Chapter 14
AT TEN O’CLOCK, after Talia changed my dressing—which hurt, though the wounds were healing up faster now—we headed toward the park. Not far from the hotel, the sound of a siren whirred twice behind us. I let out a disgruntled grunt as Herne pulled the side of the road. A moment later, a haughty-looking woman in a khaki uniform came ambling over to the driver’s side, looking rather disgruntled. Herne let out an “Oh, shit” and rolled down his window.
When she peeked in and saw me, the snotty look intensified. I realized exactly who we were facing.
“So, where are you going?” She was asking Herne, but her gaze was glued on my face.
“Did we do anything wrong, Sheriff? Did I make an illegal turn, or is my brake light out, or was I going over the speed limit?” Herne’s snide reply surprised me. It also made me nervous, given what he was capable of.
Astrana seemed to feel the same way I did, because she stepped back, her look turning from patronizing to wary. “May I see your identification?
Herne pulled out his wallet, and his identification badge. “You know who I am, Astrana. And you know I have the authority to investigate this case. Don’t try to interfere or I’ll notify my father and mother that you’re putting up resistance.” His voice was flat, with no inflection, and it was far more chilling than if he had yelled at her. He didn’t even look at her, just stared directly ahead at the road.
Astrana glanced at his wallet and badge and then handed them back as if they had bitten her. “I make it my business to know what’s going on around here—”
“You don’t make it your business to know what’s going on with the various murders that happen around here, do you? Especially ones that might have dicey consequences for you, should you actually do your job.” This time, Herne turned to face her directly. He held her gaze until she looked away.
Her voice flat, she said, “Just wrap up your business as soon as you can.” And with that, she returned to her car and sped off down the road.
“I think you just made an enemy, boss,” Viktor said.
“Do you think I care?” Herne said. “She has to know we’re on to her. She’ll be lucky to still have her job after we’re done with this.”
He rolled up his window again, and pulled back on the road. A few moments later, we were back in the parking lot of the state park.
“Getting to the touchstone isn’t easy. I’m pretty sure that Viktor can manage it, but you should probably ride on my back, Ember. I know you’re physically fit, but with that wrist, it’s going to be hard for you to balance yourself against the steep slope.”
By now, I had learned to recognize when Herne was in a bad mood, and Astrana had plummeted him into one. It was just best to accept his offer, rather than argue that I could make it on my own. Besides, if the slope was as steep as he seemed to think, he was probably right given the state of my throbbing wrist.
“Not a problem,” I said. “I’d appreciate the ride.” And I didn’t even put any innuendo into it.
A LITTLE WAYS off the road, Herne turned into his stag self and knelt so that I could crawl on to his back. I had ridden on him a couple times before, and it still took my breath away as to how fast he could go and how nimble he was. Oh, I knew that the cervidae family was quick footed, but Herne could out-run any deer or elk out there. And he was massive, at least shoulder height next to me. He lowered himself to the ground, and I climbed on his back. Slowly, he stood, waiting for me to get a good hold on him. I held tight, leaning forward to rest my arms against the sides of his neck. Then, picking up speed, he led the way, holding himself back so that Viktor could follow.
We wound our way through the forest, startling the odd bird here and there, and a fox, who scampered off to the right. I yawned, still tired, but grateful that Viktor had bought us some downtime. Herne had been right, the slope of the ravine was extremely steep, and while I would have been able to make it, it would have been a struggle and I would have worn myself out by the time I reached the top. As it was, Herne made quick work of it, and Viktor wasn’t far behind.
At the top of the ravine was a narrow plateau, about three feet wide before the ravine started down the other side. Herne let out a little huff, one that I recognized as “Hold on tight,” and I pressed myself harder against his neck. He began to descend, picking up speed until we were racing between the trees in a blur. I didn’t look back to see how Viktor was doing—that would have required letting go of Herne’s neck and I wasn’t about to do that.
As we darted between the trees, I held my breath, wincing every time we came to a log or boulder. Yet Herne always managed to jump without hesitation, sailing over the obstacles as though they didn’t exist. We arrived at the bottom and he slowed, finally coming to a halt beside a streambed that trickled along through the ravine.
