I nodded. “Lord of the Depths.”

To the north wall, within the glass I could see a tangled forest with mountains rising in the distance. The Elemental who stepped forward was wearing a frosty cloak over a green robe beneath, and the faint scent of spring clung to the dryad look-alike.

“Lady of the Land.” I nodded to her.

Lastly, I turned to the east and a ray of early-morning sunlight came shimmering through the glass as a stalwart man flew into the picture, astride the back of an eagle. They landed on the craggy mountaintop and he dismounted and fell to one knee, his leather armor brown against the flaxen strands of his hair.

“Master of the Winds, I am glad to see you again.” I wasn’t ever sure what to say, but the ritual didn’t seem set in stone. And I truly was becoming fond of them. Even though I’d seen them only a few brief times, I could feel them with me whenever I carried the horn.

I turned to the center of the room and waited, and sure enough, within a few moments a man appeared. Tall—nearly seven feet; his skin was as brown as an oak, and his hair long and dark. He could play with his shape and form, however, and I had never ascertained what his true looks were. I smiled when I remembered the earrings he’d been wearing that I’d fallen in love with. He’d given me a pair just like them.

“Eriskel.” I paused, wondering how to frame my request.

“You have need of our help? I assume we are not in the middle of battle or you would be calling on the powers of the horn from out there.” He motioned to the table and slid into one of the chairs.

I hadn’t yet figured out whether the jindasel liked me or just tolerated my presence, but whatever the case, he was bound by his nature to help me. He was part of the horn; he would not exist without it. When the Black Unicorn died every thousand or so years, his horn and hide were shed and made into ritual artifacts, and a small fragment of the Black Unicorn’s spirit became trapped in the body of the horn, acting as the mentor for whoever ended up wielding the weapon.

Jindasels were formed by a number of creatures, offshoots spinning out of the main spirit like an avatar. They took on an essence of their own—but the jindasels of the horn were unique in their ability to function autonomously, without the original creature that spawned them being near.

I leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin propped on my hands. “Can you or the Elementals of the horn sense into other realms or through portals?” I ran down what had happened and where we were.

Eriskel blinked, his eyes so wide they were surreal. He folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “You need to get out of here. Now. This place is not safe. Not for you. Not for the horn. Do you know what would happen if one of the Elder Fae got hold of this artifact?”

“That thought has crossed my mind. Nothing good, I’m sure.”

“Then go. Get your pretty ass out of here and protect the horn. If one of the Elder Fae gets hold of it, all hell will break loose. You think the Bog Eater’s bad? You have no clue how ruthless and powerful some of these beings are. They may be your relatives in name, but you are like a dust mote compared to them. You could probably take one down in a fight if you brought all the powers of the horn to bear, but it would be dicey, and you—my lady—would not come out alive.”

And with that, Eriskel ejected me from the horn. I blinked, the feel of his concern weighing heavy on my shoulders. Jumping up, I turned to Delilah.

“We have to get out of here. Now.”

“But why?” She frowned, but one shake of my head spurred her into action. As we headed away from the mushroom ring, she looked around nervously. “What’s going on?”

“Eriskel convinced me it’s a very bad idea to have the horn here with me,” I whispered. “I wish we could move faster—well, me. You can. I wish I could run faster. Now I’m going to fret until we’re back out of the portal.”

“I’ll watch your back, never fear for that.” Delilah didn’t question, just held tighter to the iron blade. She winced. “I can feel the iron through the glove, but it’s not too bad. Tingles in a really unpleasant way.”

“Yeah, I know.” We stumbled our way back through the forest toward the strip of shore between the bog and the woodland. As we stepped out onto the open strip of land, I stopped and looked around. “Notice anything odd?”

She paused, listening. “No birds.”

“Yeah.”

Not only had the birds stopped chirping and crowing, but everything else had gone silent and I could feel an undercurrent—something rumbling so low I could barely make it out. It was coming from across the bog in our direction.

