The Shadows

by Cheyenne McCray

  “Belongings, all that you fancied.” He appeared very serious when she glanced up again. “Those things are not what give a person happiness.”

  “No, they don’t.” Hannah couldn’t hold back the sigh that rushed from her as she faced straight ahead into the dark forest.

  “It was much the same for me and my brother,” Garran said, and she snapped her attention to him. He gave a casual shrug. “We were the sons of royalty. Anything we commanded was ours.”

  Surprise filtered through her. She hadn’t given his childhood much thought, that he was the son of a king. She kept her gaze on him as he continued.

  “Our father was busy with war as Naal and I grew from babes to men.” He didn’t sound bitter or remorseful, just factual. “In those years, the Elves were always at war when we lived in your Earth Otherworld. Demons. Men. Fae. Gods. If it was not one war it was another.”

  Amazement at the thought of what Garran had lived through flowed through her. “What happened to your mother and father? When did you become king?”

  “They died in a battle against several of the old gods who attacked dishonorably—with no warning. Many of our men, women, and children died.” Anger was apparent on Garran’s features and in the way he squeezed her hand. “Somewhere around three millennia ago. Give or take a few centuries.”

  “I’m sorry” seemed like a trite thing to say at that moment, so Hannah said nothing.

  He relaxed his grip on her hand but continued to hold it. “Continue with your story.” A kingly demand.

  She hated talking about her childhood—she never did. But after what he’d shared, her own childhood woes seemed insignificant.

  Yet thinking about it and saying the words still caused her chest to tighten. “I grew up with a mother I rarely saw. From the time I was born, one nanny after another raised me. When I began to get used to the new nanny, my mother would get rid of her and hire another.”

  Hannah shook her head. “I think she resented getting pregnant with me.” Her lips quirked, but again she felt no humor. “Probably the stretch marks.”

  Garran raised a brow when she glanced at him.

  “Selena Wentworth is definitely a socialite in every sense of the word. That’s all she cares about. Parties, status, the best clothes, the nicest cars, the most luxurious homes—having more money than anyone else.”

  Banshee gripped Hannah’s shoulder and she sensed waves of comfort coming from him.

  Fireflies danced to her right in interesting patterns and she realized they were Faeries, not fireflies. Maybe having their version of a Fae celebration.

  “Continue,” Garran said in that same commanding voice that propelled her forward.

  Hell, she’d gone this far. Why not all the way?

  “When I was old enough, my mother sent me to boarding schools, which meant she didn’t have to deal with me for most of the year.”

  Hannah inhaled the clean forest air. Sometime during their short journey, holding Garran’s hand had begun to feel natural, as if he belonged right there, and she had to shake the strange thoughts off.

  “When I hit thirteen, I started to do the rebellion thing,” she added.

  Garran smiled, the kind of smile people shared when they understood one another. “My mother and father were forced to deal with my insurgence before I reached adulthood. Many years passed before I realized that during that short time in my life I rebelled because I wanted my father’s attention.”

  Hannah nodded. “I really went at it in school. Talking back to my teachers, sneaking out of the dorms at night, and refusing to do what they told me. I never let my grades drop, but I gave everyone so much hell they were constantly calling my mother.”

  Hannah gave a rueful smile. “That got her attention.” Ahead she could see the lights of the D’Danann village. “She decided she’d had enough, so she sent me packing to live with my father.”

  Garran guided her forward, along a maze of a path. “Was living with your father difficult as well?”

  “It was certainly different.” Hannah cocked her head. “My father was a male version of my mother. Mr. Socialite. But what he did that turned my life around was to introduce me to my heritage by letting me spend time with a grandmother I’d never known. She taught me about my D’Anu ancestry and I became an apprentice.”

  The trials of her upbringing truly seemed minor in the scheme of things. “I know so many people have it worse in one way or another.”

  Hannah lowered her voice the closer they got to the village. She didn’t want to be overheard by her sister witches—she’d never shared any of the facts of her childhood with them. “But it sucked at the time, and, yeah, it influenced my life. Like I said, I am who I am.”

