“Yeah, that’s true,” she said. Delilah still tended to bend to authority, although she’d grown out of a lot of her naïveté over the past year and was becoming a strong, vibrant woman in her own right. I was proud of how far she’d come. “We’d better get moving, so if you want to grab your torture instruments, let’s get moving.” Her nose wrinkled, but she grinned at me.

I shrugged. “We don’t have a choice anymore. We have to fight dirty. We do whatever we need to win. Because winning is the only acceptable option.”

“It seems that’s what our life has become. I need to change into my boots before we go. You’d better get out of those stilettos if we’re going through that portal. You said you smelled peat and that means bog marsh.”

I glanced at her. She was dressed in heavy jeans and a sweatshirt with a gray tabby cat on the front, but she was wearing canvas Mary Janes. Her hair was short and spiky, an edgy cut that fit her new found confidence.

Delilah was tall, six one, and lean. Menolly was lean also, but short—five one—and petite. I was somewhere in between—at five-seven, I outclassed Marilyn Monroe in the hips and breasts department by a long shot, with an hourglass figure from a porno king’s fantasy. My boobs and hips could move men to weep.

Which meant wearing a lot of separates so clothes fit me right. But that was okay with me. My closet could have furnished a fetish bar, considering my love of leather, lace, bustiers, and chiffon skirts.

We headed up to the study, careful not to wake Morio. My family trunk was sitting in the corner, and I quietly grasped one handle on it while Delilah took hold of the other. Together, we carried it to my bedroom. Our mother had commissioned hope chests for each of us when we were little girls, and mine was made out of the starblazer tree—a black wood similar to ebony that resonated with strong magic, only found back in Otherworld.

I opened the lid for the first time since we’d arrived here. A scattering of treasures—mostly sentimental—filled the trunk. I picked up an old photograph of our mother. She’d had it taken while still a student in Spain, and I held it up, looking silently at the beautiful blond woman who stared back at me. Delilah draped her arm around my neck, gazing at her with me.

“She was beautiful,” I whispered. “You look so much like her. Only a lot taller.”

“I miss her. It’s hard to remember her, though. I was still pretty young when she died and you took over. But I always remember she smelled like something . . . I don’t know what, but it was good.”

I smiled then. “I know what.” As I pulled a bottle from the trunk and opened it, the fragrance filled the room. Chanel No. 5. “You should buy some. They still make it, you know.”

With a wistful look, Delilah shook her head. “That smells so much like Mother. I remember that scent. But I don’t think I could wear it the way she did. I might get some, though, just to keep on my dresser, for when I miss her.”

Slowly, I capped the bottle again and kissed it gently, a wave of homesickness rolling off me. With Mother gone, I’d clung to Father, and now I’d lost him, too. At least Menolly and Delilah still had his love. Shaking off the sense of loss, I put the bottle back in the trunk, along with her picture, and then pulled out a bag and gingerly opened it.

A spider came crawling out, and I automatically squashed it. Ever since our encounter with the werespiders of Kyoka, we’d left none standing inside the house, still worried that the remnants of his cult might have spies around.

I shook out the contents onto the floor, and we stared at the booty. Two pairs of iron handcuffs. An iron-bladed dagger with an antler hilt that I’d managed to procure. And Trillian’s gift to me—a silver flail with nine thin iron chains. They were long enough to snap back on me, so I needed to aim carefully, but they’d give a world of hurt to any Fae who dared to stand up to me.

“Sometimes I miss the days when we were looking for common criminals, don’t you?” I stared up at Delilah, feeling bleak. Life was a lot harder now, and the stakes a lot higher.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” She sighed and knelt beside me. “You really want to take this stuff with us?”

I nodded. “Considering the Bog Eater’s hanging out in there, as well as who knows what, you want to chance not being able to rescue him? Something like this flail could turn the tide. Your dagger is silver, and as aware as the blade is, Lysanthra can’t stand up to one of the Elder Fae.”

“I see your point. Okay then. We take it. I just . . . fighting dirty has never set well with me.” She scrounged around looking for gloves for the two of us. “Here, these are thin but will give us enough protection to handle the iron.”

