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I turned to find Kaylin staring at me, but he said nothing. Instead, he motioned to the house. “We should get in there and see what we can find before any of their kinfolk arrive.”
Not trusting my voice, I nodded. The back of the house had been the most damaged, and I wasn’t sure how much I trusted the roof over the kitchen. Most of it had burned away, but there were still patches held up by support beams that had survived the inferno, albeit heavily damaged. The front of the house looked much more stable.
“We go in through the front door,” I finally said. The others followed me, Kaylin first pocketing the obsidian knives from our enemies. We hurried back around the house and up the front steps.
The house is clear?
Ulean shivered against me. Yes, the house is empty, but do not tarry. The woods are alert tonight. The hunters are awake and active. They are searching for you and Grieve. And all who helped him escape.
“We have to hurry, Myst’s people are out in full force and we don’t have a lot of time.” I jogged up the stairs and pushed open the door. We hadn’t even had a chance to lock it when we were rushing to escape.
As I entered the living room, it hit me just how much had happened in the past few weeks—and how much we’d all lost.
My name is Cicely Waters and I’m one of the magic-born, a witch who can control the wind. I’m also part Cambyra Fae—the shifting Fae. Uwilahsidhe to be precise, which means I can shift into an owl. On that front, I only recently learned about my heritage and in no way have honed my abilities. But in a few short weeks I’ve learned to love being in my owl form, and I’ve found a freedom I’d never before experienced. Flying, soaring over the ground, has offered me an escape I’ve never before felt. I always felt like a part of me was missing. Now, I feel whole.
When I was very young, Grieve—the Fae Prince of the Court of Rivers and Rushes, and his friend Chatter—came to my cousin Rhiannon and me and taught us how to use our magical abilities. It was Grieve who bound me to Ulean, my Wind Elemental, telling me I would need her help. In a sense, he was foreshadowing my life to come.
When I turned six, my mother, Krystal, dragged me down the stairs of the Veil House, and we headed out on the road. My aunt Heather and the only stability I’d ever known vanished in the blink of one afternoon.
I learned early on how to survive on the streets. I’d longed to return to the Veil House, but Krystal—a meth head who used booze and drugs to dim her own gifts—wasn’t capable of surviving on her own and so I stayed with her until she died in the gutter, a bloodwhore who’d serviced one bad trick too many. Until that day, I’d kept us going, using my ability to hear messages on the wind to stay one step ahead of the cops and the drug runners.
And now my mother was dead, and I’d finally returned to New Forest, Washington. But too little, too late. My aunt had been captured by Myst, and my cousin Rhiannon was terrified for her life. Myst holds the town in her icy grip, and she’s out to spread her people throughout the land, to conquer the vampires and use the magic-born and yummanii—the humans—as cattle.
In a past life long, long ago, I was Myst’s daughter. And Grieve had been my lover then, too. We’d defied our families to be together, rampaging through the bounty hunters and soldiers who sought for us. We’d hidden behind rock and tree, snared them in traps, and I’d torn them to shreds, reveling in the blood.
Grieve and I had fought for our love, killed for our love, and—at the end—when we were cornered and couldn’t escape—died for our love. We had bound ourselves together forever with a potion designed to bring us back together again in another life.
Now, we’re back, and we’ve found one another again. Once again, we’re caught between the Cambyra Fae and the Vampiric Fae. Only this time, Grieve is the one bound to the Indigo Court. Myst turned him into one of her own. And now, the vampires are playing into the equation. I’m tied to Lannan’s shirttail by a contract that he insists on enforcing.
Some of our allies have chosen to betray us, so we’re in hiding, on the run, fighting against overwhelming odds. Only this time, it will be different. Neither Myst nor the vampires will win. Grieve and I will weather the storm. We have no other option.
Once we were inside, I flipped on a pale flashlight. The living room had survived the fire, with soot and smoke damage, but the weather was creeping in through the caved-in roof in the kitchen, and I shivered at the ravaged state of the room. Myst’s people had been through here, that much was apparent. The upholstered sofas were shredded as if by wild dogs. Holes marred the walls, the beautiful old antiques had been scratched and broken.
I slowly walked over to my aunt Heather’s desk. She’d never sit here again, writing in her journal. The sight of the injured wood made me glad that I’d come, and not Rhiannon. It was bad enough to lose her mother to the enemy, but to see how many of the memories of her childhood had been destroyed? I wasn’t about to put her through that. As I ran my hand over the hand-carved oak, now dented and scratched along the polished surface, my heart ached.
“I’m sorry.” Kaylin’s voice echoed softly behind me. “Can I do anything to help?”
I turned, gazing into his smooth, unlined face. Kaylin’s soul had been wedded to a night-veil demon while he was still in his mother’s womb and he hadn’t ever been fully human. Gorgeous, he was Chinese by descent, with a long ponytail trailing down his back. Lithe and wiry-strong, Kaylin Chen was over one hundred years old and had seen more than his share of sorrow. So when he lightly touched my elbow, I knew he understood.
I sought for something to say, but there were no words. I was in a dark spot, and I didn’t know the way out. Finally, I looked around the room. Everything seemed hopeless. But a picture on the wall of Heather and Rhiannon spurred my tongue.
“Family memories. If you see any pictures…for Rhiannon…like that one…”
He nodded, taking the picture off the wall, and then began to hunt through the sideboard on the opposite side of the room. After a while, he moved out into the next room.
I turned back to the desk and yanked open one of the drawers that had remained untouched. And there, I saw my first sign of hope. Aunt Heather’s journal, containing her magical notes, intact with the map that showed the Veil House as a major power juncture on several crisscrossing ley lines.
I pulled out the journal. It was cold in my hand, slightly damp, but unharmed. Shoving it in my bag, I shuffled through the rest of the drawer. The bank book, an envelope of cash—of course, the Shadow Hunters would have left these things. Myst’s people had no use for money, but we could use it.
After a quick look-see, I just swept everything into the bag and then glanced at the piles on the floor surrounding the other upended drawers. Not much had been left intact, but there—a ring of keys. Not sure what they went to, I added them to the bag.
Lannan had vanished, but after a moment he reappeared, carrying a large bag stuffed full of plastic bags and jars. “I found your herb stash. Thought these might be useful.”
I nodded, fishing through them. Some of these I could use. Some had been healing herbs that Leo had used to make healing salves. Leo. “Crap.”
“What’s wrong?” Lannan was on instant alert, darting a look over his shoulder at the door. “Do you sense something?”
“No. I was just thinking about Leo and how he fucked us over.” I pressed my lips together and glanced up into Lannan’s eyes. A mistake—you should never stare at a vampire directly—but I didn’t care.