  He brought her to a stop at the edge of the forest as raucous laughter spilled into the night from one of the taverns.

  Garran lowered his head and lightly brushed his lips over hers. When he drew away she could barely catch her breath. She could only stare up at him.

  “As I told you before, Hannah Wentworth”—he skimmed his knuckles over her cheek—“you are far more than you think you are.”

  Two leather-clad D’Danann warriors with grim expressions emerged from the shadows, their swords unsheathed. The women warriors’ sudden appearance startled Hannah into almost dropping her pack. Garran maintained his grip on her hand and Banshee ruffled his feathers.

  “You are not welcome, King Garran,” the redheaded warrior said, her sword raised.

  “You were allowed to witness your daughter’s joining with Keir, but we will not let you trespass again,” the second D’Danann, a blond, said while narrowing her eyes.

  Banshee made a low sound that indicated his disapproval. Hannah scowled and started to tell the warriors where they could put those swords.

  With a calm expression, Garran looked from warrior to warrior. “I am here to see the D’Anu and D’Danann who fight the Otherworld battle. Send word to them that I am here.”

  Neither woman so much as twitched. “The witch may pass, but you will not,” the blond said.

  “Oh, for Anu’s sake.” Hannah pushed herself between the women, in front of Garran. “We have business to take care of to help in the war in San Francisco. Garran stays with me.”

  A pause. “Very well.” The redhead tipped her chin. “One of us will accompany you and the Drow to the training yards where the commanders are.” Her gaze met Garran’s. “And we will ensure the Drow king is well guarded.”

  Hannah wanted to growl. This rivalry was absurd.

  Instead, she ignored the woman and shoved her way past the warriors, Garran at her side. With the silence of the Fae and Elves, one of the warriors followed close behind—Hannah only knew because she cast a glance over her shoulder and saw the redhead, who still held her sword.

  Garran said nothing and his expression was well-schooled as they headed toward the training yards. Banshee continued to make low sounds of disapproval.

  Hannah was surprised that her familiar was siding with Garran, yet not. The falcon was so in tune with her decisions and feelings that he normally didn’t question her choices, even if he was a little jealous and possessive.

  When they arrived, they stood at the entrance to the main yard as warriors left to summon Keir and Tiernan at their homes, and yet another warrior went to assemble the D’Anu witches in one of the taverns.

  Hannah wanted to snap at all the warriors for acting as if Garran were a plague, but she gritted her teeth and waited beside the calm-looking Drow king.

  Finally, she and Garran were escorted to one of the village’s many taverns. It was less crowded and therefore had a more subdued atmosphere.

  Banshee gave a cry and took to the air. She watched Banshee for a moment, her heart twisting as he joined with the night. She followed Garran into the tavern.

  At once they were greeted by Hannah’s D’Anu Coven sisters, those who were not presently in San Francisco.

  As Hannah and Garran entered the tav
ern, two of the three leaders of the D’Danann contingent to San Francisco walked through the door behind them—Tiernan and Keir. They were so silent she hadn’t realized they were there until they gathered in the entrance beside the witches.

  By his nod to each man and his expression, she was certain Garran had sensed them even if she hadn’t.

  Hannah tried to keep from standing so rigidly as Cassia and Copper greeted her with a hug. She’d never been crazy about how touchy-feely most of the group was. Rhiannon kept her normal distance which was fine by Hannah.

  They moved to a long, polished wooden table lined with chairs. Garran sat beside her and Rhiannon was directly across from them with Keir at her side. Hannah set her pack down by her feet.

  This tavern was so unlike the pub the D’Danann normally frequented, which had rough wooden tables with benches. Instead of smelling of ale and roasted meats, the air was mostly perfumed with the scents of baked desserts, such as apple pies and cinnamon pastries.