I turned toward the fens. The marsh was quivering—or at least one line of reeds running through it was. My heart in my throat, I made sure my gloves were on and pulled out the iron flail from the bag I was carrying.

And then, the rumbling grew louder as an oh-so-tall creature erupted from the water, spraying peat and detritus and stinking fen water every which way. The man—was it a man?—rose up, a good eight or nine feet tall, and his eyes were spinning with the brilliance of sunlight bouncing off mirrors. He gave one long laugh, turned my way, and leaped from the bog.

Chapter 8

���The Bog Eater?” Delilah jumped toward me, trying to intercept.

“No, I don’t think this is him!” I scrambled to one side, managing to avoid the Elder Fae’s long arms, but in my haste, I tripped over a root hidden under the leaf mould and went sprawling. Coming to my feet, I swung around, iron flail outstretched. “What the fuck are you?”

He said nothing but lunged again for me, and this time, he caught my ankle as he dragged himself onto land. My feet slipped out from under me as I went flying back to the ground. As I landed, I saw then that his legs were bound together with a finned tail. Merman! A Meré—one of the Finfolk! Oh fuck—even if he turned out not to be one of the Elder Fae, he was all too dangerous. But his energy spoke of ancient times and deeds.

Terrified—his grip was unrelenting—I sprang to a sitting position and brought the iron flail down across his arm.

With a screech that pierced my ears, he let go and jerked his arm away. Fae—definitely Fae. Before he could reach for me again, I scrambled away and, at that moment, felt Delilah grab one of my wrists. She dragged me out of his reach and to my feet.

Gasping for breath, I turned to gauge what he was doing. “We have to get out of here. He senses the horn.”

The light in the creature’s eyes was all too hungry, and he flopped forward some more, using those great, long, muscled arms to pull himself toward us. Delilah grabbed my hand and we ran, scurrying down the narrow strip of land back to the trail through which we’d first emerged on the bogs. I glanced back over my shoulder.

“Oh crap! He’s transforming—his tail just became legs. Run!” I broke free from her and plunged through the overgrowth.

The merman/Fae/whatever-he-was had transformed to two-legged and was chasing behind us. And he knew how to run.

Delilah let out a garbled cry and once again passed me, grabbing my hand on the way and dragging me with her. We broke through the short path into the glen. I gasped, my lungs working overtime.

“We’re going to have to fight. He’s fresh and we can’t keep running all the way back to the portal.” I hopelessly turned to keep an eye on the entrance to the glen. “He’ll be here any minute. Iron did affect him.”

“Then iron it is. What about the horn?”

“I . . . I . . .” Truth was, I was afraid to use it, but then I yanked it out of my pocket. He was a water spirit; therefore, fire should work on him. I breathed deep, putting more distance between me and the entrance to the clearing. Sending my thoughts back into the horn, I whispered, “Mistress of Flames. Attend me.”

As the energy of the horn began to well up, the creature appeared through the foliage and headed straight for me. I brought the horn up and aimed it straight at him, even as Delilah stabbed him in the side as he loped by her. He screamed, the iron blade of her dagger smoking as it met his flesh, but simply reached out to knock her off her feet and kept coming.

“Stop—stop or I’ll be forced to kill you!” I wavered, hating to go up against such an ancient creature. Chances were he’d been around before the Great Divide. But his hunger, his thirst for the horn’s power was glimmering in his eyes and he let out a guttural laugh.

“Mistress of Flames . . . take him!” A blast of pure fire burst forth from the horn and washed over him. He spent a moment staring at me, then leaned his head back, and I thought he was going to utter a long scream, but he just laughed.

Holy hell! The flames hadn’t affected him. He began to move toward me again, this time each step deliberate. I stuffed the horn back in my pocket and held up the iron flail. This time, he did flinch. I noticed that his side was festering where Delilah had stabbed him.

Delilah was on her feet again, looking shaky. She raced forward, dagger at the ready, dodging as he reached back to ward her off. His gaze never left my face.

I sought the emotion behind his eyes. Greed. Desire. Covetousness. He wanted what I had. He wanted the horn. And he’d do whatever he could to possess it. Eriskel had been right.

