Cursed To Death

CHAPTER 17

As they moved through the outer gates and into Sir Rodney’s Fae encampment, Sasha was struck by the eerie silence. Before, the evening air had been filled with merriment, the quaint village streets lined with squabbling vendors hawking their wares. Not tonight. It was as though someone had rolled up the sidewalks. Not a soul, save Gnome patrols and Fae archers, was out. Even the air seemed different. There was no iridescent shimmer to it. The trees were a dull, normal green, not the vibrant neon colors that one would expect to see in a Crayola crayon box.

Neat little houses had the shades and shutters tightly drawn. Their footfalls echoed as they crossed the town square and continued up a steep hill toward the castle. Huge Grif fin Dragons circled the towers, their ominous shapes casting dark shadows under the pale moonlight. Fatigue and pure disheartenment made Sasha’s shoulders slump. This wasn’t what anyone wanted-to live in fear.

Sasha glanced at Sir Rodney, identifying with the sadness in his forlorn expression. Complete dejection was etched across his handsome face and his normally merry eyes were clouded by weariness. Albeit his back was straight and his head held high, he squared his shoulders like a man carrying the weight of the world on them. The Midsummer’s Night Fae Ball was most likely ruined. Lives were at stake, lives had been lost… and all for what? Greed? Power?

Unicorn-riding guards parted as their small, discouraged entourage of weary soldiers approached. Even the second drawbridge seemed to be tired as its pulleys creaked and groaned, dropping the massive wood plank with a thud.

No one spoke. Sir Rodney simply used hand signals to wave alert guards out of the way. The quiet, though weighed with tension, was a blessing. It gave her a chance to think. Then again, thinking only set her nerves on edge… There would sure be hell to pay in the human community. There were bad guys to catch, twisted Weres to bring to justice… and some Vampire lairs to open to daylight-starting with the baron’s, on principle.

“Milord,” a gaunt servant said, bowing deeply upon Sir Rodney’s entrance into the castle courtyard. “We are pleased that you have arrived safely and recovered all of your guests.”

Sir Rodney nodded. “Rupert… These good people have been to hell and back. Some may even require medical attention.” He turned to Shogun’s men and then looked at Shogun.

“We are fine,” Seung Kwon said quickly, showing off his healing gashes. “If we eat, we’ll be restored by morning.”

Woods nodded. “Same here. That and some good, old-fashioned shut-eye.”

“Rest, perhaps even before food,” Bear Shadow said. His voice was a low rumble and his breaths dragged in and out of his chest as though he could sleep where he stood.

“Then allow these men to relax and recover,” Sir Rodney said, as more staff rushed over to accommodate his guests. “Food will be delivered to your rooms, baths drawn, fresh clothing provided… anything you require. That you have to be sheltered here against external adversaries is a complete travesty.”

The ire in Sir Rodney’s voice clipped his tone as he began walking forward again. “I need to speak with the three clan leaders, and will accommodate them equally once we’re done… but we must develop a strategy for the morrow.”

No one protested about being shut out of the leadership meeting. Hell, if she could have gone straight to her room and fallen across goose down with a steak on the way and a little bit of Faery dust sprinkled over her to take away the battle aches that she was starting to feel, yeah, she would have preferred that option. Apparently both clan male alphas felt the same way. She noted that Hunter and Shogun seemed relieved that their men were being cared for and didn’t begrudge them a break in the action. She just wished that she could have gotten the rest of the team behind the walls of Forte Shannon of Inverness under Sir Rodney’s hospitality. Tomorrow that would be job one.

The group split up at the huge marble staircase that spilled down into the grand foyer. Betas were headed up to private rooms with attentive staff while she, Hunter, and Shogun followed Sir Rodney past live coats of armor, expressionless palace guards, and strange three-dimensional portraits and tapestries that looked as though you could fall right into them.

Two exquisitely chiseled guards opened the doors to a large anteroom when Sir Rodney stopped before it. He didn’t turn around, didn’t explain, just kept walking and assumed they’d follow him.

