A Bay Of Angry Fae: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel
Date: 2022-10-19 04:00:00+00:00
Rights: Copyright &#x00A9;2022 byPrescient Publishing

A Bay Of Angry Fae

Magical Midlife Crisis Book Two

S.C. Stokes

Prescient Publishing

Copyright

Copyright © 2022 by Prescient Publishing

Cover by Bewitching Book Covers

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

A Note From The Author
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
Thank You For Being Here
Glossary of Aussie Slang
About the Author
Also By S.C. Stokes

A Note From The Author

Welcome to A Bay Of Angry Fae. I’m delighted to have you here. As we both know… it’s not your first rodeo. We’ve talked linguistic choices before, but before you dive into the next installment of midlife madness, I thought a little reminder might be in order.

The series is set in Australia, so you’ll find a few classic Aussie terms in here. For fun I’ve included a glossary at the end. Hand on my heart, the definitions are straight out of the Oxford dictionary.

That said, the book spelling is in US English, with the singular exception of the word mum when used in dialogue. It just sounds and feels right.

With that little housekeeping out of the way, let’s dive into the latest magical midlife crisis of Nora Byrne.

I’ll see you on the other side.

S.C. Stokes

Chapter 1

Everyone remembers their first decapitation. I certainly remembered mine. How could I forget? My whole life changed the day I met my mentor, Alasdair, a bounty hunter with a talent for fire that was almost as hot as he was.

Of course I noticed him. I was divorced and had a pulse. He was fair game, at least in my mind, where he lived rent-free with those broad shoulders and a Scottish accent that made me swoon.

I kept my thoughts to myself though. I’d only been a bounty hunter a few weeks and while I didn’t know all the rules, I figured best to tread carefully lest I make things awkward with my trainer.

In the meantime, it never hurt to do a little window shopping, and he was a whole lot of yum, when he wasn’t busting my ass for daydreaming.

“Are you with us, Nora?” Alasdair asked, nudging the headless body with his boot.

“Sure am. Just, uh, studying the body,” I replied, getting my head back in the game.

Good save, Nora.

Who didn’t like to start their day with a freshly murdered corpse in the woods? Normal people. I’d been one, up until a few weeks ago. The last few weeks of training with my mentor had put paid to normal.

I liked to think I had come a long way since I first saw Alasdair lop off a troll’s head in front of me. This time, I hadn’t vomited once, yet, which was definite progress. Though as my stomach churned, I realized I should probably lay off the Greek yogurt for breakfast in this profession. Some things looked far better going down than coming back up. These were the sorts of practical advice they ought to give on the first day of training as a bounty hunter. Alasdair didn’t worry about such trivial things.

I’d seen a few corpses in the past couple of weeks; this one was an oddball though.

The body before me was headless, and definitely not a troll. What’s more, we hadn’t done it, and as far as I knew, we were the only bounty hunters in town.

Our mystery corpse was humanoid in shape but from the intricate brown and gold armor, I had the sneaking suspicion it was Sidhe. Summer Court, to be precise. The delicate metalwork reminded me of Naerine’s, though the armor before me was even more ornate than hers had been.

Of course, I hadn't been paying close attention to her armor on account of the fact she’d been trying to kill me at the time. What had become of Naerine? She had retreated into the Otherworld, staunching the blood flow from a gunshot wound in her stomach with one hand and clinging to life with what had appeared to be sheer willpower.

This body was slightly bulkier, a man perhaps, but that was difficult to tell through the armor. I didn’t have a large sample size with which to compare the body. I’d seen five Summer Court Sidhe in my life. Six now, counting this one.

The head would have been a useful indicator but whoever had done this seemed to have taken it with them. I was forced to draw what conclusions I could whilst attempting to hold on to my breakfast.

Alasdair was clearly awaiting my observations, and I didn’t want to make an ass of myself. He would wait until I shared my thoughts, and then inevitably correct me. It could be a little irritating, particularly because I still didn’t have a clue what I was meant to be looking for. Bounty hunters took heads; we didn’t reattach them.

“I still don't know why you dragged me all the way out here to show me a corpse,” I said, stalling while I tried to come up with an answer. “If you've already collected the bounty, why don't you just burn the rest of it like you did the troll?”

“I didn't collect this bounty,” Alasdair replied, resting his hands on his hips. “When the police told me hikers had found the body, I figured you might have done it.”

My hand went to my chest. “Me? I have only collected one bounty. The Red Cap. I’ve not gone rogue on you. Check with the Old One if you don’t believe me.”

“There wouldn’t have been a bounty to claim.” Alasdair stroked his beard. “As the Sidhe haven’t transgressed any of our laws, it should have been permitted to move freely through our world. This one was not. I thought perhaps it had come for you.”

I shook my head. “Nope, never seen it before in my life. And I’m not doing any moonlighting, particularly where the Summer Sidhe are involved. Things were bad enough when Naerine left. I’m not going to give her any reason to come after me again.”

“Well, that is both reassuring and troubling at the same time,” Alasdair replied, scratching the back of his head.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because everything would make a lot more sense if you had done this in self-defense. The fact that you have no idea means that someone else not only killed a Summer Sidhe in our stomping grounds, but they were brazen enough to leave the body here.”

“Which means they want it to be found,” I replied as I stooped over and examined the body.

I took great care not to touch anything. If Alasdair had thought I did this, it was safe to say others might draw the same conclusion. The last thing I needed was to have the body covered in my fingerprints.

“Can you feel it?” Alasdair asked.

I kicked myself. I'd been so busy processing the grisly sight before me, I hadn't yet tried to analyze any arcane traces that might remain. Magic tended to leave its own imprint where it collided with the mortal world.

I closed my eyes so that I could focus better. Ever since the fight with the Red Cap, my powers had been changing, or more particularly, something within me was changing. I was learning to use what I’d never realized was there.

My gifts had outgrown the “fridge hands” I'd always believed was the extent of my talent, and I was still coming to grips with what that meant for me.

No sooner had I reached out with my mind than a resounding coldness surged through me. It was like brain freeze but my entire being was filled with it. The sensation reminded me of my own power, but it lacked the familiarity and oneness I felt when I drew on mine. It certainly wasn’t my power, but it was a good likeness if that was what the killer was trying for.

I opened my eyes. The body’s pale skin wasn't simply from lack of a tan. I pulled a set of latex gloves out of my pocket, slipped them on, and flipped over the Sidhe's hand. There was a bluish-black tinge to the complexion on his fingers. It was as if someone had used Winter’s magic to expose him to freezing temperatures, or perhaps freeze him entirely.

It couldn’t have been a natural occurrence. The Sidhe’s own magic should have prevented him suffering any adverse effects of inclement weather. The Sidhe were masters of elemental magic, the same magic that made our world function.

There was no way a Summer Sidhe of any skill was going to freeze to death. Particularly not here in southeast Queensland. We didn't get the name, The Sunshine State, for nothing.

“He froze to death,” I said. “Magic was involved. Plenty of it. I can still feel the lingering trace. Not subtle at all. It's familiar, but different to mine. I don't know how to explain it.”

“And you don't know anything about it?” Alasdair asked.

“Nothing at all,” I replied.

“You're certain?”

His persistent repetition of the question was wearing on me. I knew that he was testing me, and the only reason he had to doubt me was that he knew what many didn't. I was half-human, half-Sidhe, and a scion of the Winter Court no less.

I had kept from him the exact nature of my heritage. I didn't think I would win any friends in this deadly new world by broadcasting that my father was Oberon, the King of Winter himself.

I had put together enough clues from everyone’s reaction to me to know to keep that to myself. But Alasdair had learned that I was part Sidhe, and it seemed he was trying to work out for himself just what that meant.

I knew from my own research and from discussions with my mother that the Sidhe couldn't lie, which put them at the other end of the spectrum from humans for whom lying came all too easily.

It certainly explained the natural aversion I'd always felt to the practice of lying. I'd always preferred the truth, though speaking it had gotten me in trouble. At least it had until I'd had the good sense to discover what tact was.

My mother had warned me that in dealing with the Sidhe one must always understand that, while they cannot break their spoken bond or utter a lie, they will happily obey the letter of their word whilst completely ignoring the spirit of it. Therein lay the danger, and the reason so many normal people got ensnared by them. Humans weren’t nearly as considerate with what came out of their mouths.

I could almost see the cogs turning in Alasdair’s mind as he tried to determine whether or not I was lying to him. I figured that was why he'd brought me here with no explanation, and it was why he continued asking, even though I’d given him an answer.

I stood up and peeled off my gloves. “I thought we were past this, Alasdair. I thought that after the Red Cap, you knew where my loyalties lay.”

His expression was like a slab of granite, hard and unreadable. “I trust you, Nora Byrne.”

Hearing my name on his lips sent a shiver down my spine that was totally at odds with the frustration I was feeling. “It certainly doesn’t seem like it.”

“I just wanted to hear you say it,” he replied, meeting my stare. “In time, you will learn that an abundance of caution is what keeps you alive in our profession.”

I broke eye contact and turned back to the body, changing the topic before the moment got any more awkward between us. “Do we know who he was? Or why anyone might want to kill him?”

Alasdair shook his head. “Without his head, it's no easy task to identify the body. And I don’t want to risk rummaging through what remains of his possessions lest the Sidhe consider us to have defiled it anymore. The Sidhe don't take kindly to those who would desecrate the bodies of their kin.”

From my experience with the Sidhe, they didn't take kindly to very much at all.

They. I still thought of the Sidhe like I wasn’t one of them. I might be a royal scion, but I wasn’t going to let that define me. The better part of me was human; nothing was going to change that.

Alasdair was right though. They would be upset enough with whoever had cut off their comrade’s head. The last thing we wanted to do was be caught rummaging through its personal effects.

“The Sidhe tend to keep to their own realm,” Alasdair said, “but of late, we have certainly witnessed a surge in their activity here. And not just the Sidhe but also the other creatures that call Faerie home.”

“Why do I feel like you’re about to blame me for this?” I asked.

I didn’t miss the corners of his mouth perking up into a smile behind his coppery beard.

“I think one accusation per day is more than enough. While we don’t know why it’s occurring, it's important to note that it is, so that we can search for the underlying cause. Perhaps it is you, a half-sidhe living among mortals like a normal. Perhaps they are drawn to you.”

He paused.

“Or…?” I prompted.

“They’re up to something else entirely and we have absolutely no idea why they’re here. That bothers me even more.”

Alasdair had history with the Sidhe. That much was clear to me, and had been since the day we’d met. I’d put it down to the Red Cap killing his trainees but the longer I worked beside him, the more I was starting to think there was something else behind it. Something I hadn’t yet managed to pry out of him. I figured now wasn’t the time for it, so I made a mental note to circle back to it later. Perhaps when he was feeling a little more talkative.

“Here I was thinking you were concerned about my well-being,” I replied, trying to affect my best damsel-in-distress voice.

Alasdair placed his hands on his hips as he surveyed the scene. “I just can’t win with you, woman. When it’s about you, you’re upset that I’ve jumped to a foregone conclusion. When it isn’t about you, you’re worried that you’ve been left out.”

I nodded, smiling a little. “I’m a woman. That’s my right.”

“A right pain in the ass,” he said. “Besides, I watched you kill the Red Cap and cut off his head. If they're coming for you, I fear for their well-being.”

I beamed with pride. Compliments from my mentor were hard won, but his approval in that moment shone through in every word. Inspiring fear in the Sidhe was an ideal he could get behind.

We hadn't talked a great deal about the Red Cap. I suspected Alasdair's memories of the Winter hunter were still too raw. After all, he had lost three trainees to the deadly creature. I imagined that seeing the Red Cap meet its fate was a conflicting moment for him. Part of him would have been delighted that his students had been avenged, and part of him, that Scottish stubborn streak that ran down his spine, would be disappointed he hadn't landed the killing blow himself.

No doubt seeing my powers manifest in earnest had also forced him to confront the reality of what I was, or at least, what I was born as. Part of me hailed from Winter, and that was inevitably causing him some consternation.

Over the past two weeks, the Old One and Alasdair had been seeing to my training, but something gave me the impression that they were dragging their feet. I felt like we ought to be working night and day, lest Naerine Oaksidhe return and try and make good on her threats. I needed to be able to protect myself, and I was still hugely unsure of myself, or the extent of my powers. In spite of that, neither the Old One nor Alasdair demonstrated any urgency, content to gradually initiate me into the Camp and my new profession.

Alasdair turned his attention to the body. “I suspect from his armor that this Sidhe was a Glade Guardian.”

“Glade Guardian?”

“Yes, it’s a title. They’re nobles of the Summer Court, normally tasked with protecting one of the Summer Queen's more important domains. The real question is how he came to be here, and without a retinue. Seldom do these nobles go anywhere unprotected.”

“Could the killer have summoned the Glade Guardian here?” I asked.

The Otherworld journal had spoken volumes about the importance of knowing a Sidhe's true name and the power that gave one to summon them. Of course, summoning any creature from the Otherworld was a dangerous prospect. Once summoned, should you be unable to contain the creature to your will, it would likely kill you for the affront.

“It's possible,” Alasdair replied, scratching at the dirt with his boot. “Though, to do that, they would have needed to know the Guardian's name and been confident enough to summon a Sidhe of such power. Clearly, they succeeded, which makes them all the more dangerous.”

I looked down at the body of the dead Glade Guardian. “Are we certain whoever did this is our enemy?”

After everything the Summer Court had tried to do to me, I wasn't entirely convinced that whoever did this needed to be stopped.

“Well, they have broken the law, for one,” Alasdair said, “and the fallout from this will inevitably affect us. If they are willing to contain and kill one of the Summer Queen's chosen vassals, it is safe to say they probably didn't do it for our benefit.”

“What makes you so sure?” I asked.

“Well, for one, I'm pretty sure they're trying to frame you for the murder. Which means…” Alasdair motioned with his hand for me to finish his thought.

“The Summer Court is going to come looking for revenge,” I whispered.

More particularly, they were going to come looking for me.

Chapter 2

My heart skipped a beat. So, I wasn’t being paranoid.

I stared at him to make sure he wasn’t kidding. The Scotsman had a strange sense of humor. At times he could be as dry as an AA meeting. But his expression was drawn, pensive even.

He was serious.

“Frame me? Why would anyone want to frame me?” I asked. “I don’t even know who this was.”

Alasdair held up a hand to stall my rampage.

“Well, there is the fact that someone has gone to great lengths to ensure that anyone who finds this body knows it was frozen. The obvious frostbite on his extremities, the pallor of the flesh, even the lingering arcane residue reeks of Sidhe magic. Whoever finds this body is going to take one look at it and draw the conclusion that someone in Winter’s domain did it. Tell me I’m wrong. You recognize Sidhe magic better than me. What does your gut tell you?”

He wasn’t wrong. The lingering magic had that distinct air to it.

I crouched down and closed my eyes, tuning out the background noise of the woods around us so that I could better focus on the body before me. I'd been trying to learn to feel with my arcane senses, but it had proven challenging. It was the kind of thing you practiced on your own at home, only my home had two kids bouncing around the house. It wasn't an environment conducive to exercises of focus and concentration.

