Page 6

Shy

I was serious when I told the queen I never saw a real live Fae creature until I came to Frelsi. I definitely have never seen an adult hellhound, but that’s what this feels like. Except the magic pouring from the massive creature doesn’t feel demonic.

The eyes, though… They look a little like a portal to Hell.

If Rhys hears about this, he’s going to lose his shit and try to find a way to never let me leave Frelsi again. Even as this deadly creature growls my way, I’m thinking about how Rhys is going to explode. The plant thing does seem harmless, but you’ve never seen what a root can do to a home’s foundation. Even magical ones.

“Shy, I need you to get behind me,”

the king says. He stands in front of the creature, his arms out like he’s trying to show he isn’t a threat.

Except he is, and it’s not like the big predator is buying it. The hound growls, and the hair on the back of his neck stands up. That is not a happy puppy. And yet I’m not entirely afraid. Which kind of makes me afraid.

I find myself with the queen, letting the king stand between us and the dog who does not look like he did well at obedience school.

“Neil, shouldn’t you change?”

Danny asks. “Let’s see the werewolf that loves to take a bite out of strange creatures.”

I hear Neil’s long sigh. “My wolf is not going to scare that buddy there. We’re all safer if there’s not another canine to try to dominate. That is a Ci Annwn. It’s a Welsh hellhound. He’s not going to be impressed with a werewolf, so I’ll keep my favorite pair of jeans intact, thank you, very much. I no longer have access to Dev’s endless cash, so my wardrobe is important to me now.”

I manage to get a look at the creature Neil calls a Ci Annwn. It’s like an oversized dog with stark white fur, except there are streaks of red around its long ears and on its tail. And yet the magic coming off it still feels…right to me.

“Danny, we’ve got another one.”

The queen moves from my side, pressing herself to my back so I’m surrounded by Rhys’s parents. Rhys isn’t the only one with a protective instinct.

I manage to turn just enough to see our friend is not alone. There’s another Ci Annwn coming around the opposite side. And yet another follows him. “Uhm, shouldn’t they be in Wales?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Drowning Woman has joined us. She’s closer than before, and I wonder if she wants to attack like the dogs seem to.

“Not if Myrddin sent them,”

the king says, his voice tight.

“They don’t belong to Myrddin.”

The queen sounds worried, too, but then I would be worried if she wasn’t. “They belong to Arawn. There are some bonds not even Myrddin can break. They’re not of this plane, nor of the Hell plane, so Myrddin shouldn’t be able to influence them.”

“The dude who used to be involved with Nim?”

Neil joins our circle. “Good puppy. You don’t want to eat me. I’m gamey. Go for the vamp.”

“Thanks a lot,”

the king says. “And yes, they belong to Arawn, the asshole Welsh King of the Dead. I say that because the fucker drained me once. He fed off my magic because it got him high. Only Bris was able to save me. Why would he send his hounds?”

“Maybe he’s looking for Nim,”

the queen offers. “They were involved, and it wasn’t his idea to break up.”

“But that was over ten years ago,”

Neil argues.

“He’s a god.”

The king keeps shifting us around, shuffling in a circle like he’s waiting for one to pounce. “I assure you a couple of decades are like giving his girlfriend some time to cool off. But why not come himself if he’s worried?”

“We can take you to Nimue,”

Neil offers, and then his voice goes low. “How do we get a bunch of crazy-looking hellhounds all the way across the country? I don’t think we should take them through the portal. Is there an Uber?”

“Also, how upset will they be since best-case scenario she’s starting to grow her legs back,”

the queen points out. “I don’t know how much they understand. We didn’t do it. Could we sic them on Myrddin?”

“I don’t think they want an escort,”

the king growls. “If he wants to find Nimue, he should simply send a representative who won’t try to kill us.”

“They are not looking for Nimue, Your Highness,”

a deep, feminine voice says. She sounds like a pack-a-day smoker for maybe three hundred years. “Though I assure you my king feels her absence.”

Then I get a look at her and raise that estimate up. Like three thousand maybe.

