Courting Darkness (13 page)

I gazed at the wide expanse of wetlands. Fens were treacherous. If we tried to work our way through there without the proper equipment, chances were we could get bogged down, no pun intended. There was no easy way to tell where the path was—the frost covered everything as it had back in the glen, but with the tangled foliage, it was impossible to follow any trail that Chase might have made.

Overhead, a mournful call echoed as a team of ducks came winging by.

Delilah turned to me, her face pale. “Want to make a bet the Bog Eater is out there, waiting? Do you think he has Chase?”

“If he does, then Chase might as well be dead.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. At her pained look, I bit my lip and then lightly laid my hand on her arm. “I hope not. Aeval didn’t think so. Do you think he was dragged away into this strip of forest rather than the bog? Do you want to look?”

She gave a hopeless shrug. “Do you think we’ll find anything? Or do you really think he’s out there . . . dead?”

For the first time, even through all of the crap we’d been through, I saw defeat on her face as she held her breath, waiting for my answer. And that tore up my heart. Of all three of us, she was the eternal optimist, and though I was glad she’d grown up—she had desperately needed a dose of realism in order to be able to face what we were up against—the realization that my younger sister was no longer the happy-go-lucky kitten pained me.

I steeled myself and did something I rarely did. I lied.

“I don’t think he’s dead. No. If the Bog Eater had caught him, he would have eaten him up right there and we’d have found bloody remains. I think something else caught hold of him. Now, whether he’s out in the bog or not, I’m not sure. We can’t check on that without more help. But let’s walk along the edge of the fen here, there’s room enough—just be cautious for quicksand—and see if we can find any sign that whatever dragged him away took him into the forest instead.”

Delilah began to breathe again. She flashed me a grateful look and leaned down to kiss my cheek. “Bless you. You’ve always known just the right thing to say. I know it’s been hard, over the years—you’ve kept the family going and now, with what Father pulled on you—but . . . Menolly and I both owe you so much.”

Averting my eyes so she could not read the truth of my thoughts, I gave her a soft smile. “That’s what big sisters are for. Right? Now come on, let’s have a look. Here—grab a wooden stick so we can test the ground as we go along.” Quicksand could easily hide in plain view, especially this close to a bog. A good walking stick could save your life.

We slowly moved forward, testing the ground every few feet. The path between the forest and the bog was narrow—a couple of yards at the most—and we tried to keep toward the trees. Even though I didn’t really believe Chase had been dragged into the forest, I kept my eyes open. Maybe I was right; maybe we’d luck out and find a trace of him along the trail.

Delilah and I fell into an easy rhythm. The chill of the air kept us alert, as did the hum of whatever insects were able to brave the cold. I wasn’t sure what they were, but it wasn’t the lazy drone of bees or the sunset chirping of crickets. No, this was more a buzz, then a
pop, pop, pop
. I looked into the trees, searching for birds, and saw several—a hawk in one branch, unmoving but very aware.

In another tree, several starlings watched over the forest, along with the inevitable crows. Crows and ravens, symbols of Morgaine. Could she be nearby? But a little voice inside whispered:
There are more entities who have dealings with the black birds than just Morgaine. Be cautious. Stay alert.

We picked our way along, tapping the ground, looking for signs of Chase. After fifteen minutes, I was almost ready to give up and turn back when something shiny on the ground caught my eye. It was in a tangle of huckleberry up ahead, lying partially beneath a dying fern.

“What’s that?” I pointed to the object.

Delilah, using her stick to prod her way over to the bushes, knelt by the bush and gingerly reached to pick it up. From where I stood, it looked like a bracelet. She flipped it over to gaze at the backside, then looked up at me.

“Chase’s watch. I bought it for him for his birthday this summer.”

She’d had it inscribed. I’d been there when she asked them to engrave
From your favorite puddy-tat. Love, Delilah
on it. I swallowed a lump in my throat. Even though she was happy with Shade, Chase had given her something no one else ever would: her first chance at love.

