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"Not a problem." I sighed. "She's far more dangerous than I suspected. I had no idea floraeds wielded this much power."
"She's definitely not your typical wood sprite," he said. "There's more to this one than meets the eye. I tell you, Camille, we'd be better off if we killed her. This is a war, and she's on the side of the enemy. I think she can cause a lot worse havoc than this, and I don't want to see it play out."
I bit my lip. He was right. I knew he was and yet… she wasn't a demon or a rogue vampire or a harpy. She was one of the Faerie. Evil, yes, but it was hard for me to raise my hand against my own kind.
But then again—was she really one of my own? She hated me for my human side, that much was obvious, but even had I been full-blood Sidhe, she'd find a reason to stand against me. Perhaps it was that I didn't know just how much more violence I could stomach. After seeing the skinwalker attack Trillian, I was running on empty.
"I know you're right and yet… I don't know if I can do it."
"I can," he said, and I knew it was an offer.
I bit my lip, wavering. But I was a member of the OIA and my father's daughter. If we decided to kill the floraed, it would be my responsibility to carry out the deed. I shook my head. "Let me think for a bit. We still may be able to learn more about the demons' plans from her. If we wrap her in iron cuffs and gag her, then she won't be able to do anything."
"If you try to wrap her in iron, you'll only be hurting yourself." He was frustrated, that much was obvious, but then he shrugged. "Okay. We'll figure out what to do with her when we come back from looking for this Lane dude. Deal?"
"Deal," I said, relieved that I'd bought a little more time to make up my mind. I blindfolded Wisteria. Morio focused on Chase, creating an illusion that the detective was a pile of clean clothes. Even with my Sight, I couldn't tell just what lay under the illusion.
"You're good," I said, glancing at Morio.
He cocked his head to the side, contemplating the illusion. "Not bad if I say so myself." And then a sly smile stole across his face. "I'm good in other ways, too, if you're ever inclined to find out. Very good. You know, Svartans don't hold the trophy when it comes to passion."
Before I could say a word, he motioned to Delilah and headed for the door. Wondering if he'd meant what I heard, and wondering if I had the guts to find out, I followed.
We set off in the direction that I'd been shown. Delilah glanced back at the house, a worried look on her face.
"Do you think Chase will be okay?" Raindrops streaked her face, and she'd pulled up the hood on her jacket. Not only did she avoid lakes, ponds, and oceans, but she wasn't all that fond of rain, either.
"I hope so," I muttered, gliding through the copse. "If he leaves Wisteria alone, and if nobody shows up at the house, he should be fine. Morio's illusion was pretty damned good."
The undergrowth was so thick that even with our advantages, it took us time to wade our way through. I wasn't too thrilled about leading the way, but since I was the one who knew where we were going, it didn't exactly take a genius to figure out that I was the best choice.
"Morio, you've lived Earthside all of your life. How have you managed to keep your nature hidden from humans?" I asked, pushing between a huckleberry bush and a large fern. Water splashed in my eyes as a frond smacked me in the face, but with the pouring rain I barely noticed.
"I was born in a small village—there are still villages in Japan—and lived there most of my life. My grandfather taught me at home, and I recently got my degree from an online accredited university."
"Are you out, now that the Sidhe have shown up from Otherworld?" In a way, our appearance had made things easier for the earthbound Fae and other Cryptos. It allowed them to come forward. It was exotic to be different now, and humans all over the world were suddenly in search of mysterious ancestors who might have originally come from Otherworld. Of course, the vampires and undead hadn't found the same acceptance yet, but that was understandable.
He shrugged. "To some, but I don't announce it to the world."
"Are you sorry we showed up?" I asked.
Close behind me, he answered, "That's a double-edged question. No, I'm not, because it was time we let humans in on our existence. And yes, I am, because it's turned all that is magical and mystical into a consumer circus."
I snorted. "Like it wasn't before? People have been longing for magic since the beginning of time. I think there's a universal memory that remembers the days when Otherworld was just a step away and before Avalon traveled into the mists. Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter… all of these books I've been reading tell me that my mother's people need us. They need to rediscover their sense of wonder about the world and to develop their own innate powers that all mortals possess. And perhaps we need humans to remind us of what it means to be frail, to be vulnerable."
"I think we can learn a lot from FBHs. Compassion is more of a human trait than one belonging to the Sidhe. Surely you would acknowledge that," Delilah broke in.
I thought about what she said. Our mother had been fiery and quick-tempered, but she had a heart of gold. Our father was unusual among the Court and Crown in that he shared the latter quality.. "You may be right, little sister."
Just then, we broke through the thicket into an open meadow. Surrounded on all sides by a ring of cedar trees, it bore the markings of magic. A clearing, and one specifically dedicated to some deity or being, at that. I felt like I was trespassing as we entered the ring of trees. Toadstools formed an inner circle, and a mound of grass rose slightly in the center.
"A barrow?" Delilah asked, frowning. "I didn't think the barrows were used much anymore, and I had no idea they were found on this continent."
"As far as I've read, most of them were abandoned during the Great Divide. But this—this one has the energy of a portal. Not an OW portal, though. Where are we? And what is this place?" I slowly advanced on the slope of grass, looking for any sign of an entrance. "I can almost hear argentine pipes."
And listening, I realized that I actually did hear music. There—whispering on the wind—a trilling melody so wrapped in magic that each note quavered in the air, alive and vibrant, bidding me to dance. My feet urged me to shed shoes and jacket and go skipping across the lea. I sucked in a deep breath and threw back my head, laughing, suddenly lighthearted and fancy-free.
As I turned, Delilah leapt in the air and shifted into her golden tabby form. She began racing around the meadow, chasing after raindrops and imaginary mice. I vaguely felt that I should stop her for some reason, but the music was so compelling that I turned back to the barrow. If only I could find the entrance, I could find out just who was playing those pipes.