“Then what are they looking for? Perhaps you could call them off and introduce yourself.”

The king sounds irritated. “Is this the way Arawn treats his hosts?”

“Are you our hosts? I should also ask if you can truly be considered a king at this point,”

the really, really old chick asks. She’s dressed in all black, the color making her hair look stark against it. She wears her white hair in thick braids. She points the king’s way, long nails forming what looks like talons. “From what I can tell, you don’t have a crown anymore, Daniel Donovan. And you have no real ties to my people.”

“Oh, but I do,”

the queen says, moving so she can face the woman.

No. That’s not what she should be called. I might not have met all the supernatural creatures of the world, but I did take classes. This is a crone. Maybe a hag. I’m hoping for a crone.

She stills for a moment, and then her head drops. “Your Grace.”

It must be good to have all those titles. Makes it easier to pivot when one doesn’t do the trick.

I wonder if the crone can sense the Drowning Woman, who stands right beside her, menace pouring from her form.

“Yes,”

the queen says. “I am the high priest’s goddess, and I would like to know why Arawn would send his hounds to hunt us. I would also like to know your name and why he didn’t come himself.”

“The hounds will calm down when you allow yr un sanctaidd to greet them,”

the woman says, standing behind the largest of the hounds. “My name is Mallt-y-nos. You can call me Matilda. I serve the King of Annwn.”

See, here is where my dead translator would be helpful, but apparently Matilda is considered alive because I got nothing.

“The Sacred One?”

the king asks. “Who are you talking about? Is this being in the bookstore? We have no one from Annwn among our people.”

“Yr un sanctaidd is of the world. Is more than ours. She belongs to the world. Mae hi y llwybr i dragwyddoldeb,”

Matilda says, her voice even deeper than before. Like it’s coming from someplace inside her. “My invitation is for her, though you are welcome.”

“Danny, I think she’s talking about Shahidi,”

the queen says, turning my way.

The dogs growl and move in closer when the queen takes my hand.

“I don’t understand Welsh.”

I’m confused, and I don’t have a handy ghost translator. Although the ones I would likely find here wouldn’t help me. I doubt there are a bunch of dead Welsh tourists hanging around.

The queen lets my hand go and steps slightly back. The dogs stop growling. “I don’t either, but she’s an emissary from a dead land, sweetie. You can talk to the dead.”

Matilda frowns, deepening the wrinkles and crevasses of her face. “You make light of her. Or you don’t understand her.”

“She says you’re the path to eternity,”

the king explains. “Mallt-y-nos, you need to understand I consider this young woman a daughter, and if you harm her, I will find a way to make your slice of hell even worse.”

The crone’s brow rises. “How little you know, Your Highness. But your ignorance is none of my concern. If you will allow my hounds to assure themselves yr un sanctaidd is safe, I think you will find they will calm and we can have a talk.”

“What do you want, Shy?”

the king asks. “We can back off and let you handle this or we can fight here and now. I’m perfectly happy to do that. I think I can handle some hellhounds.”

“No, it’s fine.”

For some reason I don’t think they’re here to hurt me. And I would love to know why she thinks I’m some sort of gateway to eternity. I’m just the chick who tries to get dead folk to walk into the light.

“We’ll be right here,”

Neil promises as he moves to the steps again. “And I assure you I will change if I need to. Jeans be damned.”

The queen is the last to join them, and then I am surrounded by three hellhounds.

It’s not my first time around dogs. My family kept several along with cats. It is the stupidest thing, but I’m kind of following my instincts here. I put a hand out to the largest, palm down, to allow him to catch my scent. Or take my hand off with those insanely sharp choppers of his.

I hear the queen’s deep intake of breath as I offer my hand.

The hound takes a sniff and then makes a huffing sound, and I find myself surrounded by bouncy, happy hellhounds. They change utterly from snarling death machines to puppies who want attention. I find myself on my ass, laughing and trying to not let them lick my mouth.

“Hey, guys, you are very sweet,”

I say as they start to settle down.

