Shadow Rising (44 page)

Morio finished changing into the turtleneck and fastened his seat belt as I took a turn a little too sharply.

“Try to keep at least two wheels on the road, babe.” But his eyes twinkled as he also dove into our stock of candy and protein bars. “We’re probably going to be there about ten minutes before the others. So let’s take stock of what we have to fight with, other than magic.”

“I have a short dagger. I’ve started carrying it with me wherever I go. It’s strapped to my thigh. So there’s that much, but against a bloatworgle? Not going to be all that much help.” I felt better carrying a weapon now, even if it was more of a pacifier than anything that would do much damage. “I left the Black Unicorn horn at home, of course. I didn’t think we’d need it tonight.”

About a year ago, I’d received a gift—the horn of the Black Unicorn—along with a cloak made from his hide.

The Black Unicorn was the father of the Dahns unicorns, and like the phoenix, he reincarnated every few thousand years, shedding his old body. Eight or nine horns and hides were rumored to exist, and I possessed one set. Any number of sorcerers and havoc mongers would have torn me limb from limb to get them—the artifacts were incredibly
powerful—so I was cautious where I took them and who knew about them.

Near the autumn equinox, I’d earned the right to call myself a Priestess for the Moon Mother, undergoing a terrifying and heartbreaking ritual with the Black Unicorn. We were now bound in a way that I could not verbalize.

“Yeah, I don’t think you want to expend the power of it on a few zombies and minor demons.” Morio sorted through his pack again. “I can take my demonic form, of course, and make quick work of a few of them. I also have a blade in here.” He held up a curved dagger that looked wickedly sharp. “How are you on magical energy? Did our practice wear you out?”

I gauged my energy level. I was tired; we’d been practicing a higher-level spell than I’d ever tried to cast before—one to destroy or dispel spirits. Ghostbusting, if you will, through magical means. And while I still felt amped up from the energy that had been pouring through my veins, I couldn’t guarantee my accuracy if I had to actually start slinging around energy bolts and release spells.

“I can manage a few things, magically, I think, but seriously—don’t count on my spells not backfiring. In fact, I think ‘backfire’ could easily be my go-to game tonight. And speaking of night—why the fuck do these things always happen at night when we’re just about ready for bed? Why not in the morning, when we’ve gotten some sleep, had breakfast, and are good to go?” I swung the car left, onto Wyvers Avenue NW. The Greenbelt Park District wasn’t all that far from home, from the Belles-Faire area where we lived. Wyvers Point Cemetery was on the border between the two.

“They do, but it seems that ghosts prefer the night. Just like vampires. Or maybe there’s just too much activity in the daytime so they don’t come out as much. Whatever the case, I suggest we take a break from the magic with this crew. And you, be careful. If you’ve only got a dagger, you’re set up as an all-too-appealing target.” He picked up my bag. “Are you sure you didn’t swipe anything good from Roz last time you were poking around in his duster? No firebombs or anything?”

I grinned. Morio knew me, all right. Rozurial, an incubus who lived on our land and who had become enmeshed with our family, wore a long duster à la Neo from
The Matrix
, and the thing was filled with everything from wooden stakes to magical bombs to a mini Uzi. Although, now that I thought about it, last time I looked, the Uzi had been replaced by a magical stun gun we’d managed to liberate from a sorcerer’s bar that we’d managed to make bite the dust. Literally. There was nothing left of the building except a pile of toothpicks.

“Nah. I tried to snag some stuff from him yesterday, but he caught me with my hands in the cookie jar and threatened to tell Smoky I was prowling through his pockets. You know what Smoky would think of that.”

A dragon, Smoky was possessive and he didn’t always get the joke. He shared me with Morio and Trillian because that was just the way things were. He seemed comfortable with the situation, but that was the limit of his generosity regarding my attentions, and he’d already thrashed Roz once for a misplaced hand on the butt.

Morio snorted. “He’s always and forever going to be a big galoot. You know it, and I know it, and we just have to love him for who he is.” He laughed, then sobered. “So, we have two daggers and my bad-assed demon self. And your potentially self-destructible magic. Sounds about right. I’ll do my best to engage the creeps, and you try to rescue Chase from wherever he’s hiding.”

