Night Myst

Page 7

Rhiannon and I wandered over to the bookshelves while Peyton ran to get boxes for us. Tome after tome of magical work lined up, all for the taking. I was practically drooling by the time I had scanned two shelves.
Anadey let out a long sigh as she wearily rubbed her feet and leaned back in the rocking chair.
Peyton returned with a half dozen boxes for us, and then dropped by her mother's side. "Let me rub your feet, you've been on them too long today."
Sighing with relief, Anadey sat back. "So, tell me," she said after a moment. "Tell me about Heather."
Rhiannon put down the book she'd been looking at. "Not much to tell. I came home from work and she was gone." She crossed over to Anadey and held out the necklace. "This was all we found. Well, this and some blood."
"We think whatever's . . . in the woods . . . got her," I said.
Anadey looked at us, holding each of our gazes in turn. When she came to me, she smiled softly. "I don't think Marta expected everything to snowball so soon. Tell me, Cicely, whatever happened to your mother? I knew her when we were teenagers, before she got pregnant. We drifted apart after that."
I swallowed. "She couldn't handle her powers and ran, taking me with her. She died a couple years ago, killed by a vampire."
Rhiannon jerked her head up, and she turned to me. "You didn't tell me that. All you said was that your mother was dead."
"Not much to be proud of in her death, is there? Krystal was strung out. A crack addict. That's how she got the money for her drugs--she was a bloodwhore. Her last trick went apeshit on her and drained her. I found her bathed in her own blood and urine." I shrugged. "I don't have a whole lot of love for vampires. Or pushers."
Rhiannon glanced at me. "Does it bother you that Leo's a day runner?"
I shrugged. "I haven't really had time to even think about it. I don't know how I feel about his job. But I do like him."
Anadey interrupted. "I'm sorry to hear that. Krystal had so much promise. Let's focus on Heather. Tell me everything. Maybe I can help."
Rhiannon looked at me and I nodded. We couldn't keep our secret any longer. We were no longer children, but women, long past our childhood.
I took a deep breath. "Everything started when Rhiannon and I were barely six . . . and first stumbled into the spiders' wood . . ."
Rhiannon followed me into the wood, glancing over her shoulder to make sure we weren't followed. The path was shady. It was always shady regardless of how much sunlight beamed through the branches. Aunt Heather had warned us time and again to stay out of the copse, but my own mother didn't care--she was always off at a party or away on some trip. And so I had persuaded Rhiannon to join me in my explorations. And now, we had a precious secret.
At six years old, the trees towered so high they were growing into the heavens. Maybe if we climbed them, we'd find Valhalla. Heather called it the home of the gods. My mother said it didn't exist. But either way, I wasn't afraid, and after a few times of sneaking into the wood, neither was Rhiannon. We were magic-born, the daughters of witches, and nothing could hurt us.
Even though my mother isn't happy about being a witch, I thought. I'd heard the arguments late at night, when I was supposed to be asleep.
"Krystal, you keep denying your birthright and the power's going to destroy you. You can't repress it forever. Not to mention, you have an obligation to the family. To the Thirteen Moons Society. And most of all, you have a responsibility to your daughter to see she gets the training she needs." Heather's accusations echoed up the stairs.
"Fuck you and fuck the Society," my mother would counter. "I don't give a crap about family tradition or magical powers. I never asked to be born with this fucking ability, and I wish somebody would just rip it out of my head. Do you know what it's like, being able to hear voices all the time? The voices of people who laugh at you? Who think you're a slut just because you want to have a little fun? Do you?"
A murmured whisper from Heather.
Then, Krystal's voice again. "Well, that's what I hear every day when I go out. The only things that help drown them out are booze and pills, and let me tell you, I'll bow down in front of a jug of Gallo faster than I'll ever kneel at the feet of that sorry-assed Society or that priggish, self-righteous old biddy."
"Marta's just worried about you--"
"Tell her not to bother!"
