“My name is Elara,” she said and held her hand out.

Neither of the two shook it.

“I’m going to need some proof of identity before I release the child to you,” she said.

The man looked like he was about to say something unpleasant, but the woman reached out and put her hand on his arm. He shut his mouth, pulled out a wallet, and held out his driver’s license. Wayne Braiden Harmon. The name matched what Deidre told her. The woman produced her own driver’s license. Jane Melissa Harmon.

“We are deeply sorry for your loss,” Elara said.

“Thank you,” Jane said.

“I’m not sure how much you were told,” Elara said. “Redhill was attacked by monsters. They slaughtered everyone inside. Deidre happened to be outside of the walls when it happened, and she and a young man escaped. A monster chased them through the woods in the middle of the night. The young man almost died.”

Jane bit her lip.

“The child is deeply traumatized. We were hoping you could allow her to stay with us for a couple of days, just to settle her down. We would be happy to put you up for the night.”

“That’s kind of you,” Jane said. “But we would like to take Deidre home.”

“She will get settled with us,” Wayne said.

This wasn’t going well. “Please reconsider,” Elara said. “She just lost her father and mother.”

Hugh came around the tower, leading Bucky. Deidre was riding on the huge stallion’s back. She saw her aunt and uncle and went still like a baby rabbit caught in the open.

Elara’s heart turned over in her chest.

Hugh walked over to them, reached for Deidre, gently took her off the horse and set her on her feet.

“Hi, honey,” Elara threw him a smile. Help me, Hugh. “This is Wayne and Jane Harmon. This is my husband, Hugh. He is the one who saved your niece.”

“Hey there.” Hugh offered his charming grin and held his hand out. Wayne Harmon met Hugh’s gaze and held it for a long moment. Hugh showed no signs of moving. Finally the sheer force of his presence won out and Wayne shook his hand. Hope fluttered in her.

“Your niece is very brave,” Hugh said.

The brave niece looked like she was about to bolt at any second.

“I was just explaining that Deidre isn’t in any shape to travel,” Elara said.

Wayne ignored her and crouched. “Hi, Deidre. Remember me? It’s uncle Wayne.”

Deidre didn’t move.

“It will be okay,” Jane told her. “Everything will be okay now. You’re coming home with us.”

Deidre shook her head. “No. I want to stay here.”

“You can’t stay here,” Wayne said. “You have to come with us. You remember Michelle, your cousin? She’s waiting for you. We have a big yellow dog named Tyler. You’ll like him. He’s big and fluffy. Come on, sweetheart.”

Deidre stayed completely still.

“Why don’t we have lunch?” Hugh said. “You’ll get to know us, and we’ll talk about it.”

Wayne straightened and drew himself to his full height. “We know you. We know who you are. We know what you’ve done.”

He took a step toward Hugh. D’Ambray towered over him and Wayne had to look up.

“You’re a killer and a villain. Your wife is a witch. This child comes from a good Christian family. If her father knew where she was now, he’d fight every single one of you to get her out of here.”

Oh no.

“So, no, we won’t be breaking bread with you. There isn’t a godly man alive in fifty miles who would let his flesh and blood anywhere near you. We know you want her to stay here. Well, you’re not getting her. What would you turn her into if I left her here?”

Hugh’s face shut down. The charming veneer vanished and only the Preceptor of the Iron Dogs remained.

“What happens when the beasts come for her?” he asked, his voice pure ice.

“We’ll fight them,” Jane said. “And if she dies, she’ll die as a Christian.”

Wayne walked over and reached for Deidre.

The child screamed as if cut. “No!”

Hugh stepped between them. Wayne locked his teeth.

It wouldn’t be a fair fight. Hugh would kill him with the first blow and then Deidre would see the rest of her family die.

An electric jolt of alarm dashed through Elara. Do I grab the child first, do I stop Hugh, do I stop Wayne?

Hugh looked at Deidre. “I know you want to stay here,” he said. “But you have a family. Your uncle loves you. If I tried to keep you here, your uncle would fight for you. He has no chance against me. He knows that, but he would do it anyway. You’re that important to him. I don’t want to kill your uncle. He hasn’t done anything wrong. You have to go with him.”

Elara moved, letting her magic spill out of her. Wayne saw her and stumbled back, hands raised. She swept Deidre up and gently brushed her tears off with her fingers.

“And if he ever mistreats you,” Elara said. “If he or your aunt ever hit you or hurt you, all you have to do is call to me. I will hear, and I will come.” She kissed Deidre’s forehead. Her magic touched the child’s skin, leaving a hidden blessing.

Elara took three steps and placed Deidre into Jane’s arms. “Take her now and leave. Quickly, before my husband and I change our minds.”

The Harmons ran for the truck, carrying Deidre. She watched them turn around and roll out, aware of Hugh standing next to her like a thunderstorm ready to break.

The truck left the gates.

Hugh turned and walked away without a word.

12

Elara leaned forward, rocking on her hands and knees, and sniffed the soil under the patch of wilting jimsonweed. It smelled moist, green, and alive. She sat back on her feet and pondered the thorny plants. Only yesterday, the patch was in good health, the stems standing straight, spreading the toothed leaves, and cradling white and purple trumpet shaped flowers. Today, the stems had wrinkled and shrunk, curling down. It was as if all the water had been sucked out of the plant, and it was dying at the end of a long drought. But the soil was moist.

Next to her, James Cornwell twisted his hands. A white man in his forties, he was of average height, but his arms and legs seemed too long somehow, his shoulders too narrow, and his frame too lanky. He wore a straw hat and he often joked that from the back people mistook him for a scarecrow. He was the keeper of poisons. If it was poisonous and they grew it, James was in charge of it. Normally he was upbeat, but right now agitation took hold of him.

“Never seen anything like this,” James said.

“Have you dug one up?” she asked.

He turned, plucked a plant from his wheelbarrow with his gloved hand, and held it in front of her. The root, normally thick and fibrous, had shrunk down, so desiccated it looked like a rat’s tail.

“What could do that?” James asked.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“The entire crop is a loss.”

He was right. Jimsonweed, Datura stramonium, wasn’t one of their most valuable plants. A powerful hallucinogenic, it belonged to the nightshade family, sharing ancestry with tomatoes, potatoes, and chili peppers, but also with belladonna and mandrake. Once it was used as a remedy against madness and seizures, but the toxicity of the plant proved to be too high and it was abandoned as soon as safer alternatives were found. Now it was mostly harvested to induce visions. They sold a small quantity of it every year to specialized shops and made sure it came with bright warning labels. It wasn’t a significant earner, but the sudden wilting was worrisome.

Elara glanced to the left, where a patch of henbane bloomed with yellow flowers. Hyoscyamus niger, also poisonous and hallucinogenic, brought in a lot of money, mostly from German and Norse neo-pagans. The plant was sacred to Balder, son of Odin and Frigg. Balder was famous mostly for his resurrection myth, detailed in Prose Edda, but the medieval text glossed over one important detail: Balder wasn’t a martyr. He was a warlord, proficient with every weapon known to ancient people. The neo-pagans prayed to him before every major obstacle, and henbane was a crucial part of those prayers. Henbane was too toxic to be grown and harvested by amateurs. It came with a big price tag.