Night Myst (37 page)

I wanted to protest, but something in her words—a finality that rang a chord of déjà vu—stopped me. There were no more words. I couldn’t defend Myst and her people, even if
those people
included Grieve. As much as I loved him, I couldn’t put his safety before stopping the Indigo Court.

“Can you help us save Peyton? We were thinking that this might be the time to strike. If this . . . poison . . . works like you say it does—they’ll be off guard and not paying much attention to her.” I stared at the ground. “If you can’t, then I warn you—I’m going in on my own to rescue her. I have to. My loyalties are to my friends and family first. Now that they’ve turned Heather, my first order of business is to save my friend, even if it costs me my life.”

Lainule rested a hand on my shoulder. “I cannot send my people with you, but I will give you this . . . take it, use it in good conscience. Do not lose it.” She handed me a delicate lacquered fan made from oak. “It will help you to control the wind. And when you change into owl form, it will travel with you.”

I blinked, taking the fan. It hummed with magic, strong and brilliant and magnetic. With a soft hush, I opened it wide and felt the wind stir.

“One wave of the fan, and you call a strong gust. Two waves, and you call a potent wind. Three . . . and you can walk on the wind. But it has limitations: It may only be used by you, and only when your wind Elemental is near. Ulean has kept me abreast of all your comings and goings over the years and she is linked to this fan.”

“Ulean? You’ve used her to spy on me?” Feeling a sharp sting of betrayal, I jerked my head up. Ulean had never, ever told me she was in touch with the Queen of Rivers and Rushes.

Lainule touched her finger to my lips. “Shush, child. The Elemental had no choice. She is bonded to you, but she was originally mine. I gave her to you to protect you.”

“
You
. . . gave her to me? I knew you’d asked Grieve to show us the bonding ritual but I didn’t know . . . I didn’t know Ulean was yours.” And then I looked up at the Queen and saw something in her eyes that I couldn’t quite read. “Why are you helping me? Other than the fact that I’m half-Fae? Why choose my mother to bear a Cambyra’s child?”

Lainule motioned toward the portal leading out of her realm. “It’s time for you to go,” she said, ignoring my question. “Use the fan to help you in recovering your friend. Kill as many of the Indigo Court as you can. And if you can . . . rescue Grieve and perhaps we can figure out some way to break the connection between him and Myst’s Court. Also . . . Chatter—he was always one of my favorites even though he was born outside of a noble match.”

I dropped into a curtsey—the best I could, considering I was in jeans and a leather jacket. “Thank you. I’ll do my best. And if we can somehow save Grieve from himself . . .”

“I know. You love him. You’ve always been on opposite sides, child, as far back as time goes. Perhaps this time, the two of you can get it right.”

“Then you know—”

“It’s time to leave. Stay longer in my domain and the years will fly by outside. For now, you leave but a moment after you entered.”

As we turned to go, she called out, “Kaylin—the Court of Dreams is but a step away from my own domain. Watch closely. Your demon is about to awake.”

Kaylin jerked around, but Lainule’s guards thrust us back through the portal and we were standing in the middle of the snow again, thick flakes now pouring from the sky. I glanced at my watch. We’d been gone all of five minutes.

“Come on. Let’s gather Rhiannon from Anadey’s, and then . . . then let’s go hunting. We’re about to become soldiers in this three-sided war, although I’m not sure just whose side we’re on.”

Kaylin remained silent, looking pensive, but Leo snorted. “I think we make up the fourth side, Cicely. Haven’t you figured out yet that we’ve got our own little army right here? Let’s get a move on, because if the Indigo Court is really being hit in the gut with whatever poison or virus that was sent back through you, now’s the time to dive in and see what damage we can do.”

We headed back to Favonis. To war. To battle. To rescue Peyton. And hopefully . . . to survive.

When we showed up, Anadey and Rhiannon were just finishing a few energy-control exercises. We waited until they were done, then went over what had happened with Lainule and Grieve, and what we were planning.

“I’m so glad Lainule is alive, but that she’s dealing with the vampires is unsettling. The Fae and the vampires tend to distrust and dislike one another. She must be in desperate straits if she’s turning to them for help.”

“Her people were massacred. She’s holding court just off a parking lot by the lake. I think that qualifies as desperate,” I said.

Anadey motioned for us to wait. “Let me see if I have anything that might help you. I’d go with you but I’m older and stiffer and I’d slow you down and that’s the last thing you need going into this.”

I nodded. While I had my doubts she’d slow us down that much, now was not the time to find out. “Tell you what you can do to help: If we succeed, we’re going to need the house to be so protected that even a fly can’t get through the shields. While we’re out hunting for Peyton, can you do something to shore up our warding? Because what we’re about to undertake is tantamount to waging war on the Indigo Court. I guarantee, they’ll be out for revenge.”

Especially if we manage to steal away Grieve and Chatter,
I thought.