And Krystal would stomp out of the house--the door slamming behind her--and my aunt would cry. Sometimes Heather didn't cry, though. Sometimes she just remained silent but I could hear her grumbling, all the way up in my room. Her words filtered in on the breeze.
"Hurry up," I urged Rhiannon as she lagged behind. "Grieve and Chatter are waiting for us."
"How do you know?" she asked, but she quickened her pace. I could run faster and play rougher than she could, but Rhiannon was the graceful one. She could be a dancer, I thought. When she grew up, she could be a ballerina, she was so tall and lithe.
"They're waiting. I can hear them. Now come on."
I started to run and she followed me. We came to a skidding halt in front of one of the huge old cedars and I bit my lip. Every time we came out here, a little voice whispered that this was a dangerous thing to do, that we could get hurt. But overriding my aunt's orders and common sense was the absolute need to visit with our odd friends.
I reached out and knocked on the tree trunk three times. The third time, there was a noise to the left of the path and we turned to see Grieve and Chatter slipping out from behind a bush. They were older--grown-up, but they'd always been polite and nice and never did anything to make us uncomfortable.
I never thought of them as boys. Boys were loud and obnoxious and only wanted to follow their girlfriends around. Grieve and Chatter never said anything about girls, and they were . . . well . . . different. They weren't human, we knew that, or magic-born. They were Fae and seemed so very exotic and dangerously strange. We knew all about other Supes in the area, but mostly met others like us.
Grieve motioned for us to follow them and held the bushes aside as we slipped off the path and into the woods, avoiding the ravine as he led us into a clearing to the left.
Another moment and we were sitting by a small pond where the trees opened up and the sun actually shone down, scattering light through the branches. I clambered up onto a tree trunk and took a deep breath, inhaling the scents of mushrooms and moss. Rhiannon shyly hopped up beside me. She liked Chatter better than Grieve. He made her laugh.
"Our time together is coming to an end," Grieve said, kneeling beside the tree trunk. He had a sad smile on his face and looked like he was going to cry.
"How come?" I didn't want our visits to stop. Grieve and Chatter had taught us how to make friends with the Elementals and coax them out to play. At least, sometimes. It didn't always work, but he said that the more we practiced, the better we'd get at it.
"Cicely, your mother--" Chatter started to say, but Grieve held up his hand and shook his head.
"Stop. We're not allowed to tell her," he said. "Cicely, everything will be all right. It's just that we won't be able to talk to you much longer. Not for a very long time. Years, maybe. And Lainule--you remember the beautiful woman who came with us to talk to you last time?"
I nodded, proud of my memory. "She's the Queen of Rivers and Rushes."
"That's right, you've done well. Anyway, Lainule wants to make sure you have a friend who can help you send messages along the wind. She says this is very important. Do you understand? And you must remember: You can always contact our people through the wind and someone will be there to help you, even if you don't see them."
I stared at him, my lower lip trembling. Somehow, even at my young age, I knew he was saying good-bye and it made me want to cry. But I forced my tears back because when Grieve said something was important, he meant it. He was a prince--he'd told me so. And I'd seen him get angry before--not so much at us, but at Chatter. An angry Grieve was fierce and unpredictable.
After a moment, I nodded. "You need to teach me to talk to the wind, right?"
"Right. You can already hear it speak, but you need to learn to talk back, to send information on what we call the slipstream. And at your age, to do that, you need to befriend a wind Elemental. I know some of this won't make any sense for a while, but I'll try to teach you the easy way to communicate with the creature. She'll always be there to help you. You have to promise me something, though."
"What?" I would have promised him anything.
"Promise me that you won't forget this. The magic we've taught you. Promise me that you'll keep practicing, even if you're a thousand miles away." He squatted in front of me and took my hands in his, smiling softly. "And when you're older, come back. Come back to me . . . to us. I'd like very much to know how you turned out." There was something in his voice, almost a promise of a future to come, and it made me both incredibly sad and yet--happy.