The entire network of Western Washington geology was made up of forests like these, thick fir and cedar, overzealous ferns that covered the forest floor, along with vining plants and huckleberry bushes, all filling the ever-present ravines that had been caused by the retreat of the massive glaciers during the last Ice Age. The glaciers had withdrawn, leaving only the ravines and bluffs and alluvial deposits to mark that they had ruled over the land at one time. The massive rockslides covered white slopes, a stark reminder of the strength of the planet.
Herne knelt for me to jump off of his back. As I turned around, Viktor was descending the last few feet of the ravine. He was surefooted, but even he was using the closely spaced trees for balance. As he joined us, Herne turned back into himself.
“Are we near the touchstone?” I asked, looking around. The bottom of the ravine was dry, covered with forest debris.
Herne pointed ahead of us, toward a small clearing where the sun was pouring in. At least it wasn’t raining. He led us through the knee-deep undergrowth until we reached a large boulder that was flat enough to sit on. Atop the boulder was the inset crystal wheel that we had seen in the photograph. Around us, the cliffs were almost glowing. There was magic in the area, and it crackled in the air around us. I caught my breath, holding out my hands as I tried to pinpoint the source.
“You can feel it too, can’t you?” Herne asked.
I nodded. “Whatever it is, it’s very powerful and very old. It has to be Blackthorn. I can’t imagine that he would settle near any other forces as strong as he is, given what little I know of the Ante-Fae.”
“You’re right. The Ante-Fae tend to be solitary beings, with their own courts and their own rules. Weapons ready?”
Viktor patted the dagger by his side. “I also have an iron blade tucked in my boot.” He glanced at me. “Be sure not to touch it, because it’s specifically designed to harm the Fae. I’m not sure if the Ante-Fae also have the same weakness, but it occurred to me they might.”
“Oh, they do,” Herne said. He turned to me. “How’s your wrist?”
“I’m left-handed, which means my writing sucks, but I wield my dagger with my right hand. So I should be okay.” My wrist was still throbbing, but the salve Ferosyn had given me was definitely helping it mend. I would end up with an interesting array of scars, though.
“I’m not certain how this particular touchstone works, so take hold of me in case it only affects the person touching it.” Herne reached out toward the knob in the center of the wheel.
I took hold of his right arm, and Viktor took hold of his left. Herne turned the knob to the glyph we thought represented the word “open.”
I held breath, slowly exhaling as a shimmer formed around us. The circle of dancing lights grew brighter. The next moment, a loud rumble split the air as a crack in the side of the ravine began to open, pushing back, exposing a dark and pungent maw. The tang of fresh earth hung heavy in the air. I shivered as a tremor ran through the ravine. This was heavy magic, dark and ancient, permeating every single drop of moisture in the soil, and every breath of air in the breeze that raced past. As the circle of lights faded, we faced the passage into the earth.
Herne let go of our arms as he slowly stepped forward. Viktor and I followed close behind. As we approached the opening in the side of the ravine, the sensation of magic grew stronger, and my knees felt weaker.
I had seldom encountered the ancient beings of the world. In fact, the only one I had run across who felt this old and dangerous had been the interdimensional assassin Kuveo, whom we had stumbled across on my first case with the Wild Hunt. It unsettled me to know just how many creatures out there could wield the kind of powers we were facing.
The entrance to the cavern was as black as pitch, black as night. We couldn’t even see the floor. There could be a dropoff, or spikes along the floor, or even a polished marble dance floor, for all we knew. Herne motioned for Viktor and me to take hold of his hands.
“In case this is a portal or a vortex, we don’t want to get separated. On the count of three, we step through. The moment we hit solid ground, ready your weapons.” He took a deep breath, and I steeled myself.
Herne counted. One, two…on the third beat, we stepped through.
The world shifted. There was no other way to describe it. It was as though we were standing in one reality for one second, and then we stepped over a line, and everything changed.
It wasn’t the same sort of portal like the one at John Shelton’s house, but it was definitely some type of vortex.
I caught my breath as my foot hit the floor, and I let go of Herne, reaching for my dagger. The next second, everything blazed to light, and we found ourselves standing in a circular meadow, a lea of vibrant grass dotted with wildflowers and surrounded by a grove of oak and blackthorn. The sun felt hot against my skin, yet I could smell the sea on the wind, and my senses told me that the water was near. I looked around quickly, searching for the entrance to the cave behind us, but it was nowhere in sight.
