Weald Fae 03 - The Aetherfae

  We chose Holyhead since the ferry ran four times a day and it was closer than Liverpool. With a rail map in hand, Candace plotted our course: Southampton to London Waterloo, change trains, and then onto Holyhead. Six and a half hours, then a ferry to Dublin and we would be in Ireland before nightfall. Racing across England seemed like such a wasted opportunity—I had always wanted to spend a summer exploring it, wandering aimlessly from one village to the next, but we couldn’t afford to linger anywhere for very long. Billy told me that the Sidhe expelled all the Fae from Ireland, allowing only those who came and went from the Seoladán. It seemed we would be safe on Irish soil, or at least I hoped so.

  During the half-mile walk to the train station, I ditched the plastic cast and began scanning the world around us, hoping we were still flying under the radar. Despite a brief sensation of being watched, I sensed nothing but people. We’re fine. It’s just my imagination.

  We shuffled into a retro-deco, white one-story building, and blended into the crowd after passing a wall-length mosaic. In fifteen minutes, tickets in hand, we boarded a train on platform one.

  “I can’t believe I’m in England,” Candace whispered to me as the train began moving.

  “I know. Sorry we can’t enjoy it.”

  She grinned. “Yeah, like I’m going to be bored.”

  The train accelerated, whisking us out of Southampton and into the green English countryside. Ronnie and Candace chatted softly, gawking at the gently rolling fields and groves of trees, while I kept my mind spread as far as I could. The complete lack of Fae was not at all what I expected—we were in England after all.

  The miles rolled by unceremoniously, and that was fine by me. I’d already had enough excitement for the month of August. Gradually, the open scenery gave way to homes and small buildings. We soon glided past brick and stucco two-story houses clustered side-by-side into London proper, and crossed the Thames River. After we arrived at Waterloo Station and disembarked the train, the odd feeling came back. There were no Fae, but I found myself staring at the glass and steel roof for one anyway. Candace and Ronnie noticed when I fell behind, and gave me a worried look.

  “I feel like we’re being watched, but there’s nothing here.”

  “You couldn’t sense Mara,” Candace whispered, glancing around as though she might spot something herself.

  “This is different. With Mara, the sensation was stronger. It was creepy. She made my hair stand on end.”

  Ronnie’s ice blue eyes locked on mine. “Well what does this feel like?”

  I forced a smile. “Honestly, like my nerves are getting the best of me.”

  Candace studied my face and relaxed. “After the last three weeks, that wouldn’t surprise me at all. Come on, we’ve got a train to catch.”

  Her confidence magnified my own. “I’m really glad you guys are with me.”

  Candace tried not to look satisfied when she said, “I’m not one to say I told you so, but…”

  “I am.” Ronnie said with a snort.

  Two hours out of London, Ronnie and Candace seemed relaxed and resumed their chatter. Despite their constant banter, they’d become inseparable after Rachel died. I left them to it, closed my eyes, and travelled a world away.

  Gavin and Wakinyan hovered in their natural forms near a small pond at the edge of a baseball field. All around, there were couples strolling with dogs, people jogging, and kids playing. Three hundred feet away, Mitch played first base with a group of boys I didn’t recognize—providing instruction, like usual. Not far from him, Mom and my grandparents watched from their seats under the dappled shade of an enormous oak tree. Even though they were still disguised, I wondered why they were out in the open.

  “Gavin?”

  He immediately sensed me, and slowly moved toward a small but whimsical stone castle at the edge of the pond. I floated next him to maintain contact under Wakinyan’s cloak. Past a small, arched stone bridge, Gavin slipped inside a little chamber and took human form. Wakinyan followed a short distance, keeping the two of them concealed. Bent at the waste and smiling broadly, Gavin filled the tiny chamber.

  “Why don’t you use a smaller shape?”

  He laughed. “That January morning I met you at the lake, when I told you about Caorann, I believe I covered that point.”