“I told you they would be fine once they knew she was all right,”

Matilda says, walking toward me.

The Drowning Woman stays where she is.

Matilda moves in front of me and bows formally. “Un sanctaidd, my king wishes to meet with you. If you will allow me and my hounds to escort you to the Faery plane, we can be on our way.”

“Whoa,”

the king says. “She’s not going anywhere.”

“You should listen to him,”

Neil adds. “Your sacred one is kind of spoken for, and you will have one pissed-off elemental following you. He’s getting good with weather, so think about it.”

“I fear not the Green God,”

Matilda replies. “Of course he is welcome to join his goddess. The fact that Rhys Donovan-Quinn has selected one of ours as his goddess gives all the kings hope. We are entering a new age. The stars have aligned, and we will either be destroyed utterly or we shall make this age one of peace and prosperity.”

“I wouldn’t think a death crone would care about peace and prosperity,”

the king notes.

“Because for all of that death magic clinging to you, Your Highness, you do not understand death at all. You may deal it. May feel yourself mired in it. But you do not know death at all if you think it only darkness.”

“I’ve been to the Hell plane,”

the queen admits. “It was a fearsome thing.”

“That is the Hell plane, a place created by and for very specific people. Annwn is our underworld. You only call it Hell because you have no imagination, Your Grace. And I also happen to know Shahidi is planning a trip to Faery along with the rest of you. Tell me, how are you planning to get through the wizard’s guards?”

Matilda asks, summing up one of our problems.

I manage to get to the steps, sitting down. The hellhounds come with me. One on the step above me. One at my feet below. One beside me, his big head resting on my lap.

The queen sits with me and gives me a grin. “This is the fun part. I made friends with some black dogs once. Such sweeties. They get a bad rep. I mean, sure, throughout human history they’ve been death omens, but if you get past that they make excellent pets.”

She looks at Matilda. “Will they let me pet them or try to bite my hand off?”

The mysterious crone—isn’t there always one—smiles slightly. “As you explained, you are the high priest’s goddess. They are Fae creatures. They had one mission, and it is done. I think you’ll find them to be happy for some affection. They are canines, after all. Despite the magic they carry, they also harbor the deep instincts. For love. Companionship. Like all dogs, they are as open as they’ve been taught to be. You’ll find my master takes care of his own.”

The one behind me moves to the queen’s side and his tongue lolls out, giving him a smiling expression. The queen practically melts as she starts to pet the creature.

I stroke the head on my lap and feel the oddest connection to the hound. “Are you saying you can get us into Faery without having to get past Myrddin’s guard?”

“I want to understand how she knew we were going to Faery at all.”

The king stands close as though watching over the situation, but I see that Neil is behind us now. So we have a vampire king at our front and a werewolf on our six. As Rhys would call it. Rhys is a good soldier. Rhys is the one who follows commands and gets things done. At least he had before his power went insane. How hard is it for him?

Can I make it easier?

“While my master does not believe it to be safe for him to come to the Earth plane right now, he does keep up with what is happening here. After all, what happens here affects all of the planes. The inner planes are the working heart of the universe, though there is an outer plane that forms the…how would you say it…the engine of the universe. I believe you were recently there, Your Highness.”

The king nods. “Yes. My daughter, Summer, and her husband, Marcus, have taken their rightful places on that Fae plane.”

Matilda chuckles. “It’s closer to a celestial plane, but I doubt you’ve been on one of those.”

“Are you talking about Heaven?”

Neil asks.

“Heaven is a human construct,”

Matilda corrects. “Like what you would call Hell, Heaven is made of many different planes. The celestial planes.”

“This doesn’t answer my question.”

The king is determined, but then I bet Sasha would be, too, if he was here.

“My master is a lord of the dead. Do you think he doesn’t have a network?”

Matilda asks. “He keeps watch on what is happening here. On what is happening on all planes where he has a presence. He also has allies who exchange information with him. The underworlds are worried, Your Highness. They are worried about Myrddin.”

