Autumn Whispers

Chapter 15

Ivana Krask was waiting in the park. Camille and I darted through the rain to where she was sitting. The Maiden of Karask was dressed like a bag lady. Her face was a gnarled map, covered in burls and knobs. She had a pointed chin, reminding me of a bird, and her eyes were beady, sharp, and piercing. But we now knew just how illusionary her appearance was. Underneath that shabby persona was a brilliantly powerful Elder Fae who could shatter our hearing with her voice, who could rise up like a beautiful and terrible monster.

She stood, her polyester muumuu shifting under the too-large coat. Her silver hair was tucked under a scarf, which barely kept it under control. The staff in her hand made me nervous. That damned thing could suck up spirits right and left. Ivana collected them for her garden of evil ghosts, where she tortured them, feeding off their pain for magic.

Camille gave her a sharp curtsey and I bowed. Always paid to be polite when you were standing in front of someone who could make mincemeat out of you. A sharp wind blew by and Ivana laughed, raising her staff.

“A ghostie on the wind, come to me, my pretty. Come to the Maiden.” And with a zap, her staff lit up and we saw something wispy filter into it. A sharp wail sounded, though it was so high-pitched that any FBHs around wouldn’t hear it. They might feel a flash of fear, a sense that something wasn’t right, but they’d just shake their heads and move on.

We watched her smile, her razor-like teeth sparkling. She licked her lips and turned her beady stare to us. “Witch Girl and Pussy Cat. Too bad my Dead Girl is sleeping, for I would like to converse with her. I like dead things.”

“We seek a deal, if you would be willing to listen.” Camille knew the pattern better than I did so I kept my mouth shut. It was dangerous to dabble with the Elder Fae unless you knew what the fuck you were doing, and I was the first to admit that I was clueless about effective bargaining.

Ivana sat down on the wet bench, motioning for us to join her. Great, time to get our butts soaked. But we did as she asked. Again: you don’t quibble with those who can make you look like a dust mote.

“What say you, Witch Girl? What do you want from the Maiden of Karask? And what will you bargain with? Bright flesh would guarantee you a deal, you know.” Her crafty smile reminded me of a crocodile.

“We are not going to give you bright meat. No bright flesh!” Camille stared at her sternly. Ivana was always trying to get us to bargain with babies. The fact that she meant it, and that she actually ate them with relish made us even more leery, but the Elder Fae lived so far outside our realm that there was no way to get through to them how bad of an idea this was. We just refused every time she hinted around.

“Then state your deal and I will see if it tickles my tooth.” Ivana glanced past her, coyly looking at me. “Standing back, are you, Pussy Cat? Afraid of the Maiden, perhaps?”

Involuntarily, I scooted over on the bench, moving away. I didn’t have any desire to be the focal point of this conversation. I decided my best course of action was to remain silent.

She sniggered and turned back to Camille. “State your deal, Witch Girl.”

Camille cleared her throat. “Prime beef flesh, for information that will benefit us. I will tell you what I want to know. If you have the answer, payment will be ten pounds of tender steak.”

Ivana sighed, frowning. “You drive a hard bargain. No bright flesh, today. If you were to throw in a chicken and some tasty fishes, we could strike a bargain. If I have the information and choose to share it.” She leaned back, seemingly unaware of the puddles of water that raced down the bench.

“Very well. Ten pounds of beef flesh, a chicken, and a salmon. We want to know how to kill dreglins. What makes them vulnerable? And do you know where any might be hiding around here?”

Ivana cocked her head, a smile playing over those thin lips, which made her seem even more nerve-racking. “So, old Jenny’s offspring have made the leap? They are here, are they? Jenny and I, we are not such good friends. We fought, long ago, over the same man. I finally decided he was not sweet enough for so much blood to flow and let her have him. She feasted well that day. But, she also made an enemy, and we have never been on terms.”

Camille held out her hand. “Seal the deal?”

Ivana accepted, shaking with a dark twinkle in her eye. “Witch Girl, you have too little fear. Or too much need. But yes, we seal the bargain. I will tell you what I will, and then you bring me the meat.”