  He had. A memory of him by the lake surfaced in my mind. Like it happened yesterday, I could see his arms and chest flexing under a light blue sweatshirt as he flicked rocks into the mirrored surface. He told me at the time that he only felt comfortable in one human form. Thank heaven for that. “I remember.”

  “I miss you.” The soft expression on his face made me want to climb on a plane and zip back to him.

  I focused on the question, “Is my family safe?”

  “You mean out here in the open? Yes. As far as we can tell, none of my kind has any idea where we’re at. The rogues have bigger things to worry about.”

  “What things?”

  “The Alliance—that’s what Ozara is calling her new clan—appears to be planning an offensive. Do you remember Devin?”

  Devin administered my Earth trial. “Yes,” I answered. I’d just seen him in Ireland.

  “Like most Seelie, he stayed with Ozara when the Council split. He defected a week ago and came to see Danny. Devin said the new Council is preparing to move, but he did know when or against whom.”

  I thought about what he said and it puzzled me. “They’ll go after the Second, won’t they?”

  “We don’t know. Ozara is paranoid. If she believes the original clans are supplying the Rogues with Fae, the Alliance could attack anywhere. That’s where your particular talent comes in.” He grinned broadly.

  “No problem.”

  Gavin told me a little more about the Ohanzee’s suspicions, and then asked, “Where are you?’

  “Train. England. Taking a ferry to Ireland in a few hours.”

  He nodded and leaned forward like he was staring right at me. “Be very careful with the Sidhe, Maggie. They trust no one. Do not push Dana—she demands deference. The Sidhe are a very proud clan and they are not fond of humans. Many blame your species for being forced to live under Ozara’s edicts.”

  “I will be careful.”

  “Seriously Maggie, I love your strong will and I respect your independence, but please keep in mind that the Sidhe are easily offended.”

  “I’ll be polite, I promise.”

  SIXTEEN

  OFFENSIVE

  I found Ozara under a violent gray sky and I thought my senses had gone berserk. She lurked in a small clearing surrounded by dense, scrubby vegetation being whipped and shredded by powerful winds and driving rain. Beyond my field of vision, there were more Fae than I could count—hundreds and hundreds around us for miles. The numbers seemed almost impossible to comprehend. What’s she doing here? Where is here? My inner voice began ripping off questions.

  A Fae raced toward her in Naeshura. Ozara didn’t attempt to hide the Aether she conjured and I expected the Fae to move away. Instead, it continued to advance in chaotic zigzags. Like a fisherman casting a net, Ozara sent tendrils of Aether in all directions, and still the Fae advanced. As it dove toward the ground, Ozara sprung the trap. The flash of death was lost in the violent storm, but I felt it disappear. Ozara’s expression never changed—I found it horrifying that she didn’t react to killing one of her own kind.

  Shocked and confused, I couldn’t make sense of what I had just witnessed. More Fae disappeared in the confusion that followed. I sensed a concentration of immortals about a mile away, and willed myself to them. Some were in physical form—human and animal—but the majority remained in Naeshura. The Fae manifesting a human form were at the center of the cluster and shared similar physical characteristics—smooth dark skin, exotic features, and dark eyes.

  As I drew closer, the residual energy of dead Fae filled the wide valley floor. Beyond them, the Alliance formed concentric circles, one rank after another. It appeared as th
ough the Fae in the middle were survivors—I felt the nervous energy of panic. I shared the feeling. Are they rogues or some other group? They can’t be, can they? If they are, the Second should be here, right?

  In dramatic fashion, Ozara slowly walked through the scrub toward the gathering. For fifteen minutes she glided toward them no faster than a casual stroll would carry her. Every set of physical eyes trained on the spot where she eventually emerged. The thick tangle of vines and leaves parted, and Ozara confidently walked into the midst of the group, red hair flowing, untouched by the storm. Ten feet above her head, the rain bent away from her as if she was standing under an invisible umbrella. The gathered Fae cowered and moved fluidly from her path. They looked stunned, and even though I didn’t know them, I felt pity for each.

