Page 20 of The Shadow Path (Shadowlands #2)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“ T his is a ridiculous idea.” Cadell might have thought it was a ridiculous idea, but he was still going with them.

“Thank you, Cadell; you’re the best dragon in the whole entire world.” Carys walked next to Cadell as they started to cross the Night Bridge on foot. Laura was on his other side, and Duncan led the way. Night was falling, and the last of the pearl-grey light was fading in the Shadowlands. By the time they crossed the fae gate, dawn should be breaking in London.

“I know there’s a lot going on, but I think Carys is right to be worried,” Laura continued. “Orla mentioned the Crow Mother, and the Crow Mother mentioned Orla. This could all be part of the same thing.”

Cadell did not look convinced. “If she’s a goddess—which I believe is correct—that means that the Brightlands is not foreign to her. In fact, she was born there at some point in history. I have no idea why she might have been banished or what was keeping her from passing through the gate, but we have no control or influence over divine powers.”

Duncan kept silent as they walked, casting glares anytime someone looked like they might approach.

“I’m curious,” Carys said. “If I unleashed something on the Brightlands?—”

“It would be out of your control,” Cadell said. “Cross Human, can you convince her?”

Duncan glanced over his shoulder. “I can convince her of nothing most of the time.”

Cadell frowned. “Not even now that you’re sexual partners?”

“Ha!” Laura crowed.

Carys felt like her face was on fire. “Does everyone in Anglia know?”

The cross human shot her a rakish grin. “Hopefully.”

“Nêrys, we are mentally and emotionally bonded. Of course I will know when you take on a new sexual partner.”

“Does this mean I’ll know if you get a girlfriend?”

Cadell glanced at Laura. “No.”

“Unfair.”

Were Cadell’s cheeks red? Just a little?

“In truth, I do not know,” he admitted. “My prior matings did not have an emotional attachment. If Seren noticed anything, she did not tell me.”

Wait, did that mean Cadell had never had sex just for fun?

Carys saw Laura staring carefully ahead and guessed that her friend was wondering the same thing.

Interesting .

And also kind of weird.

A stout troll with a stony face and grey tufts coming out of his large ears stepped in front of Duncan near the end of the bridge, glaring at Cadell.

“That dragon isn’t welcome in the market.”

“He may not be welcome,” Duncan said, “but he’ll pass through.”

The troll puffed up his chest. “Says who?”

Cadell stepped forward and seemed to grow several inches as his voice dropped and a red glow appeared at his throat. “Do we have a problem?”

Duncan jabbed a finger toward Cadell. “Says himself. We’re passing through, warden. We don’t want trouble—we’re only making for the fae gate.”

The troll narrowed his eyes at Cadell, then looked at Duncan, Laura, and finally Carys. “Yer the one,” he muttered.

Carys’s eyes went wide. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“The one who started the trouble.” He bared two curved fangs at Carys, but then he curled his lip and pointed over his shoulder. “Get on with you. Straight to the gate and don’t talk to no one.”

Carys jutted her chin out. “If no one talks to me, I won’t talk to them.”

Duncan put a hand on her shoulder and guided her past the troll and off the bridge. “We’re moving.”

Carys muttered, “He’s acting like I’m the one who burned down the place.”

“Did you see the badge on his chest?” Duncan asked. “He’s the warden of the market. At least they have one now. It’s his job to keep the peace.”

“And I’m not the one who broke the peace in the first place.” She scanned the cobblestone lane along the river where the fire-scarred skeletons of ramshackle buildings and open stalls remained standing like withered matchsticks. The three humans and the dragon picked their way through the remains of the troll market where soldiers patrolled and a few intrepid vendors still set up stalls.

The fae bookseller was there, reading a scroll that unfurled itself. Her booth was parked next to the troll with the scaled hands. It was too late for fish, so he had switched to hawking fishing equipment like lines and charmed nets.

There was a round-faced troll woman selling crystals and charms, and an elderly human in a turban carefully measuring herbs.

Carys saw no humans being sold; the vendors that remained in view of the patrolling soldiers all appeared to be legitimate businesspeople.

“There.” She pointed out the lane that she couldn’t forget. “This is the way.”

“I remember.” Duncan walked forward, disappearing into the narrow lane as he walked to a corner where two lanterns sat on a narrow stoop.

“Follow Duncan,” Cadell said quietly. “I’ll watch your backs.”

“Is this smart?” Laura asked quietly.

“We’re heading into the Brightlands,” Carys said. “At least the chances of running into malevolent trolls are a lot lower there.”

Laura watched an early-morning drunk peeing against a wall in an alley off Wilton Place. “Lower, but not zero.”