I gave it my best attempt, driving all distractions from my mind as I reached toward the body with my senses. No sooner had I tried to do so, than the same overwhelming cold sensation flooded my being. It sent a shiver through me that threatened to numb me. The power was akin to my own, but it certainly wasn't mine. My body wouldn’t react this way if it was. It would feel more natural, like slipping into a shower, as it washed over me.

I opened my eyes. “It’s certainly not my magic, but it wouldn't surprise me at all if it was another Winter Sidhe. There's something about it. I almost feel connected to it.”

“Exactly,” Alasdair said. “And any Summer Sidhe that examines this body is going to draw the same conclusion about his missing head. Someone from Winter did it, and there’s only one head-taking half-sidhe in this town. They're going to come looking for you, Nora Byrne. And they're going to be mad as hell.”

Panic flooded through me, and I felt sick to my stomach. Bile rose in my throat. “But I didn't do anything. I don't even know who this is and have no reason whatsoever to kill him.”

“Well, that’s settled it then,” Alasdair replied, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Sorry I asked. I didn't mean to impugn, Your Honor.”

He shot me a pointed look. “Did anything about Naerine’s demeanor the last time you met give you the impression she was an understanding and reasonable sort?”

“No.” I let out a sigh.

To the Summer Court, it wouldn’t matter whether or not I was innocent. It only mattered that they would think I was guilty. I doubted they would even give me a chance to explain myself.

“Look around,” Alasdair said, “and stop feeling sorry for yourself. What else can you tell me about this scene that might help us determine what went on here?”

I studied the clearing, listening to the sounds of the woods all around us. Based on the location, I would have expected it to be lusher. Instead, the entire clearing was dirt. The dirt itself had strange parallel lines in it. The markings kind of reminded me of those Japanese gardens with the raked white sand. The closer I looked, the more confident I became that the clearing had indeed been raked over.

Someone was trying to hide something.

“The clearing,” I began, pointing at the lines. “There was something else here. Something they didn’t want us to find.”

“What makes you think that?” Alasdair asked. Only this time, his question wasn’t a challenge. His tone indicated I was on the right track.

“Well, it should be grass, but someone's gone to a lot of effort to tear it all up and expose the dirt.”

“And why would they do that?” Alasdair prompted, like we were finally arriving at a point he'd reached some time ago.

My mind was starting to connect the dots now. I found it strange how much better my mind seemed to function when it believed I was in danger. There was a clarity there I hadn’t had before.

“I suspect they did it so that they could make some kind of summoning circle here in the glade. Easier to form something in dirt than grass.”

“Now we're getting somewhere.” Alasdair nodded with approval.

“Then when they were done, they raked over the circle so there would be no evidence of it. Whoever killed this Glade Guardian, summoned it here, bound them, perhaps tortured them, and left them for dead—making damn sure anyone who found them would blame me for it. But why?”

Alasdair nodded. “That is the million-dollar question. Welcome to Sidhe politics, where up is down, left is right, and the most obvious answer is invariably miles from the truth.”

I thought about who might have a motive for framing me. If I operated on the assumption that whoever did this had an axe to grind with me personally, then I must have done something to get on their radar. What if it wasn't a million-dollar question at all? What if this was the Winter Court’s retaliation for my having killed the Red Cap?

The Old One had as much as told me to expect reprisal from Winter. I’d killed their Champion and accepted Summer Court coin to do it.

Had Winter discovered what I’d done? Was this how they got their revenge? Rather than kill me themselves, would they antagonize Summer into doing their dirty work for them? There was a cruel yet cunning efficiency to it.

If it was a machination of Winter, was my father aware of it? Had he ordered the retaliation? Did he even know who I was? Just how much power and influence did the Winter King have if he could reach out from Faerie and have someone killed in the mortal plane?

I felt a lot less safe and secure than I had this morning.

“I think Winter might be retaliating for killing the Red Cap,” I replied slowly.

“Why do you think that?”

“The Red Cap held standing in their court. Killing one of the Winter King’s vassals requires an answer from him, right?” I said, following the hypothesis that they might be retaliating against me. “Either that, or they’re pissed the Summer Court paid for the hit on them, and they wanted revenge.”

“Revenge could be a possibility,” Alasdair replied. “But you are right. The Sidhe monarchs are responsible for all in their court. When one is taken from them, the others look to their monarch for reprisal. The fact that it happened here in the mortal world lessens that obligation but does not remove it. Let us hope you have not drawn the ire of the King of Air and Darkness.”

The King of Air and Darkness. Dad. I didn't dare say that out loud for fear that another soul might hear me.

Alasdair had been a little cagey ever since he had discovered what I was and seen the manifestation of my power. But if he knew the whole truth about me, I imagined he would throw me out of the Camp.

Over my dead body. My introduction to the Otherworld had been terrifying but now that I had a taste of it, I couldn't turn my back on it. It was a part of who I was.

“The real danger,” Alasdair said, “is that with the Sidhe, you only ever have half the picture. Perhaps Summer wanted the Red Cap dead for transgressing their domain, or perhaps the Winter King tired of him and had intended for the Summer Court do his dirty work for him. We may never know. They may want you dead, or they might be praising your name. This may have nothing to do with the Red Cap—or it may have everything to do with it. My gut tells me you’re in danger.”

His tone turned serious, and silence lingered between us.

I was in trouble, and he only knew the half of it. This body in front of us was compelling evidence that my day of reckoning with the courts was coming. I needed to be prepared. Right now, I was relying on Alasdair and the Old One to help me navigate the Otherworld and survive its attempts to drag me into its affairs. But I couldn't afford for them to know the truth of who I was. Not yet, not until I knew how they would take that particular revelation.

I pointed to the body, hoping to put an end to the awkwardness brewing between us. “Couldn't you have just told me all of that?”

“I could have, but better you learn for yourself,” Alasdair said. “You need to learn how the Sidhe operate. We play a dangerous game. There is no guarantee either of us will survive your joining the Camp.”

“But you haven’t done anything to them,” I said.

Alasdair laughed. “Oh, I’ve given the Sidhe more than a few reasons to want me dead, Nora. But I’ve also always tried to set them against each other to survive the reprisal. Now I’m training you, one of their own, to hunt others who stray into our realm. The Sidhe have a love-hate relationship with the Camp.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

I was still new to the politics of the supernatural world and while I’d been researching the Sidhe non-stop for weeks, I knew far less about the Camp.

“They love us when we do their dirty work for them, and they hate us when we work against their interests.” He motioned for me to follow, and we started back through the woods to where he had parked his bike. “Unfortunately, they can’t do anything about us unless we give them cause. The Arcane Congress brought the Camp into being as a way of policing regions where their influence is spread thin. The Sidhe are a member of the Congress and bound by its law. If they were to move against us and be caught, there would be repercussions for them. The day you became a hunter, you inherited allies and enemies. The biggest challenge of our profession is determining which is which on any given day.”

“What if we went to them?” I asked as we picked our way through the trees. “Surely we can tell someone. Try to get the truth across. Perhaps if we speak to Summer ourselves, we can convince them we were not involved.”

“Perhaps,” Alasdair said. “It’s a long shot, but I intend to try once I safely get you out of town.”

“Out of town?” I gulped. “You expect me to run away?”

Alasdair played with his coppery beard. “I expect you to do what you’re told. But if it helps, think of it as a well-deserved holiday. Take the kids and your mother, and go somewhere nice. The Old One and I will try and smooth the waters with the Summer Court.”

“But I—”

“But nothing,” Alasdair said. “You’re a hunter now, and the Old One doesn’t want you dead before you can complete your training. Besides, there's no point having a mentor if you’re always going to ignore their counsel.”

“Oh, come on,” I said. “I don’t ignore everything, just the stuff I don’t want to hear.”

He groaned. “I can't train you if you get yourself killed first.”

I jammed my hands in my pockets. My hand brushed against something hard. Tightening my fingers around it, I realized it was the gold coin the Old One had given me. I traced the raised edges of the snowflake on its face. The coin represented my membership in the Camp and identified me as a bounty hunter, but to me it was so much more than that. It represented how far I had come.

When Judas had left me and the kids to fend for ourselves, I’d had no idea how I was going to cope on just my income. The bills were piling up and my back was against the wall. This coin proved that when push came to shove, I could stand on my own two feet. I didn’t need my ex to prop me up. I could make it. I would make it.

Now, Alasdair was telling me I needed to run. The thought of being sent packing rankled every part of me. Sure, call it a holiday—heaven knew my family could use one after everything we’d been through—but still, I just didn’t like being told what to do.

I looked at Alasdair with his broad shoulders and steady gait. He was strong, handsome, and a proper pain in the ass at times. Had my husband been anything like him, my life might have turned out very different.

Focus, Nora.

While I didn’t want to leave Alasdair to clean up this mess without me, my experience with the Red Cap had taught me a lesson I would not forget. Seeing my mother and children suffer at the creature’s hands had almost broken me. If there was any chance the Sidhe might come for me, I needed to take precautions to protect them.

“Okay, I'll bite. Any suggestions as to where we might go?” I asked, not sure exactly how far I needed to go to escape the fallout.

“An island, preferably,” Alasdair said as we reached his motorbike. He swung a leg over the bike, and I clambered on behind him, wrapping my arms around him. There were certainly worse ways to travel.

“Why an island?” I asked, getting comfortable.

He turned, bringing his face close enough to mine to cause me to hold my breath. “The land might be Summer’s domain, but the water belongs to the Winter King. It gives us options should anything go awry. I hear Moreton Island is lovely this time of year.”

There was something in how he said it that told me it wasn't an idle consideration. He had picked that particular island for a reason.

The real question was, why?

Chapter 3

The front door closed with a heavy thud behind me, announcing my arrival home. The reinforced entryway was one of many recent additions to the property.

After the Red Cap and his minions had attacked the house and kidnapped my family, we’d been left with a dozen fires that needed to be put out, and a few that needed to be started. As Alasdair said, these bodies won’t burn themselves. His relationship with local law enforcement had smoothed over the domestic disturbance complaints but we’d still been left with a property that had been battered by the Sidhe.

There was the busted front door, a handful of shattered windows, damaged walls, and a desperate need for new carpets in the places we’d been unable to get out the blood. I wasn’t the sort of person to leave others to clean up my mess, and I couldn’t afford for the landlord to throw us out. In today’s market, we would be lucky to find something half as nice for the same money.

So we’d delved into the Red Cap’s bounty and done the work ourselves. While we were at it, we’d also upgraded the door to one heavily reinforced with a wrought iron handle. The tingle of the iron was unpleasant to me, but for a full-blooded Sidhe, it would burn like acid. My mother assured me it would be an effective deterrent against the Fae, and so I stomached the discomfort knowing it would be infinitely worse for the next Sidhe to touch it. They might be able to hide behind a glamour but anyone who couldn’t reach out and open the door themselves wasn’t coming in.

We'd also replaced all the screens in the house with security screens. It wasn't going to keep a magically armed intruder at bay for long, but it was a start. Spending the money had also gone a long way toward repairing the relationship with our landlord who had been waiting for my rent for the better part of two months.

Courtesy of the Red Cap’s bounty, we were now paid six weeks in advance and the home had never been safer.

Part of me knew that I was just throwing money at the problem to salve my conscience. My job had put my children in harm’s way, and there was no taking that back. But I also knew the truth about my own identity. Sooner or later, Winter would find us. At least this way I would be ready.

Or so I told myself. My life had been a storm in a teacup since the day Judas walked out and I was trying hard to give my kids the life they deserved; the life I wanted for them.

“I’m home,” I called to the strangely quiet house. It was early, but normally I could expect the kids to be up by now.

A series of footsteps tromped overhead. That had to be Shay.

“Mum,” she called as she bounded down the stairs. There was a flutter of wings as a bluish-purple streak shot over the balustrade and buzzed past me like a dive bomber doing a flyover.

“Welcome home,” Sleet said as he swooped by. His excitement reminded me of the kids when they were younger.

The tiny fairy had spent the last two weeks making himself at home. The kids had taken to him immediately, which didn’t surprise me at all. Sleet had an infectious attitude and insatiable curiosity for human objects that was fun to indulge. He had spent most of his life in the Otherworld, and our home presented a never-ending series of wonders for him to explore. Technology seemed to fascinate him, but the TV had proven all-consuming. I’d already needed to restrict his viewing privileges when I’d found him bingeing infomercials at two a.m.

His addition to the house was a welcome distraction from the trauma of the Red Cap ordeal. In many ways, he helped the children focus on anything other than what they had experienced the day they’d been taken.

I held out my hand as a helipad for him to land on.

The little fairy glided in a tight circle and landed on my outstretched palm. Moments later Shay wrapped herself around my waist. I hugged her with my free arm.

“Have they been behaving themselves?” I asked, looking to Sleet for an accounting. I wasn’t really relying on him to watch my children, but I was mindful of the fact he’d had his life uprooted too. Involving him in the day-to-day running of the house helped him find purpose and feel like he belonged. Everyone deserved to feel like part of a family. Now he was a part of ours.

Sleet looked furtively left and right as I waited for my report.

“Sleet.” I placed my other hand on my hip.

“They were good,” Sleet said, uttering each word slowly, “but we might have finished all the cookies.”

“We?” I asked raising him up to my eye level.

Shay giggled as he placed both hands behind his back and shifted from one foot to the other. “Well, me, mostly, but I did save one for the others.”

I shook my head. “I'm amazed you can even fly. One of these days, you are going to make yourself sick, you know.”

His eyes glazed over as he patted his bulging belly. “But at least I didn’t miss out on the cookies.”

I guided him up onto my shoulder as the sound of footsteps drew my attention to the stairs. The children's real babysitter—my mom—cleared her throat to announce her presence.

“How was work?” she asked. There was an intonation in her words I couldn’t place. Was it disdain for my choice of employment? Or general skepticism of the story I had given her when I’d left the house so early.

“I don’t get to pick my hours, Mum,” I replied, not wanting to say anything that might alarm Shay.

“If you wanted to go with him for an early morning ride, it's no skin off my nose,” my mother replied. “All I ask for is the truth.”

“It was work.” I glowered.

“You went for a ride at this hour with that tall glass of water and did nothing but work?” My mother tutted. “You need to get your priorities straight, maybe then you wouldn’t be so cranky.”

“It was thinking like that that got you into trouble, Mum,” I said, trying to keep the conversation over Shay’s level, while my mother seemed insistent on dragging it into the gutter.

“You mock it now, but that sort of thinking brought you into the world, so you ought to be grateful it did.”

The conversation almost seemed like it might drift in the direction of my father, until she took the rudder and steered us clear. “What did your handsome boss want from you?”

I looked down at Shay and cocked my head to the side. “I'll tell you later. In the meantime, we need to get packing.”

“Packing?” Sleet asked with the confused look of someone who had been wearing everything he owned the day we met. With Mom’s help, we’d made him some new miniature clothes to give him choices in that department.

“Yes, what do you mean, packing?” my mother said. “And where exactly would we be going?”

“A holiday,” I replied. “It's been far too long.”

“Yay!” Shay squealed excitedly at the announcement.

“Now? This instant?” my mother asked.

“No time like the present,” I said. “The sooner we go, the better. It’s high time we got out of the house and this weekend seems as good a time as any.”

