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He was putting his fate in my hands. I didn’t like the responsibility, but Chase was a friend and he needed something concrete to hold on to. And he was right. Delilah would lie and tell him what he wanted to hear. Camille would play both sides of the fence. I was the one who never prettied up the picture, who painted what I saw, rather than what I wanted to see, or thought someone wanted to hear.
“You want to know what I think? I believe you’d fade here, Chase. You don’t have enough elf in you to ever be accepted by the other elves. While they might seem all cozy with you now, the long-lost son and all—trust me, discrimination is rampant over here in Otherworld.”
“I wondered about that.” He shook his head. “Your world isn’t much better than ours in some ways.”
“Damn straight. Each has its trade-offs, but no matter whether you’re in Otherworld or over Earthside, people are people and a lot of them are jerks.”
“I keep thinking about how much I’d miss.”
“While you might enjoy the difference at first…I think you really would miss home too much. After a while, you’d have to leave, or you’d wither like a blossom in the frost. If Sharah does return home, I think you should limit yourself to visits. Maybe on weekends, or for a week every few months. But I promise you, as much as I can promise anything, Sharah will make certain you get to see your baby, and more than just once a year. She has too much respect for you to do otherwise.”
“You really think so?”
I nodded. “I know so. She loves you, Chase. Even if she’s not ready to get married just yet. And you love her.”
He ducked his head, smiling. “Yeah…I do. I really, truly do. I never expected it to work out like this, but Sharah…I think…I’ve found out what it really means to be in love. And the thought that she’s having my baby scares the hell out of me, and yet it’s so absolutely right.”
And then, we were scrambling in the carriage, and off to the portals, on the way home.
The house was bustling by the time we burst through the door. Iris and Bruce were back—and since their house was still a ways from being a reality, Bruce was now living with us, too. We’d slowly enlarged our extended family to the point where we were now a freaking commune.
As we walked through the front door, Smoky caught up Camille and planted a kiss on her as he swung her around. Morio was helping Hanna clean up a patch of wet finger paint that had managed to take out one of the roses on the handwoven rug. Hanna looked flustered and Morio was trying to calm her down.
“It’s okay. She gets away from all of us at times. Don’t worry about it.”
“I did not see her run! She’s picking up speed from the time I get here.” Hanna had come to us from the Northlands. She helped Camille escape from Hyto. She spoke English now, and though she was still a little awkward around us, her heart was in the right place.
Iris trailed out of the parlor, a very colorful Maggie in her arms. Our baby calico gargoyle was in the toddler stage and she’d be there a very long time, much to our consternation. She was getting into everything, and that wasn’t likely to change for the foreseeable future. Her fur was matted with blue and red paint, and she was giggling as she watched Hanna and Morio.
“Maggie—no! You were a bad girl. No playtime tonight for you. You can just take a time out and think about what you did.” Iris caught sight of us and let out a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad you’re home. Tonight has been one disaster after another. But Menolly, you don’t have long before sunrise. You’re cutting things close—” She stopped, looking at our faces. “What happened? I can see something happened while you were over there.”
I was about to tell her to gather everyone in the kitchen when a loud whistle sounded. Smoky immediately set Camille down and she raced for the kitchen, with Trillian on her heels.
“The wards! They’ve gone off.” Her voice echoed from the kitchen, and, giving Iris a helpless shrug, I took off after Delilah and the guys. Iris let out an exasperated sigh in the background.
“I swear, can’t we have one evening in this house where we’re left in peace?” The talon-haltija muttered loudly, and then I heard her say, “Maggie! You stop that—I do not need a bright blue nose, thank you very much!”
As we gathered around the table where the grid of quartz crystals sat, forming the alarm for when our land’s wards were breached, Camille and Morio examined the pattern, sorting through the energy coming off the grid.
“Not Demonkin.” She glanced up at Shade. “Can you tell me if it’s what I think it is?”
He held his hands out to the crystals. A crackle charged the kitchen as a faint bolt of purple lightning jolted from his skin to the smooth crystals. Jerking his head up, he nodded.
“Ghosts. But why would ghosts set off the wards? Spirits walk the world all the time.” He bit one side of his lip.
“These aren’t Casper’s kin. Ghosts won’t set off the wards unless they’re baleful. These aren’t run-of-the-mill spirits—they’re out to hurt us.” She paled. “How are we going to find them? I can ferret out Demonkin energy, but…”
“I’ll be the bird dog.” Shade turned to the door. “Assign posts. Morio, you’d better stay here. You can deal with Netherworld creatures better than anybody except me. Who else is coming outside?”
“Me.” I stepped forward. “Camille, you stay with Morio. Trillian, you stay with Camille and Morio to protect the household. Iris, I know you’re pregnant, but get your spells prepared, just in case. Hanna, I want you to take Marion, Douglas, and Bruce in the parlor and stay there. Keep the door to the living room open, and take Maggie with you. Delilah, you come with us…Smoky, Vanzir, Roz, you’re also with us.”
And so we split off.
Delilah had Lysanthra, her dagger. Roz had his arsenal, and Vanzir was armed as well. Shade, Smoky, and I all were weapons in our own right. We headed out the kitchen door to the backyard.
The rain had started—a light drizzle, and mist drifted along the ground. Wind ruffled through the tops of the trees, setting up a ghostly susurration that whispered through the yard.
Our three-story Victorian, with basement, was on five acres in the outskirts of the Belles-Faire district that lies north of Seattle. We weren’t exactly out in the country—there isn’t really an “out in the country” in this area for miles—but we were as rural as we could get for being in Seattle. Our five acres buttressed up against Birchwater Pond, and beyond that lay a patch of wetlands no one could develop. We’d talked about buying up the wetlands to ensure they wouldn’t come to risk, but we hadn’t quite reached a decision.