“I can do that.” Anadey examined the fan Lainule had given me. She shivered as she touched it. “This is heavy, old magic, Cicely. Not the kind you just hand out on a whim. Keep this safe and don’t lose it.”

She speaks the truth. You have been gifted generously from the Queen of Rivers and Rushes. Don’t underestimate what that means.
Ulean blew through my hair and I could sense a tingling in her words, which always indicated she knew more than she was saying.

Anadey poked around in her stash and came up with several items. One, a small bottle filled with a red liquid, she handed to Rhiannon. “You know how to pull your flame back in, so now you should be able to use this. The potion will magnify your fire, but I have only one dose so drink it at the moment of your last resort.”

To Leo and Kaylin, she offered small jars, also filled with liquid. “Iron water. It won’t bother those with half-blood of the Fae, but I guarantee this will burn and scar its way through a full-blood, even of the Indigo Court.”

Turning back to me, she let out a long sigh. “You are one of the Owl People, and you can harness the wind with your fan . . . I’m not sure what I can give you that’s stronger than what you already have. But I have one thing . . . it belonged to my mother and I found it in her personal ritual gear.”

She held out a silver torque. It was wound silver, and the ends came together in the front in the shape of two flowers. “Those are belladonna flowers—deadly nightshade. Somehow, it seems to fit you. Marta never wore it, but she kept saying that one day it would find a home.”

I took it, and it radiated magic in my fingers, though a subtle, slow, deep energy that ran in the currents of the ley lines and the high mountains of the earth. The tattoo on my left breast suddenly tingled and I looked at the wound silver torque.
Belladonna flowers
. . . deadly nightshade like the ones in my tattoo. There was a connection, though I didn’t know what.

Glancing up, I met her eyes. Anadey gave me a weary smile, one that said she knew just what we were facing and was holding out as much hope as she could.

“We’ll do everything we can to bring Peyton home,” I said. “But say a few prayers for us, because we’ll need it.”

“I will . . . I’ll start weaving my spells of protection the minute you leave here.” She motioned for us to follow her into a spare bedroom. There, in the center of the room, was a loom. “I weave my magic into threads and cords. I’ll work on one for your land—a long thin cord to be buried deep around the perimeter. I don’t know how long it will take me to get it done, but I’ll start it now.”

She took her place at the loom and, as we silently filed out of the room, she said without turning her head, “Bring my baby home. If you can. You’re the only hope she has.”

“Dress in black and white. We’ve got snow and dark trees out there,” I said, sorting out what we could take with us. We were facing at least a two-hour march through the woods to the Barrow, if last time was any indication.

We gathered in the living room, gearing up for our search-and-rescue mission. Dressed in the thickest jeans I had and a black turtleneck, I slid on a pair of wide-heeled Doc Martin boots, and then fastened the wrist brace on my right arm that held my switchblade like a pro.

I slipped the torque around my neck and felt a deep humming race from the tattoo on my breast to spread throughout the rest of my body. Whatever the torque did was connected with my Fae heritage, I’d decided.

The stiletto athame went in my boot sheath, and I buckled on a thigh strap and slid another pair of knives—double-bladed and balanced for throwing—into the holders. Blades were the one weapon I’d learned how to use while living on the streets with my mother. Uncle Brody used to tell me:
A good blade is better than a good husband; you can rely on it more.

The others had changed into denim and leather, too. Even Rhiannon. She, Kaylin, and I made sure our hair was braided back, hard to grab. Rhia brought out her makeup and we used the white eyeliner pencil and the mascara to smudge camouflage stripes across our faces.

Kaylin held up a pair of daggers, whirling them around like the master he was, then slid them neatly into the matching sheaths hanging from his belt. He added a set of polished black nunchakus and several small shurikens.

Not to be outdone, Leo held up a short staff, lithely twirling it around, reminding me of a modern, more handsome Friar Tuck. Even Rhiannon had a weapon, though when I saw what she was carrying, I took a step away from her. She had fixed up a couple of Molotov cocktails and was stowing them in a green grocery bag.

At least she’s claiming her power,
Ulean whispered in my ear.

“So, let’s go over this one more time. Our goals in this order: Get in there and get out alive. Rescue Peyton. Bring Grieve and Chatter out. If possible, kill Myst. That’s a long shot but I thought I’d throw that in there, just for good measure.” My wolf hadn’t spoken all day and I was worried that Grieve might be too sick for us to find him, but a quiet voice inside whispered he was probably sleeping, since the light hurt him now.

“We ready?” I looked at them, waiting.

“As we’ll ever be.” Rhiannon nodded grimly. “And if you should see Heather . . .” Her voice trailed off, then she cleared her throat. “If you should see Heather, stake her if you can.” She held up four wooden stakes, then handed one to each of us.

I caught her gaze. “Are you sure?”

She didn’t even flinch. “I’m sure.”

“Okay, then . . . let’s do this.”

And we were off, out the door, into the storm that had finally broken.