“The kids will miss school today,” she countered. Her stubborn genes seemed to be in full force this morning.

“What's one day of school?” I replied, looking down at Shay. “Now get up to your room and pack a bag, dear. Swimmers, a beach towel, and enough clothes for the weekend.”

Thinking through that last instruction, I corrected myself. “Four changes of clothes. Everything needs to fit in one bag. You can only take what we can carry as we’ll be taking the ferry over.”

“Four?” Shay’s eyes bulged as enthusiasm for the trip was dampened by the inevitable inability to fit every item of clothing in her wardrobe into a single bag.

“Yes, so you'll have to pick your favorites. Make sure you have something to swim in, and something nice to wear to dinner. The others, go wild. Off you go. Quickly, now.”

As she raced up the stairs, I called after her, “Where's your brother?”

“On his computer,” she called back, not missing a step.

I considered having her get him started, but I figured of the two of us, I was far more likely to finish packing first. “I'll be up to help shortly. I just need to talk to Mum, first.”

“Okay,” Shay grumbled.

“Shay, honey,” I said. “We’re going on an island holiday. There will be beaches, dolphins, scuba diving, and a dozen other delightful things to do. So turn that frown upside down.”

I tried to win her over even though I knew at her age, she really only cared about the beach and what boys might be on it. I remembered all too well what fourteen was like. She was growing up way too fast.

“Yes, Mum,” she replied, no doubt still trying to work out how to thwart my packing instructions.

The problem with Alasdair's warning was that I had no idea about the immediacy of the threat. I couldn’t even know for sure if there was one. I could be leaving town for nothing. Or it could save my life.

Although he could be a little blunt at times, I knew better than to doubt his instincts. If someone was trying to frame me, were they willing to do more? Would they wait for the Summer Court to deal with me? Or might they attempt something more brazen?

The last two weeks of my training had taught me many lessons. One of them was that an abundance of preparation and precaution saved lives. Usually mine. I might not be as large, or have as many teeth or claws as the bounty I was chasing, but with some effort, I could out-think it, out-plan it, and fingers crossed, outlive it.

I looked at Sleet. “I need you to do something for me. It's important.”

Sleet snapped to attention.

“A mission? I am ready, huntress,” he cried, his little voice ringing with enthusiasm.

“I need you to head outside and scout around. Circle the house. Keep your eyes open for anyone or anything that could be from the Otherworld. If anything unusual comes our way, I want to know about it straight away. Do you understand?”

Sleet nodded. “Big circles, got it.”

“No distractions,” I said. “If you see anything, anything at all, you come right back to me and warn me first.”

Sleet nodded and took off, flitting out of the room. The doggy door, in the back patio screen, clicked as he breezed through it. The little fairy was an extra set of eyes in the sky watching over us. Normals wouldn't even notice him as he flitted by. They would likely suppose him to be a butterfly or a moth. Even after the supernatural world had been outed by the attack in New York City, most people still believed it was a hoax. Non-believers tended to see and hear what they wanted to. They hadn’t grown up with fridge hands like I had.

“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?” my mother asked, resting her hands on her hips as she blocked my way to the stairs.

“Of course. No more secrets, remember? That was our deal. The last one almost got us all killed.”

“That was for your protection,” my mother said, holding her ground. “If you had manifested your powers in earnest, it would have been impossible for me to keep you hidden. I certainly wouldn't have been able to keep you safe. You’re far more capable of doing that now. I only ever wanted what was best for you. I never wanted to lie to you.”

That might be true, but because of her lie, I’d grown up feeling like a failure. I wasn’t normal but neither had I believed myself magically talented enough to survive in the supernatural world. But we’d done this dance a dozen times in the last two weeks, and I was growing tired of it.

“Look, Mum, I'm not trying to rehash the past, and I'm not blaming you for where we are. But we are here now and all we can do is make the most of it. You, me, Shay, Conor, Bran, and Sleet. We’re family and we need to stick together.”

She stepped aside, and I trudged up the stairs.

“Come on,” I called over my shoulder. “Walk with me. I’ll throw a few things in a bag, and I'll tell you all about it.”

We passed Shay’s room. Her case was already open on the bed as she rummaged through her closet. Conor's door was shut but the sound of his excited voice filtered through it. He was probably mid-round on one of his games, so I let him be.

Apparently, you couldn’t save a game part way through a round, or that was what he told me and he never gave me a reason to believe he was lying. I could always help him pack when he finished his game. No sense worrying him sooner than I needed to. Conor didn't like change, particularly not sudden ones.

I pushed open the door to my bedroom, wandered into the closet, and pulled out an old Samsonite travel case. Sticking it on the bed, I fiddled with the well-worn clasp and flipped it open.

My mother stood at the end of the bed, her arms folded. “You're stalling, dear.”

“No, I'm not, Mother. I just have a lot on my mind. And I’m checking things off one at a time.” I went to the closet and grabbed a couple of outfits, summer dresses, and shorts and tops that might suit the sun and sand of an island holiday. It was still quite warm so I doubted I would need a jacket except to deal with the breeze off the water. I chucked a light one in the case.

Swimwear, that was a horrifying thought. I wasn't sure when I’d last tried on anything with more than one piece, and I wasn't sure that I dared. Abandoning one unpleasant task for another, I turned to face my mother.

“Alasdair found a dead Sidhe in the woods outside of town,” I began. “Well, hikers found it, and the cops called him in when they realized it wasn’t human.”

“Dead? Well, that doesn't sound all that bad,” my mother replied.

It was comments like that which made me wonder exactly what she had endured during her time in Faerie. She wasn’t a hateful woman; a hard one perhaps. Now I had to think about how much of that was her stubborn Irish roots, and how much of that had been learned at the hands of her Winter Court experience. I filed that thought away for later.

“Yeah, but apparently this one was important. A Glade Guardian, apparently, of the Summer Court.”

My mother nodded. “A noble. That's unusual, particularly in these parts. And just the one body? No retinue?”

Glade Guardians it seemed were not the sort to wander alone.

“There was just the one body, and no sign of who did it or any other traces of Sidhe in the vicinity. I suspect if there was a retinue, they would have spirited their master away.”

“It's unusual that a member of the Queen’s court would be wandering around the normal world unprotected. Protocol would have dictated an escort, unless they were on some sort of secret errand.”

That was an interesting thought, but what would bring a Sidhe noble to the mortal realm?

“Alasdair said the same thing. But setting aside what they were doing here, the more concerning part was that they were murdered.”

“How was it done?” my mother asked.

That piqued my curiosity. “Does it matter?”

“Almost certainly,” my mother replied. “If it was done at the Winter Court’s behest, the manner of death might tell us who or what did the killing.”

The killers of the Winter Court had MOs? Excellent. Just like a well-established serial killer.

“It appears to have been frozen to death and then had its head chopped off. So, when the Summer Court find their missing noble, it's fairly safe to say they're going to assume a creature of Winter did it. As far as I'm aware, there is only one Winter Court scion in town, and certainly only one that chops off heads for a living.” I eyed my mother. “Unless there's something else you failed to mention?”

“You're an only child, dear,” my mother replied. “My only child, anyway. Whether your father has sired any other children, well, that's anyone's guess.”

I'd been kidding but she wasn't. The notion that I might have half-siblings hadn't really occurred to me. Did the Winter King sire many children with his consorts? Would there be a whole coterie of full-blooded Sidhe out there and if they existed, would they be scions like me? Was my life going to turn into an episode of McLeod’s Daughters? With new siblings showing up all the time to raise hell?

The Otherworld journal, unsurprisingly perhaps, had little to say about the Winter King's sexual proclivities. And it was certainly not a conversation I was going to raise with my mother any time soon. That wouldn't be awkward at all. There were some things children just didn't need to know about their parents.

“So you figured it would be safer to leave town?” my mother asked.

“That's right. I’m hoping that if Alasdair can break the news to the Summer Court, my absence will buy enough time for them to see the truth.”

“And you think he’ll be able to convince them?”

“Better him than me, Mom. I’m at least half Sidhe, and Winter is all they see when they look at me. He’ll do his best to convince them that I had nothing to do with that body. Me being present will only agitate the matter further. So I figured, why not take the family and head away for a few days? I think the kids could use some good memories to drive out the unpleasant ones.”

Shay had woken up a half a dozen times with nightmares since the Red Cap had taken them. Every second night, she would snuggle into my bed.

“Besides, I can't remember the last time I had a holiday.”

Mom sat down on the edge of the bed. “So where are we going?”

“I was thinking Moreton Island,” I replied. “I haven't been there since that trip we took when I was a teenager. I thought it would be nice to take the kids back. Relive some of the memories.”

My mother's lips lifted into a smile, and the creases in her cheeks deepened. “I wasn't sure you even remembered that trip. You were barely eleven at the time. You sure did love the dolphins, though.”

I could see my younger self standing waist deep in the water as the dolphins swam up to eat out of our hands. The water had been choppy and cold, but even then, it hadn’t bothered me. Winter’s influence, I supposed.

“It was awesome, and the kids are even older than I was. So I'm sure there’ll be loads of fun things we can do together.”

I packed as we talked, loading shoes and a beach towel into the bag. Finally, I dug through my drawers looking for swimwear. There was an old faded one-piece and as far as bikinis went, I couldn't find a single matching set of anything. It had been more than a year since I'd even looked through them.

I shut the drawer in disgust.

Blow it, I’ll just buy something over there.

No doubt it would cost a mint, but I would call that my little treat to myself. I wasn't in the habit of wasting money; my bank balance had been too low to even consider it. But I had tucked away most of the Red Cap’s bounty. That had been Alasdair's first piece of advice, not that I’d needed it. He’d told me you never knew when the next paycheck was coming. So, our rent was paid in advance and apart from this unscheduled holiday, I planned to live frugally until I had a better idea of just what I could expect to be earning.

I shoved all the clothes in my case and jammed it shut.

“Have you booked the tickets?” my mother asked. “And which ferry were you hoping to catch?”

I let out a sigh. “I have booked exactly nothing. I figured I'd help Conor pack and then get onto it.”

“Leave it to me, dear. I'll book the accommodation and the ferry. I wonder if Beatrice’s daughter still works at the resort. Perhaps she can help.”

“Thanks, Mum,” I called after her as she slipped out of the room.

That would be one chore off my plate. Now, I just had to help the kids get ready and book Bran into a boarding kennel. I didn’t like to be without him, particularly not now. But the island was almost entirely national park, so pets were off limits at the resort.

My mom could be an ornery old woman at times but boy, I was glad I had her. Without Mom, I didn't know how I would function. Almost losing her to the Red Cap had shaken me. I really needed to do better at telling her how grateful I was, rather than chewing her out for her past.

I filed that in the basket for later and madly searched for a kennel on my phone. Our good boy deserved some room to roam, so I found one out of the suburbs that looked like it had plenty of yard for him to enjoy.

After making the booking, I slipped my phone back into my pocket and headed for my bedside drawer. There was no way I was going anywhere without the Otherworld journal, and I jammed it into the Samsonite case.

A little light reading couldn't hurt. I'd read the journal cover to cover twice already, but given just how much information it contained, there was no such thing as reading too much. It was the closest thing to a Bible for my new profession that I had found, and I planned to be an excellent student.

It was the only way I was going to stay alive.

With my bag packed, I headed to Conor’s room. I stopped at the door to listen in. It was quiet, absent the clacking sound of his fingers against the mechanical keyboard he’d begged and pleaded me to buy for his last birthday. It wasn’t cheap and it was a good deal louder than the usual device, but I was a sucker for those big blue eyes.

I knocked on the door. He didn’t answer, so I let myself in.

Conor was laying on the floor on his back, his chair tipped over. His eyes glowed a brilliant sapphire blue.

Chapter 4

My heart felt like it stopped beating as I stared at his glowing eyes. I’d hoped the last time was a one off-occurrence. Clearly, we weren’t that lucky.

Snapping out of it, I raced across the bedroom and dropped down beside him.

“Conor?” I called, my voice breaking.

He didn’t stir, but his eyes remained open, glowing brilliantly as he stared at the roof of his bedroom. Reaching tentatively for his shoulder, I tried to shake him but he wouldn't answer me.

I placed a hand on his chest and my cheek next to his lips. A sigh of relief escaped as I felt his warm breath against my cheek. My heart beat faster and faster in my chest as I shook him.

“Conor, it's Mum, baby, wake up.”

Still nothing. Should I call Alasdair to ask for his opinion? This didn’t really feel like the sort of thing you called triple zero for.

I shook him harder, pleading with him to wake up.

A weak groan escaped his lips. The sapphire glow faded until his eyes were their normal blue once more.

“Mum?”

“It's me, Conor. I'm here,” I said. “Are you okay?”

He looked around the room, seemingly surprised that he was on the floor. “I was having the strangest dream.”

I pulled him tight against me. This wasn't the first time I'd seen his eyes turn that color. It had happened once before. I’d hoped it would stop, but now I needed to know what was happening to my boy.

Was this a result of my father’s bloodline? Shay had never manifested any powers whatsoever, which had caused me great relief as a young mom.

Conor, on the other hand, seemed to have a far stronger Sidhe bloodline. He’d done something during the battle with the Red Cap that I still didn’t understand. He had spoken with a voice like thunder and it had frozen the murderous Sidhe in his tracks, at least for a few moments.

I had asked him about it, but explaining things wasn’t his talent. In his usual manner, Conor had said he’d just told the creature to stop. I feared he didn’t even know what he was doing. His magic was manifesting in answer to his will, but he wasn’t exercising any real control or direction over it.

The thought filled me with dread. I didn't know how to raise a child with powers. I had no experience to draw on. My mother had opted for the approach of ignoring mine, refusing to cultivate them lest our identities be revealed.

I had no intention of lying to Conor, but I also had no idea what I was meant to do to help him. He was too innocent to understand the implications of what he was capable of, and therein lay considerable danger for all of us.

What would happen if my sweet boy lost his temper?

I’d scoured the Otherworld journal, but it had nothing about raising a potential scion in it. Whoever had written it was clearly human, and well-acquainted as they might be with the Sidhe, parenting hadn’t been an area of focus for their research.

What was I supposed to do?

I clutched Conor close to my chest. “Are you sure you're okay?”

He nodded. “I saw a beach, Mum. White sand and blue water, lots of fish. It was very pretty.”

“I'm sure it was, baby. I'm just glad you're okay. Do you see these dreams often?” I felt like a horrible parent not knowing the extent of what was going on in my son’s life.

“Only when I dream,” he replied, pointing to the artwork stuck to the walls of his bedroom. “I see lots of things.”

I looked around the room and my panic mounted. These scenes that I had always assumed were from his video games or the product of his excited imagination were actually the result of his dreams.

Not dreams. If his magic was involved, he could be seeing anything, perhaps even occurrences from beyond the Veil.

The walls of his bedroom were covered by sketches of creatures. The closer I looked, the more I recognized them as the inhabitants of Faerie. There was a dragon, fighting an ice troll. A picture of three large goat-like creatures. And above his bed, a picture of a massive citadel on a mountain top.

He’d drawn that one a few weeks ago, the day I’d met Alasdair.

