Storm Crossed Read online

  “He doesn’t eat . . . cuhk-eez,” the fae said stiffly, but the child no longer listened to him.

  “Sharing is a kind thing to do,” Brooke said to Fox. “But human treats aren’t very good for dogs. My cats can’t eat them, either. Do you know it gives them a stomachache? Rory got into a bag of Oreos once, and I had to rush him to Morgan’s clinic.” As she continued talking about her cats, Fox allowed himself to be led away in the direction of the main parking lot. Lissy’s friends immediately closed ranks around him like an armed escort. Tina walked backward behind them, still clasping the tree limb in both hands, as watchful as if they were in a combat zone. Even Jake finally released his bulldog hold on the giant dog to race after the group—but not before trotting over to dribble a few drops of urine on the tall fae’s boot. Luckily the man didn’t look down . . .

  Silently blessing her friends for protecting her child, Lissy knew she should follow. But the longer she could keep the guy’s attention firmly on her, the longer the others would have to escape. Besides, she had unfinished business with this being. As he turned the full force of his awareness to her, however, she suddenly couldn’t remember what she wanted from him. Instead, her thoughts tumbled into a wild flood of questions. Like why couldn’t she figure out the color of his eyes? One moment they seemed green, the next, gold, and the next, a hue she had no words for. Maybe the firelight distorted her perceptions. But she couldn’t even decide how old the guy was. His ethereal face was as young as her own, but there was an aura of years about him. It was like looking at a mountain, unable to fathom the eons that had shaped it.

  “Your friend was wise to guard your son’s name,” he said. “Such a young adept must be protected. What ddewin is charged with his training?”

  What? Her brain snapped back into the here and now. “He goes to school just like any other kid. And you still owe me an apology, mister.”

  “The child is untrained?”

  “For your information, he’s perfectly well behaved most of the time!”

  The fae shook his head, and his white hair now curtained one eye. It didn’t reduce the intensity of his gaze, however. A lesser woman might have withered under such scrutiny, but Lissy returned the look in kind, with a healthy dose of fuck you for good measure.

  It probably wasn’t a smart thing to do. After all, faeries were dangerous, not to be trusted. Her brother’s words came back to her: They don’t think like we do, hermanita. They don’t perceive right and wrong like we do.

  So why am I still standing here? Like a bird before a snake, she might have been paralyzed by some strange hypnosis. Yet she remained completely free to look away or walk away. Of one thing she was certain: the fae had no power over her only because he chose not to exert it. I shouldn’t be taking chances like this. I don’t really give a damn if he apologizes or not, as long as Fox is safe. Some strange impulse urged her to persist, however. A feeling. A vibe.

  Like a wave building, building, then suddenly breaking on the shoreline, there it was: a recognition—no, a connection, as if some rarefied energy now flowed between them. She dared not take her eyes off the stranger in case he disappeared. And the longer Lissy looked, the more she wanted to see. The more she could see.

  She saw surprise.

  There was no hint in his face, not a single tell that even a consummate poker player would discern. And yet she perceived a spark of disbelief in his alien eyes.

  The moment ended as abruptly as if he’d slammed a door in her face. Whatever she’d witnessed in his gaze vanished beneath a frown. Nope, that was definitely a scowl. Are you trying to intimidate me? she wondered.

  I would not presume to try.

  Hey! While she was still trying to process that he had just spoken to her in her head—had, in fact, heard her thoughts and responded in kind—he reached out to place a hand on the dog. Both vanished from her sight.

  Lissy sat down abruptly. All the strength was gone from her body, and spots bounced before her eyes as if she’d stared directly into a camera flash. So much for close encounters of the fae kind. Ugh! She’d probably never see him again (and good riddance) but she was left with the most ridiculous sense of loss over a perfect stranger. Emphasis on the perfect. If she hadn’t been so damn mad, she would have enjoyed the view. Maybe it was the sudden withdrawal of that strange momentary connection, but she found herself wishing she’d at least gotten his name . . . even though she felt lucky to remember her own.

