Autumn Whispers

Chapter 17

Menolly stepped between Camille and Bran. “Thank you for coming. We can use the help.”

I couldn’t help but think that when Menolly had to be the diplomatic one, something had gone to hell. But Bran and Camille had developed a hostile relationship, even though they’d been ordered to work together, and from what she’d said after her training sessions out at the Court of the Three Fae Queens, things weren’t getting any better. She couldn’t read Bran, couldn’t read how he felt about the fact that she’d killed his father—even though it was by divine design. And his mother, Raven Mother, had long been after Camille to come join her in the Otherworld Forests of Darkynwyrd.

Bran gave Menolly a short, studied glance, then turned back to Camille. “Aeval bids me to come help you until your men are back from Otherworld. She sent several of her guards to your house tonight and they are patrolling the boundaries. I will stay with you for a few days until you have things settled back to normal.”

“Like hell you will. I doubt you’d enjoy our hospitality.” Camille’s eyes narrowed and she let out a little growl.

“Oh, trust me, I shall. Aeval commands it. Do you wish me to return to Talamh Lonrach Oll and inform Aeval that you decided to defy her wishes?”

A threat was implicit in his voice and I wanted to slap him, but decided that wouldn’t be the best move. This was between Camille and Aeval, and chances were, the Fae Queen would win hands down. I knew it, Bran knew it, and by Camille’s smoldering look, she knew it too.

“Fine. Just don’t get in my way.” She glared at him, relenting. “You willing to kill the children of Elder Fae?”

His nostrils flared, but a thin, razor smile appeared on his lips. “I have no qualms about killing anything or anyone I need to. Why do you think Aeval is putting me in charge of her armies?” And with that, he pulled out an extremely sharp looking short sword. It flared with a pale, shimmering light. I realized it had been charmed in some manner.

Vanzir pulled out the magical stun gun we’d taken off a dead guard during a raid when the Koyanni had been kidnapping werewolves to make Wolf Briar. He’d developed a love for the weapon, and had found alternative ways of recharging it now that the Energy Exchange nightclub had vanished. Especially since Vanzir had been the one to implode it.

I readied Lysanthra and she sang in my hand, crooning to me in a voice only I could hear. Dumbfounded, I turned around and realized she was responding to the energy in Bran’s sword. He simply stared at me, with a sardonic smile on his face.

“You like that energy, do you?” I whispered to my long dagger.

So very much. Like recognizes like, you know. The voice was clear as a bell in my head.

“By chance, you wouldn’t have anything new to show me, would you?”

Perhaps not this night, but soon . . . you never know . . . And the whisper faded away as she glimmered lightly in the night air.

Menolly led the way since she had already scouted ahead. I swung in behind her, then Camille and Bran, and Vanzir at the back. I was spoiling for a fight, and I could tell Camille was too. She seemed pissed out of her mind but she moved silently alongside Bran.

We slid through the undergrowth, as stealthily as we could, and I kept my eye on Menolly’s back. She moved in silence, totally focused. After a few minutes, she held up her hand and I motioned behind me, coming to a halt. A brief pause, then she started again. Another moment and I found myself on the edge of a clearing.

The ground was plush with a layer of mulch, a combination of wet leaves and fir needles and detritus from the autumn foliage that the trees and shrubs had shed. The chill of the night filtered through and I could see my breath in front of me, as the clouds drifted across the moon, blotting out the light at one moment, then baring the silver crescent into the open.

Menolly softly moved to the left, staring out at the group of dreglins who were hunkered over the remains of a body, feasting. With iridescent skin that changed from blue to green and back to blue again, they were sleek and hairless, and totally naked—allowing us to see their sex. I thought they might have scales, but it could have just been a trick of the moonlight. Lean and taut, they were muscled but wiry, and they ate like ravenous animals. Ripping out chunks of the woman’s gut, they dangled the intestines above them, eating them like spaghetti, their faces smeared with blood and bile. It was worse than watching zombies—zombies were killing machines, they ran on autopilot. These creatures were cunning and crafty. Ivana was right, they were dangerous, and even from here I could feel how they delighted in destruction. Jenny Greenteeth had an appetite for flesh, and so did the Dark Dugald, and they’d passed it in spades to their children.

Menolly glanced over at me, and I looked down the line. We were all poised on the edge of the clearing now, and the dreglins hadn’t noticed us, so wrapped up in their gruesome meal they were.

