Destroyer Rising (28 page)

“Of course, Honiokaiyohos.”

“Well,” Foster said, “if Alexandra is through showing
off the fact she can say Hugh’s name, we should go.”

Sam’s SUV rumbled down the gravel road. It was like
driving on smooth glass compared to my old ’32’s bouncing over the
rocks and ruts.

“Ugh,” Beth said from the backseat. “What is that?” I
turned around in time to see her shiver.

Ashley stayed silent beside her, keeping her fingers
laced together with Beth’s.

Sam steered the car around a bend and I pointed out
toward an old field. “There used to be a sawmill here, a whole
town, actually. Lost but for the ghosts, now.”

I watched the woods go by and listened to Sam curse
about all the scratches she was going to have on her black SUV. It
felt right. It felt like coming home.

The woods thinned and Sam pulled into a wide field
that ran up to a short hill. The cabin stood outlined by the glow
of a fire in the woods behind it. Sam steered us up the hill and
parked beneath the old oak.

“How big of a fire is that?” Foster asked. “It’s
still daylight.”

I shrugged.

“This is the middle of freaking nowhere,” Beth said
as she climbed out.

“It was a lot of fun when we were kids,” Sam said. “I
could have lived down here for years.”

I smiled at my sister and climbed out the passenger
door. I loved the smell of the country, or the lack thereof. Clean
air and clear skies waited above us in the early evening. A breeze
rustled the branches behind me and brought the scent of the bonfire
with it. I looked at the darkening sky, already able to see the
brightest stars far to the east.

“How long until we have to be back to Howell Island?”
I asked.

“Four hours or so,” Foster said, standing on Sam’s
shoulder. He cocked his head to the side. “Something else is
here.”

“Like Aeros?” I asked, and I immediately wanted to
see the old rock pile. I raised my Sight and scanned the area. I
didn’t see anything out of the normal in the ocean of dead auras.
“I don’t see anything.”

“Let’s find Zola and see why she wants us all here,”
Ashley said, breaking her silence.

Sam led us and I walked beside the priestess. I found
myself looking at the tree where the Ghost Pack had eviscerated
Zachariah, the bare earth that concealed Azzazoth’s corpse, and the
repaired railing on the left edge of the porch.

“You okay?” Ashley asked, her hand grasping the
handle of her nine-tails.

I looked at the priestess. Concern wrinkled her
forehead. I smiled and looked back to the cabin. “I am, and you
won’t need that here.”

Her hand jerked away from the weapon, as though she
hadn’t realized it was in her palm.

“Zola!” I shouted when we reached the short steps to
the porch.

“In the back,” came her somewhat muted response.

I stepped out in front of Sam, and led the group
around by the well. I didn’t want to walk by the shed or Azzazoth’s
corpse. We’d come so close to losing Sam to that demon. I’d lost
too much today.

The lawn was freshly mowed. Part of my brain was
happy about that, because the last thing any of us needed was a
nasty bite from a copperhead snake. We rounded the cabin and I
slowed at the edge of the back porch.

Zola waited on one of the stones Aeros had raised
during our battle with Philip. The forest still hadn’t grown back
where Zola’s incantation had burned it through, taking Philip out
of this world once and for all.

A bonfire flickered and cracked in the crater inside
the circle of stones. Orange light and shadows made twisted shapes
out of Zola’s braided hair as the wind rattled the charms against
each other. She adjusted her cloak and watched us.

“Why did you call us here?” Ashley asked, and the
bluntness of her question surprised me.

It didn’t faze Zola at all. She scanned the group and
her eyes settled on Foster. “Ah’m sorry to hear about Cara.”

The fairy glided toward her and settled on another
stone. “Thank you.”

“And as to your question, priestess,” Zola said,
turning back to Ashley, “Ah wanted you to meet someone. Do not fear
him, for it is not us he hunts.”

A shade moved in my periphery. I turned to focus on
it and found only darkness, with two glowing red eyes. The hunched
form straightened and stepped out of the shadow of the cabin.

I had met many men and many creatures. This man
walked with an easy grace that promised a world of violence. He
wore clothes not so different from our own, but his jewelry spoke
of another time. Golden fibers, braided and looped to form a thick
rope, hung from his neck and shoulders, silent as he moved toward
us.