I gazed into his eyes as the smooth silk of his voice slid over me. The funny-looking man with eyes so clear, so blue, that they looked like twin oceans against the olive skin of his face . . . Grieve was kind to me, and I knew he'd never hurt me.
Solemnly, I nodded. "Promise," I said, "cross my heart and hope to--"
"No," he interrupted me, his eyes glowing. "Don't finish the rhyme, Cicely. Too many nasty creatures listen to the wind. They listen to secrets whispered in dark halls, to promises made in secret, to oaths and alliances forged. Don't ever promise your life--not for anyone."
"Okay," I said, a little afraid. I'd never seen him look quite so imposing. It was as if he'd shed a cloak and he looked even less human than usual. His chin was sharp, his cheekbones ridged, and his lips were full.
"Now come with me, and I will introduce you to your Elemental, and teach you to speak." And he set about the ritual that bonded me to Ulean, and taught me to harness the wind and call it to my command.
Anadey remained silent as we spilled out our secrets about Grieve and Chatter, and how Chatter had taught Rhiannon to conjure fire, and how Grieve had taught me the ways of the wind.
"Then, Krystal took me away," I said. "And nothing was ever the same. But I remembered, and I kept my promise. Ulean helped me, and eventually, things began to happen. She warned me when we were in danger. The wind would grab a paper out of my hand and I'd go chasing it and bingo, there'd be a twenty-dollar bill in the street just when we were running out of food. And sometimes, the breeze tripped people who threatened to hurt me, like this one guy . . . He was about to beat the crap out of me and a sudden gust caught up a nearby garbage can and hit him from the back with it, giving me time to run."
"You came back before, several times, then left again. Why?"
I'd thought about her question a thousand times. "My mother needed me. I couldn't leave her out there alone--she was so . . . helpless, so fragile. And I wasn't ready, I guess. Wasn't ready to turn my back on wandering. To commit to the life that I knew would be waiting for me here." And the last time, at seventeen, I wasn't ready to commit to Grieve, as much as I loved him. But I didn't want to say it aloud.
"And now, the wind has brought you home. You, and Ulean." Anadey looked like she wanted to say a whole lot more but she kept her silence.
"We went looking for Heather today, just to the edge of the wood. And we were attacked. Twice--well, I was attacked twice. But Rhiannon and Leo fought off the first creature that threatened to choke me. When I returned,
I found Grieve. But he was much changed." I gave her a condensed version of what had happened, including the difference I'd noticed in Grieve.
"The creature you describe is a tillynok, but they're usually peaceful. Something must have set it off. And the snow Elemental--they're not known to play tricks on humans. Unless they're bonded, like your Ulean, they usually just ignore us. A strange magic has taken over the forest."
"What about Grieve? What about the Indigo Court that he mentioned? That Rhiannon envisioned?"
"I don't know," Anadey said.
"Cicely? Look." Rhiannon turned around, holding one of the books she'd picked up off the shelf.
A strange tingling started through my hand as I reached out to take the volume from Rhiannon. The energy surrounding the book was frightening, wild, ancient. I didn't know if I really wanted to touch it, but I had no choice. I had to look. The tome was large, with a navy cover. I flipped open the cover--which was blank--and read the title, which appeared only on the inside.
The Rise of the Indigo Court.
"It would seem we've found an answer."
"Somehow, I think your answer is just going to lead to more questions," Anadey said, glancing at it. "Why do I feel like we're opening Pandora's box?"
"Because we are." And I opened it to the first page.
Chapter 6
I slowly made my way to the dining room table, and the others followed me. Setting the book on the table, I opened it to the first yellowed page. The words were handwritten, in a tight, clear text. Old ink. Old pages. The smell of library dust and time gone by.
Steeped in a secrecy far deeper than even that of the Unseelie Court is the Indigo Court. While the Unseelie are nefarious and dangerous, the Indigo Court are considered the Fallen Fae, corrupt for they not only bear their own bloodline, but the blood of the Vampire Nation. The merging of the two races evolved into a breed stronger than either, and yet with their own unique vulnerabilities.