“How do we kill them?” Camille wiped a strand of her hair out of her face, where the rain had plastered it to her cheek.

I pulled out my notebook to take notes. Granted, the pages were getting wet, I was soaked through, and the whole day was a soggy mess, but I wanted to be sure we remembered everything.

“Dreglins . . . they are tough little bitches. They have a nasty bite to them, too.” She paused, then looked at my arm. “Perchance the Puss has found that out?”

Couldn’t pull much over on Ivana, that was for certain. I held up my hand. She’d outed me, so no use in lying to her. “Yeah, one bit the hell out of my hand. Hurt like of a son of a bitch, too.”

Ivana nodded, touching her nose. “Dreglins, they are dangerous and not very intelligent. The bloodline . . . they inherited the hunger, but not the smarts. And Jenny, she just keeps popping out the litters. I surmised it would only be a while before some of the kits found their way over to this side of the world. Their venom comes from their father.”

“So they hunger for blood and flesh, and they don’t reason well. What else should we know about them?” A fat drop of rain landed on my nose, slowly trickling down to the pad of paper.

“They are quick, and can hide. You could not see them because they are like chameleons—they can shift color when they are in the forest. In fact, my dearies, you might think of them as the komodo dragons of the Fae world.” Ivana grinned. “They have the venom to go with it. So yes, they are fast, easy to conceal, venomous, and deadly. The best way to catch them is to lay a trap and then have at them with your blades and magic. They cannot resist quick and easy meat—on the hoof, though. They don’t scavenge, not often. So you find a good plump wench and put her out in their territory, and they will sniff her out.”

“You mean, use live bait. Lovely, and who are we going to get for that? And where do we find them? Do you know where they are?” Camille looked slightly squeamish. Live bait meant the chance of losing someone.

Ivana tapped her staff on the ground three times. She closed her eyes. As we watched, a clew of earthworms came out of the ground, and Ivana leaned down to the writhing mass and whispered something to them that we couldn’t catch. A few moments later, they burrowed back into the soil.

“We will wait now.” She held up her hand for silence. “Can you feel the beat of the soil? The message is being passed along.”

I wanted to ask her how the hell a bunch of worms was going to come up with an answer for us but decided to forego irritating her. Magic is as magic does, and the Elder Fae worked with the forces of the world in a way even we couldn’t pretend to understand. But my thoughts must have shown in my expression, because Ivana pushed herself to her feet and before I knew what was happening, she was standing in front of me.

“You do not worry yourself, Puss. But since your curiosity has your cat, I will tell you. The worms . . . think of them like telephone lines and wires. They are the medium, not the messenger. The messenger is my voice, gone searching, seeking. It hunts for our quarry.” She leaned down and tapped me on the nose with one of her talon-like nails. “Do you fear me, Kitty? Do you turn into a fraidy-cat when you face a fear?”

I was starting to feel uncomfortable. I had grown out of a lot of my timidity, and shifting into Tabby? Didn’t happen so much anymore. But that she could see into me spooked the hell out of me. Then again, she was Elder Fae, and when she shed her disguise, she was freaking scarier than the Fae Queens, and that was going some.

Ivana let out what sounded like a purr, then laughed and turned back to Camille. “I frighten your sister, but she knows . . . she knows.” She paused, staring at the ground. “I hear the pulse of the world. My message is answered.” Leaning down she whispered something and the wrigglers burst out of the ground. Ivana tilted her head to one side, listened, and the worms vanished again, back into the soil, burrowing deep.

“Your dreglin children are hiding in the forest, two miles east from where you encountered them. There you will find their lair, and there are five of them. Be cautious, my girls, they are deadly and clever, if not overly intelligent. You will need to walk softly. They sleep during the day, so you may have better luck finding them during the sun’s waking hours.”

I sucked in a deep breath. “Daylight? Then we can’t take Menolly with us. And the guys are off in Otherworld . . . well, we have Shade, Morio, and Vanzir. But if they go with us, we won’t have anybody to watch the house.”