“Be cautious,” Herne said. “We’re in Blackthorn’s territory. Where that is, I’m not sure. I know we’re not in the UK, even though this reminds me of it.”
The magic was so thick, I could practically taste it on my tongue. It swirled around us, like the wake left by some wandering dragon. Hell, I didn’t even know if dragons existed, but the energy was so stifling that I could believe just about anything.
Viktor looked around, shaking his head. “Toto…”
“We’re not in Kansas anymore,” I finished for him.
“Not even close,” he said, flashing me a ghost of a smile.
Herne knelt, examining the grass. He let out a shout and shook his hand, standing abruptly. “Damn it.”
“What?”
“Something bit me. There,” he added, pointing.
Fluttering nearby was what looked like a tiny figure. She was winged, about six inches tall. While the creature was pretty, with petite breasts and a narrow waist, her face was far from human. Two narrow eyes sat above a large oval mouth that was ringed with sharp teeth.
“What is it?” I asked as the figure hovered near. Then she let out a sharp whistle.
“I don’t know, but I’m not sure I want to stick around to find out.” Viktor was edging away.
I was inclined to agree with him. Especially when, in response to its—her—whistle, at least two dozen others just like her rose out of the grass and began to head our way.
“I don’t think they’re the welcome wagon,” I said, backing up.
“Knucklebones! Run!” Herne shouted, bolting toward a particularly large oak.
Viktor and I followed, as the swarm of knucklebones made a beeline for us. Their teeth chattered as they zipped this way and that, darting to try to catch up to us.
Unfortunately, they were good at flying and before we could dive into the thicket of trees, they were on us. One of them managed to catch hold of my upper arm and bit me. His teeth were sharp and scissor-like, and I dove for the ground, rolling over onto him, hoping he would let go. He did, looking dazed, and I wasted no time. I sliced through the air with my blade, bringing it down to stab him through his torso. He let out a shriek as I pinned him to the ground, convulsing once and then, he was still. The next moment, his body vanished as if he had never been there.
Herne turned around, and with a deep breath, shouted, “Stad! Is mise mac Cernunnos!”
The knucklebones froze, slowly lowering themselves to the ground where they knelt in front of him. Herne turned to us. “That should put a stop to their antics.”
“What are they?” I asked. I had never seen anything quite like them, not even among the sub-Fae.
“Knucklebones. They’re also known as nixienacks. When there’s only one or two around, they’re just a nuisance. But in a swarm? They can take down a giant. They’re carnivorous, and they’ll eat their victims alive. Think of them like piranha. One can bite off your finger, a swarm can eat you from the outside in.”
I shuddered. I was discovering all too many delights like this and more, working for the Wild Hunt. “They don’t exist back in our world—my world—do they?”
Herne shook his head. “Not usually. Sometimes they manage to slip over, but most often you find them in other realms, like Annwn.”
“Are they Fae? Or sub-Fae?”
Herne nodded. “Sub-Fae. They tend to gather in forested areas, and they breed in colonies.” He glanced back at the group of them. They were starting to inch away, backing off. He turned and jumped at them, racing forward and yelling. The whole group swirled into the air, like deadly but beautiful butterflies, and then hightailed it back toward the thicket, vanishing before I could blink.
“Well, that takes care of that.” Viktor let out a sigh, shaking his head. “There’s a reason I don’t come over into these realms very often. So, which way should we go?”
Herne eyed the tree line suspiciously. He was watching the blackthorn trees in particular. “It seems like a dangerous proposition to go wading into the middle of the blackthorn bushes, don’t you think?”
I nodded, holding up my wrist. “I’m the proof in the pudding for that. But we can’t just stay here. We don’t even know how to get back to Whidbey Island.”
“Let’s have a look around. There should be another touchstone nearby, and it should have the same glyphs on it.” Herne began to nose around, poking through the grass.
“Will it be on a boulder just like the other?”
“No,” he said. He pointed over toward a large oak. “Why don’t you check over there, Ember? Viktor, skirt the edge of the blackthorn trees if you would. I’ll start hunting around here.”
We poked around, probing through the grass and searching through the undergrowth. After about ten minutes, Viktor gave a little shout.
“I think I found it!”