Iron burned us—not quite so bad as full-blooded Fae, but enough to leave marks. If we didn’t get the metal off our skin, it could eventually kill us, eating through our flesh like acid.

“Dirty or not, when dealing with the insane, the murderous, and the freaks, I’m all about anything that gives me an edge.” I slid on the gloves and gingerly picked up a pair of handcuffs. “I can’t decide whether to bring the Black Unicorn horn or not. We’re going after Fae, and I have my qualms about whether it would help our enemies or hurt them.”

“Bring it. Please. We might need it and you can’t know how it will affect the Elder Fae until you try.”

“True enough.” I pocketed the handcuffs and flail as Delilah picked up the other set of handcuffs along with the iron dagger. “Let me grab it and then we’re off.” As she headed downstairs to get her coat, I went into my room and changed shoes, then withdrew the horn from the hiding place I’d fashioned in a small space under a trapdoor and throw rug.

I held up the glistening horn. Crystal, with threads of gold and silver running through it, the horn of the Black Unicorn was only one of nine known to exist. Each had been shed as he reincarnated.

And with this horn I’d brought down the Black Beast, sent him into his next incarnation. He was running free now, a young stallion, set for another thousand years. And I—bloody and battered—had earned my spot as a priestess for the Moon Mother by being the conduit for his sacrifice.

I was still leery of using it—each time, it felt like the horn vied for some power over me, though I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone else. At the core of the horn lived Eriskel, the jindasel through whom the Elementals of the horn channeled their energy. And through Eriskel, their magic channeled to me.

Putting the horn in the deep pocket of my skirt, I closed the hidden Velcro fastener. I’d had Iris retrofit most of my skirts to carry the horn safely, so that even if I wasn’t wearing the Black Beast’s cloak—fashioned out of his hide—I’d be able to carry it with me.

As I put on a warm black microfiber jacket and made sure my boots were tied securely, I wondered just what we were getting into. I cinched my jacket with a silver chain belt, then tied the bag with the handcuffs and iron flail to it. Delilah was waiting for me outside by my car. We were going together, and my Lexus had snow tires and handled the snow better than her Jeep.

As we silently belted ourselves in and I started the car, I breathed a short but sweet prayer for protection. I just hoped the Moon Mother was listening.

Chapter 6

Aeval was standing in the snow, waiting for us. She did not look amused. I curtsied deeply, after elbowing Delilah in the side. She hastily gave a low bow.

“Enough. You are late. It will not happen again, Camille, especially when you join my Court. And now, you are sure you wish to cash in your marker? On a mere mortal?” Her gaze held mine. She was gossamer and silk, she was dark sparkling fire and the hazy mist of the winter night.

“My Lady, I will not disappoint you. And yes, I am sure.” I pressed my fingers to my forehead, in an ancient salute. “What do we need to do?”

Aeval, surrounded by a guard party of five, walked over to where the portal had been. “It is here—I can see the signature. Camille, come.”

Obediently, I stepped up to her. She placed her hands on my shoulders and stood behind me, then with a little gasp leaned close. “I feel iron in your presence. You are crafty. You will make a formidable acolyte. But for now, look with your soul, look with your magic. Look through the Moon Mother’s eyes.”

I unfocused my vision and let my mind drift, gazing at the spot through a hazy blur. And then, I caught it—there it was, a sparkling signature. The portal we’d seen the day before hadn’t disappeared at all. It was there, unseen to mortal eyes, unseen to the Fae not looking for it. The blue vortex crackled and snapped, and behind us, I heard Delilah gasp.

“I can see it,” she said.

“Your sister and I brought it to the forefront.” Aeval patted me on the back. “Good job. You have much power—though I can feel where some of the synapses are skewed. You can never fix them, you were born that way, but there are ways to work around the misfires. As time goes on, you will learn, my daughter. You will learn.”

