Night's End (8 page)

Skimming the top of the snow was still a novelty for me. I hadn't gotten used to being able to traverse the wintery fields as if I were gliding on air. Suddenly, for pure joy, I twirled, skating on the crust, delicate in my movements for the first time in my life.

Behind me, Check laughed gently. “Be careful, Your Highness. You can still slip and hurt yourself.”

“I've fallen so many times in my life it's second nature.” And it was true. I'd spent my youth honing my skills in running away, dodging danger, and sneaking into apartments in order to ransack them for money. I'd learned how to climb through windows, drop down fire escapes, and edge out onto ledges in order to avoid people coming home before I was done pilfering their apartments. But, given all that, while I'd developed muscle and speed, I'd never considered myself graceful.

“Be that as it may, perhaps the skating should wait until we're safely at home in our own realm.” Grieve glanced over his shoulder, a smile spreading across his face. He stopped suddenly, staring at me. “Cicely, you are so beautiful—look at you, in a mantle of white.”

I glanced down. I was wearing the owl-feather cloak, but the softly falling snow had blanketed me in a layer of flakes, freezing against my skin, against my hair. I was outlined in frost, in winter's lacework shawl. I held out my hand and watched as the snow landed on my palm, not melting—but sitting there, crystalline and pristine.

The realization slowly filtered through that I was now colder than the snow. Colder than the dead. I had truly become the Queen of Snow and Ice, and though my heart pumped and blood raced through my veins, heat no longer translated through my body. I was winter incarnate, as frozen as the icicles hanging from the eaves.

Grieve moved to my side, reaching out his hand. In the same silence, we turned and began to run again, heading toward the Twin Oaks.

We were nearing the turnoff leading to the Marburry Barrow when a flutter of wings caught my attention. I glanced up. A great horned owl—looking much like my father, though I knew it couldn't be—swept past. I shaded my eyes to gaze up at the circling form. As the owl swooped lower and lower, a noise of rustling bushes sounded behind us, and Check whirled, pulling out his sword. But it was Strict sweeping out of the trees, taking long strides.

He was almost to us when the owl suddenly spiraled down to land on a nearby log. Strict passed me with a perfunctory nod, then knelt by the owl and waited. My heart fluttered. I knew it wasn't my father, but for Strict to kneel to anybody meant this was someone terribly important.

The owl was larger than my father was in owl form, with a wingspan that must have stretched over five feet in width. He was white, mottled with brown markings, and I had the feeling this bird had seen the decades come and go. I knew he was Uwilahsidhe—I could feel the connection between us even though I was only half-blood.

Strict motioned for me to come forward, and so I did, slowly approaching, all the while wondering whom I would be facing. Grieve followed behind me, as did Check and Fearless. We formed a semicircle around the log, with Check and Fearless holding our backs, keeping an eye out lest anything should come out of the undergrowth to attack us.

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. The scent of winter was all around—the smell of ozone from the storm tinged the air with its acrid scent. The tickle on the back of my neck told me we were expecting snow-thunder. The world felt on edge, poised and waiting. Ulean swept around me, and I could sense she was both excited and nervous.

Who is this? What's going on?

I cannot tell you.

You know, though?

I do, but I was bound to silence by Wrath. Now, though, you shall know. I did not believe this day would happen—and I am both overjoyed that it is happening and filled with trepidation. I don't know how you'll feel. Or what you will think about this.

Yet another thing she hadn't been allowed to tell me. Over the weeks, I'd discovered that Ulean knew far more about my life than Lainule had allowed her to reveal, and it appeared that was still the case. Ulean was bound to me, yes, but she was still enjoined by promises to the former Fae Queen.

I was about to push her for further information when the owl began to shift form. As we watched, he morphed, shimmering as wings shifted to arms, beak to nose, tufts to ears. A moment later, there, sitting on the log in front of us, was one of the Uwilahsidhe. His jet-black hair was streaked with gray, which told me he was incredibly old—the Fae didn't gray the way magic-born and yummanii did, not until they had reached a great age. The man in front of us had probably lived for centuries, if not longer.

As Strict slowly stood, hands patiently folded behind him, Check let out a gasp and stepped forward, kneeling in the snow. Fearless looked as clueless as I felt, but Grieve—my beloved Grieve hung his head and slowly knelt before the aging man.

“Am I the only one left out of the loop?” I didn't like being the odd one out when it came to things like this. I never liked surprises—be they a birthday party or an unwelcome trap. I'd dealt with too many unexpected snafus and bugaboos over the years.

The man stood, his clothes shifting to take on the appearance of a feathered cloak like mine, beneath which he wore brown trousers and a tunic. There was something oddly familiar about him. He looked . . .

“Oh my gods . . . Wrath . . .” This couldn't be my father, and yet the resemblance was uncanny.

“No, I am not your father, Cicely. My name is Hunter, and I'm Wrath's father. I'm your grandfather.”

And with that the world fell away.