  Copper always grimaced when she came into this tavern, thanks to her aversion to apples. A tavern maid they had become quite familiar with over the past week or so delivered tankards of ale. By now the servers knew better than to give Copper the apple ale, so they always brought her something that smelled of grapes.

  “Are Silver, Alyssa, Mackenzie, and Sydney still scouting out San Francisco with the D’Danann they took with them?” Hannah asked Cassia after Hannah took a drink of the crisp apple-flavored ale.

  The beautiful, ethereal-looking half-Elvin witch folded her hands on the table in front of her tankard. “We’ll join them tomorrow.”

  Rhiannon cut through the chitchat and looked across the table at Garran. “What’s your decision?”

  He studied her for a long moment. “We will fight beside your people. You have all the resources the Drow can lend.”

  Silence and a collective sigh of relief seemed to travel around the table.

  Rhiannon closed her green eyes for a moment before opening them and looking at her father. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

  Garran’s response was a single nod.

  “Now we’ve got to plan how this is all going to go down.” Copper fiddled with the end of her long braid and thunked her ankle cast on the floor as she shifted in her chair. She frowned. “The Drow can only fight after dark.”

  “That is correct.” Garran looked to each person at the table. His silvery-blue hair and bluish-gray skin was a contrast to the hair and skin of those around him, yet Hannah now didn’t see him as any different from every other man and woman in the tavern.

  Garran continued speaking. “I will go alone to your San Francisco Otherworld and make my assessments. My men will be prepared to fight when the time is appropriate.”

  “Jake said the new headquarters is ready.” Copper studied Garran. “Including the room you’re going to stay in during the day when the sun is out so that you won’t fry to a crisp.”

  “My appreciation,” Garran said, yet there was a light to his eyes that intrigued Hannah, as if he were looking forward to this, sunshine or no.

  “We’re leaving to head back to the city first thing in the morning.” Copper leaned against her husband, Tiernan, and the blond warrior draped his arm around her shoulders.

  “Thank goodness the D’Danann found their blessed Cauldron of Dagda,” Copper added as she looked from one warrior to the next. “Now we won’t have to spend so much time figuring out how to feed these bottomless pits.”

  Hannah looked at Garran. “Are Drow as insatiable as D’Danann?”

  He gave her a sensual look. “Always.”

  Her cheeks heated and she elbowed him. “I meant food.” Garran chuckled and Copper snickered.

  “Yeah, it was getting hard to find enough, ah, food, to feed all the D’Danann,” Copper said with a grin.

  “When all of the witches get together, we’ll grab our personal items—clothes and stuff—and take them to HQ,” Copper added. “If you don’t mind, we’ll use our magic to get into your house and gather what jeans and T-shirts you have.”

  “Jeans and T-shirts.” Hannah sighed. “Guess Stella McCartney and Derek Lam attire won’t cut it when it comes to battling Ceithlenn and the Fomorii.”

  She glanced down at her leathers and couldn’t help a quirk of a smile when she looked back at Copper. “But how about something silky from Victoria’s to go under them?”

  “You’ve got it.” Copper laughed and then sobered, her easy smile melting into a frown. “We’ll use our glamours to make sure no one sees and recognizes us when we get back to the city. According to Jake, martial law is in full effect. Especially since two soldiers were attacked and eaten alive on a street in the city the other night.”

  Rhiannon visibly shuddered and her skin paled. “After having visions of Ceithlenn doing exactly that, I have no doubt it was her.”

  The thought of what Ceithlenn had done to those soldiers made Hannah’s stomach churn and fire heat her body.

  “What about the white magic D’Anu witches?” Hannah asked as it occurred to her that she hadn’t heard what had happened to the High Priestess and her Coven after the last battle. “Janis Arrowsmith and the others? Even though they were only healing the injured and not fighting, they were seen on national television, too.”

  “According to Jake,” Copper said, “all thirteen white witches have been taken into protective custody and put in safe houses until the authorities are assured they’re not in any danger.”