“Sounds good to me.” I had worn a pair of my granny boots. They were stilettos, definitely not made for running, but I’d had plenty of practice. I hadn’t expected to be out in the field tonight, not like this.

As we came to Atlas Drive, a small side street forking off from Wyvers Ave NW, I veered onto the darkened road and slowed down. We were no longer in a purely suburban area—the foliage was a little more tangled, the surroundings a little more rural. It was harder to see. The night was dark, the streetlights few and far between, and while it wasn’t terribly chilly, the moon had gone into hiding behind a patch of clouds. In the Seattle area, there were only sixty-some days a
year that were totally cloud-free, and today—this evening—wasn’t one of them.

As I slowed the car, edging along the dark street, the tangle of branches overhead reminded me of our forests back in Otherworld. We were nearing Beltane, the sexuality and fertility festival celebrating the gods and the rut of the King Stag, bugling for his mate.

The leaves were starting to burgeon out on the trees as life sprang again, urged on by the growing length of the days and the warming of the soil. I could feel the push as the roots buried themselves deep in the ground. My body wanted to stretch out with the leaves as they reached for what sun they could find. The ferns were lush again, and the grass vivid green, and the days were hovering mostly in the low sixties, but the rain that came down wasn’t the bone-chilling cold it was in winter.

We arrived at Wyvers Point Cemetery and I eased into the parking lot, parking in one of the slots nearest the wrought-iron gates. Why did cemeteries always come outfitted with cast and wrought iron? It burned me—it burned all of us who had any significant amount of Fae blood in our veins. Steel we could handle. While steel had a great deal of iron in it, somehow the process of its creation altered the makeup of the iron just enough to make it possible for us to handle it. Being half-human made it even easier for my sisters and me.

I parked the car and turned off the ignition, making certain my keys were zipped into the special pouch I kept around my neck when I needed to leave my purse in the car. I glanced over at Morio.

“We’d better get out there and find Chase and his men before they get pummeled.” I leaned over and pressed my lips to my youkai, and the heat from his body stirred me even as he stroked my face.

“Be careful, babe.” His eyes glimmered with brown and topaz, and I could feel his demonic nature coming to the surface. “Keep your eyes open.”

“You do the same. The ghosts almost took you from me
once. I won’t let it happen again.” I ran my finger over his thin mustache and goatee, then lightly tapped his lips.

With that, we locked the car behind us and headed up the sidewalk, on alert for the ghosts and the bloatworgle, and who knew what else.

Wyvers Point Cemetery had been let go to ruin. I doubted if there were any graves here newer than from fifty years back, and while the grass had been mowed, the weeds tangled thickly along the walkway and the trees needed a good trimming. Some of the cedar branches were sweeping the ground, and here and there I saw limbs that had been bowed and snapped by the force of the winter snows and winds. Whoever was in charge of maintenance needed to clear them out, but I had a feeling that was low on the priority list for the groundskeepers here.

The path was open to the sky until we approached the gates, and then, directly through the wrought-iron bars, the trees closed in, shading the sidewalk. There were no lights to illuminate the way, and I shivered. An incredible sense of isolation and loneliness emanated from the land. The more I studied death magic with Morio, and the more intensive my training was becoming with Aeval and Morgaine, the more I tuned in to the nature of the land, and the more connected I was with the environment over here, Earthside.

I was becoming accustomed to the shadowed nature of the woodlands and the secretive feel that most of the wild places held. Otherworld might be more upfront with the magic, but here, roots ran deep, and so did grudges and longings and long-remembered animosities. The sacred places of this world would not give up their anger at being paved over, nor conquered in the name of religions, and the ley lines were very active, and very powerful.

“This place is one of the forgotten places.” Morio glanced around, a solemn look on his face. He pinpointed what I’d been feeling but unable to put words to. “The graves and their occupants, long left alone to brood and to remember their deaths without anyone to grieve them.”

“You feel it, too? I sense betrayal coming from the cemetery.”

As I walked through the gates, which Morio swung open for me, I shivered. While death and spirits were becoming common fare, something about this place unsettled me and I didn’t trust it. Didn’t trust anything within the boundaries of this graveyard. It wasn’t so much anger, but cunning and the sense of being watched, and stalked.