“What?”

Laura pointed her chin at the stumbling man, who still had his penis dangling out of his pants as he shuffled away.

“Ah, the charms of London,” Laura said. “All the stories are true.”

Duncan snorted. “You show up anywhere at this hour and you’re bound to get the worst of a city. Joggers and drunks.”

As if on cue, two men in black running clothes passed by the end of the alley, heading toward Knightsbridge Road.

“We’re here now.” Cadell looked around the grey walls and paved streets with a glare. “How do you propose we find one woman in a city of over eight million people?”

Carys had already been thinking about that. “Where are the oldest existing forests in London?”

Duncan blew out a long breath. “Believe it or not, there are quite a few forests in London. Hyde Park you know, but there are parks and woods all over the place. It’s hard to say which one might be?—”

“Gorne Wood.” Laura piped up.

All of them turned to look at her.

She shrugged. “I remember because I looked it up before we left. I figured there might be a fae gate there. It’s right in the middle of the city, and it’s the last part of the Great North Wood that’s still standing. It’s been continuously forested for over four hundred years.”

Duncan frowned. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s not really a park or an actual forest. It used to be an old scouting campground or something. It was just bought and preserved by a local foundation. It had been in private hands before, but it was all run down. After the scouts stopped using it, it kind of became a dumping ground. People sold drugs there. Lots of crime.”

Cadell looked at Carys, staring at her for a long moment.

“Cadell,” she whispered.

“What?”

“I can’t hear you.” She pointed at the buildings around them. “Brightlands, remember?”

“Ah.” He straightened and threw his shoulders back. “I was telling you that a secluded place that has been wild for four hundred years and has untouched earth would be exactly the kind of place a god might seek out.”

Laura said, “The article did mention that it might be dangerous because of the crime. It’s been fenced off, but I’m sure we can find a way to sneak in.”

“Where is it?” Duncan asked.

“South London?” Laura closed her eyes. “Brockley? Brockney? Something like that. I think they said it’s only six miles from Westminster.”

“Brockley.” Duncan nodded. “We should get a cab before traffic really gets going. This time of day, we might get lucky and get there in under an hour.”

“Old forests, seclusion, and crime?” Carys nodded. “Sounds like just the kind of place the Crow Mother might hang out.”

A half hour later, the black cab dropped them off at the end of Courtrai Road in Brockley, a tidy neighborhood in South London where neat houses lined up in straight rows, family cars lined the streets, and a children’s play area was set up at the apex of a dead-end road.

Gorne Wood wasn’t marked by anything remarkable. There was a chain-link fence set up in an attempt to keep trespassers out, but it was clear from the litter and churned-up grass on the other side of the crooked gate that it wasn’t as effective as the local activists probably liked.

“Gorne Wood.” Cadell took a deep breath in. “I don’t smell any fae.”

“You’re in the Brightlands,” Carys said. “You don’t have a dragon nose here.”

There was a metal padlock on the gate, but Carys was sure she could climb it. It had been a few years since she’d hopped fences, but it wasn’t that hard when you were short.

The men, on the other hand, might have a harder time.

Cadell frowned. “My senses are stronger in Baywood. I can usually sense fae even on the Bright side of the gate.”

“Thinner walls, remember?” Laura didn’t wait for them to gather attention from passersby. She promptly started climbing up and over the fence. “The gates in Baywood are more porous. You guys coming or not?”

“Right after you.” Carys started to climb the fence, only to freeze when she felt Duncan wrap his hands around her waist.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “Don’t want you to rip your clothes.” He lifted her up nearly to the top of the gate, and all Carys had to do was throw her foot over and drop to the other side.

Did his blatant display of manly strength leave her a little turned on? Okay, yes. Yes, it did, but that was understandable. Not every man was built like Duncan Murray.

Cadell frowned at both the women, looked up at the top of the fence, then walked over, twisted the padlock in his fist, and broke it off. “There was really no need to climb over the fence when there’s a gate.”

Laura looked up at him. “You could have done that before I nearly twisted my ankle.”

“You could have waited for me to open the gate.” He pushed the metal gate open, and he and Duncan walked through. “Don’t blame me for your impatience.”

She tried to hide her smirk. “You gonna make another joke about delayed gratification right now?”

“No.” He walked past her and bent down. “But if you want something from me, you should state your desired expectations clearly.”

Laura turned and narrowed her eyes at the dragon.

Carys grabbed Duncan’s hand and quickly walked past them, heading toward the large shed that was leaning to the side.

Duncan wove their fingers together and chuckled. “Don’t envy that dragon one bit.” He squeezed her hand. “Are you a hand-holder then, darling?”