Now that I thought about it, Mom seemed to have recognized the sketch.

I pointed to it. “What’s that one, Conor?”

He smiled as he studied his own sketch. “Home.”

An icy tingle rolled down my spine. What did he mean, home? And why was he seeing these things? What was going on?

This turn of events only increased my desire to get out of the house and away from the madness.

I was going to have to keep a close eye on him. That would be a lot easier if I wasn’t working for the next few days. If someone or something from beyond the Veil was giving him these visions, there was a reason. Given what I’d learned about the Sidhe, I knew that it wouldn’t be for Conor’s benefit.

The Red Cap had certainly shown an interest in him, but the creature was dead. What had he known about Conor that I didn’t? Should I have tried to interrogate him?

Too late now.

I resolved to try harder to keep a close eye on Conor. The last thing I wanted was my precious boy entangled in the Sidhe world and its cruelty.

Conor extricated himself from my tight embrace and climbed to his feet. He glanced at the computer which was paused on some sort of lobby screen.

“I must have fallen asleep while I was playing,” he said softly. “I didn't think I was that tired.”

“That's okay. You’ll be able to get plenty of rest where we’re going,” I said.

“Going?”

“Yep,” I replied, getting to my feet. “We're going on a holiday.”

He looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. It had been a while since we'd done anything other than go to the park with Bran. Life at home had been rocky for a while with Judas, even before he'd departed. Family holidays hadn't happened for a few years.

“We’re going on a boat,” I said, hoping he would buy in to the new experience.

“A boat?”

“A big one,” I replied. “It will take us over to an island where we can see the dolphins, go sand boarding. We might even get to ride on some quad bikes.”

Conor's eyes lit up. No magic this time, just the childlike joy every parent longs to see in their kid’s eyes.

“Really?”

“Absolutely, and we’re leaving soon, so let's get you packed. We won’t be taking the car on the ferry so we can only take what we can carry with us.”

I spent the next half hour helping Conor pack. He looked remorseful as he powered down his PC.

“Sorry, hon,” I said, “that one won't fit but you can bring your Switch if you like. You just need to watch where you put it down.”

The little handheld gaming console could plug into a TV or be used on its own. For Conor, it proved the perfect compromise. He grabbed his pouch of games and the Switch from its charging station and loaded them all into a small shoulder-slung backpack.

I tapped his bag. “Okay, let’s take this downstairs and wait in the lounge room. Gran and I still have a few things to pack.”

Downstairs, we found Shay waiting with her bags all ready to go. Her suitcase was absolutely bursting at the seams, as was her backpack and the largest handbag she could find. She looked awfully proud of herself, so instead of calling her on it, I just smiled.

“Fortunately, the resort is right next to the ferry dock, so we won’t have to drag things too far. Could you two do me a favor?” I asked.

Shay looked at me skeptically, not quite willing to commit to an unnamed favor.

“I need you to pack up Bran’s bed, biscuits, and favorite toys.”

“Are we taking him with us?” Conor asked, jumping onto the couch beside me.

“I wish. We aren’t allowed pets on the island, but there is no way we’re leaving him at home for three days.”

“He’ll get lonely,” Conor said.

He wasn’t wrong. And if anyone did come looking for us, I didn't want them taking out their frustrations on our good boy.

“He’ll be having his own holiday,” I said, “but we need to pack his things.”

While Shay and Conor fussed over Bran, I loaded the kids’ bags in the car along with a small beach trolley to help us carry everything. I packed a few grocery bags with supplies. There was no sense leaving food at home to spoil, and we certainly needed some snacks to last us on the boat ride over. Once I was happy the car was loaded, I went looking for my mother.

I found her in the downstairs bedroom where she’d spent the last few weeks. I pushed the door open, just in time to see her jamming the stock of her shot gun into a small leather carry case.

“Mum, you can't bring that with us.”

She zipped up the leather carry case. “I can and I will. After what that creature did to me in the forest, I’m not taking any chances. If any more of them come for me, they're going to get both barrels, sweetheart. Solid shot, iron slugs. Faerie bastards won’t know what hit them.”

“If you’re caught taking that to the island, we’ll be arrested,” I said.

“It's a ferry, dear, not a plane, so no security. And they’ll have no reason to check up on a little old lady like me, so unless you tell them, we’ll be just fine.”

She looked at the sealed case. “Bruce and I won't be parting company this weekend.”

“Bruce?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. It sounded like the world’s most innocuous name for a vibrator. Could she make this anymore awkward?

“Bruce, both barrels,” Mom replied, “which is exactly what those creatures will get if they come looking for trouble.”

I knew better than to argue with my mother. We would be here all day.

“Just keep it out of sight of the children,” I replied. “And locked.”

“Of course, dear,” she replied in a tone that implied I was stating the blatantly obvious. “And it will stay right where it is unless there's trouble.”

She looked down at her watch. “Where did all the time go? We need to get going if we want to catch the last ferry.”

Sleet buzzed back into the house, as if sensing we were about to leave. “All clear, Nora!”

“Well done, Sleet. I’ve got a treat for you when we reach the boat, but first we need to take a drive.”

Sleet beamed. Mom and I bundled him, the kids, and Bran into the car. We headed up the street, passing Mrs. Grobinski watering her lawn. The old gossip gave me the evil eye as we passed so I made sure to wave, all five fingers extended despite the temptation to do otherwise.

Moreton Island was one of the largest sand islands in the world. As a result, almost the entire island was a dedicated national park. We stopped by a country kennel on the way north. With plenty of grassland to roam, Bran was sure to have a good time. I only hoped he played nice with the other boarders.

I gave him a big cuddle before entrusting him to their care. I did my best to avoid the sad look in his eyes as he realized he wasn't coming with us.

“Boy, if we could take you, we would,” I said, rubbing his head. “But we’ll be back soon, okay?”

He didn’t look nearly convinced, but I pointed to all the other dogs playing in the yard. “You’ll be able to make loads of friends.”

Bran panted, his big doggy tongue wagging in the heat as he loped over to the shade of a large tree.

We gave him one last wave and resumed our trip north to the ferry terminal.

Moreton Island was about sixty kilometers northeast of Brisbane, the state capital and the largest port in the region. We got to the terminal right as the ferry was starting to load.

“Quick, guys, we don't want to miss it,” I said. “It's the last one for hours.”

We piled out of the car and dumped all our baggage in the beach trolley. I pulled it behind me as Mom shepherded Shay and Conor onto the wharf. Conor was wearing his new noise-canceling headphones as he often did in public, which helped him ignore the thick press of people around us. My mother produced her phone and showed the boarding staff our tickets.

Leaving our baggage for them to load, I prayed silently they wouldn’t check Mom’s bag. Bruce needed to stay incognito.

We paused at the gangplank onto the ferry. Conor eyed the plank that rose and fell with the waves with skepticism and fear. I put my arm around his shoulders.

“It's okay, buddy. We’ll do it together,” I said.

I put my arm around him and steered him down the plank. His pace quickened as we raced down the plank and onto the ferry.

The vessel could easily accommodate a hundred passengers and a dozen cars on its multiple decks. Shay tore up the stairs, heading for the second floor. Mom, Conor, Sleet and I made our way after her. Reaching the second floor, we wandered to the front of the ferry and settled in as the other patrons loaded.

“Can I go outside?” Shay asked, pointing to the swinging doors that led out onto the prow of the ferry.

“Once we’re moving, but for the moment, stay here, please.”

I had chosen a seat that gave me an excellent view of the second-floor cabin and the other passengers as they made their way inside. Perhaps it was paranoia or PTSD from dealing with the Red Cap, but I scrutinized each and every passenger who wandered onto the second floor.

Two other families climbed up the stairs. One went to sit out on the prow deck. The other found a place near the back of the boat where they attempted to shield their sleeping child from the ruckus of a football team that joined us.

The team members couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen years old. Shay snuck darting glances at them over the top of her book.

I was not ready for this stage of her life. One of the boys swept his mop of blond hair to the side and smiled back at her. She blushed, tearing her eyes away.

His eyes eventually found mine and, noting Shay’s head buried in her book once more, I slowly drew my thumb across my neck in a deliberate motion. The boy swallowed and looked away.

Message received, I hoped.

My gaze drifted back to the stairs where a tall passenger stood, most of his face hidden beneath a floppy wide-brimmed felt hat. He was leaning against the wall, staring right at us.

“Stay here,” I whispered to the kids as I rose from my seat.

I got two steps before he raced down the stairs. I went after him, plunging down the stairs two at a time. When I reached the bottom deck, he simply vanished. I wandered around a few of the parked cars, checking for any sign of the man who’d been watching us, but he was nowhere to be found.

The ferry crew untied our moorings and we got underway. As the crew fussed about the ship, I made my way back upstairs, my heart still racing from the sprint.

Why was someone watching us? And who was making trouble in my hometown? Could the stranger in the hat have anything to do with the dead Sidhe Alasdair had found?

Were the Winter Court really trying to frame me or was there something else at play? A part of the picture I couldn’t see yet.

I found my seat and sank into it. I’d hoped to have a nap on the trip over, but there was no way I could do that now. So, I pulled out a brochure about the island to keep myself awake.

The trip to Moreton Island was a little under an hour and a half on a good day and as we plowed through the waves toward our destination, I found myself thinking of Alasdair.

Of all the places we could have gone, why had he picked Moreton Island?

Chapter 5

The East Coast of Australia was a truly beautiful place to live. With pristine beaches like the Gold and Sunshine Coasts, and wonderful hinterland and hiking trails further inland, it really is the best of both worlds for an outdoor loving-soul. Which was why it suited me to a tee.

Like many of Australia's earliest settlements, the state capital of Brisbane had been chosen for its easy access to water and shipping due to the massive naturally-formed Moreton Bay.

The bay was a good thirty-five kilometers wide at its widest point and was shielded from the tempestuous weather of the Coral Sea by a series of islands running along the coast. There was Moreton Island in the north, and Stradbroke Island in the south.

These massive islands, whilst largely uninhabited, were every bit as beautiful as the famed Gold Coast, but had far fewer tourists on account of the increased effort required to reach them.

As we stepped off the ferry onto the small wharf at Moreton Island, the view took my breath away: untouched white sandy beaches, with crystal blue water lapping against them. Unlike many islands, all of Moreton Island was sand. With rolling dunes and tropical trees, it was a pristine national park less than two hours from the state’s busy capital.

It took a few minutes for the crew to unload the baggage.

The other passengers streamed past us as we waited for the rest of our luggage. I kept my eyes peeled for the man in the felt hat but never saw him.

Conor had his eyes locked on the Nintendo’s screen, but Shay shifted about impatiently.

I put my arm around her and hugged her tight. “We are going to have the best time here.”

She looked unconvinced until the pack of footballers streamed down the gangway and onto the wharf. Her gaze followed them as they piled onto the esplanade that ran between the beach and the resort.

“It is pretty nice,” Shay muttered, though whether she was talking about the young man whose eyes had been flirting with hers the whole trip—despite my silent warning—or the island itself, was up for debate.

Then and there, I resolved to keep a closer eye on her.

The attendants finally unloaded our beach trolley with all our baggage and we set off after the other resort goers, dragging the miniature wagon behind us. The resort ran along the western beach, and reception was only a short walk from the ferry. Most of the island's western coast was a beach. Scattered along it was a series of restaurants and tourist stores. There were a handful of private residences on the island but apart from those dwellings, the resort’s buildings, and a few World War II fortifications, the island was almost untouched by man.

As we meandered down the esplanade, I couldn’t help but notice the crowd. The resort was busier than it had been when I was a child. There were people everywhere including a dozen kids that were running around on the beach with brooms balanced awkwardly between their legs as they chased each other.

We made our way into the resort. Its glass doors parted to reveal a simple slate tile floor and reception area.

Right in the middle of the lobby, opposite the door, hung an immense pull-up banner.

It read, ‘Welcome to the annual Harry Potter fan convention. Please consult your welcome pack for a full schedule of activities.’

There was a picture of two quidditch players giving each other a high five. The pair appeared to be cosplaying Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.

I took a deep breath and whispered, “Alasdair, I'm going to kill you.”

I liked Harry Potter as much as the next fantasy-loving bibliophile, more perhaps, but my idea of a quiet weekend away was not sharing a beautiful beach with a thousand would-be wizards.

My mentor had a reason for sending us here. At first I thought it had to do with keeping us out of harm’s way, but now I just figured he was torturing me. Or perhaps he thought it would provide a little natural camouflage. Whoever was looking for a scion with the powers of Winter were going to be distracted by hundreds of other people roaming the island openly identifying as witches and wizards.

If I had learned anything about Alasdair's dry wit, he was probably having a quiet chuckle about it right now.

“What are you waiting for?” my mother asked, stopping beside me. “Is something wrong?”

I shook off my surprise at the convention’s presence. On the bright side, perhaps Shay might find some kindred spirits here. Anything to distract her from her the group of footballers checking in at the desk would be great. Maybe I would send Mom to get the keys.

“You have the reservation details, right, Mum?”

“Oh, right. One sec.” She fumbled in her bag for her phone. As she pulled it out, she took one look at the sign, then at Shay. “Wait. Isn't that the series you love?” Shay’s eyes flitted both ways to see if anyone had noticed as she zipped up the handbag containing whichever one of the seven books she was currently reading.

“I, uh, used to read those a lot, yeah,” she whispered.

Oh, my word. The poor girl had it bad.

Mom wandered over to the counter to check us in and I turned to the kids. I tapped my ears and Conor slipped off his headphones.

“So what do you guys want to do first? We can organize some of the resort activities later, but we could go for a walk up the beach, borrow some snorkeling gear, and look for some fish. Or we can just lounge around here by the pools and the beach and soak up some sun.”

“The pool first,” Conor said. We had never been able to afford one at home, but the resort had three of them ready to enjoy. His answer didn’t surprise me at all. He loved the water.

“I second that,” Shay replied, “then perhaps some lunch?”

I looked at my watch. “Well, there's a nice little Japanese place here by the resort. After we have our swim, we can always grab something there, what do you think?”

The kids would choose sushi every chance they could get, which wasn’t often as it wasn’t really kind to a family on a budget. I figured a nice lunch would be fitting compensation for dragging them out of the house without warning.

“Japanese?” a high-pitched voice inquired.

I looked down to see Sleet sticking his head out of my jacket pocket. He’d been so quiet on the trip over I’d almost forgotten he was there.

“Do they have cookies?”

I shook my head. “Japanese restaurants aren’t really known for their cookies.”

“But I like cookies,” Sleet replied.

“Sorry, champ, you've been outvoted. It's time to expand your horizons.”

Sleet ducked back into my pocket. Whether he was having a pout or simply avoiding the attention of the other guests in the resort’s lobby was anyone's guess.

Mom returned with the room keys and a massive smile. “Connie came through for us big time.”

“Connie?”

“Beatrice’s daughter. She’s one of the managers here. She got us our own unit.”

“Score one for Connie,” I replied. “Lead the way.”

Mom led us out of the resort lobby, and we all shuffled along the esplanade. The resort was made up of a small hotel as well as a series of beachfront units overlooking the island’s west coast and its pristine beach.

