“With mixed results, usually.” Tad came into the room. He looked tired behind his usual cheery smile that mostly had ceased to be real sometime while he was away at college. He looked at me. “Ask Dad about the one he used when courting my mother.”
“Or not,” said Zee coolly.
There was a little more real warmth in the grin Tad aimed at his father.
“Aiden asked for sanctuary for one more day,” I told Adam.
He looked at the boy, who glanced up, then away from my mate. It isn’t just posturing, the werewolf Alpha thing. It might not be safe to meet an Alpha’s eyes because they see it as defiance, but it is also difficult. Even humans have instincts, evidently even humans who spent most of their very long life trapped in Underhill.
“Why?” Adam asked.
Aiden drew himself up and plastered on a vaguely patronizing smile that made me want to slap him. “Never mind.”
“He’d like to be safe for a day more,” Tad said. He was getting a coffee cup out of the cupboard, so his back was toward us.
Aiden stiffened.
Tad filled his cup with coffee and turned to face Aiden. “I slept in front of your door,” he said softly.
I’d thought the boy-who-wasn’t couldn’t hold himself any stiffer, but he did. If he were a glass, he would have shattered.
“Safe,” said Tad heavily, “isn’t something that Underhill is full of anymore, I think. How long were you there?”
Aiden shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Underhill was mostly closed down by the ninth century,” said Zee conversationally. “There were a few bolt-holes until the fifteenth century.”
“What would you do for one more night of safety?” Tad asked softly.
And Aiden broke. Completely. And he did it without moving or saying anything. Tears welled and slid down his face while he breathed as if it hurt.
Children don’t cry that way. Silently. Without expression. His face was a stony blank, and only the tears betrayed him.
It was the first time I’d seen him look his age.
Adam moved first. He approached him and put a hand on the top of the boy’s head. When no objection followed, he drew him against his chest and let him rest in the shelter of Adam’s arms. It had nothing to do with Aiden’s childlike appearance; I’d seen Adam do the same for any of his wolves who was in distress. That’s the base component of what an Alpha does for his pack: he provides a safe place to be. Touch is better than any word.
The boy’s feet drew up and he curled into a fetal ball, still crying soundlessly. Babies make noise when they cry, trusting that an adult will hear them and make things better. As children, we learn that tears have power to move the people who care for us. We make noise when we cry in a bid for attention, for help, for support.
Aiden was silent and tried silently to disappear into the safety of Adam. My husband looked at me with troubled eyes.
I said, “Look what followed me home. Can we keep him?”
Adam’s eyes warmed, and he smiled. “I think we have to, don’t you? Until we can find a better home.”
Tad raised his coffee cup to Adam—and his father grunted sourly.
“Aiden?” I said.
Adam shook his head, “Not now. He isn’t even hearing us right now.”
He picked Aiden up, as if he were the child he looked to be. He started to sit on the kitchen chair, but Joel had fallen asleep against it last week, leaving a leg half–burned through. Seeing what he was looking at, Tad retrieved a chair from the dining-room table. Adam sat in that and held the boy as if it were something that he was used to doing.
I grabbed a dining-room chair, too, and sat opposite Adam, next to Zee.
“So the fae who wrote the note could want the walking stick, Zee, or Aiden,” Adam said. “Or some combination thereof.”
“Or Tad,” said Zee.
“Right,” Tad said, sounding exhausted. “Let’s not forget about me.” He took the chair that Adam had rejected, spun it around, and sat between Zee and me.
Zee said, “That note is not signed—it is probably not a coordinated effort of the Gray Lords.”
“So we don’t have to worry?” I asked.
“I didn’t say that,” said the old fae. “If they say they can destroy this city . . . these cities—then they can. But even if you bargain with them, you still might not be safe.”
“‘Always look on the bright side of life,’” I quoted, though I didn’t try singing it. My British accent is terrible enough without music. “Okay. We do have some options, even if they suck. First, we can call the number—they can’t zap us through the ether, right?”
Zee raised an eyebrow, so I continued blithely, “And if they can, they don’t need a cell phone connection to do it. Second, we can ignore them. Maybe we could send a message to the Gray Lords in residence—Zee should know who they are, and if not, Uncle Mike will—and request a face-to-face meeting. Get the reaction of the governing body”—Zee snorted—“to our rescue of Aiden, killing of the troll, and protection for Zee and Tad straight from the horse’s mouth.”
“If you request a meeting,” said Tad, “it puts them in the driver’s seat.”
“They win the dominance fight,” Adam agreed. “But it is the only way we know we are dealing with the people in charge.”
Zee grunted.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Wait a minute.” I looked at Adam. “Thomas Hao is meeting with the Gray Lords tonight in Walla Walla. We might be able to finagle the definition of some guesting laws so that we could attend that meeting. Since we are in the process of defining what our duties for our territory are right now, they’re pretty fluid.”
Adam laughed, but quietly because Aiden had fallen into an exhausted sleep. I’d seen things like that happen with the wolves sometimes, mostly while I’d lived with the Marrok. He took in the wolves who needed help, whatever the reason. Some of them arrived in really bad shape—mentally and physically. In Bran’s touch, they found safety. Sleep would come and just knock them off their feet.