Camille smiled. “About that, I made a phone call. Aeval promised to send me guards, just as soon as she can make a decision on who would be safest.”

“Well then, that works. But first . . .” I turned to Ivana. “Where do you want to meet us so we can fulfill our bargain?” One thing I knew, it never paid to welsh on debts to the Elder Fae.

Ivana pursed her lips, grinning. “Oh, my Puss. You learn quickly. I will ramble out to your house. Call me when you have the treatsies and I will come. If you are not home, just leave it on the porch and I will leave a note that I found it. And Witch Girl, you drive a hard bargain. I hope the information is worth it. The fighting will be difficult, but that is not my affair. Now, for bright meat, I would happily join you. You have seen my true form, you know what I can do.”

For a moment—just a moment—the glamour lifted and she rose so tall she seemed to blot out the sky. Brilliant and beautiful against the gloom, her long silver hair flowing around her, and her eyes glowing like a warm merlot. She was pale as a moonbeam, and I dropped to my knees, gasping. The only other time we had seen her true form was in her hideous garden of ghosts.

As quickly as the mask had vanished, it returned, and she was Ivana the bag lady again. Without a word, she touched her nose, turned, and wandered off through the park.

I looked over at Camille, who was watching her leave, the same look of awe on her face that I had felt in my heart.

“I wish . . . I wish we could be friends. I wish I could hear her stories.” Camille’s hushed voice echoed in the stillness of the afternoon.

“Are you so certain you want to hear what she has to say? Be careful what you ask for. You may just get it.” I shook my head to clear my thoughts. “Come. We still have to stop at Carter’s before we go home.”

And so, we returned to our cars. As we drove the short distance to Carter’s, all I could think about was how so much of life was hidden under an illusion. We all wore our masks, and when we took them off, was it to reveal yet another mask, or was it perhaps the truth of our heart? How did we know if the person we were looking at in the mirror was really us—or just another façade?

Carter was waiting for us. As usual, he had a tray of steaming tea and cakes ready. I’d long finished my second cinnamon roll so I was very hungry, and Camille seemed just as famished. We ate while he was in the back, tooling around with something, and by the time he came out again, our evidence in hand, my stomach had stopped rumbling. I was mildly embarrassed because I’d eaten five of the little cakes and three tea sandwiches, but Camille had done just about the same amount of damage to the tea tray and she seemed perfectly nonplussed.

Carter put down the casts and smiled at the sight of the empty plates. “Good, I’m glad you liked the tea cakes. I was hoping you would. I tried a new recipe and wanted to see what you thought.”

The idea that the be-horned half demon, half Titan had been baking made me let loose a peal of giggles. Camille followed suit. At his befuddled look we tried to explain but the tension we’d been under picked that time to break and we were off and howling. A few moments later, we managed to get hold of ourselves, but he just grinned and waved our explanations away.

“It’s quite all right, girls. I get the gist. And no, I do not wear an apron, and yes, I love to cook. Someday I shall invite you over for dinner and make you my specialty—beef bourguignon. And then there will be no twittering.” He arched his eyebrows and we burst into giggles again, but this time he joined us.

After a few moments, he leaned back and crossed his good leg over the one with the brace. “I have some answers for you about your casts and the cigarette, but they also netted more questions.”

Once again, I pulled out my notebook but he shook his head. “I’ve printed out the information for you. Here’s the thing—the cigarette? Whoever smoked it is purely human. No Supe blood whatsoever. Hard to tell with the casts but the energy coming off them? Human. However, there is something attached to this person. Some energetic binding . . . much like you had with Vanzir for a while. This human is bound to a daemon. Not a demon—but a daemon. But who and why, I cannot tell you.”

Camille frowned. “Possession? Could it be someone who is possessed?”

Carter shook his head. “No, it isn’t that. The human is capable of making his own decisions. And it is a man. Now, the fact that you were asking about daemonic activity in the Farantino Building seemed like too much of a coincidence, so I did a bit more sleuthing. And I came up with several pieces of information.”