We had a short walk before we found the unit that matched the number on Mom’s key. Mom held the door while we unloaded the contents of the cart into the unit.

Along with the living area, there were two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a simple kitchenette.

“I'll bunk with Shay, in the other room,” Mom said. “I'm sure Conor would rather be close to you.”

Given how I'd found him in his room this morning, I couldn't agree more.

“It looks like the divan can double as another bed,” I said. “We’ll just have to make it up with some sheets.”

Mom and Shay bundled into their room, and I set about unpacking our supplies. There was no way all the food we’d brought was going to fit into the tiny fridge, so I loaded everything that I figured might spoil, and set aside the rest for more immediate snacking.

Sleet emerged from my pocket, flew a lap of the room, and settled on the second pillow of my bed. He didn’t say a word, which I took to mean he was still disappointed about our lunch options.

With the food seen to, I set about unpacking my bag. I hung up the clothes I'd brought, save for one dress that I threw on the bed for today. I still needed to stop by the stores we had passed by on the way here and pick up some swimmers. There had to be something a little more flattering than the tired old suits I’d found in my drawers. I stashed the Otherworld journal under my pillow and then pushed my empty suitcase into the cupboard.

Letting out a sigh, I sat on the end of my bed to catch my breath. The only problem was, every time I stopped, it gave me time to think, and my mind kept drifting back to the dead Sidhe that had been dumped in the forest near home.

“You're on holiday, Nora,” I muttered to myself. “Alasdair said he would deal with it; now leave him to it. You're here. You might as well enjoy yourself.”

I picked up the light blue sun dress I’d tossed on the bed. It certainly wasn't the leather biker jacket and jeans I'd become accustomed to wearing as a bounty hunter, but given I didn’t have a spare set of wizard robes floating around, it was the closest I would get to incognito.

Grabbing the dress, I headed into the bathroom. After changing, I stopped in front of the mirror. I wasn't entirely satisfied with the fit of the dress, but as I turned sideways I couldn't help but feel that I'd shed a kilo or two since starting my new job. All that infernal running about was paying off.

That made me feel pretty stinking good about myself.

“Way to go, Nora,” I told myself as I swapped my boots for a set of thongs. I made my way back into the room.

Conor was sitting on the edge of the divan, his bag still packed as he played away on his Nintendo.

I tapped him gently on the shoulder and he pushed his earphones back off one ear, as he continued to play.

“You don't want to get changed, buddy?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I’m good. This is comfortable.”

Conor didn't particularly care about fashion or what other people might think of his wardrobe, an attitude and belief that might do a world of good, if it was more widely adopted.

“Okay, but let's throw some board shorts in my bag in case you want to go for a swim. We’re heading to the pool, remember?”

Conor’s attention span faded pretty quickly at times. Normally a little reminder helped him find his way back.

“Oh, the pool!” he said. “Never mind, I'll go change.”

He set the game aside and bounced into the bathroom, board shorts in hand, and closed the door behind him.

I grabbed my beach towel out of my luggage and put it over my shoulder. Finding my handbag, I dumped most of its contents into the bedside drawer, and then loaded it back up with the essentials. Leaving my wallet behind, I tucked my credit card into the side pocket. I added a brush, a scrunchy, some snacks from the kitchenette and slung it over my shoulder.

“That’s much better,” I said to myself. Now it wouldn’t feel like I was dragging the world around with me. I still needed to make a stop at the shops to see if I couldn't pick out something a little nicer to wear in the water. While I waited for Conor, I dragged out the brush and scrunchy and pulled my hair back into a messy bun.

Conor ambled out of the bathroom and went for his Nintendo.

I raised my hands. “Lots of water and sand. You don't want it to get wrecked, do you?”

He shook his head, looking a little forlorn.

“Why don't you put it on to charge so you can play some more later? I promise you’ll have plenty of fun with me and Sleet, if he ever stops sulking.”

Sleet gave a little harumph but held his ground on the pillow.

Conor looked longingly at the console then powered it down, before plugging it in to charge.

I knocked on Mom and Shay's door. It swung open and Mom appeared with my daughter in tow behind her, both ready for a day at the beach.

“Last chance, Sleet,” I called.

When he didn’t move, I shrugged. “Okay, there’s snacks in the kitchen. We’ll be at the pool. When you’re ready, come find us.”

The four of us made our way out onto the esplanade. A series of pools dotted along the front of the resort, with a number of playgrounds in between them. They were separated from the beach by the esplanade that ran all the way back to the jetty, where we’d unloaded.

As we wandered along looking for a less occupied pool, the sound of the ocean lapping against the beach relaxed me. It also made me wonder why we hadn't done this more often. I knew why we hadn't done it lately: money. But money hadn’t always been a problem. At least not back when Judas was around. I wondered if life might have been different if we had spent more time together.

Cut it out. He'd still have wandered off with that strumpet. That's not on you.

As we passed a store, I paused. “Hey Mum, can you take them to the pool? I just need to stop by the shop.”

“Sure thing, dear,” she replied, wrapping an arm around each child. “Who’s ready for a swim?”

“Me, me, me,” Conor exclaimed.

Shay said nothing, no doubt trying to play it cool even though Mr. Football didn't seem to be anywhere in sight. I stared at her face as they departed. I could have sworn she had put on a little make up. Clearly, she wasn't actually planning to swim.

I made my way into the store. It was a one-stop shop for tourists on the island. Since resort guests often stayed for days or weeks at a time, the store stocked everything tourists were likely to forget or run out of on their island holiday.

There was a small grocery section, a gift emporium for souvenirs, and a clothing section stocked with summer and beachwear. I roamed through the assorted gifts and souvenirs one might buy for friends and family back home. It was loaded with Aussie trinkets—the ubiquitous opal-based jewelry, pictures of wildlife, and Aussie slang postcards, as well as assorted mugs and keychains.

I screwed up my nose at the seamless pouch. Why you’d actually give that to anyone was beyond me. It had to be a male thing. I stared at the leatherwork and had a thought about Judas that I was confident would land me in jail if I ever acted on it.

My eyes played over a series of beautiful postcards. Each was a landscape taken from around the island. Beside them rested a handful of Aboriginal artifacts painted in a style proclaimed to be indigenous to the area. Last but not least, a collection of knives, from ornamental blades to diving and fishing equipment.

I made my way into the clothing area. There wasn’t the largest range of patterns and designs, but the sizing spectrum was accommodating, which was a relief.

I was a size two, and by two, I meant I was two Instagram models. How anyone got that thin without selling their soul to something on the other side of the Veil was beyond me.

I flicked past a few bikinis I wouldn't have had the courage to try on in the privacy of my room, let alone wear at the beach or pool. The most promising candidate was an eye-catching two-piece swimsuit that was black and neon purple. The tank top style made me feel a lot more at ease. I could be confident that I'd be able to avoid malfunctions and actually relax. I grabbed a couple of sizes and headed into the change room to see which would suit me best.

Settling on the one that I was happy with, I popped the others back on the rack before heading for the checkout. As I passed the gift section once more, my gaze drifted back to the glass display case containing the knives.

I found myself slowing to a stop. Mindful of the fact that I didn't have any weapons on me, I gave the blades a second look. Mom had packed her shot gun and I had my magic. But the Glade Guardian was more gifted than I was, and his magic hadn't stopped him getting murdered. You never knew when a little weapon might prove a large deterrent. I tapped the case to get the clerk’s attention. The clerk, a young woman in her twenties, looked up and smiled at me.

“How can I help you today?” she asked, walking down the counter to where I waited.

I pointed at the top of the glass cabinet, above a small slender knife. The blade was barely an inch and a half wide, but it was five inches long with a serrated section. The handle was flat and barely longer than my palm. There was no way it was designed for ergonomic comfort, but its slim profile would allow it to be easily concealed. I suspected it was intended to be worn on a diving belt, though I was sure I'd be able to stash it just about anywhere.

“Oh, headed out for a dive, are we?” she asked.

I managed a fake smile. “Of course. The wrecks look lovely this time of year.”

It was probably best not to mention the last time I’d held a knife was to cut off the Red Cap’s head. Diving was a much better conversation starter.

“They sure are,” the clerk replied, “though unless you're an experienced swimmer, I'd head out on the boat from the resort. The swim from the beach looks short but the currents are far stronger than you'd expect. They’re the real reason the wrecks were put there in the first place.”

I smiled and nodded as I handed over my card. I tucked the swimmers and knife into my bag.

I’d read up on the island on the boat ride over, becoming better acquainted with the geography and layout of the place. In an effort to insulate against tides and provide a safe spot to moor boats, the government had successively sunk five ships every few years through the 1970s and 80s. There were now fifteen of them submerged off the coast of the island, providing a great barrier against any tidal swells. It also provided for some spectacular scuba diving. I'd snorkeled there when I was eleven and I wasn't technically lying to the clerk. Given the chance, I intended to go back.

I’d always been fascinated by marine life. If I hadn’t fallen into my career as a librarian, I imagined I would have tried to study marine biology. Just the thought of the wrecks was getting me excited. It felt like an eternity since I'd actually been in the water. I was going to have to book a dive for sure.

When I made my way out the door, I scanned the promenade.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I had the distinct feeling I was being watched.

As I scanned the crowd, I took in a group of Harry Potter enthusiasts playing quidditch. Another set of wizards in full robes made their way down to the beach, diehard fans, presumably. They had to be to wear those things in this heat.

Dozens of other families came and went. My eyes tracked all the way back to the resort building and landed on a man in a felt hat...

He stood quietly leaning against the corner of the building, his eyes unmistakably set on me.

The moment I saw him, he ducked around the corner.

Forgetting the pool, I raced after him, my thongs smacking against the concrete.

They were hardly designed for high-speed pursuit, and I found myself cursing the casual attire. I made it a few more steps before I lost one of the thongs entirely. To save time, I kicked off the other and picked up my pace.

I had a few questions I wanted to ask this man, starting with what he was doing stalking me. As I ran, I reached into the bag and tightened my hand around the handle of the knife I had just purchased.

Reaching the end of the building, I rounded the corner. I found myself in an alley running between the resort and the hotel beside it.

The alley was completely empty. The man in the felt hat was nowhere to be seen.

Chapter 6

The alley ran between the two buildings to a bus loading zone out back. Based on the signs, it was where we should wait if we wanted to go sand boarding.

I searched for any trace of my stalker, but no one was there. I was, however, getting a major case of déjà vu from the ferry. It seemed the man in the felt hat could vanish the second I took my eyes off him.

I ventured into the loading zone, searching about in case he’d ducked behind one of the bins out back. My search turned up no trace of him, and I found myself staring up the sloping sand dunes into the national park. If he had disappeared into that area, he could have gone anywhere. The park was literally dozens of square kilometers filled with nothing but sand and trees, and about a million places one could hide.

My heart pounded as I paced back and forth, considering my next move.

Clearly, I hadn't just been imagining things on the ferry. He had been watching me, but why? And who was he?

The way he had vanished made me wonder if he was Sidhe. When I’d first met Naerine and her followers, they had been hiding in plain sight, concealed by glamours. Alasdair had forced them to reveal themselves, but that wasn’t going to do me any good here. Standing here threatening to burn down a forest was going to make me look insane, or get me arrested if I was caught by a normal.

I groaned. Glamours and illusions were something I hadn’t covered in my training. I was going to have to make that a priority. Otherwise, I couldn’t trust my own eyes. My stalker had looked like a human man, absent the fine, slender features of a Sidhe, but then if he was using a glamour, he could be anyone.

Or anything.

I swallowed. There were many creatures from beyond the Veil that employed glamours to deceive humans. Most of them were every bit as deadly as the Sidhe.

I abandoned my pursuit. Whoever or whatever was watching me, I had no idea where they had gone, and I wasn't game to wander into the national park alone. For all I knew, it could be a trap to lure me away from the safety of the crowds.

I made my way back down the alley to the promenade, breathing heavily the whole way. It took me a minute to find my discarded things. I slipped them back onto my feet. A few of the passers-by looked at me funny, probably because it looked like I was stealing someone else's footwear.

“Way to go, Nora, total bogan.”

I found a change room and slid into my swimmers, before pulling the summer dress back over my head. The little detour had taken far longer than I’d expected, but I made my way back to the pool where I'd left my family. Opening the gate, I did a quick double check to see if I was being observed again.

I saw no obvious tail though I did spot Sleet lounging about on the shades sail, his eyes glued to one of the mobile snack carts that was selling glazed donuts.

My mother was in one of the sun lounges, her head tilted back, her eyes closed as if she was dozing. Beside her, Shay occupied a second lounge. She had her book out and was reading. She was well into her umpteenth read of the Harry Potter series and was working her way through The Half-Blood Prince. I suspected if she tried, she could make a host of new friends here. The convention certainly seemed well attended with simply hundreds of would-be wizards roaming the island.

“Mum!” Conor shouted as he raced toward the pool.

He jumped, tucking his knees tight to his chest before hitting the water with a massive cannonball. Water went everywhere. Some of the spray even managed to reach Shay.

“Hey,” she called, looking up from her book, “cut that out.”

Conor broke the surface, laughing, before paddling back to the side of the pool. “Did you see that, Mum?”

“Sure did, that was a good one,” I called as I made my way over.

“Are you coming in?” he shouted, the hope evident in his voice.

“Just a minute, dear,” I replied as I sat down on the edge of Shay's lounge. “Apart from the splashing, how are you doing, Shay?”

“It’s ok,” she replied. She was still absorbed in her book, but this wasn’t like her. She had always been quiet, except when she was with her friends, but this was something else. She seemed withdrawn.

She’d been like this ever since her encounter with the Red Cap which only served to compound the worry and the guilt I was feeling.

“Is there anything I can get you? A drink and ice cream?” I offered quietly enough Conor wouldn’t overhear and get distracted.

She shook her head. “I’m okay, thanks.”

Something was up. Shay never turned down ice cream. She didn’t seem particularly talkative either, so I resolved to try again later.

“Well, I'll see what I can do about the splashing in the meantime.” I stood up and peeled off my dress, ready for a swim.

“Good luck,” she replied. “That’s the fifth or sixth bomb dive since we got here.”

“I know, sweetie, he's just having fun, and so should you. I was thinking we could rent some quad bikes after lunch, go on a tour of the island?”

“I’ll think about it,” she replied. It wasn’t a no, so I took it as a win and joined Conor in the pool.

Conor and I swam and splashed. I did my best to control the collateral damage, but it had been so long since he’d had a swim he got pretty carried away, and I let him. The kids needed to blow off steam; we all did. We’d been through a lot these past few weeks.

It was a little after midday when we got out of the pool. The sun overhead was blazing hot, and I realized we hadn’t remembered the sunscreen. If we left it too much longer, we would spend the next few days looking like ripe tomatoes and that would make for a far less pleasant trip.

“All right, that’s it for me,” I said, heading for the edge. “How about we go grab some lunch?”

“But I want to stay in here,” Conor replied, kicking his way into the middle of the pool.

“Lunch sounds pretty good,” Shay answered. “What are we having?”

“Well, I did promise you Japanese,” I replied. “But I figured if we grab something quick and easy instead, we can go for a ride then do Japanese for dinner when we get back. There is also wild dolphin feeding right around dusk so we could do that too.”