We hurried over to his side, keeping an eye on the row of trees nearest to us. There was no way in hell we weren’t being watched, that much I knew.
Viktor was standing next to a tree stump, surrounded by tall ferns. Unless you were looking directly at it, the stump would be easy to miss. The top had been hollowed out, and inside sat the exact duplicate of the crystal wheel on the stone back in the forest.
“So, we know where to find the doorway out.” Herne looked around, then cautiously placed his hand on the wheel turning it to the glyphs that symbolized the word “open.” Sure enough, there was a noise behind us, and when we turned, we saw an opening into darkness. “I assume that’s the way back into that cave.”
“All right. We know the way out. Now what?”
“Now, we look for Blackthorn. I’m assuming he keeps a network of spies, so we might as well announce ourselves.” Herne strode away from the tree stump. “I am Herne, son of Cernunnos! I’m here on official business to see the King of Thorns. I demand an audience.”
I looked around, nervous. What kind of response would that would provoke?
We didn’t have to wait long for the answer. A moment later there was a stirring among a group of the blackthorn trees. I placed my hand on my dagger, waiting, and noticed that Herne and Viktor were doing the same.
As we watched, the branches parted. Seven creatures emerged, looking for all the world like a combination of praying mantises and very thin, angular men. Their heads were oval, almost triangular, and their eyes were wide-set and bulbous. Their skin was a pale green, and their limbs were wispy thin. Their legs bent forward, reminding me of goat legs. They didn’t walk on hooves, however, but on what appeared to be feet enclosed within leather boots. Their uniforms were militaristic, in shades of purple and black with gold trim, and they carried long, razor-sharp blades that glinted in the sunlight.
One stepped forward. “Do not draw your weapons. Follow.”
They turned as a unit and headed back into the thicket without looking back to see if we obeyed. Herne gave us a nod, and we fell in behind. I eyed the trees suspiciously as we approached. My arm ached where the knucklebones had bit me, and my wrist was still stinging. The last thing I wanted to do was face another renegade tree that had it in for me.
But as the odd creatures marched in formation—and they did march—straight toward the patch of thorny trees, the trees gave way, pulling back to create a corridor for us. They behaved themselves, although they creaked and groaned as we passed by, whispering in some ancient language that predated the creatures of the earth. They were aware in a way that I had never before seen. There was an intelligence, a sentience lurking behind those ancient trunks, their thoughts so active that they electrified the air.
The path seemed unending, but eventually the guards in front of us slowed, stepping to the side to form two lines. The one who had spoken to us before gestured toward the corridor formed between their lines.
“Go forward.”
Herne gave them a quick nod, then set forward, with Viktor and me following.
Beyond the guards, the trees thinned out, revealing a clearing. In the middle was a giant mound, formed of woven branches bearing thorns, reminding me of the tale of Sleeping Beauty and how her castle had been overcome by a wall of thorns. Only we weren’t planning on rescuing the person within. Centered against the side of the mound was a large silver door.
“This reminds me of a Faerie Barrow,” Viktor whispered under his breath.
“It is, of a sort.” Herne paused, glancing from side to side. All around the Barrow were vast thickets of brambles and blackthorn trees. They were all in flower, beautiful and brilliant, filling the air with their musky scent.
“Where are the leaves?” There weren’t any leaves on the trees yet, despite the flowers.
“Those will come later after the flowers set and the fruit begins to grow.”
“Is the fruit safe to eat?” I asked.
“Sloe berries are generally used for jam and gin.” Herne coughed and rubbed his nose. The pollen was thick, and the smell was overwhelming. “Let’s get this over with.”
He headed toward the door, and Viktor and I scrambled to keep up. As we neared the edge of the Barrow, I could feel a resonant energy racing through the ground below our feet. It was almost a heartbeat, a slow murmur, that sounded like some ancient giant slumbering deep beneath the ground.
Herne paused as he grabbed hold of the giant silver door handle. He turned back to us, a warning look on his face. “Remember, Blackthorn is crafty, and he’s smart. We are in his realm now, and if you displease him there’s not much I can do to intervene. I could call upon my father, but even that would take some time. I suggest you let me do the talking unless he asks you something specific. And if he does, watch what you say. Think before you speak. And whatever happens, don’t let him rile you. We draw no blades within his palace or we’ll be dead. All of us.” He sounded so somber that I found myself hoping I wouldn’t have to speak up at all.