  Trahern. It was the same voice in her mind, his voice. Quiet with an undercurrent of power, as if it was being deliberately reined in or toned down for her benefit. My name is Trahern.

  Her lips tried to form the strange name but couldn’t—

  “Lissy!” Another voice suddenly shouted way too close for comfort. “Earth to Lissy!” Sharon and Katie were hovering over her. As soon as they got her attention, each took an arm and hauled her to her feet, then half hurried, half dragged her in the direction Brooke had taken Fox.

  “Are you okay?” asked Sharon, without slowing for a moment.

  “Just tired,” was all she could force out. Her entire body felt like a wet noodle, and she only managed one step for every three or four of theirs.

  “Adrenaline dump, I’ll bet.”

  “Could be magic, too,” said Katie. “Do you think he put a spell on her?”

  “Brooke will know—hey!”

  Far across the park, an eerie ball of green light blazed to life at the base of The Castle, illuminating it with an undulating glow as if the Northern Lights had fallen into the canyon and tangled around the rocky spires. Strange shapes moved in the heart of the emerald sphere, as it moved quickly toward the glittering falls. Lissy squinted to identify them from this distance.

  “Holy crap, is that a horse?” asked Sharon.

  Not only a horse but a rider—and a hound. “It’s that damn fae and his big-ass dog,” said Lissy. “What the hell are they doing up there?”

  She yelled in surprise as the vivid light abruptly hurled itself over the falls like a falling star to plunge silently into the depths of the immense pool two hundred feet below. No splash and no sound. Like watching a ghost performing a high dive. She sank to the grass again, and this time her friends sat down with her, just as Brooke ran up to them, with her husband not far behind.

  “Did you see that? Did you see that? I’ll bet the water is another portal to the faery realm!”

  Lissy didn’t give a damn about portals. Exhausted, she only wanted to know one thing. “Where’s Fox?”

  “Sitting beside Rhys, full of cookies and milk, and wanting to know when he can see the giant dog again,” Aidan said, then grinned. “Plus the lad insists you owe two dollars to the swear jar.”

  Yeah, she did. She’d have to pay up, too. Once he accepted a rule, Fox was fanatical about it—the fact that his mother had been scared out of her mind over his safety notwithstanding.

  “Anyone have change for a five?”

  Trahern emerged in Tir Hardd with Cyflym at full gallop. Though he reined the horse to a walk, there was no slowing of his own thoughts. He stole a glance at Braith, trotting along in his usual position, to the right and just behind Trahern’s stirrup. He seemed relaxed enough. Certainly more so than I am at this moment. The mortal boy’s revelation had been staggering. Braith’s essence, that which made him who he was, still lingered in his canine shell. I should be happy for this. Instead, Trahern was nearly overcome at the horror of it, the idea of not only being a captive in the body of a beast but incapable of expression, of words. A prisoner now more than ever.

  Worse, Trahern had assumed his brother was lost to him, that he had become fully dog. A loyal enough companion but constrained and bound by its nature. Now he knew differently. Braith still thought, still remembered, still—what? Does he despair of an end to his imprisonment? Does he miss Saffir?

  No doubt he missed real conversation and needed to hear of Trahern’s thoughts, since he could no longer touch them . . .


  He slid from the saddle and knelt before the great grim, pulling the massive blue-gray head against him and rubbing the soft velvety ears. “Forgive me, my brother. I knew not that you yet suffered. I have said so little to you, addressed you so seldom. I have treated you as a true hound, unaware that you were still . . . ” Words failed him. Braith’s condition was as a dagger in his heart, and the weight on his shoulders threatened to crush him. The dog wagged its tail, however, and rolled playfully to look up at him, its thick lips falling back to expose enormous teeth grinning foolishly.

  “I will yet find a way to free you,” Trahern whispered. “I swear it.” He sat for a very long time with his arms around the dog’s neck. Just as the boy did, he thought at last, and allowed himself to consider the strength of the child’s gift—and the strength of his mother.

