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“What—is it embedded in the wall?” Chance’s well-defined brows were up, and Royce felt a thrill as he came up beside her and ran his hand down her arm. Even through her jacket, he had the power to make her tremble.
“Yes, yes—she is here, right here!” Royce answered excitedly.
“Right then …” said Chance, looking about as though seeking a tool.
Royce smiled and turned back to the wall. She whispered ancient Danu words, and the next thing everyone knew, she held the gold, bejeweled hilt of a short, curved dagger up towards the ceiling. “The Peckering,” she said softly and in some awe.
Chance went forward, and then, suddenly, shock flooded Royce’s system. She bent over as her body writhed in pain. “Ahhhh …” she cried and then let out a scream as the pain turned into agony.
She felt herself pulled and twisted and thrown.
And then, swoosh. Thump. And more pain.
A hard, earthen floor pressed against her cheek. She put her weight onto her forearms and was thankful she had gripped the Peckering tightly; it was still clasped in her right hand.
She jumped to her feet, bent over her knees a moment, and sucked in air. No more pain, only the mental residual effects. But where the hell was she?
“Oh no,” the Peckering said sadly.
“Oh no? What do you mean, oh no?” she asked as she looked around. She wasn’t in the MacBathe dungeon—that was for certain. She wasn’t sure where she was, but it was nowhere good.
A barren, foggy realm greeted her gaze, but through the mist, she could see torches. As she leveled her Fae eyes she discovered what appeared to be some kind of fortress.
Immediately and without hesitation she tried shifting back to MacBathe.
Nothing.
She calmed herself and asked, “Okay, Peckering, where are we?”
“In a macabre world of emptiness,” the Seelie Hallow answered in a hushed voice.
“Can you get us out?”
“I am not certain …”
Royce sighed and studied her surroundings. The sky was a painted swirl of variegated shades of gray and black. Irregular, cloud-like formations moved through a dark sky. It had the look and feel of a painting … a dark, bizarre painting depicting the promise of awaiting horror.
The next thing she saw: rats.
Rats the size of miniature ponies, and they were scratching at the earth as though looking for food.
“We don’t have rats in Faery,” she told the Peckering. “I … don’t even like the little guys, and these …”
“That may be so, Princess, but these rats can harm us.”
“But … we are Seelie …”
“So we are, but in this realm, you are mortal.”
“Damn, damn, and damn again, why—what happened, why are we here?”
“No time now, Princess—they have seen you.”
Their huge red eyes were looking her way, and two of them reared onto their hind legs and clawed the air as they screeched. They were quite a distance, but they began a pace that put that distance behind them.
Royce attempted shift jumping, which allowed for shifting in spurts. It worked. Ah, she thought, piecing her facts together. Still have some magic … have to find the right kind and get the hell out …
She jump shifted three times and reached the stone fortress, noting that there were no windows—nada! There was, however, a set of two hardwood doors, and she pounded with all her might.