Two-story cathedral windows covered in stained glass greeted them. The meadow scenes they contained were so serene and bucolic that it nearly drew her to touch them. Sir Rodney’s footfalls echoed across the wide stone floor and Sasha peered up at the vaulted ceiling that seemed to go on forever.

Flags hung from the rafters and wall torches spit and smoldered as they passed. In the center of the room was a huge, round wooden table with strange markings on it, and standing in a row with tablets poised were bald-headed little Gnomes in monastic brown and forest-green velvet robes. Some had wiry tufts of hair in spots. Others had what she could only liken to age spots on their heads. There were five in all.

Each one wrinkled his little hooked nose when studying them and the tips of their long, pointed ears turned ever so slightly as though tuning in to something invisible the way one would expect that a giant TV antenna might. But they all had wide, inquisitive eyes that were so clear it seemed as though one could just see forever in their depths.

“Please, have a seat,” Sir Rodney said, as they approached the table. “The last time you were here, you never sat… never neared the round table… This meeting should be different.”

Not accustomed to chivalry at this level, she was slightly surprised when Sir Rodney didn’t move, but her chair came away from the table on its own. It wasn’t until she was seated that the other chairs deemed it was appropriate for them to slide away.

“This was left over from the days of old,” Sir Rodney said with a smile, looking at Sasha. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if Merlin charmed it this way himself.”

His smile was infectious and she couldn’t help the one he brought out on her face. The fact that Hunter and Shogun were slightly bristled but also contrite quietly amused her.

“You weren’t properly introduced before. These gentlemen are my top advisors,” Sir Rodney announced proudly. “Please show them the sigils you discovered at the death sites, as well as what was sent to you on the human contraption, otherwise known as a cell phone.”

Sasha dug in her pocket as the dire-looking advisors gathered around, inserting themselves between each seated person so they could get a better view.

After a moment, what appeared to be the eldest advisor spoke, pointing at each set of symbols. “These are different than the ones found on the young ladies’ bodies, milord. These be progressive spells, milord. Look at the three moons on each and how they ascend to the top of the sigil… how they gradually become fuller. Thus the magick darkens each night, becomes stronger and harder to cure. If it is not broken before the last night, there will be no cure.”

“This is why we need those who be not Fae,” another, gaunter advisor said, glancing around the table and pointing a bony finger at Sasha, Hunter, and Shogun. “The cure is one we cannot carry-and whoever did this was banking on our Fae secrecy… that we would not, in pride, reach out for help beyond our own in matters strictly Fae. The ones who did this were very shrewd, indeed.”

“Cold steel must cross the magick ring that holds each sigil,” the lead advisor said. “St. John’s wort with witchwood-the rowan, and enclosed with bundled bay leaf. That would break the spells set upon this castle and the places Ethan McGregor’s people be.”

“I don’t understand,” Sasha said, looking around. “How can we carry something to a place when we don’t even know where it is?”

The eldest advisor rubbed his chin and smiled a snaggletoothed grin. “Ah! To put a spell on a place as large as this fort, one must have the power of three.” He walked around the table and produced a small wand from inside his sleeve and doodled glittering gold spirals in the air as he spoke. “For a time-sensitive, progressive spell, one that relies on the sigils knowing when the light has cast and passed into moonbeams, it must be able to be exposed to the passage of time.” He spun around and clapped his hands. “It will be in the uppermost floors, hidden in the eaves, not in the basement where daylight never passes. The first death happened in the cellar as a ruse or mayhap to stop a young woman from telling the king all that she knew-something that would incriminate the spell-caster. But the source… aye, lassie, is in the eaves!”

“The power of three locations,” a third, thick-bodied advisor said, furrowing his already deeply wrinkled brow. “Dugan’s Bed & Breakfast… Finnegan’s Wake… and Ethan’s Fair Lady. The name of Forte Shannon of Inverness inscribed on the dark magick within the homes of members of the royal house is part of the root cause of this castle’s failed glamour.”

“Once the property changed hands, it became Ethan’s… Thus all who slept there as his family,” the lead advisor said, pointing his wand at Sasha, “helped the spell along.”

“All who ate there,” another said, “helped the spell along.”

