Flight from Hell (13 page)

The thought of Iris allowing such a gaudy show in our living room almost made me laugh. Thoroughly confused, I turned to the portal, which was shimmering in the opposite corner near the window. It was swirling with icy blue sparkles. I had no clue to where it led, and I sure as hell wasn't going to dive through to find out.

“Okay, upstairs, to my rooms.”

As we headed up to the second story, the chill followed. It was still snowing when we reached my suite of rooms, and by the time we reached my bedroom, I could see my breath and my toes were numb.

Dez made a quick survey around the room and ascertained that nothing was amok—or at least, nothing was running amok.

I stripped down as he kept watch. The Fae—including half-Fae like myself—generally weren't modest or embarrassed by nudity, and he stood by the door, guarding me, without so much as blinking an eye.

Slipping into my ready-to-rumble cat suit, which I wore when I knew we had a fight on our hands, I zipped it up and slid on a pair of kitten-heel granny boots. Then, slinging a belt around my hips, I fastened on the sheath containing my silver dagger.

After dressing, I made certain my unicorn horn was still safely hidden away in the secret compartment in my closet. For what we seemed to be facing, I didn't think we'd need to use it. I wasn't about to deplete its power this far from the new moon unless it was absolutely necessary.

Once I was finished, I slipped a capelet over my shoulders for extra warmth and quickly mopped the streaked makeup off my face. My eyeliner and mascara had survived—they were waterproof—but everything else was a lost cause. Less than ten minutes after we hit my bedroom, I was finished and ready to rock.

“Okay, back down to the first floor.”

But as we reached the landing, I paused. Someone was coming up the steps. I pulled out my dagger as Dez held his sword at the ready.

As the sound of footsteps rounded the turn, I held my breath, but then let it out in one big exhale as I saw it was Smoky, looking grim.

“Maggie's all right,” he said before I could ask. “I left her hidden down in Menolly's lair with Hanna to watch her. But that portal in the living room? I know where it goes. I hopped through to find out what the hell was going on.”

“Where does it lead? And can you close it?” We followed him as he turned, heading back down the stairs.

Smoky shook his head, glancing over his shoulder. “No, I can't close it. The gate was opened by powerful magic, and I can't do anything about it. But as I said, I crossed over to see where it led. I'm not sure who the hell did this, but the portal? It leads into the Northlands, as far as I can tell.”

My heart began to beat faster. The Northlands could be reached via Otherworld, and through perilous routes up in the higher reaches over here, Earthside. I had a lot of bad associations with the lands at the top of the world. And there were a lot of harsh, volatile creatures who made their homes there, including dragons like Smoky's father, who had imprisoned and tortured me.

“So the question is, who opened this portal, and why?”

“Right now, I think the more important question is: Just what all has come through so far? And what else can we expect before we manage to close it down?” Smoky's grim smile deepened. “Let's get back outside, woman. We need to do something to stop that yeti from trampling the yard.”

I turned to the guard. “Dez, stay here, please, and guard the portal. Don't put your life in danger, but if something else comes through, try to stop it if you can. And if you can't, get the hell outside so we know what we're facing next.”

With that, Smoky and I headed back outside, into the fray.

New York Times
best-selling author
Yasmine Galenorn
writes urban fantasy, mystery, and metaphysical nonfiction, including the
New York Times
best-selling Otherworld series. A graduate of Evergreen State College, she majored in theater and creative writing. Yasmine has been in the Craft for more than thirty years and is a shamanic witch. She describes her life as a blend of teacups and tattoos, and lives in the Seattle area with her husband, Samwise, and their cats.