We both leaned forward. One of Carter’s cats leaped onto my lap and I absently stroked her, but then she jumped down and went to Camille, who scooped her up, rubbing her face in her fur.

“You mentioned that Grandmother Coyote told you that Michael Farantino had connections with demons and the like. So I did more research into his background. It seems his grandfather was a member of a cult in the old world—Italy. They weren’t Strega—the Italian witches—but some FBH tradition that had passed down through the years. I discovered that the Farantino family was heavily involved in a magical war with another prominent clan in their village, which was started over a territorial dispute.”

“That sounds all too familiar.” I shook my head. “Clan fighting, family turf wars, they’re common as rabbits in Otherworld. We saw them a lot between members of the nobility, though quite often the attacks were subtle.”

Carter nodded. “Yes, and they aren’t much better here. As a result of this particular feud, one of the Farantino women was cursed. In retaliation, the patriarch of the family made a deal with a daemon, bargaining his family’s freedom in exchange for help and a grab for glory. And so, as the Farantinos rose to power, the other family faded their curse vanished, broken under the weight of their downfall. Eventually, the Farantino family was deeply involved in daemonic activity and the tradition was passed down. The children were bound to the daemon at birth, and they grew up in his service. Everything they did was affected by this daemonic activity, and if they didn’t pay proper tribute, they were ground to dust by poverty and ill health.”

Camille frowned. “So Michael Farantino was a part of this family and he grew up steeped in daemonism. It would make sense for his building to be infused with this energy then.”

“That means Gerald Hanson was immersed in the tradition, too.” It made sense—his soul and memories had been too cold, too calculating.

Carter nodded. “Yes, and Michael passed the building on. Eventually, his great-grandson, Gerald Hanson came to own it, and I believe he was intent on carrying on his great-grandfather’s work. Grandmother Coyote is correct, a dark force is connected to that building and I’m not sure what it is, but it’s ancient and powerful, and linked to the daemonic realms. Whatever is behind it still sleeps, but that doesn’t mean it will continue to do so. Meanwhile, there are lesser, though still vile, energies connected to the building. And I’m sure that Gerald managed to open several gateways before you sucked his soul into the abyss. Especially since he’s got a fraction of Were in him.”

Camille and I looked at each other. So we had a long-running fam-trad focused on daemonic worship. Fam-trads—family traditions—both in Otherworld and Earthside, could be highly dangerous. They tended to be insular, and they tended to be volatile.

“What could they be waking up? And if the Farantino family no longer owns the building, why are the energies still continuing?” It didn’t make sense to me. Since the building had been sold, the daemonic hold should be lightening up.

“There’s the rub. I did a facial features match on the picture you snapped of the man in the coffee shop.” Carter’s expression faded from inquisitive to concerned. “Damned if it’s not Lowestar Radcliffe—the current owner of the building. So I dug into his background a little further.”

“What did you find?” I was almost afraid to hear. It seemed like all the news was bad lately.

“Radcliffe shows up in a number of financial journals. Very successful man. But . . . and here’s the rub . . . he seems to have just arrived one day, bought the building, and moved into Seattle. He supposedly has a history with Yale—a degree in business management—but damned if I can locate the files. He was supposed to have been born in India, but again, no birth certificate. Lowestar Radcliffe might as well have just appeared out of nowhere.”

Camille frowned. “That doesn’t bode well. Either he went to great lengths to cover up his tracks, or . . . or I don’t know what. You can’t become that successful without leaving a trail. Do you know why he bought the building?”

Carter shook his head. “No. Just that the deed suddenly transferred hands. Gerald Hanson was the owner and he stayed on. I looked into his financials, and there was no indication he was in trouble on that level, so there had to be some reason that he gave control of his great-grandfather’s prize possession to someone outside the family. Find out why, and you may find out what’s going on.”

“Here’s another question to answer: why would Gerald stay on if he sold the building? But wait, did he actually sell the building? Or did he just deed it to Lowestar?” Camille asked.

