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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

EVERYONE IN THE HOTEL EXCEPT Frida, who was psychologically incapable of stepping outside, gathered around the bonfire at sunset, while a few of us moved around the edges of the twenty-five foot high pile of wood, lighting it with branches wrapped in rags.

It was my dream come to life, and I shivered as I watched the flames leap and climb the pile, heading toward the top where Juda’s body laid. We had sewn the body into the blankets. It rested, inert, upon the wood. The flames licked at the wool, then caught and danced upon it.

“It is what he wanted, Anna?” Broch asked, beside me.

“It is what the stag wants, too.”

“I wonder what will come of it?”

“That Juda will be at peace, I hope.”

“We didn’t know him well enough to get it right the first time.” Broch touched my shoulder briefly. “Thanks to you, we can correct that error.”

Once the entire pile of wood was burning, and I could no longer see Juda’s body, I went back inside to the kitchen. I was followed by a line of people who waited for me to hand them trays of food for the tables. I gave Ben, Broch, Hirom, Olivia and Wim the first trays, and found myself facing Aurora Caro. She smiled and held out her hands. Behind her was a long line of guests and visitors and strangers.

“Oh,” I said stupidly. I gave Caro the next tray.

The kitchen rapidly emptied as I thrust trays and bowls, casseroles and pie plates and more at the next pair of hands. I warmed and cooked the hot dishes and when each was ready, someone was waiting to take it outside.

I nibbled as I worked, for I was starving and it would be a while before I could go out to the bonfire myself.

Ghaliya came into the kitchen sometime after ten, holding her side. “Mom, take a break. The tables are full, and everyone’s eaten at least one plateful, even me.” She was wearing a pretty dress a shade of blue that matched her hair. The fabric had sprigs of flowers printed on it. I couldn’t remember seeing it before. The front of the dress flowed over her belly, and the vee at the neck revealed her swollen breasts. She looked fresh, young, and lovely. Looking at her, I understood the expression about the glow of motherhood.

It would be good to spend a few minutes with her, this evening. “Okay,” I told her, and moved the soup pot to the cold side of the range and turned off the gas. “Just for a few minutes.” I finger-combed my hair. “Is there enough food?”

“More than enough,” Ghaliya said, linking her arm around mine. “Even though more people keep arriving. They come out through the trees or walk up the greenway.”

“It’s getting close to midnight,” I pointed out. “Perhaps they’re drawn here.”

Ghaliya rested her head against my shoulder for a moment. “It’s a weird world, here, isn’t it?”

“You wanted to stay here,” I reminded her. “Are you regretting it?”

She pressed her hand to her belly once more. “Not even for a second.” We stepped out of the hotel and came to halt on the footpath in front of it. Ghaliya lifted her hand up, waving toward the bonfire. “I wouldn’t want to miss this for anything.”

It was a sight. The bonfire still burned steadily. People tossed more wood upon it from time to time. I spotted the dwarves on the far side of the fire, competing with each other to toss the wood higher upon the pile. It appeared to be a drinking game where the loser had to drain their mug.

I couldn’t see the tables of food. There were too many people in front of them. I spotted many dryads, more dwarves, and shorter people with pale skin, large eyes and pointed ears. Elves? Pixies? Or were elves and pixies the stuff of fairytales only? The taller people included those who looked human, and many who did not. Green flesh, and blue. Black flesh. The mottled flesh of dryads. More pointed ears, eyes with no whites, large eyes, elongated eyes, eyes that glowed.

A flutter caught my attention, and I turned my head to see a pair of gossamer wings folding against the back of a woman with long hair and silver eyes.

Hirom’s table of barrels was also barely visible among the people waiting for drinks.

And right in front of the hotel, using the broad stretch of concrete between the door and the curb, was a group of musicians, none of them human. They were playing pipes, a handheld drum, and a fiddle.

On the road, in front of them, people were dancing, for the music was infectious, with a fast beat and a merry tune.