Lysanthra began to vibrate in my hand. She was spoiling for blood and I was about to give it to her. But Menolly would go in first, disrupt them and take down one of them. Vanzir motioned that he’d go in second. Again, he stood a better chance of not being harmed by the dreglins’ toxins.

We waited, then, in an imperceptible flicker, Menolly leaped out into the group. She said nothing, gave no war cry, just went for the throat of the biggest one. As she landed full-frontal on it, she knocked the woman to the ground, taking her down.

Now, speed was our ally. Vanzir moved in quickly, firing at the nearest dreglin with the stun gun. The energy bolt hit hard and center, and the dreglin was knocked through the air, a good two yards, to land on his back. Vanzir turned the gun on the next one and fired, and I realized he was trying to give us an advantage by getting the drop on them.

I rushed in after him, toward the one he’d shot first. I landed atop the creature, bringing Lysanthra down square, full force. The blade slid neatly through the dreglin’s chest, but to my horror, there was no blood. What? Didn’t these things bleed? Then, as a thin trickle started to flow, he lifted me up and I found myself soaring through the air to land against a stump. I screamed as a sharp rock jammed into my lower back. It didn’t penetrate my jeans or jacket, but I could already tell I’d have a massive bruise there.

I pushed to my feet in time to see Bran take on one of the dreglins as, once again, Vanzir shot the one who I’d been fighting. He went down again, and this time, Vanzir shot it twice more and it stayed down, twitching. But that meant he’d used five—maybe six—bolts and the stun gun only held ten charges.

Camille seemed to be assessing the situation and I could tell she was prepping a spell, trying to stay out of the way. Smart girl—she’d never be able to take on these creatures in a physical fight.

Bran danced toward his quarry with a grace and strength that stunned me, his movements precise, incisive. He was beauty-in-action to watch, and I found myself mesmerized by how fluid he was. Camille was staring at him too, and I had the feeling she had never seen this side of him. I also had the feeling she didn’t like being forced to admire him for any reason.

He darted to the side as a female dreglin—with the breasts to prove it—lunged toward him. Turning in midair, Bran brought his blade to bear and it glimmered with a brilliant purple flame. The sword whistled as he spun, cleanly slicing through the dreglin’s neck like a hot knife through butter.

The woman didn’t stand a chance. One moment she was leaping forward. The next, her body continued on its arc as her head went tumbling to the side. The flame attached to the sword cauterized the wound instantly, and the blood stopped flowing as soon as it had started. Bran stepped to the side as the body lurched forward, then fell, spasming as it hit the ground. The head rolled to the side, eyes wide open, staring up at the night sky.

Menolly’s dreglin went down for the count, and Vanzir had finished off the one on the ground in front of him, so that left two. I launched myself at my attacker again, and Bran moved in from the right. Camille sent a spell reeling toward the last one, but the energy bolt arced up and looped, heading back toward her with a vengeance. She screamed. Bran stopped in midstep, whipped around, and launched himself toward her, taking her down just before the bolt hit.

The spell zoomed past and collided with the tree behind her, sending a shower of sparks and flame up in the side of the trunk. But the wood was too wet and it quickly burned out.

Seeing that she was safe, I turned my attention to my opponent. Blood oozed out of the wound but it was slow and thick, and I realized they had a far different make up than we did.

As I aimed Lysanthra toward the creature, Vanzir shot him from behind. He stumbled, turning to see who had attacked him.

I stared at him, openmouthed. “Dude! You could have missed and hit me. What the hell? Watch out!”

“I could have, but you’ll notice I didn’t.” With a laugh, he shot again and the force knocked the dreglin forward. Menolly dove in for the attack. She landed on the man and, in a flurry of fangs and blood, he was dead.

I hurried back to Camille, but Bran had once again interceded and the last dreglin was sprawled on the ground, headless like her sister. We had killed them all. Correct that: Bran, Vanzir, and Menolly had killed them. Camille and I’d done shit. Feeling oddly irritable, I let out a low growl but then decided that—with or without our help, they were dead and we were all okay, and that’s what mattered.

“Is that all of them?” Vanzir asked.

“Yeah, at least according to Ivana. But that doesn’t guarantee more won’t sneak over here.” I wiped my dagger blade on a rag that I’d stuffed in my pocket before we left home.

“We’ll worry about that when it happens. If it happens.” Camille sighed and turned to Bran. “Thanks. You saved my life. I would have fried myself royal if you hadn’t knocked me out of the way.”