  She shone, her aura bright as flame. Different in every way from the females of the Tylwyth Teg. They were far taller than she, slender and pale like winter saplings, with silken hair the color of ice and eyes that glittered with many secrets. The human woman had long hair, too, but it was richly colored, the dark curls cascading over her shoulders. There was a golden cast to her skin, as if the sun had warmed it, and her eyes were the deepest brown, nearly black—

  Those sable eyes had all but sparked with fury, too. She’d been as fierce as a female kelpie protecting her young as she challenged him. Had he ever witnessed the Tylwyth Teg personally safeguard their offspring, in word or deed? Eirianwen would never have bothered . . . Trahern rubbed a hand across his chest, recalling the feel of the mortal woman’s palms when she’d dared to push him. Ordinarily, he would have thought the act foolish, certainly insulting, but found himself unable to do so. She’d been utterly committed to defending her son despite the odds, and for that Trahern could only admire her courage.

  It was a new feeling. He’d never observed any mortal worthy of admiration before. Of course, the Wild Hunt only rode down the guilty. Betrayers and offenders all, they usually succumbed easily to fear, their pleadings cut off quickly by the crack of a light whip as they were condemned to join the host that trailed after the Hunt. Even in Lurien’s absence, Trahern only pronounced judgment on them—he certainly didn’t converse with them! The jarring mix of colors in their aura told him all he needed to know about them. In fact, he had never deigned to make the acquaintance of any mortal, though he rode through their realm almost nightly.

  Braith’s long-ago words suddenly replayed in his mind: Though their lives are short—or perhaps because their lives are short—humans possess many worthwhile attributes that the Tylwyth Teg have all but forgotten. His brother couldn’t have meant the pathetic beings who the Hunt stole away. Was it possible there were others like the boy and his brave mother?

  I gave her my true name. Trahern had no idea why he’d done so, except it seemed appropriate. Names possess power. In the traditions of his kind, to volunteer one’s name to a stranger was a gift. But the human female likely had no concept of the honor he’d paid her.

  Dismounting, he led his horse inside the newly created stone stables—the first of their kind in Tir Hardd and lighter and airier than the ones in the old palace—with Braith following amiably behind. Trahern waved away the pyskies who offered their help. He usually preferred to see to his horse’s needs with his own hands. And if he was honest with himself, he wanted to be alone so he could think more about the woman he’d met.

  I don’t have her name.

  It shouldn’t matter to him. After all, he would probably never encounter her again . . . but he found that he didn’t like that idea at all. Something else bothered him just as much. The boy is not trained. The mother’s aura had truly shone with fire, but the child’s aura was an entire universe of swirling magics. Power had come to rest upon him, had chosen him, as it had once chosen Trahern. Ancient stories spoke of some mortals who could wield magic as ably as any fae. A few were said to still walk the earth. But he’d never met any until now.

  There had been other women with the boy’s mother. Three had been openly admiring of Trahern, and all of them had whispered to each other about his physical attributes without realizing he could hear them easily—though there were a few things he didn’t understand. What exactly is a hunk? And who is Legolas?

  Of them all, however, only the clever woman with the short black hair, the one who had led the child away, was a practitioner of magics. Her clear-blue aura pronounced her a healer much like Saffir, and much skilled, but she was not powerful enough to train the boy. Of that, Trahern was certain. And the child’s fierce mother? She was astonishingly perceptive as well as brave. No one, not even his twin, had ever stared into Trahern’s eyes and truly seen him when he did not wish to be seen. It had shocked him to the core that a human could look past his defenses as if they didn’t exist! Still, although her aura was vivid, it showed only a modest amount of magic. And without enough magic herself, she might be unaware of the dangerous potential her son possessed.

  Something must be done. Trahern had trained the occasional student, but never a mortal one, of course—

  The silver pail dropped from his hands, scattering moon-gathered marsh grain across the stone floor, as he realized just what it was he considered. I am of the Hunt! My loyalty and my responsibility lie with them alone, he told himself sternly. Humans were of no concern to him, and it was best to put such foolish thoughts aside. A quick incantation caused the spilled grain to float upward in a lazy vortex and deposit itself neatly into the horse’s feed bin. Cyflym nosed it curiously, then settled in to eat.