On either side of the dancers and on the footpath across the road, people were watching, clapping, laughing, or grabbing partners and pulling them onto the road to dance, too.

In the shadows just beyond the reach of the firelight, all around us, I could see couples standing close together.

I heard Broch’s voice in my head. Connection at Beltane is more than it appears. It is quite profound on a number of levels . And Trevalyan’s pithy rejoinder; It’s just simple people feeling the power and getting randy because of it .

I let my gaze scan from right to left, across the dancers to the tables, to the bonfire, and the dark trees behind the crossroad.

This was Beltane. This was what had made Olivia sigh in anticipation. I understood her pleasure, now. It was a bewildering sight for a mere human, but it was universal in its meaning. People coming together to enjoy the company of others. Community. Fellowship.

“Wow,” I breathed, taking it all in.

“Right?” Ghaliya said. She grinned. “Oscar has got to come and see this. His kids will go wild over Haigton.”

“That’s a discussion for another day,” I said firmly. How does one explain Haigton to a human unaware of the Otherworld? The locals had let me and Ghaliya trip, stumble over facts, and figure it out for ourselves. Maybe that was the best way. But I wasn’t ready to find out, just yet. I was still figuring out this world for myself.

“Mid-summer,” Ghaliya said, her eyes shining. “They must celebrate the solstice here.”

“mmm…” I said it with a neutral tone.

“I know. We’ll discuss it later.” Ghaliya let go of my arm. “Go and eat. I’ll get you some of the mulled cider.”

My throat contracted dryly. I liked Hirom’s warmed and spiced cider. But my stomach was protesting loudly, too. “Deal,” I told her, and moved around the band, heading for the tables of food.

For a feast I had orchestrated and cooked, I was pretty impressed by how it had all come together. It was nothing like any other staff Christmas buffet I’d ever eaten. I’d been challenged to find ways to serve rabbit and racoon, and moose did not taste exactly like beef. I did not eat the venison. I couldn’t bring myself to it.

The recipes were all down to earth. Potato dishes, stews, and lots of salads. Lots of homemade bread, rolls, buns, crusty loaves. Pies, both sweet and savory, and fruit tarts.

I ate a lot . I had probably been short on calories for days, for I had eaten on the run, ruining my appetite for when I did sit down to a formal meal. Not that I could afford to sit for long at all.

Not everyone was eating standing up. Sawn logs and big branches had been pulled off the woodpile to make temporary seating, and other diners were using the curb as a low seat. I moved back to the hotel and put my back to the wall beneath the dining room windows, where I ate, drank my tankard of spiced cider, and people-watched. I wasn’t alone there. A small woman in a pretty dress sat a few feet away, her plate on her lap, nibbling at a roasted pear. Her hair was pure white. She smiled at me when our gazes met.

Smiling at everyone seemed to be the theme of the evening.

I put my head back against the wall when I was full. It had taken two bowls of stew and a plate of apple pie and tarts. The music was happy, the chatter was full of laughter. And the warmth from the bonfire was nice. I could easily fall asleep right here where I was sitting, on concrete with my back against stucco.

After a while, I sat up straight. I felt cold inside, and too hot on the outside. The urge to stand was pulling at me. I resisted for a moment, because I was tired. The sensation to move, to do something, built until I could no longer ignore it.

Something is about to happen . The mental voice was mine, but the tone was not one I’d ever heard before. Absolute, pure confidence.

I put my plate aside, and got to my feet, scanning the party. This time, I looked for people I knew, locating them.

Broch was by the fire. He seemed to be studying the flames, except that he wasn’t standing square with the bonfire, looking to one side. Did he sense something, too?

Olivia was dancing with Wim. I couldn’t locate Ben.

Aurora Caro was standing at one of the food tables, pointing out dishes to a human-like woman with pointed ears. She was talking quickly. Trying to make an impression?

Harper…where was Harper? I looked for the familiar black hat, but when I spotted her, she was not wearing it. I saw her hair first, rippling down her back. She was sitting on an upturned log, her long legs stretched out, her ankles crossed. She had a whisky glass in one hand. She was talking to a dryad I didn’t know, a man with intelligent eyes and wide shoulders.

