfriend. Cut him some slack. Also, as far as Cody knows, you’re still with Stefan. Maybe he’s honoring the Bro Code.”
“Maybe he should have tried to fight for me,” I countered.
“Maybe that’s exactly what he was doing when he charged through a line of heavily armed mercenary soldiers to take a bite out of the hot ex-ghoul so you could go ahead and very nearly bring the end-time upon us,” Jen retorted.
She had a point.
So I paid a visit to Cody the next day.
Cody was convalescing at home, and he greeted me at the door in a pair of faded jeans and a threadbare flannel shirt, his face brightening at the sight of me. “Hey, Daise! Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I felt awkward. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Good.” Hoisting his shirt, Cody showed me the white bandages wrapped around his torso. “My sister-in-law Jeanne changed the dressing this morning. She says it’s healing cleanly. Can you come in for a minute?”
“Sure.” I followed him into the house.
“Can I get you anything? Beer? Glass of water?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
Cody padded into his living room on bare feet, turning off the football game on the television. “Sorry, it’s a bit messy in here,” he apologized, folding the hideous orange and brown crocheted blanket that lay crumpled on the couch, then straightening a stack of DVD cases sprawled across the steamer trunk that served as a table. “I’ve just been holed up watching TV and videos.”
“That’s okay.” I sat on the couch. “You’re entitled. Not the Saw movies, I hope?”
He grinned. “No. God, no. Once was enough. But I watched the whole Fast & Furious franchise.”
“Figures,” I said.
Cody eased himself onto the couch beside me. “Don’t knock them until you’ve tried them, Pixy Stix.”
“Cody . . .” I hesitated. “Why did you do it? Attack Stefan, I mean?”
He looked away. “Are you asking me to answer for my wolf? I’m not sure I can, Daise.”
“Did your wolf even know what I was doing?” I asked.
Cody gave a slight shrug. “Is he okay? Ludovic? I know I drew blood.”
“Stefan’s fine,” I said in exasperation. “He’s fine and he’s mortal and he broke up with me, and you’re not answering my question.”
He stole a glance at me. “He broke up with you?”
“Yes,” I said. “Stefan Ludovic and I are no longer together. Now, will you please tell me what I want to know?”
Gazing at the ceiling, Cody blew out his breath. “You want to know why, Daise? It’s because it’s not just this shape that has feelings for you. It’s all of me.” He looked directly at me, a hint of phosphorescent green flashing behind his topaz eyes. “That’s what I learned out there in the dunes. My wolf? It chose you, too. And yes, it knew what you were doing. We knew. I knew.”
“Jesus, Cody! I could have destroyed the world,” I whispered.
Cody nodded. “Yeah. But maybe a world where I couldn’t have you wasn’t worth living in anyway. Anyway, you didn’t. I trusted you, okay? I promised you, no matter what, I’d always have your—”
That’s all he got out before I grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him, long and hard and deep.
It felt good.
“Ow!” Cody winced. “Stitches.”
Oops. I wasn’t quite sure when or how I’d straddled him. “Sorry.”
His hands caressed my back. “It’s okay. Totally worth it.”
Settling onto Cody’s lap, I gazed down at him. “What about the clan?”
Narrowing his eyes, Cody smiled up at me. “The clan can go fuck itself. How’s that, Pixy Stix?”
I smiled back at him. “Not bad.”
Fifty-seven
It’s funny how things turned out.
If real life was like a fairy tale, Stefan and I would have had the happy-ever-after ending, since all the obstacles that divided us had
been magically swept away.
Cody and I . . . not so much.
For one, the Fairfax clan was furious over Cody’s decision, although they did stop short of ostracizing him. Apparently I’d gained some serious clout in the process of saving Pemkowet by almost destroying the world; which was ironic, since that leverage was gone forever. But the fact that I’d been willing—or crazy enough—to do it in the first place had earned grudging respect.
Eldritch and their love of hierarchy. Go figure.
And then of course there was the fact that Cody and I were what we were: a hell-spawn and a werewolf. For the rest of my life, assuming we stayed together, I’d lose him to the full moon once a month. Cody would spend his life never knowing what it was like to hunt with his mate beneath the full moon. As far as we knew, having kids wasn’t an option.
Maybe it wouldn’t work in the long run. Who knew? There were no guarantees.
And yet being with Cody felt right.
No regrets, though. If Stefan and I hadn’t had our affair, I’d always have wondered what it would have been like. And frankly, the highlights had been pretty mind-blowing. I didn’t feel like a schoolgirl with a crush around Cody anymore. I felt like a grown-ass woman with some pretty strong ideas of what I wanted out of a relationship, in and out of the bedroom.
Along with sorting out my love life, I spent my time updating the X-Files and the Pemkowet Ledger, and assessing the damage the war had wrought in both the mundane and the eldritch communities.
I reassured everyone I encountered in town that the war really was over and that the Wild Hunt wouldn’t return.
I hung out with Skrrzzzt, drinking beer and playing Battleship, complimenting him on the emerging regrowth of his arm.
I tracked down the hobgoblins’ den—my status among the fey had risen, and an obliging snowdrop fairy led me to it without a single insult—to offer my condolences.
I sat in silence with the surviving troll, whose name was Blunthuf, grieving for the loss of his mate.
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