“And they put a progressive agency into it,” the leader said. “That is what has hurt the Seelie Fae.”

“Aye,” the thin advisor muttered. “There are too many of us to do individual sigils for, but they went after the house of Sir Rodney.”

“But what about what my grandfather and I saw,” Hunter said, folding his arms over his chest. “We saw opaque spirit selves get up from the bodies of each of us, wearing symbols on each. It went after the wolf leadership and Sasha’s familiars, even her father, as well as my lieutenants.”

“Doppelganger attachments!” the leader said, looking around the room. “Insidious magick, the worst of its kind!” He walked away from the table and thrust his wand up his sleeve.

The four other advisors shook their heads as though Hunter had just said he had inoperable cancer.

“whatever it is, these are the symbols that Hunter’s grandfather saw,” Sasha said as calmly as possibly, letting them see the stored cell phone pics again.

“Well, man, tell us, is it possible to get this attack off our allies?” Sir Rodney said, standing and beginning to pace. “There must be something to do for this?”

“First things first,” the lead advisor said slowly. “They are wolves. They can track. If they go back to the three establishments and go to the top floors-the attic, the eaves, somewhere remote that isn’t used-where no one who wasn’t looking for something would go… they will be able to cancel the spell against the castle… which will remove the deleterious effects on all Seelie Fae that hail from Forte Shannon. They can lay the cold iron with the necessary herbs that we cannot touch. From there, we will have our glamour back and can send out search-and-destroy parties to aid them. Without proof positive, we cannot raid Unseelie Sidhe mounds or go after Goblins, digger Gnomes, Dwarfs, or Gremlins… Any of these could have been agents in delivering bits of hair, personal effects, the things necessary to make a bond to each victim’s etheric body.”

“To attack Sylphs,” another said and then clarified when Sasha frowned. “Air elementals, milady-we must be strong. Air elementals work in the etheric realms. When we attempt to remove the sigils from the etheric body doubles or the property they’ve been attached to, they will fight with all their might.”

“Our job is to first break the spell on the fortress, and then all Seelie Fae will be whole and can in turn help us,” Shogun said, glancing around. “That we can do-but what is witchwood… or rowan?”

“Our Wood Sprites can show you in the morning. But they cannot touch it. The plant is highly toxic to us,” Sir Rodney said. “Once you collect it, you must go out of the encampment. It is a toxin for us-you have to take it to the three locations, and then return to us with it washed off of your hands and free of your clothing.”

“How long do we have?” Hunter said, leaning forward on the table on his elbows.

“You have already lost three moons. You only have one more. Then the final moon in the sigils is the night of the Midsummer Night’s Ball… The stroke of midnight is also when the magick becomes strongest and next to impossible to break.” The lead advisor looked around and his gaze settled on Sasha. “You have a question. It is in your eyes.”

“Yeah…” she said, losing patience. “Let me get this straight. We hit the streets tomorrow, try to keep this on the down low from human authorities that will be crawling all over these joints that we have to go back into without the aid of shadow-jumping stealth… and we have to do this by tomorrow before sunset so the Seelie can come out and ransack wherever to find our sigils-the thing that’s making us weak and vulnerable. Did I get that right?”

Five small heads nodded in unison.

“Okay,” Sasha said, ruffling her hair up off her neck in frustration. “But all the while, we’re getting crazier and crazier-and now we’re finally thinking this is magick that could possibly only be delivered by the Unseelie.”

No one said a word. It was suddenly so quiet in the large meeting room that Sasha stood to keep from screaming.

“And these sigils of ours could be anywhere in the world,” she said flatly.

Again five heads nodded in unison.

“And we’re pretty sure that Vampires are involved, like we just found out tonight that the Buchanans were lying in wait for us, so these sigils could be on any of the abovementioned estates-which are heavily fortified.” Sasha walked around the perimeter of the table slowly as though hunting something in the center of it. “There has to be another way to break the Unseelie spell against specific individuals. I get it that you can unbind a group that was bound as a group more simply… but someone went after us on a very personal level.”