Harper, talking freely. I marveled.

Instinct made me switch my gaze back to Broch.

He wasn’t staring at the fire. He was watching Harper. The emotion on his face defied analysis. I only knew that pain was part of what he was feeling. I heard his voice again, in my mind. Connection at Beltane is more than it appears. It is quite profound on a number of levels .

I would have let myself mull over what I had seen, what it meant for both of them, but the sensation of something looming, something about to happen, was building. I shifted on my feet, turning from side to side to take in the entire road, and everyone in it. Where was it coming from? Where was the threat?

I found Orrin Stonebrunch and studied him, my heart screaming in my chest. He stood at the end of Hirom’s barrels, a pitcher of beer in his hand. He glowered at everyone. His eyes, which had remained human for days now glowed a deep orange.

Where was Ben? I hadn’t seen him at all, since stepping out of the kitchen.

I let my gaze slide over the length of the party once more. A cheer went up as more wood was thrown upon the bonfire and sparks climbed up into the night sky.

I couldn’t breathe. My throat was closing down. My chest squeezing. I pressed my hand to the center of my chest, massaging it.

What was coming? I badly wanted to run to Trevalyan’s house, hammer on the door and have him tell me what was happening.

Percy Finch, wearing a sweater vest and a tie, was murmuring apologies as he stepped around people standing around the bonfire. He avoided touching any of them, his mouth held in a little pucker of distaste.

He stopped a few feet from the bonfire, which was closer than most people could withstand. He raised his arms, his fingers spread. “I, Lucien Harrow, declare!” he cried in a powerful voice unlike his own.

Who? I stared at him, puzzled.

The music came to an awkward, sour-noted stop. People stopped dancing.

Percy ignored them. “By blood once spilled, by debt long due; by hollow breath and midnight’s hue—”

Midnight ! I turned my wrist so I could see my watch by the firelight.

It had just gone midnight.

“By fire’s kiss and moonlight’s tide; Let fate unbind, let woe subside—”

“No! No! Stop! You must stop!” It was a woman’s scream, a voice I didn’t know. The party had come to a resounding stillness and silence since Percy began his chanting, and I could hear the woman clearly. I turned to locate her.

It was Frida . She was outside, running toward Percy with her hand raised, fear in her face. “Don’t do this! You must not!” she cried.

As Frida got close, Percy threw back one of his hands in an underarm swing.

Frida was picked up off the ground and flung up the road, to land between the dancers and rolling before coming to a stop, her limbs sprawled and her eyes closed.

Everyone gasped. There were cries of alarm. And abruptly everyone turned and tried to leave, tripping over each other, knocking into the tables, falling and crawling and screaming.

Percy raised his arms again and continued, as if he had not been interrupted. “Life for life, the scales must turn; Let cinder cleanse, let ember burn.”

“Anna!” The shout came from my left. I spun to look.

Juda stood there. Juda . His deep olive skin was unchanged. The trimmed beard still neat. His black eyes were alive. Aware. I clutched my chest as my heart groaned painfully.

Juda pointed at Percy. “Block him! Now!! He’ll take Ghaliya’s child!”

I gasped. I think I staggered. This was all happening too quickly. I couldn’t think.

“What once was taken, now restore. Let shadow reign in me no more!” The triumph in Percy’s voice was terrifying.

Ghaliya screamed. I swung to find her. She was by the front door to the hotel, clutching her belly. Her knees buckled as I watched.

Terror swamped me. I had to stop this. I knew that. But how? I couldn’t think of a single thing I could do that might halt this.

People were still screaming. I heard a crash and saw Hirom’s barrels crash to the ground. Beer glugged, and people pushed through it, panicked and near hysterical.

“Stop him, Anna!” Juda cried.

Percy stood alone at the bonfire, which was dying as he studied it. He wore a triumphant smile that made him appear wildly different to the meek, germophobe who had crept about the hotel for more than a week.

