Grave Secret

When I checked Desmond to see how he was handling our surroundings, the difference between the two hit me like a physical slap. Where Holden looked newly vital, Desmond was positively ashen. His usual olive complexion was nearly gray, and his eyes were watery. Sweat coated his face, and his jaw was rigid with barely restrained pain.



“Desmond?” I inched towards him, hand outstretched, but when I was almost to him, he jerked away with a growl.



“Don’t,” he said through gritted teeth. “Don’t touch me.”



He pulled his arms tight against himself, drawing my attention to how dark his arm hair was in contrast to his skin. Dark and a bit too long.



“Oh, Jesus. Des…”



He closed his eyes, and a hard shudder rocked his body. Sweat dripped down his forehead and off his chin, and with each new shake the hair on his arms grew and then receded. He was fighting the urge to change with all his power, and it wasn’t until I saw his response that I thought to see how my own wolf felt in the new environment.



Since my first experience shifting as an adult, I’d had to keep a careful leash on my inner wolf. She’d had a taste of freedom and she’d abused the hell out of it, letting me know I wasn’t in the driver’s seat at all when it came to being furry. But while Desmond was struggling hard with his wolf, mine seemed content to just be curious for the time being. The pull of the moons wasn’t impacting her, at least not so far as I could feel. I didn’t know for sure what would happen if Desmond shifted fully though. It had been during a mass shift that I’d lost control the first time. Given the reaction I’d had coming through Calliope’s gate, I didn’t want to take any chances here.



I wanted to comfort Desmond, but at what risk to myself? Could I afford to lose control with Kellen’s life on the line?



I took another step towards him, but even with his eyes closed, he winced.



Holden caught my extended hand and pulled me back from Desmond. “Careful there,” the vampire whispered. “Calliope had her rules for a reason. Out here I don’t think there are any.”



“Well, we can’t leave him.”



“I’m…fine,” Desmond managed to choke out.



“You’re not fine,” I insisted. “You’re so far from fine.”



“Secret,” he growled. “Let’s go. When I stop…being fine…”



“I suspect we’ll know,” Holden finished for him.



Desmond smiled grimly in response.



I didn’t love the idea of traveling with a werewolf on the brink of a shift, but if my options were to go forward with him, or leave him behind…it was a no-brainer. I wouldn’t leave Desmond. I’d never again intentionally do anything to put him in harm’s way. I’d hurt him without thinking so many times. Now it was within my control to keep him close, and I was damned well going to do it.



I could tell from Holden’s frown he didn’t agree with me, but it wasn’t his choice. That he didn’t argue further made me more thankful than he could realize. If I had an out-of-control supernatural beastie in my party, I didn’t need an asshole tagging along too.



“Let’s go…” I started to instruct, but a cold, painful tingling ran up my spine. The tingling became an icy burn, and I realized it was the sword at my back. With all urgency and no grace I ripped the sling off my shoulder, and the weapon dropped to the ground. It cackled like a cloud of cicadas, and the chill I felt now had nothing to do with the burn.



The small glowing creatures that had taken no notice of us before were suddenly everywhere. First one, then a half-dozen, then what seemed like hundreds, darted closer, inspecting the fallen sword before swooping away. They made small chittering noises, which would have sounded amazing under different circumstances, but as it was they gave the sense of foreboding. Too many creatures making too much noise, and none of it was friendly.



The hair on the back of my neck rose, and the insect-things formed into a cloud, moving together as one entity, glowing from their interaction with the flowers. With their red coloring and the way they bobbed and weaved through the sky, I didn’t have a warm and fuzzy feeling about their presence.



“Guys…”



Desmond made a throaty growl that did nothing to improve my outlook on our situation.



“A fine piece of work here,” came a voice on the opposite side of the swirling cloud. “Can’t say as I’ve ever seen the ellyllon react with violence this quickly before.”



The voice was feminine without being girly but had a roughness that implied masculinity. It held traces of an accent, and though its English was perfect, it used the slow formality of someone who wasn’t accustomed to speaking it often.



When it spoke again it was in words that were not of any language I knew. The tone was commanding, but uttered in a singsong quality. The cloud of red glowing creatures it had referred to as the ellyllon clucked and hissed back at the new arrival, but after a few moments of this bizarre exchange the cloud dissolved and the small glowing creatures flew away, scattering in every direction. I scooped down to collect my sword, which was still warm to the touch.