“Sounds good,” Shay replied, her attention drifting back to the book.

“Can’t we stay here?” Conor called from the middle of the pool.

“Not if we want to ride the quad bikes,” I called back. “So if you want to do that, you better get dry pronto.”

The chance to ride something with an engine was enough motivation for him to listen, and he swam to the edge of the pool and climbed out.

A group of kids walked past the pool and down to the beach. I recognized them as the football team from earlier.

I wrapped my towel around me and placed a hand on Shay’s shoulder. “No matter what happens, you need to stick with me or Gran. Don't go wandering off around the island on your own.”

“Yes, Mum,” she replied on autopilot.

“I mean it, Shay. Not on your own and not with any strangers. No matter how cute they might be.”

Shay blushed and pushed my hand away. “Mum, you're embarrassing me.”

“I'm your mother—that's my job,” I replied as I stood up and finished drying off so I could put my dress back on. “Who's ready to eat?”

The kids let out a chorus of me’s but it was the high pitched one from overhead that got my attention.

“Nice of you to join us, Sleet. Have we finished our tantrum?” I said.

“What tantrum?” Sleet asked. The little fairy wasn’t being deceptive. He likely didn’t even remember what he was upset about. He seemed to have a short attention span, which if the Otherworld journal was on point, was somewhat common for fairies.

Mom finally roused from her nap.

“Lunch sounds good,” she said. “Did I hear you say something about sushi earlier?”

“Yeah, but given it's a restaurant rather than a sushi train, I was figuring that perhaps we do that for dinner instead. Why don't we grab something from the cafe and then see if we can hire some of those bikes?”

That compromise seemed to work for everyone, so we did a quick lunch on the go: a meat pie for me, some sausage rolls for the kids, and Mom had a toasted ham and cheese sandwich. Polishing off the easy meal, we headed back to the main building of the resort and found the concierge’s desk.

It was staffed by a young man in his early thirties with sandy colored hair, khaki slacks, and a blue polo with the resort’s logo on it.

“Hi, I’m Nora,” I said. “I was wondering how I go about hiring some quad bikes for the afternoon?”

He flashed me a thousand-watt smile. “Hi Nora, I’m Barry. Our next tour leaves at three o'clock, so you’d have a little wait ahead of you, but that gives us plenty of time to get everyone geared up. If I can grab a few details off you, I’ll get you all sorted.”

“Oh, I was hoping we could do a little exploring ourselves. I have the kids with me, and we’d like to take things at our own pace. We don't need a guide. It's an island, after all. Only so far we can go.”

Barry nodded. “Yeah, but there is a hundred and eighty square kilometers to get lost in. If you run out of fuel somewhere, it could be a heck of a long walk home.”

I reached into my wallet and pulled out a crisp green one-hundred dollar note.

“Then perhaps you could make sure the tanks are full,” I replied, acting as though he’d already agreed to lending us the bikes. It was a simple form of persuasion, but it worked more often than not.

Barry grinned as he palmed the note and slid it into his pocket.

“I'm sure I can rustle up a few bikes. Meet me out the back of the building in twenty minutes and we’ll get you geared up.” He looked at the four of us. “So, two bikes riding double?”

I considered whether or not I was ready for Shay and Conor to be driving. I weighed their age and experience against the fact everything was going to be on sand, which could be treacherous if they weren’t ready for it.

“We’ll take the two this time,” I replied. “If things go well, we might let them take their own out tomorrow.”

The caution seemed to go down well with Barry, who I expected was a little concerned for the hotel's insurance policy and had little desire for extra paperwork.

We raced up to the unit and changed out of our wet gear, opting for something with a little bit more coverage to protect against the sun. I also drowned Mom and the kids in sunscreen, as we could be out for a few hours.

We managed to get back to the resort’s main office right as Barry and another hotel staff member arrived outside, rolling in on two quad bikes with four helmets balanced on their handlebars.

Barry jumped off and pointed to the bikes. “Your chariots await. I’ve got your room details, so the rental and fuel will be charged to the card we have on file. I recommend you head up the hill and turn right at the fork. That'll take you through the interior of the island, where you can explore to your heart’s content.

“At the next crossroads, heading straight will take you to the eastern shores. Right will leave you at the Dune Sea where we do all the sand boarding, but you’ll likely get bogged down if you venture out there. Save that for another day.

“If you head left, that'll take you up the side of the island to Fort Cowan and the World War II gun emplacements. It’s one of the most beautiful beaches you’ll see in your life. A nice, easy ride. You’ve got more than enough fuel in the tanks to get there and back with a little extra for good measure.”

“Barry, you have outdone yourself,” I replied as I eyed the bikes. “I’ll double Conor. Shay, ride with Gran.”

I jumped on the bike Barry had been riding, and Conor got on behind me. I couldn't help but notice Mom put Shea up front on hers.

My mother noticed my judgmental eyes and cut me off at the pass. “The girl has gotta learn to drive some time.”

Shay was smiling, so I thought better about telling them off. “Just take it easy until you get used to things, okay?”

We put on our helmets. I was just about to kick over the quad, when Barry appeared beside me.

“Here, let me,” he said, angling himself so he could start the quad.

Before he could, I stood up and kick started it myself. The bike roared to life, and Barry took a step back and flashed me a thumbs up. If nothing else, Alasdair would die of shame as my mentor if I still couldn’t start a bike after the last two weeks of training.

As the other employee approached Mom, she held him at bay. “I’ve got this, tiger,” she said as she kicked over the bike. “If I can’t start it now, how am I going to do it out there?”

It took two tries for her quad to fire up, but soon it roared to life.

Leaving Barry behind, we eased out of the undercover area. The quads had a little more go than I expected. I turned to see Shay's bike lurching as she tried to get a feel for the throttle.

“Easy does it,” I called over my shoulder as I slowly climbed the sandy trail out of the resort.

Following Barry's advice, we rolled up to the fork and turned right to head out across the island's interior.

The first leg of the journey was quite steep, as we climbed the row of dunes behind the resort. When I looked back over my shoulder, there was a clear view over the top of the resort and out to the water. It was breathtaking but I couldn’t enjoy it for long, having to focus on the winding trail ahead of us. I made a note to stop here on the way back. There ought to be a spectacular view of the sunset.

To the indigenous people of the area, Moreton Island was known as Malgumpin, which meant the ‘place of sandhills’, and they’d nailed it. Even the path we took had quite the climb as we made our way through the middle of the island.

The national park enveloped us on all sides. There were scribbly gums and grass trees everywhere, hardy plants that could survive the sand and salt.

We rounded the next corner to find a bus bouncing down the slope toward us.

I panicked a little as I realized the path wasn’t wide enough for both of us.

A small easement led off to the left-hand side of the trail. I veered off to the side, and Mom and Shay coasted in behind me as the bus driver honked his appreciation.

The bus likely would be a load of tourists making their way back from sand boarding at the Dune Hills. The immense white sand hills could be a good sixty meters tall and using a waxed piece of board, you could slide down them at incredible speeds. It was the closest thing a Queenslander was ever going to get to tobogganing.

Snow was not a naturally occurring event in our state.

The bus bounced past us, and we pulled out onto the trail, resuming our journey eastward. We soon reached the crossroads Barry had mentioned, and following his advice, we continued straight ahead. Conor’s giddy whooping every time we went over a bump and got a little air reassured me he was having a good time. Shay was grinning as she taxied my mom around the island.

Comfortable that she’d found her zone on the bike, I veered left through the intersection, headed for the eastern beaches and Fort Cowan. With Moreton Island forming part of the seaway into Brisbane, it had been a natural point of fortification in World War II.

A gun emplacement hidden on the island could shell any vessels trying to trouble Australian shipping into Brisbane. While it hadn’t been common for Japanese vessels to make it this far south, it wasn't unheard of either. An attack from Japanese submersibles had sunk vessels as far south as Sydney Harbor.

We tore along the sandy trail. The further we drove from the resort, the more comfortable I felt opening up on the gas. The quads had a fair bit of grunt to them, and it was becoming apparent to me that I had acquired a taste for riding. The time spent on Alasdair's bike had given me an appreciation for them that I was only just starting to recognize.

Maybe I’ll have to get one of these for myself.

It would have to wait though. I didn’t want to burn through my cash reserves. Just because we weren't on a shoestring budget at this second didn't mean I could afford to be flippant with my funds. This holiday was the limit of my spending for the time being.

We made good time reaching Fort Cowan a little after three o’clock. As we rolled down the beach, the sun beat down in full force. I was grateful for the trees on the trail that had protected us from the worst of the heat, and now a pleasant breeze off the water made the ride a little less like riding a trike across the surface of the sun and more like a Sunday stroll through a pizza oven.

“How was that?” I asked, turning to the kids.

“So much fun,” Conor replied. “When can I drive?”

“Mmm. Maybe on the way back,” I said, stretching my legs as I made my way over to Shay. “Sharp driving, missy.”

“It was pretty fun,” she conceded.

I placed an arm around her. “You are in danger of having a good time, young lady.”

Sleet came streaking down out of the sky. He landed on my shoulder, huffing and puffing as he gathered his composure.

“Everything okay, Sleet?”

“Little cars, very fast. Sleet, very tired,” he said between pants.

I scooped him off my shoulder and popped him back in the loose pocket on the front of my sun dress.

“Just relax, buddy. Take a load off. You can ride back with us.”

“Good,” Sleet said as he teetered and sat down in the pocket.

Mom took us on a tour of the fort, recounting its history as best she knew it. At the time, she had actually been a child in Ireland. It was in the midst of the war that she had found her way into Faerie and the clutches of my father, the Winter King.

She was older than she appeared as, during her time there, she hadn't aged. While she looked like any sixty-year-old woman, at times I had to remind myself she'd been alive for the better part of a century. By the time she had become pregnant with me, the war had long since ended and she’d emigrated to Australia to get as far as possible from the searching eye of Oberon.

She’d figured the heart of the southern hemisphere and Summer’s domain would be a far more viable place to safely hide a Winter scion.

I found it fascinating when she chose to share stories from her youth. To hear them from someone who had actually been there was better than reading them in a book. I'd learned more about my mother in the last two weeks than I had my entire life. With the truth of my identity shared between us, she had no reason to hide the rest of her story from me.

I watched, a smile on my lips, as she regaled the children with stories about her childhood in Ireland and her life in Cork. The kids had no idea just how old she was, and I figured it would be easier to explain that particular family secret when they got older.

We wandered all around the fort and then took a stroll down the beach. Here, less trafficked by human feet, there was an abundance of shells and crabs.

While we walked, I showed the kids how to identify yabby holes.

“When I was a girl, we’d hunt for yabbies,” I told them. “You spot the air bubbles coming up from one of these holes in the sand as the tide goes out. Then you would grab this steel pump, press it over the hole, and lift out a stack of sand. You shot it onto the beach and more often or not, there was a yabby in it.”

“What did you do with them?” Conor asked.

“Sometimes we’d use them as bait and fish with them. Other times we’d just let them go. It was more about the fun than anything else really. We didn’t have Nintendo in my day.”

“So you didn’t eat them?” Shay asked.

“No.” I laughed. “They’re too small. The freshwater varieties are a lot bigger. Those have a lot more meat to them.”

“Yabby, you say,” Sleet replied, rejoining the conversation, now that it was about one of his favorite topics.

“I don't know if they would be sweet enough for you, Sleet, but crayfish can be delicious.”

“We must try them,” he said, holding up a finger. “Otherwise, we cannot know for certain.”

“Well, we don't have a pump with us. But tonight, we’re doing Japanese so there will certainly be an abundance of seafood options. You can try some of those and see what you think. There will be plenty of fish, perhaps a scallop or two.”

“I like scallops,” Conor added. “Nice and crunchy.”

“Not those scallops,” Shay said.

Conor was referring to the potato scallops that formed a common side in every fish and chip shop of any substance. Deep-fried potato scallops were both cheap and delicious, and perfect for a mom on a budget. It wasn't uncommon for us to get fish and chips with a couple of scallops thrown in for the kids.

Conor looked confused.

“It's a slightly different scallop,” I said. “This one is out of the sea and not made from potato but still pretty good. If you like the texture.”

Conor nodded, but given his skeptical expression, I expected he would avoid them. He was slow to try new things.

“Only if you want to,” I added.

As the sun continued to head west, I decided it was time to start our journey back.

“Okay, saddle up, folks. Let's get back to the resort.”

“Can I drive?” Conor asked.

I looked at the path and looked at him. It had been a bumpy ride over, but if he was willing to give it a try, I figured what harm could he do? It wasn’t like there was much other traffic on the trail. I just needed to make sure he didn’t wrap us around a tree.

“Sure thing, hon, you ride up front.”

He scooched up the front of the bike and put on his helmet. I slid on behind him, making sure I could reach the handlebars and both the throttle and brake just in case I needed to take corrective action.

We fired up the bikes and headed back up the beach on the trail. The wind turned, flowing up from the south. I could have sworn I detected a hint of a wood fire burning. It was a pleasant smell, one I rather enjoyed, though fireplaces were something of a rarity in Queensland.

Conor guided us up the trail and as we crested the first dune, a plume of smoke rose into the air before us.

Open fires in the national park were prohibited.

That didn't mean people wouldn't light them anyway, either intentionally or accidentally as someone disposed of a cigarette butt poorly.

Conor coasted along the trail, pulling on the throttle as we climbed the next dune.

No sooner had we crested it, than we came face-to-face with a wall of fire.

Chapter 7

The fire blazed everywhere. Several gum trees had toppled across the path, alight with the fire spreading through the scrub on both sides of the trail.

Conor screamed in terror, letting go of the handlebars and the accelerator.

There wasn’t time to do anything but squeeze the brakes.

The quad bikes slid in the soft sand as the brakes locked up. The wheels turned a little, sending us drifting sideways. We collected a bit of scrub before being thrown off the bike.

If it wasn't for the uphill incline, we might have been traveling too fast to have stopped in time. We could have run right into the burning trees. As it was, we were far from safe. The blaze, driven by the wind, was gaining speed.

Bushfires were deadly.

Shay and my mother slid to a halt behind us.

The wall of fire continued to spread as I got up and dusted myself off. Conor was already on his feet.

The trail back was blocked by burning trees. We could always double back to the fort and head down the beach. The only problem with that plan was that by the time we got back to warn the resort of the danger, this fire could be burning out of control.

Once the blaze reached critical mass, it would become almost impossible to extinguish. Instead, it would burn until it ran out of fuel or struck a firebreak usually burned well ahead of its progress by the fire brigade. Here in the untamed wilderness of Moreton Island, the small rural fire brigade would be hard pressed to contain the blaze. It could damage the national park and the resort, built as it was up against the bush land.

I couldn’t just let it burn. If we weren’t careful, it would overtake us. We couldn’t go forward, and we couldn’t run without putting other people’s lives in danger.

Killing the idling engine to conserve fuel, I turned to face the blaze.

“What are you doing, Nora?” my mother shouted. “That's a bush fire. We need to run—as far and as fast as we can.”

“There are other people out here,” I called back. “If we let it burn, we could be letting others get hurt.”