I made my way over to her and we hunted around the bush, finally discovering a small trail leading into the forest. It was covered by detritus—decaying leaves, fallen needles from the conifers, and other signs of winter—but it was there. And as we looked closer, we could see the indentations in the mulch. Again, it appeared as though someone had been dragged along through here.

“Come on,” I said, feeling the first ray of hope I’d experienced since Chase disappeared.

We broke through the brush, stumbling along, following the trail until we came to a ring of toadstools.

A faerie ring.
Magic emanated from them, old magic, trickster magic, and I sucked in a deep breath. As sure as I knew my own name, I knew that Chase had entered this ring, but not come out. Somebody had whisked him away.

“The Bog Eater?” Delilah’s voice was thin.

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. No, this
is
Fae energy—Elder Fae, most likely, but not the Bog Eater. And I’m sorry, but we can’t go through that ring. We have no clue where it leads. It’s even more dangerous than the bog.”

She slumped to the ground, staring at the fungi. “I can’t believe this. What the hell’s happening? We should be chasing demons—
with
Chase. Not trying to find out what member of our extended family swept him off.”

I hesitantly stuck my hand in the ring, holding tight to a branch of the bush next to me. My fingers instantly began to tingle, and the needle pricks raced up my arm. I yanked it out again, not wanting to tempt fate.

“We need more help. Let me see if I can find out anything else.” This wasn’t a good space in which to scry, but I pulled out the unicorn horn. Eriskel would probably bust my butt if he knew where I was with this, but it occurred to me that I might just be able to use the Elementals locked within the horn to find out more about Chase.

I took a quick look around, then settled myself against the trunk of a tree. “You keep your eyes open. When I’m communing with the horn, anything could sneak up on me and I wouldn’t know it. I don’t trust this place.”

I held the horn in my hands, the cool crystal resonating through my body with a satisfying tingle. Here was magic I understood, magic that I knew. Of course, at first it hadn’t been that way—I’d been scared spitless when I realized that I was being given possession of the artifact. But now . . .
I guess we learn and grow and adapt.

Closing my eyes, I took a long, slow breath and felt myself spiral inward, into the horn, into the energy, into the core. A dark chasm opened up and I fell, deep and long, diving inward. Down I tumbled, head over heels, spinning in a vortex of spiraling silver and gold. The winds raged around me as I aimed for the center star—a single shining point on the horizon. As it approached, I held my breath, hoping to land softly.

Thunk.
I hit with a shudder that raced through me like thunder. And then, standing, I glanced around and found myself in the little room where I had first discovered the secret of the horn. A table and two chairs sat in the center, much like a garden patio set, and on each wall was fastened a large mirror, like a picture window.

On the south wall was a mirror reflecting a bronze desert, and there, in a flowing dress fashioned of molten lava, with hair burgeoning around her like hardened black pillow lava, stood a beautiful woman whose skin glowed with the color of sunset. She bowed.

I curtsied in return. “Mistress of Flames.”

Against the west wall, the mirror showed a watery ocean rippled with cresting waves, and their roar echoed out of the picture as a merman rose out of the depths, leaping like a silver flash through the air, then back into the water. He rose again, shook his long mane of kelp-colored hair, then turned jet black eyes on me and inclined his head.

I nodded. “Lord of the Depths.”

To the north wall, within the glass I could see a tangled forest with mountains rising in the distance. The Elemental who stepped forward was wearing a frosty cloak over a green robe beneath, and the faint scent of spring clung to the dryad look-alike.

“Lady of the Land.” I nodded to her.

Lastly, I turned to the east and a ray of early-morning sunlight came shimmering through the glass as a stalwart man flew into the picture, astride the back of an eagle. They landed on the craggy mountaintop and he dismounted and fell to one knee, his leather armor brown against the flaxen strands of his hair.