He gave her a long, cool look and a hint of a smile tipped the corner of his lips. But it wasn’t a smile that made me comfortable. It was too cunning, too sly.

“Can’t have Aeval’s pet taking a powder due to her own fireball, can we? She’d have my hide. Then again, my mother would tear her to pieces if the Queen of Shadow and Night harmed me and we’d have a full-scale war on our hands. And once my father grows into his new body and returns to his full glory . . .” His voice drifted off as he let the words hang.

Camille stared at him for a moment, then turned away. Menolly interposed herself between the two, though she said nothing, and Bran abruptly headed back out of the woods without so much as a “good-bye” or “see you later.”

We stood there, looking at the dead bodies, then at each other. The corpses of the dreglins were starting to smoke a little, and as I leaned down, I saw them oozing the pores. They were . . . no, it couldn’t be.

“They’re melting.” I frowned. “We haven’t wandered into Munchkin land, have we?”

“My guess is that toxin releases in their bodies when they’re dead and somehow cause a highly increased rate of decomposition. I’ll bet in half an hour there won’t be anything left but bones, if that.” Vanzir eyed one of the bodies and nudged it with his toe, pulling away quickly as the flesh began to split.

I picked up a stick and poked one of the corpses with it. The flesh had already started to fall away and I grimaced as the branch drove a hole in it and a gush of pus and ooze ran out.

“Okay, then, we just leave them here? No burying, or anything gross like that?” Camille shuddered. “The clouds are moving in, the rain should take care of washing the slime away.”

The dreglins were oozing around the edges, the flesh putrefying as we watched. Skin flaked off, muscles and tendons began to bubble and liquefy, pooling into gelatinous mounds of frothing tissue that foamed over the bones. We stood, watching in an awed silence as the dreglins disintegrated into jellyfish. Only instead of floating through the sea, they oozed back into the earth for good.

As the bones began to follow the flesh, we turned and walked away. At the end of the day, nothing would remain to mark their existence.

By the time we headed home, it was near midnight. But as I got in my car, my phone rang. I glanced at the Caller ID. Tim.

I fastened my seat belt as I punched the Answer button. “Hey, Tim. What’s up?”

“I cracked her password. Texting it to you after I hang up. But let me tell you, that place is as bad as Cupid’s Arrow. I had a quick peek around the site and there are as many creeps in the Supe world as there are among my kind.” He chuckled. “If you ever break up with Shade, I don’t recommend you dip your toe in that wading pool.”

“I promise. I won’t dip my toe or anything else.” Grinning, I leaned back against the seat. Tim was a comfortable friend and I loved hearing his voice. I heard someone talking to him.

“Oh hey, Jason wants to know how you like the Jeep?”

“Tell him he did a great job, and thanks for the detailing on the door. Nice to have my baby purring like new again.”

“Good. Well, I’m off. I have some late work to get done and Jason wants to go out for coffee—a twenty-four hour Starbucks opened near our house and we can walk there.”

“Okay. Be careful, dude. There are monsters in the dark.”

“I know that all too well since meeting you. But even before you opened up the portals, we had plenty of monsters of our own, honey. Some of them are called bigots.” He signed off and a minute later, a text came through with Violet’s password.

I turned the ignition, then headed for home. The day’s events had started to catch up with me, and by the time I pulled in the driveway, I could barely think. I tumbled into bed and the next thing I knew, I was out like a light.

Shade was gone when I woke up, he’d left a message that he had some business to attend to and would be back by dinner time. Missing him, horny and lonely, I moped around, but by the time I came down for breakfast, I felt relatively refreshed. A shower had cleaned any residual gunk off me that I had been too tired to pay attention to the night before.

Camille was sitting there with Iris, who had a relieved look on her face. Iris beamed at me.

“It’s so good to get out of the house for a little while. Camille’s been filling me in on everything. I can’t believe how the world falls apart when I decide to take some time off.” She was joking, but turned serious. “Delilah, I’m so sorry about your father.”

I blinked. I hadn’t even begun to visit the pain that I’d locked away inside, and I suspected neither had Camille nor Menolly. Right now was not that time.

“Thanks.” I leaned down and kissed her. “How are you, little mama?”