The hilts of two green stone daggers peeked from
sheaths under either arm. His shirt hung open, and beneath the
golden ropes waited an intricate tattoo; a circle surrounded by
stone idols, and within the circle sat a hunched man, bearing
another idol on his back.

I knew who he was, without hearing his name. Zola had
known him for a long time, and Mike had known him even longer.
Edgar had perhaps known him the longest.

“Camazotz,” I said.

He slowly inclined his head. “I am.” His voice was
deep, and his accent subtle enough that I couldn’t place it.
“Please, join us. There is much we need to discuss.”

“This is a weird day,” Beth said, following Ashley
and me to the stone circle.

I took up a seat beside Zola while Sam sat across
from me. Ashley and Beth settled onto one of the wider stones.
Camazotz strode up to the center stone and sat down, his back
perfectly straight.

“Welcome back,” Zola said, smiling at me. “Well
done.”

I offered a weak smile in return. “Thanks.”

Camazotz leaned forward slightly. “There are not many
who can claim to have journeyed to the Burning Lands and returned.
There are even less who are still alive that can claim it. You have
done great things in this past day, Damian, but you must prepare.
The dark-touched are upon your world, and they are an insidious
threat.”

“We fought them in the Burning Lands.”

Camazotz gave a quick shake of his head. “You fought
ghosts and visions.” He looked toward the forest before turning to
Zola. “Has Aeros arrived?”

The ground shook and crumbled before the bonfire.
Filaments and stone rose before the embers of the crackling fire,
shifting the earth until it became the Old God, his pale green eye
lights eerie in the shadows formed by the bonfire.

“Yes,” Zola said.

I snorted a laugh. “That sarcasm will get you killed
one day. At least that’s what you used to tell me.”

“This is an odd sight,” Aeros said, his gaze sweeping
around the circle. “The bat children are restless, Camazotz.”

“I will take them to a cave soon enough,” Camazotz
said. “We need only find where the dark-touched will strike next,
and I will move them. Thank you for watching over them.”

I had heard stories of the bat children. I wasn’t
sure if I wanted to meet them or not. Human-like forms with bat
heads and wings were way off my creep meter.

“You saved the child,” Aeros said, drawing my
attention back to him.

I nodded at the Old God.

“Thank you.”

I tried not to frown at the old rock’s words, but I
didn’t know why he was thanking me. He didn’t owe me; he hadn’t
sent me on a suicidal march through the Burning Lands.

“Where is she now?” Aeros asked.

“Happy and Jasper are keeping her company back at the
shop,” Foster said. “She’s been sleeping like a rock since we got
back.” Foster blinked. “Was that insulting? I didn’t mean for that
to be insulting, but now that I think about it, I’m trying really
hard not to laugh.”

I grinned at the fairy and Ashley chuckled.

I looked over at the priestess and the blood mage,
and felt really, really bad for not warning Beth. She looked pale,
her eyes locked on the Old God.

“Oh, Beth,” I said. “I’m sorry. This is Aeros.” I
gestured to the rock pile.

The Old God turned his head to the grinding sound of
boulders. “It is good to meet you, apprentice of Cornelius. Thank
you for helping my friends.”

Beth blinked. “It’s … I … yes. It’s good to meet you.
Cornelius has spoken of you, but … you are far more imposing in
person.”

“Alright people,” Foster said, tapping his wrist.
“We’re on a schedule.”

“Tell us about Kansas City,” Zola said. “They need to
hear what has happened.”

“I find it is best not to anger the fairies,” Aeros
said.

“Please,” Zola said. “They need to know.”

“It has some impact on your undine alliances,”
Camazotz said with a nod to Zola. “The few dark-touched would have
had the power to destroy the coven on their own, there is no doubt
in that, but they should not have been able to find them.”

“What do you mean?” Ashley asked, gripping the edge
of her stone seat.

“The coven was allied with some of the native Fae.
There have been problems with Mishupishu in the rivers there, and
the coven was providing their help in tracking the creatures. As
thanks, the Fae concealed the coven’s riverside home.”