  Ozara’s expression chilled me. Her normally beautiful features were harsh and cruel. I’d never seen her like that.

  “Why have you attacked us?”

  Like a red-haired statue, Ozara froze in place, her amber eyes fixed on the speaker. “Do not feign ignorance with me,” her telepathic response rumbled in my mind. “Aiding and abetting…Let what happened tonight serve as a warning to any who would challenge the sovereignty of my clan. Death will find any Fae who provides aid to the enemy.”

  Aether wrapped a muscular Fae standing in the center of the congregation. His attempt to block Ozara failed and his cries for help fell unanswered. She lifted his writhing body in the Aether bag and moved away. Zarkus, Anuket, and the legion of Alliance Fae forced their victims to follow. Through the swirling rain, the grim procession travelled miles to the north. In the middle of a clearing, Ozara dropped her quarry on top of an enormous stone pyramid.

  The few humans who had braved the storm stood dumbfounded at the base of the structure as the solemn procession advanced. The people were fixated on the beings that began filling the vast field around them. To my horror, Ozara’s minions slaughtered each person. I wanted to intervene, but there was nothing I could do while projecting. When the last human heart stopped, the Fae focused their attention on the top of the pyramid.

  Ozara reached through the green plasma and sunk her hand in the Fae’s chest. “An appropriate end, considering you invented the practice.” She yanked his wet heart out of his chest just before he flashed and disappeared.

  * * *

  When I returned to Gavin, he was sitting next to Mitch watching baseball on television. The room was peaceful. Pools of light washed over the hardwood floors from the late morning sun. Except for the flickering flat screen and the announcer’s voice, the living room seemed completely serene and safe—shockingly different from what I’d just witnessed. It was hard to accept that a place like this could exist in the same world, at the same time, as the killing field in a jungle.

  After getting his attention, Gavin left Mitch watching the game and walked to a small study near the front of the old house. He manually closed the French doors and sat in a dark brown leather wingback to stare at the hot August morning unfolding beyond the window.

  “Did you find her?” he asked in a whisper.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  In an agonizingly slow process, I focused on telling Gavin what I witnessed, one small detail at a time. While I pieced each component together, I concentrated on the reflection in his eyes. Gavin listened without moving or blinking, except to nod when he understood each little part of my tale. After twenty minutes, I had recounted most of it.

  “The new clan attacked the Ometeo. I think it was Tonitueth, the Ometeo elder, that Ozara killed. Ozara was guarding a Seoladán when you found her. That means she was in Triestala—what you call Guatemala. The pyramid was built by the Maya several thousand years ago. Ripping out Tonitueth’s heart to destroy him on top of it…well, that was Fae irony. Before the end of the last Fae war, the Ometeo encouraged human sacrifice.”

  “Why attack an original clan?” I asked.

  Gavin nodded and tried to maintain a pleasant expression, but the news bothered him. “The Ometeo are the largest and most powerful southern clan—well, they were the most powerful. There are eight additional clans in South America—this was a message to them. It’s exactly what I told you earlier. Ozara must believe the Ometeo play a role in supporting the Second. Given her history with Tonitueth, it wouldn’t surprise me if that were the case.”

  Gavin’s eyebrows pressed together, and deep lines formed on his otherwise smooth forehead.

  “What?” I asked.

  “It’s the humans. If I understood you correctly, she permitted the Unseelie elements in her group to slaughter humans. That is troubling.”

  “Very troubling,” Wakinyan agreed.

  Wakinyan took human form behind Gavin. He looked worried. It was an expression I’d never seen him produce before.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  Wakinyan exhaled slowly before starting. “That means your species’ greatest defender has decided that preserving her power is now the primary objective. It also means that the Second poses a greater threat to Ozara than we have previously assumed. Working with the Unseelie is one thing, an understandable move to save Fae lives, but allowing those elements to kill humans without reprisal? That marks a paradigm shift.”

  “I agree, and for the first time in two thousand years, I’m very frightened for humankind,” Gavin said, shaking his head like he was trying to dislodge a bad thought.