The code of the Camp was clear: we were to protect others where we could. It was what built goodwill with the community and law enforcement. We might be different; we might have magic, but we were on their side.

“It's still small,” I said. “If we can stop it here, we have a chance. Once it gets underway, it could consume everything on the island.”

“You can't possibly mean to tackle that yourself,” she shouted over the crackling flames.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I replied as I determined where I should start.

“That's not what I meant. It's just…” She paused.

It was rare for me to hear fear in my mother's voice. She’d lived her whole life as a normal, surrounded by the Sidhe. It had hardened her, made her resilient. But while she had been a first-hand witness to their magic, she had never had any of her own. She didn’t understand the guilt I would feel, being able to help but choosing not to. If tragedy befell someone, and I could have done something about it, I would never forgive myself.

Right now, there were hundreds of people on this island. All of them could be at risk if this fire spiraled out of control.

“Stay together,” I called to my mother and the kids. “I’ll take care of this.”

I hoped I sounded a lot more confident than I felt. I approached the blaze on foot.

As I drew closer, I heard other bikes starting up. There was someone else out here. I peered through the smoke and flames but couldn't see them. I hoped they hadn't been trapped by the blaze.

As a child of Winter, some magic came to me far more readily than others. Ice magic felt like an extension of my very being. To a lesser extent, I was developing talents for water and air magic. I considered the blaze and settled on ice, being as it was a nice combination of cold and water.

I drew on my power. Unlike Alasdair, who used words for focus, I had no need. My magic stemmed from my Sidhe heritage. It was simply a part of me and like all Sidhe, I was connected to the currents of magic that flowed through the world around us.

Drawing deep, I faced my palms toward the base of the fire and channeled my will at it. Streams of sleet hurtled from my hands to the fire in a torrent of icy power.

The blaze melted the ice to water, but the water still rained down. Angry hisses issued wherever the water struck flames or coals. I started at one edge of the inferno, seeking to corral and contain it by dousing the flames and soaking as much of the surrounding brush as I could. In doing so, I hoped to prevent the fire from spreading. With some luck, I could contain and perhaps even extinguish it.

The flames burned brightly but denied the opportunity to expand, they would soon burn out. Scrub and dead fall littered the areas beside the trail, but the ground was still sand.

I poured the wrath of Winter into the blaze as sweat rolled down my brow. Inch by agonizing inch, I drove it back. But wherever I went, the fire spread in the opposite direction.

I couldn’t contain it quickly enough. I needed to up my game. I needed to think bigger.

Channeling wave after wave of ice and sleet, I smothered the fire on the right-hand side of the trail, burying it beneath a mountain of ice. Directing my efforts, I drove the ice across the trail, dousing the burning trees that were blocking our path. The fire was smothered out of existence.

As I reached the left-hand side of the trail, my magic whiffed out. It was as if someone had reached out and turned off the tap.

Shooting pain pierced my skull and I sank to my knees.

Alasdair had warned me about overdoing it. Every being had a finite amount of magic they could channel without rest. Those who exceeded their natural limitations could do irreparable harm to themselves, and if they lost control of their magic, they could also harm everyone around them.

My hands sank into the soft sand as I rested a moment.

A sharp squeal brought me back to the present. The fire had advanced well down the left-hand side of the trail and was encroaching on the bikes.

The bikes where my mother and children waited.

Shay jumped up and down, looking distraught.

“Go,” I shouted to my mother. “Don’t worry about me.”

If I failed, I didn’t want my children bearing the price.

Conor's face was impassive, which was a bit of a shock. I’d expected him to be panicking too. It was almost as if he didn't understand the danger we were in.

I tried to summon more power to fight the blaze, redirecting my focus to the brush on the left-hand side of the sandy track. But the more power I expended, the more fatigued I became, and the more apparent it was that I was fighting a losing battle.

The fire rolled onward. In panic, I redirected my attention to the burnt-out trees in the middle of the road. Worst case scenario, if we had to abandon the fight, I could move one of these logs to try and clear a path for us. I focused my mind on the log, intending to shatter its battered husk so that we could ride through. As I tried to send an effort of will at it, I felt the fatigue in my soul, gnawing at the very core of my being. I'd tried to do too much, too quickly, and burned the candle at both ends, or thawed it as the case might be.

I pitched forward into the sand, utterly exhausted.

“Mum?” Shay screamed.

Laying on my side, I pondered where I had gone wrong. It was arrogance to believe I could subdue a forest fire. It grew, gaining the ground I’d taken at an unbearable cost.

You need to move, Nora. Think, move, live.

My brain sent the instructions, but my body simply wouldn't follow them. Higher and higher, the flames billowed.

Laying on my cheek in the sand, I called to my mother. “Run! Get the children out of here.”

The blue sky darkened to gray and then black as clouds rolled in off the ocean, combining with the plumes of smoke above us. I turned onto my back. It felt like I was watching a time lapse documentary, everything happened so fast. The clouds billowed, condensing before my eyes.

Then the heavens broke. The first drop struck my face and I smiled. We needed all the help we could get. The rain fell in thick sheets, spraying sand and battering the fire. The storm smothered the fire’s intensity and won out.

The sounds of splashing water and hissing ashes melded together in a beautiful symphony that almost brought tears to my eyes. We were going to make it.

The storm had put out the fire faster than I ever could. Perhaps I should have started there, rather than throwing my whole strength at the fire itself. But where had the storm come from, and so quickly?

I became aware of something standing over me as a shadow cast over my face. I rubbed my eyes. They were a mess of sand and sweat and perhaps tears.

“Mum?” Conor said, staring down at me.

His eyes were glowing that same brilliant sapphire blue as the storm poured down. I listened as the last of the fire was drummed out of existence by the relentless rain. With the fire extinguished, the rain dissipated and the clouds dispersed, as if by magic.

“Conor? Did you do that?” I asked.

I knew he had power, but he’d never been taught to use it. We'd never even talked about it.

“Do what?” he asked, his eyes still aglow. I could feel the power emanating from him.

“The rain, hon. Did you make it rain?”

He cocked his head to the side. “No. I mean, I thought about it. I thought that rain could help us, and then it happened. Lucky, huh?”

I lay in the wet sand, catching my breath. My eyelids were heavy. I just needed a moment to rest.

“Mum?” Conor rested his hand on my shoulder. “Mum, wake up.”

A surge of cold started at my shoulder and spread through my entire being. The pounding headache dissipated, and I opened my eyes. I stretched and found my body responding once more.

Placing my hands against the sand, I pushed myself to my knees and realized I felt good. Great, even.

I looked up at Conor as the light faded from his eyes.

“Hon, did you just make it rain?” I asked again.

“Don't be silly, Mum. You can't make it rain. Everybody knows that.” Conor laughed.

The glowing in his eyes had faded but my questions didn't. The timing and intensity of the change in weather was too great to be a coincidence. Had my boy just summoned a storm? And done it unconsciously? Or did he know what he was doing? And what had he done to me? I’d almost been unconscious and now I felt surprisingly refreshed.

I couldn’t wrap my head around it. When I used my power, I had to focus intently. If I was distracted, my efforts amounted to nothing. I didn't want to jump to any conclusions, but it was difficult not to think that Conor had played a hand in the storm, whether he understood how he’d done it or not.

I steered him back to the bikes. We were going to have to explore the possibilities later, but for now, it was time to get moving if we wanted to get back to the resort before dark. The four of us were totally drenched and the path was more slushy mud than sand.

I was feeling far better than before, so focusing my will, I formed a sphere of crystalline ice the size of a cannonball and hurled it at the trunk of the tree blocking the path. It hit the burned-out timber, sending splinters of it everywhere. It created a rather satisfying gap just big enough for us to get through. Mounting the quad bikes, we kicked them over and fastened on our helmets.

“Mum, what's wrong with Conor?” Shay asked from her place on the front of my mom’s bike.

“Nothing is wrong with him. Why would you say that?” I asked, trying to shield his ears. He didn’t need his powers giving him the same self-esteem troubles I’d had growing up.

“His eyes, they were glowing. Weren't they?”

I didn't know how to handle this discussion. My daughter was asking about powers her brother had clearly manifested but that none of us truly understood. Was she scared? Jealous? Curious? She was older than Conor and had never shown any magical gifts. How would she react to him being able to do what it appeared he could do?

“Let's talk about it when we get back to safety, hon. For the time being, keep your eyes on the trail and let's go.”

With Conor steering, we led the way. As we rode, I tried to process what had happened. According to Barry, we would have the trail to ourselves, but if the quad tours had gone elsewhere, why had I heard other bikes? And how had the fire started?

We cleared the edge of the miniature storm Conor had summoned. Here the sand had remained dry, and it had more than two set of tracks running through it. They looked fresh, and while some of them were undoubtedly ours from the journey out, we couldn’t possibly have made this many.

Someone else had been here. Was it the man in the felt hat? Was he following us? Had he lit the fire?

Was someone out to kill us? Why? It didn’t make sense. I wasn’t on a bounty; I was meant to be on holiday. First there was the business with the dead Summer Court guardian at home, now a bushfire that almost killed us. If we had taken just a few more minutes before returning home, we might have been completely consumed by the blaze.

As we reached the crossroads, I tapped Conor and gently applied the brakes.

The other sets of tire tracks peeled off. They hadn’t headed back to the resort at all.

Now I was certain the tracks were not ours. Whoever had made them had seen the fire and hadn’t headed back to the resort to raise the alarm.

The longer I thought about it, the more convinced I became that they hadn’t just seen it. They’d started it.

Something sinister was happening here on the island. I needed to get to the bottom of it, before it killed us.

Chapter 8

My gut told me that answers lay down that trail, but my brain told me it was dangerous, and my heart wouldn’t let me put my kids in harm’s way.

I turned to Conor. “Buddy, I need you to go back with Nan. I’m going to catch up in a moment.”

“What?” Conor called back, trying to be heard over the idling engine.

I raised my voice. “Ride back with Nan. She'll take you back to the resort.”

When he didn’t move, I climbed off the quad and killed the engine. Shay followed suit as Conor hopped off the bike.

I walked him over to Mom to explain. “I need you to take Conor back to the resort.”

“What are you doing?” my mom asked.

“I need to follow a lead,” I replied. “Head to the restaurant. I’ll meet you there.”

“You shouldn't go off alone,” my mother replied. “A minute ago, you were almost out cold.”

She wasn’t wrong, but the truth of the matter was, I felt great now. Whatever Conor had done to me had me firing on all cylinders. I wanted to make the most of it and follow the trail before it ran cold.

“I don’t think that fire was an accident,” I replied. “Which means, someone lit it. We need to know why.”

“It was probably just some kids goofing off,” my mother replied. “You don’t need to solve all the world’s problems.”

“Either way, I need to know. If it was intentional, and they were looking for us, I’m not going to sit around and wait for them to take another shot.”

Conor clambered onto the back of their quad. My mother shot me an exasperated look before she and the kids took off, though with the three of them on the bike, it moved a good deal slower than it had.

I eyed the set of tire tracks. Old me would have run for the hills, but I was a hunter now. I needed to stop being prey.

“You still with me, Sleet?” I looked down at my pocket.

“Yes, Nora,” he said, staring back at me.

“I need you to watch my back, little man. If anything happens to me, go get help.”

He stood up and held onto the front of my pocket, peering over the top. “I won’t let you down.”

I grinned. “That’s my man.”

I shot off down the trail. Without Conor to worry about, I pushed the bike. I needed to make up for lost time. As I got used to the feel of it with only a single rider, I was able to steer a lot better, taking the corners with more speed than I ever would have dared with two of us.

I blasted along the trail, following the tracks, but seeing no one.

The further I went, the more doubt crept in. I had heard other bikes above the fire; I was sure of it. The amount of deadwood blocking the road was also compelling proof someone had done it on purpose. The fact they’d waited around to watch the fire and then left when we showed up meant that, at best, they’d left innocent people in harm’s way. At worst, it meant we were their intended target and they’d wanted to be sure we were ensnared in their trap before leaving.

The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that there was no accident here.

The track ran west toward the beach. I checked the fuel gauge. It showed just under half left. The last thing I wanted to do was be marooned out here and have to spend the night walking back to the resort.

Maybe the other bikes had been one of the tours coming or going. My gut told me that wasn't the case.

As the path straightened out, I sped up. Worst case, I would hit the beach and turn left following it all the way back to the resort. I might have taken the scenic route, but I would have given finding out the truth my best shot.

The path itself was a little wider than a car, but consisted entirely of sand, so I slid about like Tom Cruise in Risky Business. Someone out there might be trying to kill me, but if I wasn't careful, I was going to run into a tree and break my own neck.

I followed the trail to the west. From time to time, I slowed down to see if I could hear anything but it was impossible over the idling of my own engine.

Up ahead, the path forked. One went west, and I suspected if I followed that, I would come out somewhere near the shipwrecks and the scuba diving hotspots along the western coast. The other headed for the northern shores. Quad tracks headed down both paths.

“Well, that’s not helpful,” I groaned.

My gut told me to head north, so that was what I did. My gut hadn’t gotten me killed yet.

There’s always a first time.

“Shut up, you,” I said, silencing my inner critic.

I was not in the mood for her sass today.

If I didn’t follow my hunch, I would always wonder what might be lurking there.

The northern end of the island was practically uninhabited. It presented an excellent hiding place for anyone not wanting to be found.

I’d been working on the premise that whoever started the fire was also staying at the resort. But the further north I headed, the more I realized they could be camped out anywhere around here. My best bet in finding them was to follow their tracks back to their camp.

As I blasted along the trail, the trees cleared revealing a massive crystal blue lake. Set against the pristine white sand, it was quite picturesque. If I wasn't in pursuit, I would have liked to have stopped for a dip, particularly in this heat.

The trail followed the edge of the lake around its northeastern side until it emptied onto the beach. As I rounded the bend, the trees gave way to bare dunes and a stretch of sand devoid of any foliage. The tracks peeled off to the left.

Laid out before me in the large clearing was an enormous circle. It stretched more than fifty meters across the clearing with lines running across it. I slowed, as I tried to make sense of the strange markings.

I was barely rolling when something hit me from the left. Hard.

The man tore me off the bike as he crash-tackled me to the sand, winding me. My bag went flying, and the quad peeled off. I lost track of it as I rolled across the sand. I grabbed at the arms that held me tight. I squirmed onto my back so I could see my attacker more clearly. A man in a black cloak was trying to pin me down on the sand.

Who the hell wears a cloak in this heat?

I coughed and wheezed, trying not to inhale a nose full of sand as he pressed my face to the side against it.

I flailed against him as I tried to get to my feet. Using his weight to his advantage, he straddled me as he shoved me back down. I tried to kick off with both feet to throw him off, but my feet and sandals slipped against the soft sand. The attacker slammed me back into the ground.

“Stop struggling, wretch. You should not have come here.”

“I’m starting to get that impression,” I replied. I lunged forward to head-butt him.

As he leaned back, his cowl slipped to his shoulders, and I got my first good look at my attacker. He was in his early thirties, strong as an ox with a short tuft of brown hair that had been styled into a full hawk with more hair product than a day at the beach truly merited.

“Really not much of a welcome,” I said, a little frustrated I hadn’t landed the blow. “This is going right on Trip Advisor.”