She turned, her cheeks a little red. “I mean, it’s holding hands. It’s nice.”

“I agree.” His eyes were dancing. “I like learning these little things about you.”

“Really? What else do you want to know?”

They walked under an alleyway of gnarled oaks, their twisting branches bright green with spring leaves. As the sun rose and light filtered through the limbs, a dust of spring pollen drifted through shafts of light, lending the green tunnel an otherworldly air.

“What’s your favorite music album?”

“Ever of all time?”

Duncan hummed a little bit. “Favorite of all time and favorite of the past… five years or so.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath and kept her hand firmly in his as they walked deeper into the woods. The light grew dimmer, and the trees grew taller. She heard Cadell and Laura walking at a short distance behind them, but the wind rustling the leaves overhead drowned out whatever they were talking about. “Obviously the greatest album of all time is John Denver’s Christmas with the Muppets , which is both seasonal and timeless.”

Duncan snorted. “God, you’re fucking adorable, Carys Morgan. But that is a ridiculous pick.”

She turned her head and gawped at him. “How dare you?”

“It’s not even the best Muppets album,” Duncan persisted. “Which is obviously The Muppet Movie soundtrack.”

“Unbelievable,” Carys muttered.

The path in front of them abruptly stopped, and the trail narrowed to a thin, beaten track that twisted through a dark bramble of weeds, bushes, and a few scrappy wildflowers that defiantly bloomed in the filtered light.

Duncan looked back. “You feeling anything now?”

Cadell nodded. “There’s something here.”

“I feel it too,” Laura said. “There’s a weight to the air.”

Carys wouldn’t have said it like that, but she knew exactly what Laura was getting at. The air around her felt pressed in and heavy. The pollen drifting from the oak trees stuck to her skin. As she stepped off the path and around the tall bramble blocking her view, she heard a distant humming and a faint, eerie song.

“Carys, watch out.” Duncan grabbed her arm.

Looking down, Carys had nearly tripped over the outstretched leg of a young man lying half in the bramble and half out. He was shirtless and wretchedly thin with blue veins crawling up his pale forearms. He must have been no older than eighteen or nineteen, the same age as the freshmen in her Intro to Mythology class.

“Hey.” She gazed at the young man, who appeared to be staring into the canopy overhead. “Hey, you.”

“Yank,” the boy muttered. “Whadya want? Yer not allowed here.”

The caw of a crow sounded in the distance along with the faint voice of a young woman singing.

“Oh, the oak and the ash, and the bonny ivy tree. How I wish once again in the west, I could be…”

Cadell stepped forward and nudged the young man’s leg with the toe of his boot. “I believe he is enchanted.”

“He’s high,” Duncan growled. “Look, boy, get out of here. You’re playing with things you can’t even imagine.”

The boy looked up, his pupils dilated and a smirk on his face. “Yer not the boss around here, are ya? She’s the boss.”

“Who?” Carys asked.

“Ma… cha.” He seemed to drift off, staring back into the trees. “Of course.”

A blurry idea in Carys’s mind was taking shape.

A three-faced goddess. The Crow Mother.

Dru’s words in the woods: “You’re speaking nonsense, Badb.”

And now the name Macha.

“Carys,” Laura whispered. “There’s more.”

She took another step into the overgrown bushes and saw more legs sticking out of more brambles. Sneakers and sandals. A pair of black boots and more than one set of bare feet. There were dazed youth everywhere—all but one were young men—and half of them appeared to be smoking something, but there was no lingering smell of smoke.

“This is her.” Carys kept her voice low. “I know it.”

And she was starting to understand just whom they might be dealing with. The possibility was… not great.

“She’s gathered acolytes,” Cadell said. “Deity is looking more accurate than fae.”

They kept to the path, and Carys ducked under the low-hanging branch of an oak tree, looking up and to the right where the song was coming from and a pale leg dangled from the crook of the tree.

The leg swung back and forth in rhythm with the quiet song that a young woman in the gnarled oak was singing.

“While sadly I roam, I regret my dear home, where lads and young lasses are making the hay…”

The song stopped, and the woman leaned forward, her dark red hair falling over her shoulders as she looked down on her new visitors. “Look at that,” she said. “A dragon, a thief, and two halflings have come to visit us.” Her blue eyes twinkled with amusement. “If you think I’m going back to the Shadows, you’re very much mistaken.”

She was stretched naked along the twisted limb of an ancient oak tree, soaking the morning sun into her pale white skin while a small murder of crows kept watch in the branches above her.

Carys looked up and met the goddess’s bright blue eyes. “Hello, Morrigan.”