  “It is possible she made concessions to secure Unseelie cooperation and loyalty.”

  “Wakinyan, I was Seelie for over a thousand years—and you have known Ozara for thousands of millennia—tell me, my brother, in all of that time, have you ever known her to concede anything?”

  Wakinyan’s face grew long, devoid of color, almost like his heart had stopped pumping blood. “No, brother, I have not.”

  “Neither have I.” Gavin turned his head to face the approximate place I hovered. “Maggie, we will inform the elders. When you get the chance, please track her again. We need to know what the alliance will do next. They will move again. They will move soon.”

  “Agreed,” Wakinyan added, finally relaxing his expression and glancing symbolically in my direction.

  I concentrated on the words, “What is your plan?” I thought it was a fair question. I knew the Ohanzee didn’t simply mass in the Weald and then hide under Clóca to reminisce. They were up to something and I wanted to know what.

  “In time,” Wakinyan said, before Gavin could answer. “We need information more than anything else. You are our best source.”

  “Not fair,” I responded.

  A broad smile formed on Wakinyan’s face. “Not fair? That is all you have? Pathetic argument.”

  “Hello? Projecting,” I countered.

  “Well, you do have serious limitations while projecting. Communicating like this reminds me of trying to read a mule’s mind.”

  I concentrated on the words, “Be glad you can’t read my mind.”

  Wakinyan laughed. “I can imagine. Save your energy. Report back as soon as you can.”

  “We will fill you in, I promise,” Gavin said.

  I didn’t have time to argue or say goodbye. My body yanked me away from him. Usually the tugging sensations came and went and I ignored them, but the serious ones pulled hard enough that I recognized the urgency. Back on the train, I sensed two Fae. They were a mile ahead and appeared to be waiting for the train to pass.

  Candace studied my face and shot me a worried look.

  “It’s okay.”

  Ronnie leaned toward Candace and me from the opposite seat. “Only about half an hour to Birmingham.”

  Candace heard what he said, nodding, but didn’t take her ice blue eyes from me.

  “There are two, ahead. Focus on anything else. You know how to play the game.”

  They both nodded.

  The Fae remained in place as we passed by, like sentinels keeping watch. I kept my uneasiness buried deep in my mind under layers of what I hoped were typic
al tourist fascination. They were the first Fae we had encountered since Mara. As the distance increased between us, I wondered if they were Sidhe or members of the small English clan, the Portune. Sara told me there were less than thirty Portune in Britain.

  The train continued west-northwest, toward the late-afternoon sun rambling across gently rolling green fields and low hills, and past miles of hedgerows, rock walls, and fences. The English countryside didn’t look quite as quaint as I had always imagined, but I admitted that perhaps my perception was clouded—being on the run had taken a toll on my nerves. An hour after stopping in Birmingham, the train hugged the coastline for several miles before crossing onto the tiny island peninsula toward Holyhead.

  The train station, a long, severe-looking red brick building was a short walk from the ferry terminal, and within twenty minutes we were shuffling over blue carpet with a horde of loud, brightly dressed American tourists. It immediately struck me just how obvious Americans were. Candace suggested that we blend in for the time being. I didn’t sense any Fae in the vicinity, but the feeling of being watched returned so I agreed. If the Fae were looking for us, they’d be looking for three teenagers, not a large group.

  SEVENTEEN

  TEMPLE BAR

  By dusk we were standing in a small terminal building with a curved roof, waiting on a cab. Ronnie struck up a conversation with the young guy working behind the counter. “Americans. You’ll probably want to stay in Temple Bar,” he said, smiling broadly.

  “Can you help us find a hotel?” Ronnie asked. “Two rooms—someplace nice?” Ronnie flashed his best smile, and leaned slightly forward on the counter.

  Ian, the young guy, blushed and began making phone calls.

  “Either Ian is really nice and finding us a great place, or he’ll be laughing with all of his friends tonight at the stupid Americans,” Candace whispered to me.