  “I still can’t believe that Sara was Janis’s apprentice.” Rhiannon tapped her fingers on the smooth tabletop. “She just doesn’t get that Sara isn’t Sara anymore. Ceithlenn is only using Sara’s human shell.”

  “I should have severed Ceithlenn’s head from her shoulders when I had the opportunity,” Keir growled.

  With a shake of her head, Rhiannon rubbed her husband’s arm. “How could you know Janis would throw herself across Ceithlenn-Sara’s body? None of us did.”

  Rhiannon looked at Garran. “If I’d learned how to control my Shadows better, maybe the goddess would already be back in Underworld.”

  “It was not your fault.” Copper frowned as she looked from Rhiannon to Keir. “Either of you. So stop blaming yourselves.”

  The group was quiet for a moment. Around them floated conversation that Hannah hadn’t even noticed until now, coming from other tavern patrons who were talking in a low hum.

  Garran broke their group’s silence. “Hannah and I will travel back to my realm before we leave for San Francisco.”

  Apparently Garran intended to follow through with keeping her as his liaison. For some reason, the idea didn’t bother her at all. What was stranger, far more bizarre, was how she was almost looking forward to their journey back to the Dark Elves’ realm.

  Somewhere along the way aliens had stolen her brain and she had no idea where they’d hidden it.

  To Rhiannon, Garran said, “May we speak alone, my daughter?”

  She hesitated only a moment then pushed her chair back to stand before Garran escorted her to a small table in the corner.

  Hannah turned her gaze to the big rough, scarred warrior, Keir, who was Rhiannon’s husband. Hannah had referred to him as a Neanderthal on prior occasions—he was completely barbaric as far as she was concerned.

  So it was to her surprise that a thoughtful-looking Keir picked up his tankard and said, “It is time for Rhiannon and her father to heal,” before taking a swallow of his ale.

  9

  Garran studied Rhiannon as they sat alone, across from one another in the tavern. Warmth and pride filled his chest as he smiled at his daughter.

  Rhiannon looked so relieved, as if the mightiest of weights had been raised from her shoulders. “Thank you again.”

  Garran reached across the small table and clasped her hand in his. They both looked down at their joined hands, the tone of his bluish-gray skin so different from her pale flesh. She didn’t draw away and their eyes met again.

/>   “Understand this, daughter.” Garran squeezed her fingers lightly. “I would go to the farthest reaches of Otherworld for you.” Despite his words, Rhiannon’s expression turned sad, as if disbelieving. He squeezed her fingers tighter. “You must understand, too, that while I would do this for you, I could not involve my people if it did not benefit them. I am their king, and I am also your father. For them I must make decisions that take precedence over my own feelings, desires, and needs.”

  Rhiannon remained silent, but her gaze still held his. She sounded as if her throat were dry when she spoke. “I get it now, and I’m sorry I judged your actions so harshly.”

  Her throat worked as she swallowed and continued, “But being Drow—I’m having a hard time separating what’s good and bad.” Her voice grew hoarser as she spoke. “The Shadows inside me that I inherited from you—they helped me a couple of times, but they’ve done harm, too. Before I started to control them, they almost killed Keir. How can I believe there isn’t some evil inside of them?”

  She frowned and tugged her hand. He let it slide from his, feeling a sense of loss, that his flesh and blood did not accept him as he was.

  “I am who I am. That will never change.” A deep sigh rose within him and he let it out in a slow exhale. “It is my wish that one day you will embrace your heritage.”

  Rhiannon appeared nervous now, as if she might jump and bolt away. “I have to think about it some more. I’ve only known about you, have only known you, and have only known I’m half Drow for a really short time.” She glanced toward the table of warriors and witches who were talking among themselves before looking back at him. “It’s not so easy for me, can you understand that? You deal in dark magic and that mark has been left on me.”

  “But not sorcery, remember that,” Garran said. “The difference is great.”

  “Is it?” Rhiannon’s chin-length hair swung as she shook her head back and forth. “I just don’t know what to believe right now.”