  Annoyed with himself, Trahern turned on his heel and stalked out of the stable. His usual habit was to spend his time experimenting with spells for Braith’s sake, but the evening’s events called for a visit to a coblyn tavern. The noise and the brew would be equally potent there, and with luck, he might be able to drive all thoughts of the woman and her gifted son from his brain for a time.

  The gardens outside the stable were half-wild, filled with scarlet flowers on towering stems. Brilliant butterflies hovered among them, glinting like jewels. The air was redolent with sweet nectars, and a cool breeze carried the scent of distant petrichor. Perhaps the tavern could wait. Braith might well prefer a companionable walk to an earful of coblyn chatter. Trahern turned to speak to his brother—

  But the great dog was nowhere to be seen.

  SEVEN

  Although there’d been some talk of driving home last night after the unexpected visit from the fae and his canine companion, it was short-lived. Brooke had phoned Aidan and Rhys at their camp down the road, and the guys had come on the run. Both were big, heavily muscled men who looked like they could tear a fae in two like a phone book. They’d be glad to do it, too. Furious that their wives and friends had been frightened, they volunteered to keep watch for the rest of the night. In the end, everyone, even Lissy, felt solid about staying.

  As for Fox, he wasn’t frightened at all. Instead, he’d fallen asleep in his pup tent with his little fingers crossed that the giant dog would come back. Lissy wished she could fit in there to cuddle him for the rest of the night, but he never seemed to enjoy sleeping with her. You know I have to sleep straight. You take up too much room, and then I have to curl up like a snail, he’d once told her.

  “I’ll be sitting right outside the boy’s door till morning,” Rhys assured her. “And by all the gods, no one and nothing will come near him. You get some sleep yourself now. Sharon and Katie will be cooking their special pancakes in the morning, and you won’t want to be missing that.”

  Trust a man to know what’s really important. She laughed and went to Tina’s tent, where Jake was already snoring loudly on Tina’s cot.

  “You all right?” her friend asked over the buzz-saw noise.

  “Yeah. It was just a surprise, that’s all. I never expected to bump into a real live fae, never mind a dog the size of an elephant.”

  “You handled yourself really well—and so did Fox. He’s not even upset!”


  “You’re right,” agreed Lissy. “Out of all of us, it should have been scariest for him. But he did handle it.” Like a champ, too. She fell asleep on that hopeful note and wakened refreshed to a bright, sunny morning.

  Fox was in rare form, far more outgoing than he’d been the night before. He sought out Rhys and insisted on showing him all the trails, then played a string game with Aidan. He showed Morgan and Tina the beautiful crystals from Brooke’s box, naming each one for them. Sharon and Katie had indeed made their famous mile-high pancakes topped with fresh strawberries, whipped cream, and chocolate curls, and Fox declared them pretty okay. High praise indeed from a child whose world could crumble if his toast wasn’t cut into perfect triangles!

  With her son busy and happy, Lissy decided she couldn’t wait any longer. Quickly, she pulled Brooke aside and told her about the blue chairs incident. “The whole waiting room had been completely redesigned. New paint, new artwork, and new furniture—and every chair was just as Fox said it would be, just the way he’d drawn them.”

  “Wow, big change. How did he react to it?”

  Lissy wasn’t surprised by Brooke’s total acceptance of Fox’s apparent clairvoyance. Of course she would look right past that. But her friend’s question was a good one. “That’s the other strange thing. He didn’t react. Not at all. He just sat in one of the new chairs and played with his video game as if nothing was different. And that’s not the only time this has happened. In fact, these past few nights he’s been dreaming about a big dog and a man with long white hair! And look what happened last night!”

  Brooke grabbed her shoulders firmly. “Okay, first off, don’t panic. Lots of people have precognition to one degree or another and lead perfectly normal lives. Like yourself, for instance. You still have dreams sometimes, don’t you? And feelings in advance of things. What would it hurt if Fox had those, too?”