I bit my lip. Flame had not worked. Perhaps . . . earth? And so I pulled out the horn again, and whispered, “Lady of the Land, please please help me.”

The energy began to rise within the horn, running through my hand to circle through my body. I caught a whiff of sweetgrass and lavender, of oak moss and heavy soil . . . and then—as Delilah ducked his fist and swung low with the dagger, again slicing his side with a hissing gash—I whispered, “Let the hands of the earth rise up.”

At that moment, the earth beneath our feet began to quake. It vibrated, shaking wildly as both Delilah and I went down. Out of the ground, reaching up through cracks forming on the hardened soil and frost, came dark hands formed of tree roots and old bones. They writhed, long fingers trembling, reaching, stretching to clasp hold of the creature’s legs.

He let out a howl, trying to shake them off, but they held him tight and began to slowly pull him down, began to draw him into the earth, inch by inch. Delilah scrambled up and ran to my side, helping me back to my feet.

I wasn’t sure if the roots could hold him long—he was an Elder Fae, and they had some dominion over the world—so I gave one last look as more hands reached up to help drag him into the abyss.

“Come on,” I said in a hoarse voice. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. We have to leave.” We turned and ran, but the creature’s howls lingered long, until we neared the portal. I hurriedly whispered the password, twisting it at just the right point, and the aperture opened. We leaped out, back into the snow and ice of Seattle.

Aeval was there, much to my surprise. As we sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath, she knelt beside me.

“Best to put your weapon away,” she whispered. “I would not touch it for the world, but there are many who would slice your throat to possess the Horn of the Black Beast.”

I jerked my gaze up to hers. She knew, of course, that I had it, but I’d taken care to keep it out of the Triple Threat’s presence. Out of sight, out of mind, out of potential disaster’s way. Quickly stuffing it back in my pocket, I accepted the hand of her guard as he helped me up. Another gave a hand to Delilah. We dusted the snow off, but it clung to the mud and stickers we’d picked up on our journey.

Aeval gave me a soft smile, both magnetic and dangerous. “I am not the one you have to fear with your treasures, my girl. Now, did you find your friend?”

I bit my lip. The realization that we might actually have lost Chase for good was beginning to set in. I shook my head. “No. Well, yes, we found his trail. But we could not follow. Something took him through a faerie ring—toadstools—and we could not chance it. I don’t think it was the Bog Eater. But there were other creatures . . . whatever came after us at the end there . . .”

Delilah and I described the creature to Aeval, and her eyes lit up, though not with fond thoughts, that much was obvious.

“You managed to cross Yannie Fin Diver. Best be cautious around all bodies of water now, girls.” She swallowed hard and shook her head. “He’s a bad enemy to make, and an even worse one to avoid.”

“Is he Elder Fae? Does he stay within that realm?” I was sincerely hoping for a yes to my second question, but it seemed the universe was all about playing Fuck You.

“Yes and no. He can cross through the element of Water. He’s Elder Fae, yes, but he might as well be a god to the mermen. And you know what the Finfolk are like.” Aeval shuddered. Apparently she thought as much of the Meré as we did.

I nodded. “The Finfolk are terribly cruel, back home in Otherworld as well as here. They have long, long memories and will do whatever they can to avenge themselves.”

“Killing Yannie Fin Diver isn’t going to be easy, if even possible. The Elder Fae are not true Immortals like the Elemental Lords, but they . . . they are closer than even the Gods to life everlasting.” Aeval looked worried, and when one of the Fae Queens was concerned, we’d better take it seriously.

“Then you don’t think the Lady of the Land was able to kill him? He was being drawn beneath the ground. The same thing killed thieves back in Otherworld when I used the horn—”

“Thieves? What are thieves compared to the Elder Fae? Dust motes. No, girl. Those roots and bones were merely holding him back long enough for you to get away. Trust me, Yannie Fin Diver lives . . . and he will remember you.”

“What do we do about Chase? Where do the faerie mushroom rings lead?”