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“My Lady, I will not disappoint you. And yes, I am sure.” I pressed my fingers to my forehead, in an ancient salute. “What do we need to do?”
Aeval, surrounded by a guard party of five, walked over to where the portal had been. “It is here—I can see the signature. Camille, come.”
Obediently, I stepped up to her. She placed her hands on my shoulders and stood behind me, then with a little gasp leaned close. “I feel iron in your presence. You are crafty. You will make a formidable acolyte. But for now, look with your soul, look with your magic. Look through the Moon Mother’s eyes.”
I unfocused my vision and let my mind drift, gazing at the spot through a hazy blur. And then, I caught it—there it was, a sparkling signature. The portal we’d seen the day before hadn’t disappeared at all. It was there, unseen to mortal eyes, unseen to the Fae not looking for it. The blue vortex crackled and snapped, and behind us, I heard Delilah gasp.
“I can see it,” she said.
“Your sister and I brought it to the forefront.” Aeval patted me on the back. “Good job. You have much power—though I can feel where some of the synapses are skewed. You can never fix them, you were born that way, but there are ways to work around the misfires. As time goes on, you will learn, my daughter. You will learn.”
Her voice was still cool and aloof, but beneath the icy exterior I heard the soft opening of a door. I turned to her, smiling, and for the first time she truly smiled back. Her eyes were dark, spinning orbs of power and glamour, and in their reflection, I saw myself. Half human, but also half-Fae. Even though my father had disowned me, I was his daughter, and there was no denying his heritage.
“Now what?”
Aeval motioned for me to join Delilah. “I will open the portal so you can venture inside. I will give Camille the charm to reopen it when you need to—when you’re ready to return. Hopefully you will find your friend. And with hope, you will survive what lies within. The powers there are deep and dark; they are ancient moss on still older trees. They are powers that can match the Black Beast. Be cautious, girls, for you do not know half what you think you do, and snares and traps are sown deep within the heart of the Elder Fae.”
As we stepped aside, she held out her hands toward the portal. The vortex shimmered and, like an iris door off some science fiction show, slowly swirled open. I could feel the warm scent of summer and peat bogs and once again, the feeling of red eyes gazing at me latched hold and I couldn’t shake it off.
I glanced at Delilah. “Should we do this alone?” But Aeval had bid us come alone, and we had a chance now. “I guess that’s a moot question.”
“Chase is in there. Let’s go. We can always come back for reinforcements if we can’t handle what’s in there.” She sucked in a deep breath. “We owe Chase a lot.”
“Yes, we do.” I turned to Aeval. “You said you’d teach me the charm?”
She nodded and for the first time looked hesitant. “I do not want to lose you, Camille. Be cautious. Be wary. Do not trust our kind—you grew up among the full-blooded Fae. You, yourself, are half-Fae. You know what we are capable of doing if we allow ourselves to.” Leaning close, she whispered in my ear. “The charm to return is Akan v’la’the. It will work on either side. When you incant the spell you must be within sight of the portal, and you must use your energy to twist the charm—you know how to do that.”
I did. There was a certain inner force that witches applied to the charms. Someone who wasn’t a witch, who hadn’t been trained, could sing all the charms and spells they wanted and nothing would happen. But with training, the words became weapons, became keys, became tangible power to be manipulated.
“Akan v’la’the,” I whispered slowly, my tongue testing the pronunciation. A small shiver ran through me, and I realized I’d found the magical signature of the charm. I inhaled deeply and let my breath out in a slow stream. “I’m ready.”
“Then go and may the gods be with you.” Aeval nodded to us.
I turned to Delilah. “Let me take the front. I can suss out the energy better than you can.” And without a second thought, we stepped through the portal, into the deep. Into the dark. Into the wild.
The aperture closed behind us and we were alone amid a jungle of foliage. The temperature here was chill but not icy, humid and cool and filled with mist. The scent of tangy earth echoed up, along with sour peat and old rotting wood.
We paused to take stock of our surroundings. As I turned, I realized the portal appeared to have vanished, but when I closed my eyes and searched for its signature, there it was—right where it should be.
“I can find the portal now, no matter whether it’s visible or not.” I didn’t want Delilah panicking. “And I can open it, whether over Earthside or here. Wherever here is.”
She nodded. “Good. Speaking of which . . . what is this place? Did Aeval say?”
Slowly shaking my head, I gazed at the thick ferns that grew nearly at eye level. Old oaks towered over us, their limbs bare and wet. The ground was frosty and I realized that although there was no snow here, we were definitely in the midst of winter. The ferns were gray, their fronds drooping and dormant. The brambles that interspersed the undergrowth were leafless, their thorns showing through in thick, profuse abundance.
“I think . . . We’re in a subset—one of the Faerie dimensions. And from what Aeval says, the Elder Fae roam here. This is not Otherworld, but neither is it fully Earthside. I’ve never heard of this place before. Perhaps it was created by the Elder Fae, or the Elfin Lords . . . or perhaps by the Elemental Lords. Whatever, I doubt if many humans have ever come here.”
“Or if they have, they never escaped.”
“Yeah.”
Delilah muttered something under her breath.
“What did you say? I didn’t catch it.”
She turned to me. “I don’t like the energy here. It feels . . . hungry. Like it’s waiting for something to walk into a snare. Not like most predators, though. There’s a craftiness to it that unsettles me.”
I let out a shaky sigh. I’d been feeling the same thing. “I keep thinking about Aeval’s story about the Bog Eater. Here we have peat and we have dark hunger . . . and I can smell rats.” I pointed up to a nearby tree. On the boughs perched vultures. “Scavengers of the dead.”