“Native Fae?” I asked. “You mean like Native
American? You mentioned the Mishupishu.”

Camazotz nodded. “I had hoped Hugh would join us, but
I understand why he could not. He will be able to tell you more,
but I will share with you what I do know.

“The woodsmen were the first to bring word of the
attack. The mere fact they were willing to expose themselves speaks
volumes to the betrayal of the undines.”

“Woodsmen?” Beth asked. I had to give her kudos for
not cringing when every eye in the circle turned to her. “Like
lumberjacks?”

Aeros responded with one word. “No.”

Beth raised her eyebrows when he didn't continue.

“It takes him a while to think sometimes,” I said.
“You could cook an egg on his forehead, though.”

Camazotz barked out a laugh, and it caught me
completely off guard. “You jest with a stone guardian, an Old God
that could flatten you at your strongest. I had heard stories from
your master. I thought them exaggerations.”

The rock pile sighed and turned to Beth. “One day his
name will be upon the walls of my home.” His eyes flicked to me,
and I could have sworn the old rock winked. “The woodsmen are known
as green men in Faerie.”

“What?” I asked.

“See,” Sam said. “Shut your smart-ass mouth and you
might learn something.”

“That’s beside the point,” I said, narrowing my
eyes.

“Children,” Aeros said. “Please be silent.”

I exchanged a grin with Sam, and waited for the Old
God to continue. He didn’t.

“That’s it?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“That’s not good,” Foster said. “The green men are
peaceful and solitary. For one to make themselves known …” He shook
his head. “Not good.”

Aeros rumbled to life. “The green men can be violent
creatures. Peaceful unless provoked. They are unequalled
sentinels.”

“And they saw nothing,” Camazotz said. “What creature
could move through those woods out of sight of the woodsmen? The
undines, yes, but it doesn’t sound like the undines were the only
killers.”

Camazotz frowned and rubbed a necklace bead shaped
like golden skull between his fingers. “There was an ancient tribe
around what became Kansas City. It was one of the few that welcomed
Fae and humans alike. They married many languages, and you would
find Siouan, Algonquian, and a great deal more. Though many would
call it a lost tribe, their children were like no others, and their
descendants remain some of the most powerful shapeshifters in the
world today.”

“Is that what attacked the coven there?” I asked. “A
shapeshifter? They could have hidden from the woodsmen?”

“I do not know enough,” Camazotz said. “If I visit
the grounds, I may be able to make some sense of it.”

“Then go,” Zola said. “If we don’t know what’s
attacking our allies, we could lose this battle before it
begins.”

Allies? We didn’t know them. Then I remembered I was
sitting next to Ashley. She would have known any witches in
Missouri. These people could have been more than allies; they could
have been her friends. She might have been their priestess.
Sometimes it was good to keep my mouth shut.

“The authorities have no idea what happened,”
Camazotz said. “All they know is that there are bodies along the
river.”

“And with everything in Falias right now …” Foster
shook his head. “This isn’t going to end well.”

“It has already progressed more than you know,”
Camazotz said. “The water witches, the same undines that led the
dark-touched to the coven, killed the detectives at the scene,
spouting some nonsensical rhetoric about Faerie’s right to rule the
commoners.”

“The surviving witches didn’t escape,” Ashley said
quietly, leaning forward to stare at her boots. “The undines let
them escape.” Her fist turned white as she squeezed the handle of
the nine-tails.

“Yes,” Camazotz said. “It is difficult to spread the
message when everyone is dead.”

“The undines in Saint Charles,” I said, “they must
have had the same motives.”

“Same motives?” Foster said as his wings flared out.
“It was probably the same Fae.”

“What water witches?” Zola asked. “We’ve heard
nothing about Saint Charles.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “They killed an Army
unit earlier. Left one man alive.” I frowned. “Cut by a poisoned
blade, he would have died without Aideen’s healing.”

“Another strike at the authorities,” Camazotz said.
He nodded slightly. “It’s an aggressive ploy, but the balance
between the Fae and the military is tenuous at best.”

“There is only one Fae who benefits from that
misdirection,” Zola said. “The Queen is bringing her war to
us.”