“They did, indeed, lassie,” the lead advisor said quietly. “There is a way… but…”

“Why us?” Sasha looked around the room. “If it’s the Unseelie, why us-the Wolf Federations? We’re not involved!”

“I’m afraid you are,” the lead advisor said calmly. “If you are our strongest allies, the ones who united our fractured Parliaments, then, sadly…”

“The friend of my enemy is my enemy,” Shogun said flatly.

“Yes,” Advisor Garth said with a weary sigh.

“That is some Vampire bullshit, if ever I’ve heard it,” Sasha said.

“With a weakened Louisiana Werewolf clan seeking vengeance and willing to aid in the confrontation,” Hunter said, closing his eyes and massaging his temples. “How do we fix this, reverse the dark spell?”

“We haven’t gone into direct conflict with Queen Blatand of Hecate since the Penicuik Wars that split apart the Midlothian Council,” the second advisor said in a distraught murmur.

“If her attack came from the core of her power base, then we would have to capture and behead her top advisors to still this Unseelie magick, and even if we knew they were guilty as sin-it’s much easier to locate the actual sigils and undo the black spell than to capture and un-glamour members of that powerful group to behead them. By rights, there should be a trial… and evidence presented, she will argue… and then if they are found guilty, the treason charge could be levied and their magick bled away from them. But that is their game. There isn’t time for a trial.”

“And it sounds like there also isn’t time for us to find the locations of all these sigils that are tainting our etheric selves,” Hunter said in a low, growling tone.

“Under the circumstances,” Shogun said, rubbing the nape of his neck, “it seems a lot easier to go to war than to try to find a needle in a haystack.”

Sir Rodney stretched tension out of his back as he walked around the room. “What did the property investigation show? Who might have been angry that their inheritance went to McGregor?”

“A name came up from our property search as you requested… Kiagehul would have stood to gain much, milord,” the senior advisor said quietly.

“Kiagehul? Cousin of Enoksen and Elder Futhark?” Sir Rodney stopped pacing, closed his eyes, and shook his head. “Enoksen and Elder Futhark are her top advisors… Even if we go after his magick by just finding that little weasel, it will incline her to war once she listens to them.”

“Has anyone seen this man-do we know how to spot him?”

“No, milord,” the eldest advisor said. “His identity is shrouded… but we have our investigators working on this as we speak.”

“Then war it is,” Sasha said. “We cannot have two major Wolf Federations go down, along with innocent humans on my squad and the Seelie nations in the Americas, because some little bastard got greedy and thought he could get away with murder because the Vampires and some rogue wolves had his back. The queen will have to get over it.”

Sir Rodney just stared at Sasha for a moment.

“The queen doesn’t get over anything, milady,” the lead advisor warned.

“How well do you know the queen and her capabilities?” Hunter asked, turning his attention to Sir Rodney.

“Do you know this enemy well?” Shogun asked, growing impatient. “We could capture this Kiagehul and interrogate him in a way that would make him understand the need to cooperate.”

“A manhunt could take who knows how long… Plus he could be holed up in Vampire turf or in hiding. If Unseelie magick is behind all this, we send a message to the queen to tell her to call her man back. If she isn’t an accomplice to it, and doesn’t want to start a war, she will. If she’s too arrogant or is somehow involved, then we do this thing.” Sasha walked back and forth, feeling trapped. “But Sir Rodney is right, guys. We have to lift the spell off the Seelie Fae and this fortress so we have a strong offensive, plus a solid fallback position. We’ve gotta get the rest of our team behind these walls tomorrow.”

“Then let’s get back to the question that Shogun and I asked, because it is important to know the enemy before deploying a tactic that could backfire.” Hunter leaned on the table, looking across it at Sir Rodney. “Do you know this queen well enough to negotiate with her?”

Everyone that had been seated around the table was now on their feet.

“Yes, I know her bleedin’ well enough-and am all too familiar with the full extent of her wrath, which is how I wound up in the Americas and not in the Bonnie Isles,” Sir Rodney said, rubbing his palms down his face. “She’s me ex-wife. A show of force is the only thing she bloody well understands.”