“ Mom !” Ghaliya screamed. “ It hurts!”

I couldn’t think of a single spell. My mind was blank. But I had lived without spells my entire life. I knew other ways to stop someone. I leapt forward, running hard. It was only a dozen steps to reach Percy and by the time I was there, I was moving at top speed.

I bent and rammed my shoulder into his side.

And where I touched him, my flesh and muscles turned instantly cold.

Percy staggered sideways, lost his footing and sprawled.

I tripped and staggered backward, clutching my shoulder. Even from here, I could feel the wrongness coming off him, like the chill of a block of ice.

And I could see more than that. I blinked to clear my vision, but it didn’t go away. There were faint lines in the air, shimmering like vapor, barely visible. They poured off the bonfire and ran along the ground, heading toward Percy like a thousand lines of ants, like water following a channel, undulating as they reached him and he took them into himself.

The lines weren’t just coming from the bonfire. I could see more of them flowing from the Greenway, from people who were still standing too close to Percy, frozen with shock or fear.

And the lines were coming out of Ghaliya. She was on her knees, a hand on the ground to hold herself up, so her belly did not make contact. The other hand was to her belly. She was crying and moaning at the same time.

Percy hissed at me. He climbed laboriously to his feet once more, fury making his face writhe in inhuman ways.

He came at me, his hands out.

Before he could reach me, Harper lunged between us, her hand raised. I saw her knife in it, as she slammed her fist into Percy’s chest, right over the heart.

The impact brought him to a halt, but he didn’t drop or sag or die. He looked down at the knife, plucked it out of his chest and threw it aside.

Harper shouted over her shoulder at me. “Run!” Then she spoke words that I didn’t understand and shoved Percy with both hands.

He flew through the air to land on the table of food. The table collapsed and he and the food jumbled together.

I backed up a dozen steps.

“The Greenway!” Juda cried. “It must not fail!”

I whirled again. The Greenway was…trembling. The surface shimmered and shook, like sand dancing upon a loudspeaker turned up too loud.

Another crash sounded, this one the unmistakable sound of glass breaking. Orrin Stonebrunch had tossed his jug of beer to the ground. “I fix!” he cried and strode forward, his heavy stomps swallowing up the ground. He reached Percy, raised his fist and hammered it on the top of Percy’s head.

Percy dropped to the ground, then pushed himself up, groggy. He pushed himself to his feet, swaying, and turned to the fire once more, bringing his hands up into the air.

Orrin was already nearly all the way around the fire. He bent—an astonishing movement for someone of his size—and spread his hand out upon the shimming surface of the Greenway.

Immediately, the Greenway calmed. The near-invisible lines stopped rising and running toward Percy.

But they were not the only lines.

Ghaliya screamed again. Her fear, her pain, broke my paralysis. I didn’t think. I had no time to weigh up options. I’d already waited too long. I raised my hands, one on either side, and spoke the words of the beckoning spell. They were ancient and powerful words. I felt the power gather inside me, the fizzing, slightly cold, deliciously sensual run of feelings through my nerves and veins. The power left me, and raced outward in all directions, seeking more of itself. More power, from wherever it might be.

And something answered. The call came from the north, and from not too far away. The power rushed to me, pulled by the beckoning spell. It was an unearthly, inhuman power. Blind, but all-seeing, coldly scalding, ageless and ancient. Aware but not sentient. And overwhelming .

Fear shot through me at the strength of the power I’d called to my side. I had no time to cringe. It slammed into me, stealing my breath, dimming my vision. I pulled my hands together, fighting to drag them through the surge of power. Then I turned my palms out and thrust all of it at Percy.

He instantly turned to flame. It licked up from his well-polished shoes to his well-trimmed hair. Every inch of him was consumed.

He did not scream. He turned to me. I saw his mouth moving. Read the words it formed.

Thank you .

Then he ran forward, still burning, and threw himself upon the bonfire.