Carter tilted his head. “That’s a good question. I didn’t actually look at the deed. Let me see what I can find. Give me till tomorrow, if you would. I’m expecting company for dinner tonight.” By the way he said it, it was obvious that he was talking about a date. Which sounded ridiculous, when you considered that he was essentially a demigod.

Braver than I, Camille snickered. “Who’s the lucky lady? Or man?”

Carter gave her a sly smile. “No one you know. But if things work out, you may get to meet her in the future. Your scaly-winged husband may know her—her name is Shimmer and she’s from the Dragon Reaches. And that is all you need to know for now.”

“You’re dating a dragon? Since when?” Camille was teasing, but Carter’s expression smoldered.

“Oh girl, don’t press your luck. Or I might just . . .” He paused, and the look passed. “You will know if and when I decide you need to know. Now run along, and take the information that I gave you. Oh, and have you contacted your cousins yet?”

I shook my head, deciding to take the focus off Camille. She needed to learn how to be more diplomatic. Although I certainly couldn’t provide much of an example.

“No, we haven’t even told Menolly yet. We will tonight, though. With the Wayfarer burning down, and with the destruction in Otherworld, we’ve had too much on our plates. Our father is still missing, too.” The last, I hadn’t intended on letting slip out, but slip out the words did.

Any snark or danger on Carter’s face vanished. His shoulders slumped and he leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry, truly. I hope you can find him, safe and in health. As to the Wayfarer, I will ask around. Perhaps someone has heard something. And Otherworld? There are no words for this matter. Not now, not with what’s going on.” And with that, he stood to show us out.

We were on the street when Camille’s cell rang. She motioned for me to wait before I got into my Jeep while she answered.

“Hello? What’s up? . . . What did he say? . . . No, no—we’re on our way home. Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty depending on traffic . . . Don’t do anything until we get there.” She hung up and turned to me. “We have to get home. Morio said there was a call through the Whispering Mirror. Trenyth wants us to contact him. He said that he has some news for us, but he wouldn’t tell Morio what it was.”

Her voice was shaking. I reached out to take her hand. Two of her husbands were in Otherworld, as well as Rozurial. What if something had happened to one of them? Or what if Telazhar had captured one—or more—of the Keraastar Knights? Given that there was an army marching on the city, any number of things could have happened.

“Let’s go. You okay to drive?”

Camille nodded. “Yeah, I just want to be home.” She jumped in her Lexus as I swung into my Jeep. We headed out, and I had the feeling neither one of us was paying much attention to the road as we wound through the rain and the traffic to Belles-Faire.

By the time we got home, everyone—including Iris and Bruce—were gathered in the living room. Morio had brought the Whispering Mirror downstairs from Camille’s study. He shrugged.

“I just thought it might be a good idea to have this here. At least for now, considering everything that’s going on.”

Hanna brought in tea and cookies, and the smell of spaghetti bubbled on the stove. Menolly had woken up and we gathered in the living room. Camille stared at the mirror.

“I suppose I’d better call him and find out what’s going on.” She bit her lip, gnawing on it until Morio tapped her mouth.

“Stop that. You can’t help anything by hurting yourself. Do you want me to put in the call?” He kissed her forehead, gazing deeply into her eyes.

“No. No, let’s just . . . let me get this over with.” She settled herself in front of the mirror, activating it with the magical password.

I snuggled close to Shade, and he draped his arm around my shoulders. He leaned down to whisper in my ears. “Whatever happens, you will be all right. Your sisters will be all right. We will weather through this.”

I kissed his hand, feeling the warm promise of his love seep into my heart. “Thank you, thank you for being here.”

Camille caught her breath as the mists in the mirror lifted. Trenyth appeared, looking tired and wrung out. We waited for him to speak.

“Girls, are you all there? Menolly—is she there?”

“I’m here.” Menolly couldn’t be seen through the mirror, though she could talk through it.

“Good. I have news for you. First, Sharah has been . . . as you say, fast-tracked. She took the throne this afternoon and is the new Queen of Elqaneve. For the first time since before the Great Divide, the Elfin race has a new leader.”