“I assure you Hell is not,”

Neil says with a bitterness that can’t be denied. “They’re working with him.”

“Some of the Hell planes are,”

Matilda allows. “Some are not. Some are ready to resist should Myrddin fulfill his plan to close off the planes. My master will not allow it. Cutting off the celestial planes will harm those in transition. It will cause millions to be stuck. So he will aid you in doing what you need to do, Your Highness.”

“I’m supposed to trust the man who nearly killed me so he could get high?”

The king’s voice goes dangerously low.

“He would rather like to speak to you on that subject himself.”

Matilda’s head lowers deferentially. “Your Highness, I cannot tell you how important the girl is. He would never place her in danger.”

“I’m not important.”

I think I’m the only girl here. Not many people would call Zoey Donovan-Quinn a girl. She’s a badass woman queen. I’m just… Well, I’ve been trained and can take care of myself in a fight, mostly. But I feel like a girl.

Matilda gets to one shaky knee in front of me before I can stop her. “You are yr un sanctaidd, lost from our kingdom for millennia. The fact that you are resurrected in this time means something. You are here to save us, to be what you were created to be. You are walking death.”

The words bring tears to my eyes. I don’t know why. She’s not saying anything I don’t know.

Rhys is life, abundant and rich. I simply cling to shadows.

“You think I insult you,”

Matilda says softly. “Because you do not know death, either. Come to the Faery plane and learn who you are, what you can do. Death is not the end. Death is change. There can be no rebirth without death. No end to suffering and hope of something new without death. You can see yourself as a cold, pointless thing, or as necessary and warm and loving as birth itself. Like all things, you decide how to see the world around you and by choosing your vision, you form reality. Come to meet my master and let him show you all the lies this world has told you. You are nothing to fear, Shahidi Davis. You are a miracle.”

“You mistake me for someone else.”

She has to because I’m just a girl from Texas. Seeing and talking to the dead is the only thing special about me. I don’t have any power beyond a good gossip session with the recently deceased.

She straightens up. “The C?n Annwn do not make mistakes. They know you.”

She turns to the king. “So what should I tell my master?”

“I need to think about it.”

The king looks my way, considering me. “I don’t know that I like how interested the King of the Dead is in my son’s goddess.”

“She isn’t his goddess yet,”

Matilda whispers. And looks straight at me, her lips not moving. “And you never have to be. You could take your place in Annwn. You do not need the spring. You are so much more.”

That’s when I realize the whole time she was speaking in my head, her other face was turned to the king. “I will leave you with the key. There is a secret door to the Fae plane that my master and Nimue have used many times over the years. No one else knows of its existence. It is in the Welsh countryside. Go to Snowdonia. The hounds will guide you from there. If you carry these stones with you, the door will open.”

“Neil,”

the king says.

Neil moves in and takes the stones. They look like crystals to me. He sniffs them. “I think they’re safe, but I’m not a witch.”

“Take them to your witches,”

Matilda offers. “But do not wait too long, Your Highness. There are plans the wizard makes that you do not understand.”

“You could tell us,”

the queen asks, but she says it offhandedly like she knows the crone isn’t going to take her up on it.

“I will tell you only this, be careful in Faery. Give nothing away. Your lives depend upon it.”

And then she’s gone. She is simply there one moment and gone the next, and we’re left with three massive hellhounds and a bunch of blue crystals.

And about a million questions.

“We should get back to Frelsi.”

The king frowns his wife’s way. “You are not keeping those dogs, Z.”

The queen has her arms around one. “Not forever, but they’re our guides.”

She goes nose to nose with a ferocious beast. “I’m going to get you some treats. Yes I am. Yes I am, you good boy.”

The ferocious beast’s tale wags enough it’s creating its own wind system.

The one on my lap flips over and wriggles, asking for a belly rub. Which I give as I think about everything the crone said and know I have to go. I have to meet this god of the dead and see what he might want of me.

I also know exactly who I have to fight to get there.

Rhys Donovan-Quinn.