“Fluid duties is right,” Adam agreed. “Would the Gray Lords Thomas is meeting with be able to negotiate with us?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “but I bet Zee will.”
“Thomas Hao is a vampire,” said Zee.
I nodded. “But that’s not who the fae are interested in.” I told them all about our early-morning call and whom we’d found when we went visiting Wulfe’s stray vampire.
Zee bowed his head when I was finished. “The Dragon Under the Hill is dead,” he said heavily. “I had not heard. So many of my old enemies are no more.” He gave me a wry look. “Happily, there seem to be adequate replacements ready and waiting.”
“Her father was really a dragon?” I asked.
“The Dragon Under the Hill is a title. The Flanagan was not a dragon in that sense,” said Zee. “He was a powerful fae lord whose elements were both fire and earth in a way that was similar to the Red Dragon of Cymry, who was—for all I know, still is—a true dragon.”
“So,” said Adam. He moved Aiden around until the boy’s legs dangled limply off one side of Adam’s lap. “Assuming Thomas and Margaret agree to our joining them, we have several options. We can call the number on the note, then go to Walla Walla with Thomas and his fae to negotiate with the Gray Lords. We can not call the number on the note, and still go to Walla Walla. We can ignore the fae entirely.”
“I would not recommend that last,” said Zee, “not as long as we have bargaining room.”
“Do we?” asked Tad in a raw voice. “What would you bargain?” He looked around the room at us. “Dad bargained his safety for mine—they twisted that and tortured my father to get my cooperation.”
Zee smiled. “Which you didn’t give them.”
“I would have,” snarled Tad. “Don’t
think I wouldn’t have, old man—but you told me you had a plan. You didn’t tell me it would take two weeks.”
Zee patted Tad’s shoulder. “If you had not held out, all would have failed. As it is, we are safe, with allies—and I will deal with those responsible in such a way that it will not happen again.”
Silence fell.
“We were talking about bargaining room,” Zee said, sounding almost kindly. “You probably won’t know what you have until you talk to them.”
“I won’t hand Aiden over to them,” Adam said. “Nor stand by while you or Tad are taken.”
“There’s some room between what we will do and what we won’t,” I said. “Should I call Thomas?” I didn’t have his phone number, but I could call the hotel.
“Your justification for escorting the Flanagan and her vampire is that they are in your territory?” Zee asked. “How big is your territory, Adam?”
“As big as I can defend,” Adam said, his eyes hooded. “If there is a war, I will take it right to the door of Underhill, should it be necessary. They will not find us an easy enemy to defeat.”
“Cost them so much in the winning that they never do it again,” said Zee thoughtfully. “That is a tactic. Not a good one, but a tactic. Usually, the result is a Pyrrhic victory.”
Adam nodded. “Let’s just hope that someone other than you remembers that, and they don’t force us to go to war.”
“Or we can just refer to the guesting laws,” I said. “Guests can request help in their journey without us claiming Walla Walla as our territory. It’s stretching the rules a little, but not changing the letter of the law.”
“Guesting laws aside”—Adam took a deep breath and gave a decisive nod—“the first thing we really need is information. And I have one place we can get more without risking anyone.” He hitched his hip up off the chair and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “So I vote that we see what our note writers want first.” He dialed, then set the phone on the table with the speaker on—apparently done with his nod to democracy.
It rang three times and stopped. I could hear breathing on the other side of the connection. They waited for us to speak—but that’s not how an Alpha plays the game.
Eventually, a voice that could have been a high-pitched man’s or a low-pitched female’s said, tentatively, “Who calls?”
Aiden jerked awake at the sound of the voice and dug his hands into Adam’s arms, then slid off his lap and backed into a corner of the kitchen. Zee knew the voice on the phone, too. His eyes narrowed, and he pursed his lips, but he nodded at Adam.
“You give this number to a lot of people?” Adam asked.
“Mr. Hauptman,” said the voice, the tentative quality disappearing, buried in cold confidence. It was a woman’s voice, I decided. “We do not desire a war with you.”
“Could have fooled me,” he growled. “You set a troll on my city.”
There was a pause. “Your city?” she said. “I believe you are the Alpha of the Columbia Basin Pack, not the mayor of Richland, Pasco, or Kent-Kenta-Ken . . .”
Adam smiled in satisfaction. “Kennewick,” he said, “is the name you’re looking for. And my territory is where I say it is.”
“What your woman says it is,” she snapped, implying, I thought, that the power in the pack was not Adam, but me.
“Exactly so,” agreed Adam to my surprise. I wasn’t the only one. Tad looked at me with an odd expression. “She is my mate and speaks with my voice. It doesn’t sound as though we can work together. You are wasting my time.” He reached out and hit END, cutting off the call.
Aiden said, “It is dangerous to play games with them.” His shoulders were hunched, and he did not look at any of us. “Especially dangerous with that one.”
Tad murmured, “Listen to Captain Obvious.” That earned him a quelling glance from Adam.
I started to ask Aiden—or Zee—just who we were dealing with, but Adam spoke first.