“Tired. I have a nanny—the Duchess insisted on hiring someone. But I am sore and achy, and my nether regions still feel like I passed a couple of watermelons. Birthing’s not easy and don’t let anybody tell you it is.” She chuckled. “But my Maria and Ukkonen are doing well. They both have extremely healthy lungs and they know how to use them. Bruce is a deer in the headlights, but he’s feeling his way along.”

“And how do you get along with your mother-in-law?” Camille set a cup of herbal tea and a plate of cookies down in front of Iris.

I rummaged through the refrigerator. “Where’s Hanna? No breakfast?”

“Make it yourself. I gave Hanna the day off and she went shopping.” Camille fixed herself an iced latte and sat down at the table with what looked like a leftover plate of spaghetti.

Iris cleared her throat and glanced around. “The Duchess . . . I’ve never met such a bossy woman. But she is kind and she loves her grandchildren, and so far she hasn’t tried to change my house décor, so we’re good. That’s one thing about sprites and leprechauns, we respect the connections others have to their homes.”

I found some leftover turkey breast and pulled it out, slicing it and slapping it between pieces of French bread, and slathering it with mayo, mustard, and ketchup. I added three slices of cheese and called it good. Pouring a big glass of chocolate milk, I sat down at the table with them and bit into the sandwich.

Camille pulled out her phone and tapped on the screen. “We have to pay Ivana’s debt today. I called her and told her to come by this afternoon. And did you want to ask Chase if he wants to move in here?”

“Chase, move in? What is this, a boarding house? He can stay with Sharah—she should be having that baby any day.” Iris looked a little put out and I thought that, even though she had her own home now and it was only a minute or two away, she still missed living with us and being queen of the household.

I glanced over at Camille, then back at Iris. “I guess we missed telling you. Sharah had her baby and because Queen Asteria is dead, she’s now the Queen of Elqaneve and they made her leave the baby and Chase behind. He’s a single father, for the moment.”

“The entire world is falling apart around my shoulders and I seem to have no clue.” Iris shook her head. “Well then, he can’t possibly take care of that child on his own.”

“Sharah sent a nanny and a wet nurse over Earthside,” I started to say, but Iris waved me quiet.

“Nonsense. I’m producing an abundance of milk. I can wet-nurse his baby as well as my own. We have two guest rooms, and Chase can stay in one, and the nursery can hold a third baby. The Duchess loves children of all makes and models, she’d probably be overjoyed to add another one to her care while she’s here, and it will keep her busy.”

By the wicked grin on Iris’s face, she had an ulterior motive hiding behind that cunning smile. “You call him right now. That way he won’t be taking up your house space, and Bruce will welcome the male company. I’m afraid the estrogen factor is getting rather strong for him.”

I grinned. “Whatever you say, Iris. I’m not going to argue.” I dialed Chase’s number. He was quick to answer, but he sounded groggy.

“Delilah, what’s up?” There was an edge to his voice and I had the feeling he was already going down for the count.

“I have an offer for you from Iris and I think you should take her up on it, at least for a little while.” I quickly outlined her proposal. “So you’ll have a babysitter for . . . what did you name her?”

“Astrid, after Asteria. It seemed the thing to do.” He sounded hopeful as he said it, and I had the feeling we wouldn’t have any trouble convincing him to hie it on over.

“You’ll have a babysitter for Astrid, and Iris can nurse her. You will get more sleep and you can feel safer about leaving her during the day. What do you say?” I was a little hesitant. After all, Iris hadn’t consulted Bruce yet, but then again, Iris was Iris and we all did what she said.

Chase let out a long breath. “Bless that little sprite. Tell her I accept, and I’ll do whatever I can to lighten the load. And that way, Astrid won’t be alone either . . . she’ll have babies her own age.”

“I don’t think right now that matters so much, but you know? Hard to tell. When can you come over?” I nodded at Iris, who let out a broad smile.

“Does she mind if I pick up Astrid and bring her over now? I can stop on the way home tonight to get a suitcase with some clothes for me. But wait—I’ll have a gun in the house. How does she feel about that?” Chase hesitated. He had to have his gun, but I also knew he respected others’ feelings about the subject.

I sat down my phone and turned to Iris. “Here’s the deal. He has to keep his gun with him. Will that bother you? If not, he’d like to bring Astrid—his daughter—over right now.”

Iris didn’t even blink an eye. “Chase knows what he’s doing and it will be a long sight before those children are out of their cribs. I have no issues with it. Tell him to get his hindquarters in gear and bring that lovely baby over.”