That wasn’t exactly grounds for celebration, given the circumstances. Be that as it may, at least the elves had someone to look to for guidance, as inexperienced and young as she was.

Trenyth shifted in his seat. “The goblin forces are nearing the gates of the city. But the armies of Y’Elestrial are here to face them with us. There will be bloody war before the morning light hits. We have set up a temporary headquarters in a protected area. Before you come over to Elqaneve again, let us know so we can whisk you away. We can’t give out the location because we are still too vulnerable—not until we’ve fully reinforced our defenses.”

There was something he wasn’t telling us, but knowing Trenyth, he would get around to it in his own time. I squeezed Shade’s hand, waiting.

Trenyth’s gaze flickered as he glanced down at a paper in his hands. “Camille, your husbands and friend are hunting for the Knights. So far we do not believe that Telazhar has captured any of them, but neither have we discovered where they went. We do believe they’re all in hiding. They were instructed, if something should ever happen, to run for the hills and forests, and hide.”

“Then Smoky, Trillian, and Rozurial are all okay?” Camille’s voice was shaking.

With a nod, Trenyth smiled softly. “Yes, they are all right. I spoke with them about an hour ago. They are spending the night here before going out hunting again.” He paused again and I could feel something hanging.

And then, he dipped his head. “I have other news. We discovered Queen Asteria’s body. She was crushed beside her throne. She will be laid to rest tomorrow. We have no time for formal rites and ceremonies. She will be placed in the Barrow Mounds, where the Oracle lived.”

I pressed my hand to my lips. We knew—hell, I had escorted her out of her body, but it was truly real now. She had been found, and she had passed into history, and the Elfin race would have to march on without her wisdom.

Trenyth motioned to someone out of sight of the Whispering Mirror. Trillian came into view, and Trenyth moved to let him take the seat in front of us. “Girls . . . Trillian, please.”

We waited in silence. The air in the living room felt thick, as if something tangible—palpable—was hovering around us. Camille scooted close to Morio and he placed his hands on her shoulders.

Trillian gazed at Camille, holding her gaze. “My love, I have news for you and your sisters.” He let out a long sigh. “I thought to visit your father’s home in Y’Elestrial. I traveled there via the portals this morning. I went to your family shrine . . .”

The room felt like it was beginning to spin. Camille let out a faint cry and Menolly lowered herself to the floor, moving to take my hand. We stood, crossing to stand near Camille. Everyone backed away, letting us have space.

“What did you find?” Camille’s voice was so faint that we could barely hear her.

“My love . . . your father’s soul statue. It’s shattered. Sephreh ob Tanu is dead. Your father is dead.” As Trillian spoke, the room fully started to spin on me.

I shook my head, letting out a whimper. Father had been a constant in our lives. He’d been there from the beginning and for some reason, I’d never thought he’d die. He was hard on us, and his honor was both his downfall as well as his foundation, but he’d always been true to his beliefs.

Camille shook her head. “No . . . no . . . we just started to repair our relationship. He can’t be dead . . .”

“Are you sure? Are you sure it’s his statue?” Menolly asked.

Trillian nodded. “Yes, I’m certain. I don’t know where his body is, but if he was in the throne room near the Queen, we’re sure to find some evidence as the recovery efforts continue. The dead . . . they are everywhere. Elqaneve has suffered a serious blow and thousands have died. In the city, in the villages, the devastation is horrendous. Delilah and Camille saw the storm. The aftermath? It’s terrifying how powerful the swath of destruction is.”

I closed my eyes as the room began to phase in and out. And then, for the first time in a while, tension and stress hit me and I found myself shifting. Tabby rose up, taking over for me, and the next thing I knew, I was racing up the stairs, heading for the protection and comfort of my kitty condo. The pain was still there, but it felt more removed, and as I hurried into my playroom, I leaped up to the carpeted perch, crawling into the hidey-hole box.

I snuggled deep into the light fleece blanket that Camille had thought to stuff in there, hiding away from the worry and stress and pain. Closing my eyes, I purred to comfort myself, trying not to think about the people I loved, or the people I had lost. Before I knew it, slumber claimed me.