Her voice was still cool and aloof, but beneath the icy exterior I heard the soft opening of a door. I turned to her, smiling, and for the first time she truly smiled back. Her eyes were dark, spinning orbs of power and glamour, and in their reflection, I saw myself. Half human, but also half-Fae. Even though my father had disowned me, I was his daughter, and there was no denying his heritage.

“Now what?”

Aeval motioned for me to join Delilah. “I will open the portal so you can venture inside. I will give Camille the charm to reopen it when you need to—when you’re ready to return. Hopefully you will find your friend. And with hope, you will survive what lies within. The powers there are deep and dark; they are ancient moss on still older trees. They are powers that can match the Black Beast. Be cautious, girls, for you do not know half what you think you do, and snares and traps are sown deep within the heart of the Elder Fae.”

As we stepped aside, she held out her hands toward the portal. The vortex shimmered and, like an iris door off some science fiction show, slowly swirled open. I could feel the warm scent of summer and peat bogs and once again, the feeling of red eyes gazing at me latched hold and I couldn’t shake it off.

I glanced at Delilah. “Should we do this alone?” But Aeval had bid us come alone, and we had a chance now. “I guess that’s a moot question.”

“Chase is in there. Let’s go. We can always come back for reinforcements if we can’t handle what’s in there.” She sucked in a deep breath. “We owe Chase a lot.”

“Yes, we do.” I turned to Aeval. “You said you’d teach me the charm?”

She nodded and for the first time looked hesitant. “I do not want to lose you, Camille. Be cautious. Be wary. Do not trust our kind—you grew up among the full-blooded Fae. You, yourself, are half-Fae. You know what we are capable of doing if we allow ourselves to.” Leaning close, she whispered in my ear. “The charm to return is Akan v’la’the. It will work on either side. When you incant the spell you must be within sight of the portal, and you must use your energy to twist the charm—you know how to do that.”

I did. There was a certain inner force that witches applied to the charms. Someone who wasn’t a witch, who hadn’t been trained, could sing all the charms and spells they wanted and nothing would happen. But with training, the words became weapons, became keys, became tangible power to be manipulated.

“Akan v’la’the,” I whispered slowly, my tongue testing the pronunciation. A small shiver ran through me, and I realized I’d found the magical signature of the charm. I inhaled deeply and let my breath out in a slow stream. “I’m ready.”

“Then go and may the gods be with you.” Aeval nodded to us.

I turned to Delilah. “Let me take the front. I can suss out the energy better than you can.” And without a second thought, we stepped through the portal, into the deep. Into the dark. Into the wild.

The aperture closed behind us and we were alone amid a jungle of foliage. The temperature here was chill but not icy, humid and cool and filled with mist. The scent of tangy earth echoed up, along with sour peat and old rotting wood.

We paused to take stock of our surroundings. As I turned, I realized the portal appeared to have vanished, but when I closed my eyes and searched for its signature, there it was—right where it should be.

“I can find the portal now, no matter whether it’s visible or not.” I didn’t want Delilah panicking. “And I can open it, whether over Earthside or here. Wherever here is.”

She nodded. “Good. Speaking of which . . . what is this place? Did Aeval say?”

Slowly shaking my head, I gazed at the thick ferns that grew nearly at eye level. Old oaks towered over us, their limbs bare and wet. The ground was frosty and I realized that although there was no snow here, we were definitely in the midst of winter. The ferns were gray, their fronds drooping and dormant. The brambles that interspersed the undergrowth were leafless, their thorns showing through in thick, profuse abundance.

“I think . . . We’re in a subset—one of the Faerie dimensions. And from what Aeval says, the Elder Fae roam here. This is not Otherworld, but neither is it fully Earthside. I’ve never heard of this place before. Perhaps it was created by the Elder Fae, or the Elfin Lords . . . or perhaps by the Elemental Lords. Whatever, I doubt if many humans have ever come here.”

“Or if they have, they never escaped.”

“Yeah.”

Delilah muttered something under her breath.

“What did you say? I didn’t catch it.”

She turned to me. “I don’t like the energy here. It feels . . . hungry. Like it’s waiting for something to walk into a snare. Not like most predators, though. There’s a craftiness to it that unsettles me.”