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Kaylin jerked around, but Lainule's guards thrust us back through the portal and we were standing in the middle of the snow again, thick flakes now pouring from the sky. I glanced at my watch. We'd been gone all of five minutes.
"Come on. Let's gather Rhiannon from Anadey's, and then . . . then let's go hunting. We're about to become soldiers in this three-sided war, although I'm not sure just whose side we're on."
Kaylin remained silent, looking pensive, but Leo snorted. "I think we make up the fourth side, Cicely. Haven't you figured out yet that we've got our own little army right here? Let's get a move on, because if the Indigo Court is really being hit in the gut with whatever poison or virus that was sent back through you, now's the time to dive in and see what damage we can do."
We headed back to Favonis. To war. To battle. To rescue Peyton. And hopefully . . . to survive.
Chapter 23
When we showed up, Anadey and Rhiannon were just finishing a few energy-control exercises. We waited until they were done, then went over what had happened with Lainule and Grieve, and what we were planning.
"I'm so glad Lainule is alive, but that she's dealing with the vampires is unsettling. The Fae and the vampires tend to distrust and dislike one another. She must be in desperate straits if she's turning to them for help."
"Her people were massacred. She's holding court just off a parking lot by the lake. I think that qualifies as desperate," I said.
Anadey motioned for us to wait. "Let me see if I have anything that might help you. I'd go with you but I'm older and stiffer and I'd slow you down and that's the last thing you need going into this."
I nodded. While I had my doubts she'd slow us down that much, now was not the time to find out. "Tell you what you can do to help: If we succeed, we're going to need the house to be so protected that even a fly can't get through the shields. While we're out hunting for Peyton, can you do something to shore up our warding? Because what we're about to undertake is tantamount to waging war on the Indigo Court. I guarantee, they'll be out for revenge."
Especially if we manage to steal away Grieve and Chatter, I thought.
"I can do that." Anadey examined the fan Lainule had given me. She shivered as she touched it. "This is heavy, old magic, Cicely. Not the kind you just hand out on a whim. Keep this safe and don't lose it."
She speaks the truth. You have been gifted generously from the Queen of Rivers and Rushes. Don't underestimate what that means. Ulean blew through my hair and I could sense a tingling in her words, which always indicated she knew more than she was saying.
What do you know about all of this? I had no idea you belonged to Lainule before Grieve bonded the two of us together.
That is for the Queen to tell you. Not my place. But I will be with you today, and I will help you learn to use your fan to greatest advantage.
Anadey poked around in her stash and came up with several items. One, a small bottle filled with a red liquid, she handed to Rhiannon. "You know how to pull your flame back in, so now you should be able to use this. The potion will magnify your fire, but I have only one dose so drink it at the moment of your last resort."
To Leo and Kaylin, she offered small jars, also filled with liquid. "Iron water. It won't bother those with half-blood of the Fae, but I guarantee this will burn and scar its way through a full-blood, even of the Indigo Court."
Turning back to me, she let out a long sigh. "You are one of the Owl People, and you can harness the wind with your fan . . . I'm not sure what I can give you that's stronger than what you already have. But I have one thing . . . it belonged to my mother and I found it in her personal ritual gear."
She held out a silver torque. It was wound silver, and the ends came together in the front in the shape of two flowers. "Those are belladonna flowers--deadly nightshade. Somehow, it seems to fit you. Marta never wore it, but she kept saying that one day it would find a home."
I took it, and it radiated magic in my fingers, though a subtle, slow, deep energy that ran in the currents of the ley lines and the high mountains of the earth. The tattoo on my left breast suddenly tingled and I looked at the wound silver torque. Belladonna flowers . . . deadly nightshade like the ones in my tattoo. There was a connection, though I didn't know what.
Glancing up, I met her eyes. Anadey gave me a weary smile, one that said she knew just what we were facing and was holding out as much hope as she could.
"We'll do everything we can to bring Peyton home," I said. "But say a few prayers for us, because we'll need it."
"I will . . . I'll start weaving my spells of protection the minute you leave here." She motioned for us to follow her into a spare bedroom. There, in the center of the room, was a loom. "I weave my magic into threads and cords. I'll work on one for your land--a long thin cord to be buried deep around the perimeter. I don't know how long it will take me to get it done, but I'll start it now."
She took her place at the loom and, as we silently filed out of the room, she said without turning her head, "Bring my baby home. If you can. You're the only hope she has."
"Dress in black and white. We've got snow and dark trees out there," I said, sorting out what we could take with us. We were facing at least a two-hour march through the woods to the Barrow, if last time was any indication.
We gathered in the living room, gearing up for our search-and-rescue mission. Dressed in the thickest jeans I had and a black turtleneck, I slid on a pair of wide-heeled Doc Martin boots, and then fastened the wrist brace on my right arm that held my switchblade like a pro.
I slipped the torque around my neck and felt a deep humming race from the tattoo on my breast to spread throughout the rest of my body. Whatever the torque did was connected with my Fae heritage, I'd decided.
The stiletto athame went in my boot sheath, and I buckled on a thigh strap and slid another pair of knives--double-bladed and balanced for throwing--into the holders. Blades were the one weapon I'd learned how to use while living on the streets with my mother. Uncle Brody used to tell me: A good blade is better than a good husband; you can rely on it more.
The others had changed into denim and leather, too. Even Rhiannon. She, Kaylin, and I made sure our hair was braided back, hard to grab. Rhia brought out her makeup and we used the white eyeliner pencil and the mascara to smudge camouflage stripes across our faces.
Kaylin held up a pair of daggers, whirling them around like the master he was, then slid them neatly into the matching sheaths hanging from his belt. He added a set of polished black nunchakus and several small shurikens.