As he opened the door, I could hear the murmured rush of voices filtering past, as though they had been caught up in a bottle and were now set free.
I leaned close to Herne. “Did you hear that?”
He nodded, tilting his head to the side. “Yes, I don’t know what it is. Be very careful. There’s ancient magic here. Older than me.”
There was no one to greet us, so Herne stepped through the door. Viktor and I followed. It was difficult to see in the darkness, but then a silver light the size of a pebble appeared on the ground in front of us. It bounced a couple times, then flew into the air where it hung for a moment before taking off at a decent pace.
Herne started after it, and I realized that this was our guide. Whether it was a creature or simply some strange form of magic, I could not tell. I tried to keep my senses open, searching for any water elementals or spirits that might be near, but everything felt knotted and twisted. Just when I thought I had pinned the energy down, it would twist again, like a cat playing with a ball of yarn.
I reached out and my hand met a wall. There was a tingle, almost like a snap, and I pulled my fingers away quickly, not wanting to set off any traps.
“I think we’re in a passage,” I said.
“We are, but the way it twists makes me think we’re in some sort of labyrinth.” Herne’s voice echoed back. It was so dark I could barely see him. Only the brilliant silver pebble ahead of us seemed to shine through the darkness, still hovering above us.
It felt like we had been walking forever, but I knew it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes when the pebble stopped. A beam of light radiated from it, illuminating a door straight ahead of us. In that thin beam, I could see the edges of the walls left and right. It seemed we were at the end of the road. I couldn’t see any other passages. Whether we had passed by a side-passage in the darkness, I couldn’t tell.
The door—or rather, doors, as there were two of them—were silver, ornately engraved.
Herne reached out and gripped the handle, pulling the massive door open. From inside, a pale light emanated, blinding us even with its weakness.
A deep voice echoed out. “Enter, son of Cernunnos. And bring your friends with you.” The voice was throaty and strong.
Herne strode in as if he owned the place. The door behind us slammed shut the moment we were through, and I jumped at the noise.
Inside the chamber, the light was weak, but it grew brighter as we stood there. I blinked, trying to shade my eyes while they adjusted.
“Well met, Herne, son of the Hunt. What do you want in my territory? Why did you come to my kingdom?”
The voice was coming from behind the light, and I stepped to the side, trying to see around the brilliant glow. But it began to fade, lowering its intensity even as we stood there.
“Whom do I address? Are you Blackthorn, the King of Thorns?” Herne sounded more belligerent than I’d ever heard him. I wondered if this was some sort of power play.
At that point, the light dimmed enough for us to see, and there, in front of us, stood the King of Thorns. He was taller than I had expected. Tall and muscled, and yet, looking almost as gnarled as some of the trees. He was mesmerizing. He was wearing what reminded me of a Hawaiian malo. The cloth was a deep purple, trimmed with silver. His chest, arms, and legs were bare, his olive skin covered with a network of black work vines that had been tattooed over every inch of his body, including his face. He was carrying a spear that looked to have a silver tip, with long, sharp barbs surrounding the spearhead.
“I am Blackthorn, the King of Thorns. What do you want in my world?”
He squared his shoulders, and I found myself wanting to back away, to put distance between the Ante-Fae and myself. There was something terrifying about him. Perhaps it was the dark green that tinted his eyes, or perhaps it was the way every inch of his body seemed to glow with an inner light that felt fetid and dank. He didn’t feel evil per se, but dangerous and chaotic.
As if he had sensed what I was thinking, he turned to me. I tried to look away, but couldn’t untangle myself from the mesmerizing snare of his gaze.
“And what do we have here? An unholy mixture, perhaps? Do both of your peoples deny you? Do they whisper that you should have never been born? That you are tainted, that you should never have been allowed to live? Tralaeth?” His voice wove over the words like a magical cord, tying them up with tension and pain.
“What they think of me is none of my concern.” I trembled, trying to block out the wash of energy flowing around me.
“You just keep telling yourself that when you’re lying in the dark, trying to blot out the images of your parents dead on the floor.” Blackthorn slowly rose from his throne, every move deliberate. He held out his hand, tipping his spear toward Viktor, his fingers wrapped around the hilt.