Once the cloud had parted, we could finally get a look at our savior. Given the voice we’d heard, I was surprised to see a young man standing before us, or at least he appeared to be male. He was tall and lean, his limbs spindly like tree branches. His skin was smeared with mud, but in bare patches I could see he was as pale white as Holden. Bright green eyes like those of a cat shone in the light from the moons, and his black hair stuck out like a young mad scientist.



His clothes, if they could be called that, were a tapestry of dead leaves and moss, woven together in an elaborate knit that managed to keep his body modestly covered. His feet were bare, but he seemed comfortable standing amongst the pants. I’d never seen anyone who belonged outdoors quite like he did.



“Hello,” I ventured cautiously.



“Greetings.” That was it. A simple reply with a slight nod. He offered nothing more.



“Um…” I looked to Holden, hoping he might offer some assistance in how to deal with the locals, but he was staring at the young man as if he were more fantastic than the cloud of whirring, angry insects had been.



“Who are you?” Desmond asked, his voice rough and threatening, though I didn’t believe he’d intended to sound so fierce.



The woodsman was amused. “I am not the one who has appeared in the middle of nowhere, clearly from the Lady Calliope’s gate. I am not the one who should be interviewed.” He smiled lightly, stepping from foot to foot. “But to be polite is a gift, yes? And I rarely get company. My name is Ghillie Dhu.”



Holden let out a small huffing noise, then said, “Certainly not.”



“Apologies,” Ghillie said, not sounding apologetic at all. “But are you certain I am not?” He smiled at Holden, edging a step closer, keeping his hands by his sides.



Holden ignored the advance and addressed me instead. “Ghillie Dhu was an old Scottish fairy tale. A tree guardian. This is absurd.”



“I hate to break it to you, Holden, but I think if you consider where we are, there’s a solid chance he’s exactly who he says he is.”



Ghillie rocked on his heels and grinned. “Yes, yes. Listen to the lady. Very wise are women, are they not?”



Holden snorted but held his tongue.



“Thanks,” I replied, stooping to pick up my sword, hesitant to touch it. “What happened with those…things?”



“The ellyllon? They responded to that.” He pointed to my blade. “Anything tainted causes wildness in them. And in turn, the object responds unkindly to the ellyllon.”



“Unkindly is one word for it.” I wrapped my hand around the sword’s handle, trying to determine if it was safe to carry. With the insect-fae gone, the weapon had returned to normal. “Seems okay now,” I said, mostly to myself.



“Marvelous, marvelous. And who, pray, has the Lady Calliope sent us?”



“My name is Secret.” I placed my palm over my chest after slinging the sword back over my shoulder.



“Ah. Not known, nor seen. Not meant to be known nor seen. Yet here you are, both seen and known. Delightful.”



“Yeah…sure. This is Holden.”



“A dead one.”



I hazarded a glance at Holden in time to see him sneer. “I won’t be the only dead—”



“And this is Desmond,” I interjected, steering Ghillie’s attention to the werewolf.



“My my. A cabinet of curiosities, I dare say. Are they presents for the king? I don’t believe he has any wishes for a dead one and a wolf.”



At the mention of the king I perked up considerably. “No, they are my companions.”



Ghillie gave a knowing smirk, making me regret my choice of words. “Intrigue.”



“You mentioned the king. Do you know where we can find him?”



“Why?” His brows knit together, and his countenance shifted from jovial to suspicious in a heartbeat. “If you are not delivering him gifts, what do you want with the king?”



“He can return something of mine that has been taken,” I replied. “Someone.”



Ghillie looked from me to the men standing on either side of me. “The lady is greedy.”



It was the second time in only a couple hours I’d been called greedy for my collection of men. I sighed and tried to ignore the implication. It was hard to be offended when someone called you out on your harem, regardless of whether or not I was sleeping with both of them.



“My friend has been brought here against her will,” I clarified.



“My darling lady,” Ghillie said, stooping into a low bow. “You must certainly know…nothing brought to the fae can be returned easily. Not even your friend.”



“What do you mean?”



“I will take you to the king to state your case, and he will name his price.”



“His price?”



“Yes, yes. It is time to start thinking…what is the life of your friend worth to you?”

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