“Master of the Winds, I am glad to see you again.” I wasn’t ever sure what to say, but the ritual didn’t seem set in stone. And I truly was becoming fond of them. Even though I’d seen them only a few brief times, I could feel them with me whenever I carried the horn.

I turned to the center of the room and waited, and sure enough, within a few moments a man appeared. Tall—nearly seven feet; his skin was as brown as an oak, and his hair long and dark. He could play with his shape and form, however, and I had never ascertained what his true looks were. I smiled when I remembered the earrings he’d been wearing that I’d fallen in love with. He’d given me a pair just like them.

“Eriskel.” I paused, wondering how to frame my request.

“You have need of our help? I assume we are not in the middle of battle or you would be calling on the powers of the horn from out there.” He motioned to the table and slid into one of the chairs.

I hadn’t yet figured out whether the jindasel liked me or just tolerated my presence, but whatever the case, he was bound by his nature to help me. He was part of the horn; he would not exist without it. When the Black Unicorn died every thousand or so years, his horn and hide were shed and made into ritual artifacts, and a small fragment of the Black Unicorn’s spirit became trapped in the body of the horn, acting as the mentor for whoever ended up wielding the weapon.

Jindasels were formed by a number of creatures, offshoots spinning out of the main spirit like an avatar. They took on an essence of their own—but the jindasels of the horn were unique in their ability to function autonomously, without the original creature that spawned them being near.

I leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin propped on my hands. “Can you or the Elementals of the horn sense into other realms or through portals?” I ran down what had happened and where we were.

Eriskel blinked, his eyes so wide they were surreal. He folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “You need to get out of here.
Now
. This place is not safe. Not for you. Not for the horn. Do you know what would happen if one of the Elder Fae got hold of this artifact?”

“That thought has crossed my mind. Nothing good, I’m sure.”

“Then go. Get your pretty ass out of here and protect the horn. If one of the Elder Fae gets hold of it, all hell will break loose. You think the Bog Eater’s bad? You have no clue how ruthless and powerful some of these beings are. They may be your relatives in name, but you are like a dust mote compared to them. You could probably take one down in a fight if you brought all the powers of the horn to bear, but it would be dicey, and you—my lady—would not come out alive.”

And with that, Eriskel ejected me from the horn. I blinked, the feel of his concern weighing heavy on my shoulders. Jumping up, I turned to Delilah.

“We have to get out of here. Now.”

“But why?” She frowned, but one shake of my head spurred her into action. As we headed away from the mushroom ring, she looked around nervously. “What’s going on?”

“Eriskel convinced me it’s a very bad idea to have the horn here with me,” I whispered. “I wish we could move faster—well,
me
. You can. I wish I could run faster. Now I’m going to fret until we’re back out of the portal.”

“I’ll watch your back, never fear for that.” Delilah didn’t question, just held tighter to the iron blade. She winced. “I can feel the iron through the glove, but it’s not too bad. Tingles in a really unpleasant way.”

“Yeah, I know.” We stumbled our way back through the forest toward the strip of shore between the bog and the woodland. As we stepped out onto the open strip of land, I stopped and looked around. “Notice anything odd?”

She paused, listening. “No birds.”

“Yeah.”

Not only had the birds stopped chirping and crowing, but everything else had gone silent and I could feel an undercurrent—something rumbling so low I could barely make it out. It was coming from across the bog in our direction.

I turned toward the fens. The marsh was quivering—or at least one line of reeds running through it was. My heart in my throat, I made sure my gloves were on and pulled out the iron flail from the bag I was carrying.

And then, the rumbling grew louder as an oh-so-tall creature erupted from the water, spraying peat and detritus and stinking fen water every which way. The man—was it a man?—rose up, a good eight or nine feet tall, and his eyes were spinning with the brilliance of sunlight bouncing off mirrors. He gave one long laugh, turned my way, and leaped from the bog.