Chapter 4

“
Grandfather?
You're my grandfather?” I didn't know how to react. I'd barely gotten a chance to know my father, let alone learn anything about his heritage. The only thing I knew is that he had been born into the Court of Snow and Ice. Check had been his oath brother, pledged to marry Lainule, but the moment she laid eyes on my father, the rest was history. Wrath had fallen in love with her and changed his loyalty to the Court of Rivers and Rushes. That my guard leader bore them no ill will both humbled and amazed me, but Check had become their most loyal supporter.

Hunter slowly circled me, eyeing me up and down, his expression carefully set to neutral. I restrained any impulse to throw my arms around his neck and give him a hug. One thing I'd learned the hard way, starting with my mother, is that blood didn't always mean fealty.

“My son did you a disservice by not telling you about your heritage early on.” Hunter did not look pleased. “You have much to learn. You know nothing about your people—my people. I know”—he held up his hand when I started to protest—“I realize this is not your fault, but you must spend time with us, to understand what your heritage and lineage means.”

My heart leaped. This is what I wanted, though I wondered if the Uwilahsidhe would resent me, considering my background. Hell, when it came down to it, I knew very little about the history of the magic-born, either. Krystal had kept me in the dark. Whatever she'd been taught, she'd repressed with the booze and drugs, and a deep disdain for her own abilities.

“You wouldn't mind teaching me?” As I spoke, my voice cracked, and I realized this meant more to me than I could ever have imagined.

The only family member who'd ever truly loved me was my aunt Heather, and she was long gone now. I'd had to play a part in her death, which still hurt. Rhiannon and I were rebuilding our relationship—so far, so good. But when it came down to it, Ulean was the closest thing to family that I had left. She alone I trusted not to let me down. While Grieve was my husband and I loved him with all my heart, I also knew how fragile love could be. It was hard to let myself believe that we might have our happy-ever-after ending.

I guess Hunter sensed my need because he paused, staring down into my eyes, and his face filled with a compassion that I seldom saw in any of the Cambyra. He placed his hand on my shoulder.

“My granddaughter. I know your story, and I know what you've been through so far in your short life. It's never easy to be destiny's pawn, nor to believe that your existence was engineered merely to fill a need. You are Wrath's daughter. You are
my
blood. Beyond the crown you wear on your head, beyond the title you assumed . . . you are my family, and I will do what I can to help you connect with your roots.” He backed away then, turning to Strict. “I have scouts I trust. They are wild and feral, belonging more to the wing than to any Court or allegiance. I will send them on reconnaissance to see if we can search for the upstart and her armies.”

And with that he turned to go, but stopped. He glanced over his shoulder and, looking at me, said, “I will be in touch, girl. Now is not the time to begin your studies, though I know you are champing at the bit. But after this war is over, we will take wing and fly together. You will learn what it truly means to be one of the Uwilahsidhe. Half-blood . . . is as good as full.”

And then he shimmered and in a blur, transformed back into his owl form, and winging his way through the falling snow, he vanished into the depths of the Golden Wood.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to laugh. I had a grandfather. I had family and roots. Krystal and Heather had spoken very little of their parents. My mother and her sister had been closed mouth. After Heather died, Rhiannon had confided that she'd found nothing about our relatives in the trunks that had remained undamaged during the fire at the Veil House. Our mothers had been chosen by the Fae. Rhiannon's father was also Cambyra Fae, but a snake-shifter.

Neither of us had known the truth about our fathers until the past few weeks. We were still navigating our way through the labyrinth of what felt like a conspiracy surrounding our birth. And truth was we
had
been bred for the thrones of Winter and Summer. Hunter was correct in his statement that our very existence had been engineered. We were created to fill a need rather than conceived out of love. So many unanswered questions remained, that I doubted we'd ever know the full story.

I turned back to Grieve, who smiled at me. He held out his arms, and I slipped into his embrace, pressing my head against his chest.

“I have a grandfather,” I whispered.

“I know.” He kissed the top of my head. “Hunter is very old and very wise, and from what little I know about him, he seldom takes form in human shape anymore. He's one of the elders of your father's people, you know.”

“I didn't know, but it doesn't surprise me.” The wind was picking up, and the snow was starting to fall harder. As much as I wanted to shift into owl form and follow my grandfather, he was right—now was not the time.

When—
if
—we all came out of this war intact, then I would try to forge a relationship with him. A spark in my heart told me that I'd be very disappointed if it didn't work out. Family had always been important to me, but I'd had to push the desire into the background in order to put my focus where it had mattered: surviving day to day, and sometimes hour to hour.

“We'd best get a move on. Rhiannon will be waiting for us—I sent word for them to meet us at the Veil House, and though I said it was important, I gave no clue as to what, in case the messenger . . . well . . . in case whoever carried the message happens to be the spy we're searching for.”

“What will you do about the others? About Luna and Peyton and Kaylin?” Grieve let out a heavy sigh. “We have to figure out a way to test them.”

“I know what to do about everyone except Kaylin, but in a sense he's the most important. He can examine their minds, but who can look into his heart and find out if he's safe?”

A little voice inside me whispered,
How can you ever trust anybody? Sometimes you just have to step away from the fear and take a leap of faith.