“And you… Yet another mixed blood. I wonder. Do the humans accept you into their world? Do the ogres allow you free access in their world? Or do they turn you away, a joke to your father, and an abomination to your mother?”
Viktor mumbled, staring at the King of Thorns with smoldering eyes. I reached out to take hold of his arm. Shaking my head, I gave him a warning look and he nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.
“No answer? Ah well, we all know the answers to my questions,” Blackthorn said, returning his gaze to Herne. “And so we come to Herne, the son of Cernunnos. The lord of all things wild and free. You keep strange bedfellows for the son of a god. Is it because you, too, have diluted blood? Your mother was once human, before your father gifted her with immortality. Do you, perhaps, bear all of the weaknesses that she once bore? Or do you hearken after your father, running wild with the hunt? I wonder, how diluted can the world become before it falls apart? Is nothing pure anymore?”
His voice was hypnotic, reeling me in even though I resisted. I found myself leaning toward him and abruptly pulled away as I tried to snap out of it. Before I could move, Blackthorn was by my side.
“The girl feels my magic.” Blackthorn reached out to stroke my cheek with one finger. His nails were spikes, like the spikes of the blackthorn bush, and he trailed one along my skin, not quite breaking the surface. His touch hurt, like a thin burn against my skin, and I shivered as his magic rippled through me. It felt like a snake was slithering around my feet, looking to catch hold of me and trip me up.
“You know me, don’t you?” He bent down to whisper in my ear. “Would you stay in my kingdom if I asked? Would you take your place as one of my toys? I can drench you in magic like you’ve never tasted. I can feel my pulse within you—you’ve tasted pain and you understand the freedom it brings. A river of blood has crested through your life and you long to dive in, to let it sweep you under. You’re one of the waterborne, aren’t you? You smell like lilacs and spring rain.”
His words spun a web around me, making me dizzy. I swayed, my breath coming in short, ragged pants. My body was responding to him and it made me angry. I didn’t want to feel this way. I didn’t want the presence of this creature to affect me. I moaned, afraid, and Blackthorn laughed. I tried to move away but found that I couldn’t. I let out a soft whimper as he licked my throat, his tongue raspy.
“Tasty, very tasty,” he said. “You even taste of magic.”
Herne stepped forward, his hand on his dagger. “Leave her alone. She’s mine. I claim her.” His voice contained a threat even I couldn’t ignore.
Blackthorn gave him a long look, then slowly pulled away. “So protective, son of Cernunnos. You claim her? The dog keeps a tight chain on his bone.” With a shrug, Blackthorn swept back to his throne, the hypnotic pull of his voice fading as he went into an all-business mode. “Not to worry. She isn’t worth my time. She would break at my first blow…perhaps.” He watched us with a cunning gaze. “What do you want?”
“You know why we’re here,” Herne said, glaring at him. “Admit it.”
“No, I don’t know why you’re here.” Blackthorn shifted in his seat. “I’m not at all sure what this meeting is about, other than wasting my time.”
It was the first lie I’d heard from him. I could feel it, the hesitation. He believed everything he had said to us, except this. I steeled my shoulders. Blackthorn terrified me, but I turned to Herne. “He’s lying. I can hear it in his voice.”
Herne nodded. “So can I. Blackthorn, you cannot tell me that you aren’t aware of what’s been going on.”
“If you’re so certain I know, then it won’t hurt to inform me of what you think,” the King of Thorns said. “Why don’t you acquaint me with the reasons your father sent you into my world?”
“You know full well we’re here because of the murders you’ve committed. Your mark is on the bodies. And that’s not even touching on forty missing people over the past few decades. My father has ordered me to put an end to it, since this affects the humans.”
Herne was doing his best to remain calm, but his jaw muscles tightened. His hand moved toward his blade, but then he stopped. “If you promise by sacred oath to stop, we’ll leave you be. But you must break the pact you made with the sheriff, asking her to keep your dirty little secret. She’s complicit in these deaths.”
Blackthorn eyed Herne with an impassive look. “For the life of me, I cannot figure out what you’re talking about.” And then he stopped, a slow smile stealing across his face. “So the pup has gone and made himself a nuisance. Well, that doesn’t surprise me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Herne asked.
“You’re not looking for me,” Blackthorn said. “The person you’re looking for is my son.” And then, he began to laugh.