“We are dangerous, too,” my husband told Aiden, not unkindly. “They need to remember that.” He looked at Zee. “How long do you think she’ll wait before calling back?”
Zee pursed his lips. “It depends upon how much she wants—”
The phone buzzed, and Adam glanced at the screen. “Apparently quite a lot,” he said. He hit the green button on the screen and set it back down on the table.
“You have something I want,” she said.
I frowned at Adam, and he nodded. He’d caught her change from the “we” of the note to “I.”
“You’ve said that before,” Adam said. “I probably have several things you want, pick one.”
“The boy,” she said.
“No dice.” Adam hit the red button, and we all waited. Aiden stared at the floor and wrapped his arms around himself.
“Adam offered you indefinite protection,” Tad told Aiden. “You probably missed it in the middle of your panic attack. But he won’t allow you to be given to the fae against your will. Not ever. Nicely played.”
Aiden opened his mouth.
The phone rang again.
Adam touched the green button, and said, “You bore me.”
“I need the boy,” she said.
“And you offer?”
“The note told you we are willing to allow you your territory.”
His body relaxing like a cat’s, Adam smiled, his teeth white and even. “So the note said.” His voice was very soft. “No one allows me anything.” He paused and continued in a more normal tone. “That doesn’t mean we can’t negotiate. What are you, yourself, willing to offer me, and why are you answering this phone instead of whoever wrote those notes?”
The Fideal was male—and I would have recognized his voice. The woman might have been working with him, or some group of fae—but she was trying to work out a deal alone. Adam had just let her know that he understood that.
She responded with silence. Hard to tell if she was panicking or just thinking.
“Fae can lie,” Adam told her conversationally. “But I understand that they are punished for it. Removed from all that is and was and could be. A curse of rare power levied against your race by those who went before.”
I raised my eyebrows. I didn’t know that. Zee focused intently on Adam. I assumed that Zee knew that fae could lie but wanted to know where Adam had gotten his information.
“You will regret—” she spat, but Adam had already disconnected his phone.
“Well, that one wants you, Aiden,” Adam said. “But as entertaining as that phone call was, we didn’t learn what the fae as a whole want. Who was she, Zee?”
“The Widow Queen,” he said. “Neuth. She has other names. The Black Queen.”
“A fairy queen?” I asked. I’d met one of them.
But Zee shook his head. “No. She’s sidhe fae—a Gray Lord. She likes to play with the humans, though, causing misery—which she can feed upon. She made her way into more than one folktale. I’d heard that she was at the one in Nevada. I did not see her while I was at our local reservation.”
Aiden shook his head. “No. She is here. She—” He took a deep breath. “No. She was one of the ones who came here when I escaped Underhill and was recaptured by the fae.”
“Tell me about her,” said Adam.
Zee frowned.
It was Tad who said, “In the far past, the Widow Queen was known for seducing men, men powerful in the human world, but also good and beloved men. Gradually, she would separate them from everything they loved until they were obsessed with her. She could use magic to accomplish this—but preferred not. It was better when they followed her of their own will. Then she would destroy the man, the people he once loved—physically, mentally, in all ways at her disposal—then move on to the lands he ruled. The stories of Snow White and Cinderella probably were first conceived as a result of incidents involving
her. When Underhill closed, she lost a great deal of that kind of magic, and more to the point, she lost her ability to feed off human misery. That wasn’t her greatest power—she is a Gray Lord—but she enjoyed it the most.”
“So why would she want Aiden?” I asked. Then answered myself, “Beloved of Underhill, right? Possessed of magic she bestowed upon him. And the Widow Queen wants her abilities back.”
Tad shrugged. Zee grunted. Good enough supposition, I read from the vague noises.
“At least she doesn’t prey upon children,” Adam murmured with a sigh. “So now we know that one fae wants Aiden. We need a plan for tonight. Will the Gray Lords meeting with Thomas’s fae be of sufficient status to bargain?”
He looked at Zee, who sighed. “Probably. The Flanagan was a Power, and his daughter showed signs of being the same.” He tapped on the table. “You should bargain with them that they respect the boundaries of your territory—and be very clear what your territory is. Too big, and they will not believe you can hold it; too small, and you tell them that you are weak.”
“What do we have to bargain with?” Adam asked. “I won’t turn the boy over to them.” He looked at Tad. “Or you or your father. Bran has made it clear that we are on our own.”
“There is the walking stick,” I said.
“That’s a nonstarter,” said Adam. “It won’t stay with them in the first place. And in the second place . . .”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s changed, hasn’t it? It’s not just an artifact anymore. It has a mind of its own—which makes it . . . not something I’m willing to bargain with if I can help it.”
8
Thomas had been suspiciously amiable about my request to include us in his fae lady’s meeting.
“I am,” he’d said when I’d called him, “very happy to have more security for Margaret.”
I cleared my throat. “You might not be so happy when I explain exactly why we’d like to come along.” He’d listened as I expanded on the tale of the trouble I’d caused with my little speech on the bridge.
“So,” he said when I’d finished. “You wish to come in the hopes of taking the Gray Lords by surprise—and are fairly sure that those fae you will corner are people who know the situation and have the power to make bargains.”