“Something’s been watching us since we stepped out of the car.”

“I know. I sense it, too.” Morio’s voice was light, and low, but beneath the gentle tone I could hear a warning. “On second thought, I don’t think we should split up—”

A hoarse shout to our left, through a copse of cedar, cut him off.

“That’s Chase!” I started for the voice, even as a pair of zombies broke out from behind a large patch of wild brambles to the left. “You deal with
them
. I’ll go find Chase.”

Morio quickly transformed into his full demon form. Eight feet tall, with a muzzle and glowing topaz eyes; his hands and feet were still human, though matching the rest of his size. His clothes transformed with him—I wasn’t sure on the how or why of it—but he’d never gone all Hulk and ripped out of his shirt and pants yet. He had one hell of a tail and used it to balance himself as he lunged for the undead.

I wasn’t too worried about him. Morio was ruthless when necessary. And so I headed in the direction from which I’d heard Chase calling. As I ran across the lawn, praying I didn’t hit a gopher hole with my heels, I happened to glance up at the moon shining down. She was waxing overhead, the Moon Mother was, and now her light pierced the veil of clouds and hit me full on and I felt a surge of energy as she bathed me in her magic.

“Chase? Chase?” I called his name lightly as I approached the thicket of cedar and slowed. Putting my senses on full alert, I reached out, seeking his signature. Chase and I had formed some sort of magical connection, though what it was neither one of us yet understood, but there was some meshing of energy that had happened between us and we were
able to find each other when we needed help. He’d found me from the astral plane when Hyto had captured me, and now…I could sense where he was…
hiding
.

I paused, holding out my hands. A tingle turned me to the left, and I followed it, ducking beneath the low limb of a vine maple growing in the shadow of one of the cedars. And then, I heard a noise. A snuffling, like some beast or pig hunting for truffles. Stopping, I tried to sense whether it was friend or foe.

A whisper echoed on the wind.

“She comes, the moon’s mistress comes…she will not harm, she can help. She can make our home safe again as we tend the spirits in the garden…”

“But will she help us? And who is the human-not-so-human? He is frightened. The wayward ones seek him.”

Taking a deep breath, I slowly broke through the undergrowth. “Who are you? I can hear you.”

There was a shift and a blur raced by, then—hesitating—turned back. “Priestess?” The voice was wary.

“I am a Priestess, yes. Of the Moon Mother.” I glanced around, looking for Chase, but could not see him. He was near, though, my senses told me that much, and he needed my help. “I’m looking for my friend—the human-not-so-human. Can you tell me where he is?” I wasn’t even sure if we were speaking aloud, but the words were there, hanging in the air.

“Priestess…you are from the other side?”

At first, I thought that the creature—whom I still could not see—was asking if I was a spirit, but then I realized what it meant. “Yes, I’m from Otherworld. Who are you? Show yourself to me.”

Slowly, as if shedding layers of an invisible cloak, a creature appeared before me. He—and for some reason, I knew it was a he—emerged from the shadows. About four feet tall, he looked like he was made of leaves and branches, vines and twigs. He reminded me of the walking sticks that inhabited the insect world, only his face was long and his chin pointed, and his eyes were slanted ovals, and on his face, a mere hint of nostrils. A crown of ivy wove around his forehead, and he wore a cape of moss and lichen.

“Are you of the Elder Fae?” I had never seen a creature like him, not even back in Otherworld, and he fascinated me. The closest I could think of would be Wisteria, the floraed who’d joined forces with the demons in her hatred of mortal-kind.

He cocked his head to the right. “No, I be not Elder Fae.”

And then I knew what he was. “You’re an Earth Elemental!”

“I am. I am of the land itself. I am guardian of this boneyard. And now, the bones are walking, where they should not be walking. Unnatural magic is afoot and has evil intent.” He glanced around and motioned, and another one of his kind appeared from the shadows. They moved like leaves on the wind, like walking trees.

Honored—Elementals didn’t appear to just anybody, especially since a number of witches tried to summon them up in order to control their movements—I curtsied.