With that thought ringing in my mind, I nodded, and we headed out again as Strict made his good-byes and returned to the Eldburry Barrow.

The Veil House had belonged to my aunt Heather, and before her my grandmother and great-aunt. From what little I knew, the house at the end of Vyne Street had belonged to the women of the family for generations. It was also centered over a major ley line—an energy vortex. Aunt Heather had figured that out from notes in a journal we'd found. What she'd planned to do with that knowledge neither Rhiannon nor myself had figured out, and we might never know, but even if we couldn't reason out why Heather had researched it, we might be able to make use of the knowledge in the future.

With Rhiannon and myself living in our respective realms, Luna, Peyton, and Kaylin had taken over the house and were keeping it safe for us. Luna had assumed the business I'd planned to open—Wind Chimes, a magical emporium. Peyton was working hard to open her magical PI firm—Mystical Eye Investigations. They would host them from the house to avoid having to rent out space in town.

A part of me mourned the loss of my plans and the loss of the life I'd started to lay out for myself. Whoever said you can never go home again was right. No matter how good—or bad—your home was like, when you try to revisit the past, you find that everything has shifted.

And for me, that shift had been drastic. On one hand, I had a purpose; I had a new life and an amazing one at that. On the other, I'd been dragged in from a ragtag existence, but one where I understood the game. I knew how to hedge my odds on the streets, but coming back to New Forest, I'd plunged into a surreal nightmare. As rough as things had been walking the underbelly of the cities, I'd never had to kill before. I'd never had to fight a war.

The edge of the Golden Wood opened into the backyard of the Veil House, which was at the end of a cul-de-sac on Vyne Street. Seeing the house standing there, rebuilt from the fire that had destroyed part of it, made me long for my old life even more. I'd never aspired to be a queen. I'd never once played the princess when I was a child. Now the neighborhood and the house looked so cozy and inviting that I let out a soft sigh. Grieve put his hand on my arm, and my wolf shifted on my belly, letting out an anxious huff.

“I'm all right,” I told him. “Just . . . nostalgic. But I'm nostalgic for what might have well been a dream. I only miss the life I had before I was six, before Krystal dragged me away. I remember it through a child's eyes. For all I know, it might have been hell on earth for Heather and Krystal. Maybe Krystal left for a good reason. I'll never know, not now. Everybody who could tell me the truth is dead.”

“You miss what might have been.” Grieve gazed at me, his eyes black as night with glittering stars. “But love, that's not a bad thing. I, too, think of what might have been. . . .”

I nodded. He had his own demons. He'd been born to the Court of Rivers and Rushes, and Myst had taken him forever into the ice and chill. My Summer Prince was now as bound to the Winter as I was. Together we would rule a land neither one of us would have picked, if given a choice.

Check stood guard by my side while Fearless reconnoitered the area. Ulean swept past, also checking for hidden threats and dangers. A moment later she was back.

The area is clear, but they have been past. The Shadow Hunters. I can feel their energy on the slipstream. Their hunger is strong. And Cicely? In town . . . there is trouble. Horrible trouble.

Vampire trouble?

No, Lannan's people still sleep—it is not yet dusk, even though the storm holds the light at bay. Myst's hunters . . . They are feeding.

Her thoughts were tinged with pain, and I cringed. New Forest, Washington, had already seen a decrease in population recently, as people fled from the attacks that had run rampant through the city. A few people had started to trickle back, but fresh murders might destroy the city for good.

New Forest was a small town near Snoqualmie, Washington—nestled between the larger urban areas that comprised the GSMA—the Greater Seattle Metropolitan Area—and the Cascade Mountains. But sometimes it seemed as though New Forest was off the grid. The town felt so disconnected from the other cities and communities. I couldn't remember if it had been that way when I was a child, but ever since I'd returned, the city felt severed from most of the world.

I steeled myself as Fearless returned. While he didn't have the same information regarding the town that Ulean had, he verified that he'd seen no sign of the Vampiric Fae around the perimeters of the land. Nodding, I motioned toward the house, and we strode out of the woods into the clearing and raced across the wide lawn separating the Golden Wood from the town.

The door opened as we neared it. Luna stood there. Short, plump, and curvy, the yummanii bard motioned us to hurry in. She stood back as we burst through the door. The television was on, and she held her finger to her lips as she bustled back into the living room.

We followed.

There, Luna, Peyton, and Kaylin were watching the news. Peyton was part Native American. She was half werepuma and half magic-born. Rex, her father, had recently reentered her life, only to be struck down by one of our enemies—a vampire named Geoffrey, who was now dust. And her mother had betrayed us and almost managed to kill me. She, too, had died at the hands of the vampires. Peyton had taken both losses hard, but she was stoic, as usual, and doing her best to weather the situation.

She waved at us, but her gaze was still glued to the television. Another moment, and I understood why, as the newscaster returned.

“We repeat—stay inside your homes. Lock the doors. The attacks continue and a representative from Lord Lannan's estate has informed us that the danger we face still stems from the Vampiric Fae—from the Shadow Hunters.”