I told Chase what she said and he promised to be over in an hour. After I punched the End Talk button, I turned my attention back to my sandwich.

“Are you sure this won’t be too much work for you, Iris?” Camille forked a bite of her spaghetti but Iris reached out and touched her hand.

“Is that cold?”

“Yes.” Camille blushed. “I don’t mind it cold.”

“We’ll see about that. You get right over to that stove and heat it up, Miss.” Iris started to stand up, wincing. “If you don’t, I will.”

“You sit down!” Camille jumped up and carried her plate over to the microwave. “I’ll heat it, but don’t you even dare get up.” She popped it in the microwave and punched the Express time button for two minutes.

“I swear, I move out and everything goes to hell.” Iris frowned. “We’ll have to figure out a way to streamline the workload in both of our households. Hanna is doing her best but things are getting out of hand. I think she and I can put our heads together and come up with a plan.”

The way she said it, made me nervous. “What do you have in mind?”

“You just leave all that up to us, Delilah. We’ll figure something out. Meanwhile, I’d better get back to the house and make sure the Duchess hasn’t decided to buy me new furniture. When Chase gets here, you bring him and the wee one down. We’ll get a bassinet set up—we have an extra.”

At my look, she blushed, right through her tattoos on the sides of her face. “Well, you never know when you’ll need a spare.”

And with that, she gently eased out of her chair and headed out the kitchen door, back to her house.

Camille watched out the window, making sure Iris arrived home safely. “Somehow, if it’s possible, I think Iris has gotten bossier since she gave birth.”

“You’re telling me. Man, she’s going to be a pistol when she gets back on her feet. I guess we’d better prepare Hanna when she gets back.”

The two women had come to a truce about who controlled what, especially since Iris had moved into her own house, but Iris still claimed our home as her territory too, and it led to some awkward interactions at times. They never really argued, but as Hanna got more comfortable, she also wanted to take more responsibility. I was wondering how the hell they’d come to some suitable arrangement, but knowing the two of them, they’d find a way.

Camille sighed. “I need to contact Trillian and have him go talk to Aunt Rythwar. Want to come with me?”

I didn’t, but since she was offering to do the dirty work, the least I could do was offer moral support. It was hard enough thinking about Father, let alone talking about him. We headed into the living room. The Whispering Mirror was still set up downstairs and we’d probably leave it down here for easy access as the war progressed. I dreaded finding out what was going on back in Elqaneve. By now the goblins had probably reached the city and we could only hope that Tanaquar’s forces had made it in time to repel them.

Camille settled herself in front of the mirror and it flared to life and she stated her name. Voice activated, only our voices—and those of our husbands—would allow access. The frame was woven in a silver knotwork of delicate roses and leaves, and the glass was normally covered in mist, but when Camille said her name, the mist cleared and we could see a dark room. There were no windows in sight and the only illumination seemed to come from the eye catchers that hovered along the walls at regular intervals. A soft chime sounded, and a moment later, Trenyth appeared. He looked tired, harried even, but at least he was alive.

He slid into the seat in front of his own mirror and let out a soft sigh. “The war is on in earnest. The goblins have breached the gates of Elqaneve and are scattered throughout the whole of Kelvashan. Tanaquar’s armies reached our side shortly before the goblins, so they spread out and the fighting is echoing through our lands.”

Depressing news. But at least Tanaquar had sent her armies in advance and we’d been responsible for getting the news to her. That made me feel a little bit better. “What of the Knights?”

Trenyth’s solemn look didn’t change. “So far, your men have not been able to track them down. We have no idea if the other side has got hold of any of them.” He winced and rubbed his head. “If they do, we are . . . as you put it . . . fucked.”

Hearing that come out of Trenyth’s mouth was shocking, but then again, nothing had been normal since we’d first come over Earthside.

“How’s Sharah doing?” I asked.

“She’s coping. Postpartum depression has hit her pretty hard, especially since she can’t be with her baby. It’s not going to be easy, this transition. She never expected to reach the throne, and nobody expected her to so she wasn’t trained in the nuances of the Court. Or rather, she didn’t bother to learn. We’re having to fast-track her training.”

“Well, tell her that Chase and Astrid—her daughter—are moving here. They’ll be staying with Iris and will be a lot safer than if they stayed at Chase’s apartment for now. It’s not permanent but we’ll sort that out later.”

Trenyth gave me a faint smile. “She’ll be happy to hear that. I know it’s been weighing on her heart and her mind.”

“Is Trillian there?” Camille asked. “We need him to . . . we need him to go find our Aunt Rythwar and tell her about our father. And . . . have you found his body yet?”

Her question hit me in the gut and I gulped back a sob, but Camille was maintaining and I’d be damned if I’d be the one to need comforting this time. She’d already carried us through Mother’s death. We weren’t going to put her through doing the same now that Father was dead.

“No girls. I’m sorry, we haven’t found a trace of him yet. But his soul statue . . . well . . . I wouldn’t hold out hope if I were you. As for Trillian, he’s in the back room. They’re preparing for another scouting mission today. A few of our seers escaped and they are trying to locate the Knights.”

Another thought hit me. “Amber—she had a baby! Did . . . do you know . . .” How could I ask? How could I ask if they knew if Amber’s baby was dead. One of the Keraastar Knights, Amber had ended up with her brother Luke—Menolly’s ex-barkeep—in Otherworld, chained to the yoke of the spirit seals. And there, she’d had her baby. Nobody knew if her possession of the spirit seal had altered the baby while it was in her womb, but it was just something we assumed we would find out as the child grew.

Trenyth gave me a bleak look. “I don’t know. Delilah, there are so many missing here that we will never have a true picture as to how many of our people have died. The toll is massive. Whole villages were wiped out by the storm. And now the armies are descending, and the sorcerers will surely come behind them. The Moon Mother is sending her Dark Moon Sorceresses to fight by our side.”

Camille shifted in her seat. “Is Derisa going to be leading them?”

Derisa, the High Priestess of the Moon Mother, had held the position for who knows how long. But Camille was being trained to be the High Priestess of the Moon Mother’s sorceresses—the priestesses who followed the Dark Moon. Derisa would lead the witches who followed the Bright Moon. Derisa would stay in Otherworld, while Camille was to stay Earthside and lead the new acolytes here. Or at least, that was the current plan.

“No, she cannot. She is too valuable. But there are Dark Moon sorceresses of great power and one of them, Seith, will lead the helm. They will drive forward to Kelvashan in two days’ time. And the King of Nebulveori is sending warriors. Dahnsburg has an army on the march to our lands, and Svartalfheim is also dispatching a legion. If we can hold out for another week, we will have a formidable force.”

Camille stared at Trenyth for a moment. “Will this leave their lands open to attack?”

He paled. “No, we have thought of that and insisted they send only those they can spare. Why? Do you sense something?”

She closed her eyes, and then, with a sharp cry, leaned over, clutching her head. “I see the same vision I did when I reached Elqaneve. The storm—it did not dissipate. It still lives, and it waits. They have chained it—this is no storm, Trenyth. It’s a creature they’ve constructed. It takes the shape of a storm, but it’s like a golem of sorts. And they have it ready to use again.”

“How are you tuning into to this? And do you know where it will strike next?” Trenyth stood. “I will send word immediately if you can pinpoint it.”

She sucked in a deep breath and lowered herself deeper into trance. I could feel the magic settle around her shoulders as her head dropped forward. “There is a city to the northwest . . . they will go after Svartalfheim next. They seek to enslave the sorcerers of Vodox’s realm.”

Her eyes flew open and she leaned forward, clutching the sides of the table. “Hurry, Trenyth. They are on the march. I don’t know how I am tuning into this, but trust me. They will attack soon. Warn King Vodox. I don’t know how they can protect the city but he has to try.”

Trenyth paled, but he nodded. “What did you contact me for? Hurry, and then I will rush to send word to Svartalfheim.”

Camille shook her head. “No, go now. Do it now. What we wanted can wait. Just protect my husbands and our friend Roz. But go, warn Vodox. If he does not erect a force field, his city will go down in flames, as sure as Elqaneve was destroyed.”

And with that, she signed off, and the mirror fogged over again. I looked at her, horror filling my heart. “Telazhar . . . he can’t be stopped, can he? He’s laying waste to Y’Eírialiastar all by himself.”

She shook her head. “Not by himself. He carries power from Shadow Wing, and the armies of disgruntled sorcerers. But he can be stopped—I have to believe this. If not . . . then Otherworld is lost to a war far more deadly than the Scorching Wars, and Earthside will be next. Once he breaks through, he’ll be able to use his sorcerers to gate in the demons. They’ll rip apart the portals one way or another. And the worlds will be a feeding ground for the damned.”