“Good. Your kind are not welcome here,” he replied.

“What? Women?” I replied, feigning ignorance. I had no idea who he was. I was hoping his response might fill in some much-needed blanks. “In this day and age? I thought we were better than that.”

“You’ll make less noise when the master cuts out your tongue.”

“I type with my hands, mate, so if you’re thinking that’s going to stop me, you’re fresh out of luck.”

He shook his head. “Drop the act. It’s not fooling anyone.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just out for a ride.”

“We know who and what you are, Nora Byrne.” The man laughed, his grin sinister and thin. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

Well, that didn't bode well at all.

Did he mean he knew I was a bounty hunter? Or was he referring to me being a scion? If the latter, it hardly seemed fair. I’d only just found out myself. How did everyone else know? Did I miss a meeting?

More importantly, who on earth was he?

“Well, now you’re just being rude,” I said. “You know my name, but you haven't even given me yours. The aggressive cuddling I could look past but now you’re just being an ass.”

“I know better than to give you my name, half-breed.”

That was a little too specific for my liking, but it did serve as a warning that he knew about the supernatural world. A warlock perhaps.

And a rude one at that. If there was something I couldn’t abide, it was bigotry. And I didn’t like to think of myself as half anything.

I might have been half Sidhe, but I was all scion, and completely pissed off.

“Now, Sleet!” I said.

The tiny pixie shot out of my pocket, his sword in hand. It might have been made from the blade of a box cutter, but it scored a shallow cut across the back of my attacker’s hand as he swatted at Sleet.

As Sleet buzzed past his ear, the warlock turned and backhanded Sleet. The blow sent my little companion cartwheeling through the sky, before he vanished out of sight.

I hoped he was all right.

With the warlock momentarily distracted, I drew on the power of Winter and exhaled. My magic caught in my breath, turning the fine particles of moisture into water and producing a hail of fine icicles each barely bigger than a piece of glitter.

It was something I'd been working on with Alasdair, and my new frenemy got to be my practice dummy.

The burst of fine icicles hit him right in the face. It went everywhere, getting in his eyes, up his nose, and right in his blabber-mouth. It would be like getting acupuncture from a drunk echidna in a freezer.

My attacker batted at his face, trying to dislodge the icicles.

Raising my hand, I fashioned a shard of crystalline ice. I brought it down into his thigh, a few inches above his knee.

He let out a shriek of unfettered agony. One hand pawed at his face; the other clutched his injured leg. I rolled him to the side, shifting my weight and pitching him into the sand. I scrabbled onto my hands and knees.

Alasdair’s relentless drilling came flooding back to the forefront of my mind.

In the midst of a fight, you had to maintain momentum. I had my attacker on the ropes, but if I stopped to catch my breath, it would give him a chance. I still had no idea what I was dealing with. The fact that he knew I was a scion meant he was at least familiar with the Otherworld, though clearly he hadn't anticipated my newfound power. Perhaps he was acting on old information.

The only other people who had seen me manifest power in this manner were Alasdair and the Red Cap, and the latter was very dead. It would explain why my attacker had tried to restrain me, when he should have knocked me out cold.

He tried to pull the shard of ice out of his thigh. I tackled him into the sand.

“You don't want to do that,” I replied. “As soon as that comes out, you risk bleeding to death. Why bleed out, when you can stay here with me and enjoy this lovely beach?”

He threw a right hook at my face.

Turning my head to the left, I tried to move with the blow. It just caught my cheek, and I saw stars. I grabbed at his cloak.

He looked at me, and I felt the gathering currents of arcane power as he summoned his will.

He was gifted.

In a split second I made my choice. I grabbed his throat and wrapped my fingers around it tight, squeezing as hard as I dared.

Human wizards like my mentor needed a focus for their power, usually words to distill their belief and manifest their will. For a Sidhe, it was innate. As such, I had a distinct advantage.

“That is quite enough,” I said, wrestling against him. “One word, one single syllable, and I will freeze everything between my fingertips and the two of us can find out together if you can still cast that spell with frozen vocal cords. Do you understand me?”

The man nodded, slowly, his power dissipating.

“Good, now let's have a little talk.”

The man sank into the sand, the fight going out of him.

I considered where I ought to start my interrogation. The latest attempt on my life seemed the best bet. The quad tracks had led me here; it seemed likely he’d been party to it.

“Why light the fire?” I asked. “Were you trying to kill us?”

“You're not supposed to be here,” he said. “If you'd stayed at home, we would have left you alone. You’re not our problem.”

“Who's we?” I asked, trying to focus on who I was dealing with, rather than their opinion of me.

The man opened his mouth to speak, but his voice died in his throat. His lips moved, but nothing came out.

It wasn’t my hand at his throat. I’d relaxed my grip to let him speak.

“I can't hear you,” I said, wondering if it was some manner of deception.

His face turned red from exertion. He panted and let out a breath, before leaning his head back in the sand.

“I would tell you, if I could,” he said between gasps.

He certainly seemed genuine enough, which meant some other influence was constraining him. There was spell-work that could accomplish such things, and he had talent. It only stood to reason that the master he had mentioned would, too.

“So, your master extracted an oath from you,” I whispered. “Interesting.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

I considered my choices. Whoever had bound this man to their will had taken precautions to prevent him from divulging any details. That was terribly inconvenient, because I was tired, hurt all over, and was losing patience. And he’d caused most of my frustration. First, by almost murdering me with a bushfire, and then by tackling me off my moving bike. If he didn’t get real helpful, real quick, I was liable to lose my temper.

“What's all this then?” I asked, nodding at the lines in the sand.

“If you don't know,” he said, “then I can’t help you. We’ve been over this.”

The lines formed a pattern, but I didn’t recognize it. Just dozens of lines within a larger circle.

He shook his head. “You really have no idea what's going on?”

I was growing tired of being out of the loop. Becoming a hunter at my age was like playing catch up in a race that started two decades ago, but I wasn’t going to give up now.

The man chuckled, which made me want to punch his smug face.

“You killed the Red Cap, so we figured you knew.” He paused. “We figured he knew. Clearly, he has lost his touch.”

He who? Alasdair? Was this about my mentor?

“For weeks, we feared you were in league with him. And really you have no idea. Priceless. We’ve wasted so much time.”

“Why do you even care about me?” I replied. “Give me an answer or you’re going to join the Red Cap. The Camp doesn't take kindly to killers.”

When he didn’t answer me, I pressed on. “Or perhaps I hand you over to the Summer Court. Those sun-loving Sidhe seem to hold a grudge like no one’s business. I’m sure they’d love to get their hands on you.”

“Good luck finding them,” he replied. “They’re all off looking for their Guardian. Why do you think we killed him in your town? We needed them off the island. Framing you was just a bonus.”

“A bonus for what? What do you want with me? Why won't you just leave me alone?”

The man shrugged.

“You know that shard of ice in your leg only exists as long as I will it. Give me something, or you're going to start bleeding out. This far from help, it’s a long shot you see sunset.”

The man held his silence.

“Or,” I began, pondering my choices, “I can expand. I imagine having your femur broken by that shard of ice would be excruciating. They say it’s worse than giving birth, and while it’s not quite a scientific study, I’ve given birth twice. So, between us, I’m sure we can settle the debate.”

He didn't move.

I hovered one hand over the shard and willed more ice into existence, distilling it from the moisture in the air and expanding the column buried in his leg.

The warlock howled in pain, and I closed my fist.

“How about now?” I asked. “How would you rate your pain?”

“Three gold stars,” he said between huffs, tears streaming down his flushed face. “Give me a paracetamol, maybe cut one in half. I'll be right as rain.”

He had more staying power than I’d expected. I wasn’t sure how far I could push this line of interrogation without killing him.

“You can't say I didn't give you every chance,” I replied. “I suppose we’ll just have to raise the stakes. If you're not attached to that bone, perhaps we need to pick a body part you feel a stronger attachment to.”

I raised my hand in front of me in a cupping motion.

“This might exacerbate a pre-existing condition, but I'm sure with a little effort we could give the expression blue balls a whole new meaning. What do you reckon? I'm game if you are?”

He stared up at me, his brown eyes locked on mine.

“You seem to know a lot about me,” I said. “Did you know my hubby left me for a younger woman?”

“I can’t imagine why,” the warlock said through gritted teeth.

I shrugged. “The part that’s important is you’re playing testicular chicken with an angry divorcee.”

I blasted the cloak around his groin with a steady hail of freezing sleet.

“It’s going to get real cold, real fast,” I called over the sound of the ice striking the fabric, as he started squirming again. “Your North Pole is about to get frostbite.”

“Stop, stop, stop,” he shouted.

I shut my hand. Maybe next time I would start with that.

I patted his chest. “Feeling more talkative now? What are you doing here?”

He looked up at me, his lips rising into the faintest of smiles.

What was he? A masochist?

“Buying time,” he replied. “You’re fresh out.”

“Nora,” Sleet called from somewhere overhead. “Look out.”

I panicked, my gut sinking as my heart pounded in my chest. I’d been so focused on the warlock, I hadn't been paying attention to my surroundings.

Looking over my shoulder, I groaned out loud.

Three more men in black cloaks and hoods bore down on me from the sand dune at the top of the beach.

From beneath me, the warlock said, “It was nice to meet you, Nora Byrne.”

Chapter 9

Three against one. Four if you counted Blue Balls, laying beneath me.

My mind had a good snicker at that, while the rest of me was trying to figure a way out of the noose that was closing on me fast.

The three warlocks advanced down the sand dune, fanning out as they came. By spacing themselves, they divided my attention and focus. Watching them all at once was going to be impossible.

Clearly they had seen what had befallen their unsuspecting colleague, and were now all too aware of the danger I posed.

My breath came in ragged gasps. Whatever Conor had done was wearing off, and the toll of the day was really wearing me down. I was outnumbered, and I suspected heavily outgunned. As far as practice duels, I’d pitted myself against Alasdair, but that was one on one. If Blue Balls was to be believed, they were responsible for the death of the island’s Glade Guardian, a Sidhe of considerable reputation and power.

I couldn’t run, there was nowhere to go. My back was to the water, and they would certainly cut me down before I could make it back to my quad.

You’ve bitten off more than you can chew, my inner critic chided. You’ve done it this time, Nora.

“Shut up,” I bellowed. I didn’t have time for her crap now.

Blue Balls picked that moment to make his move. The sharp rush of power washed over me as his lips pursed.

My hand rushed for his throat, the shard of ice forming at my fingertips.

“Ign-” The word didn’t finish forming before I sliced through his throat.

His spell died with him, his hands pressed against his throat in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.

The sheer brutality of my reaction caught me off-guard. I hadn’t even thought about it, I’d just done it.

Perhaps it was Alasdair’s relentless training, or maybe it was instinct. I didn’t have time to dwell on it; the others were coming.

Why hadn’t they attacked me yet? Were they trying to capture rather than kill me?

A bold choice given their companion’s fate. If so, I intended to disappoint them, vigorously.

Reaching for my power I felt the familiar embrace of Winter coursing through me. I gathered as much as I dared. Reflexively, the warlocks raised their hands, fire pluming from their outstretched palms. It was a good choice, liable to melt any icy barrage I might unleash.

However I had no intention of playing their game. That was the sort of arrogance that got you killed. Turning my palms toward them, I took the breeze whistling off the ocean and fed power into it, increasing its speed and intensity, before directing it past me at the advancing warlocks. The wind lashed at me as it blew by, my hair billowing like a thousand sentient snakes as the wind bracketed me.

The fiery projectiles of the warlocks fared poorly, the wind extinguishing them as if they were candles on a birthday cake. As the wind swept over the sandy dunes, it kicked up a sandstorm, throwing it in the faces of my attackers.

The warlocks were caught flatfooted, trying to shield their faces, or rubbing madly at the sand already caught in their eyes.

Good luck to them. The fine white grains of Moreton Island felt great underfoot, but good luck getting that out of your eyes in a hurry.

I hoped to blind them long enough to make my escape. I wasn’t letting my ego force me into a fight I could well lose. I didn't need to beat these brutes, I just needed to get free of them.

The sandstorm battered them and I raced for my quad bike. Their hurried shouts rang in my ears, warning me that I'd done little lasting damage.

“After her, she's getting away.”

I was so close. The quad bike was about eight feet away, sitting where it had come to rest against a tree. Beyond it the crystal blue waters of the lake were still and flat. I made it to the bike, my muscles protesting the sprint every step of the way. Running in sand was the worst! I pushed the bike back a foot or two so that I could drive around the tree, threw a leg over it and tried to kick the engine over.

It spluttered but did nothing. The engine failed to fire up.

“You have to be kidding me,” I grumbled. It had better not be out of gas. I kicked it over once more, pulling the throttle a smidge as I did. The engine spluttered, a little more optimistically this time, but still failed to turn over.

The warlocks raced over the sand toward me. Seeing my plight, they were eager to press their advantage.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a ripple in the lake, a bubbling as something surfaced.

My heart fluttered. There must be others. And they were surrounding me. I turned but found the man in the felt hat and black overcoat rising out of the lake like the lost city of Atlantis. Water ran off his body and his cold gray eyes settled on me.

I felt sick to my stomach, my life expectancy vanishing faster than a politician’s electoral promises.

“When it rains it pours,” I groaned, completely surrounded. It was impossible to watch the man in the water and the three warlocks before me, so I readied a shield, a shimmering blue haze I hoped would buy me the seconds I needed, then rose up, ready to give the engine one last try.

“Get down,” the man in the felt hat bellowed.

I froze. His accent sounded like he was right out of south London. He was talking to me, but why?

I’d assumed he was with the warlocks; after all he’d been following me since the ferry. What was he up to?

His eyes smoldered with a keen intensity that in my youth might have made me swoon, but now having a reluctant education from the school of life I recognized the danger there. I broke off my stare, and glanced back at the warlocks. I had only a moment to decide, as I was blocking his line of fire. If his instruction wasn’t a ploy.

If it was, I was as good as dead. Throwing myself off the bike toward him, I landed in the soft sand, letting my shield dissipate and relied on the body of the bike to shield me from the warlocks.

The man in the felt hat stalked forward like a tiger, his lips tightening into a manic smile as his hands moved like the conductor of an orchestra. Swift sweeping motions as what sounded like Latin words rolled off his tongue. I heard a few of them here or there but he was speaking so swiftly I couldn't catch the gist of it.

The magnitude of the power rolling off him was unmistakable. Blades of ice, a foot long, like frozen stakes materialized in the air before him, hurtling from his outstretched palms. It was like a fusillade from a machine-gun and he leveled it at the warlocks with relentless precision. The first warlock went down, a spear of ice punching right through his thigh, as his fiery shield started to form.

I let out a sigh of relief. I’d been right to trust him. Good to know I could still rely on my gut.

The other two warlocks were faster, melting their way through the rain of death and reducing it to sleet and water as they advanced unperturbed.

The man in the felt hat strode confidently toward them.

I moved, so that I could see beneath the undercarriage of the quad and monitor their progress. The one on the ground clutched his wound and muttered something. He cringed, sweat rolling down his brow as the icy shard vanished and the wound cauterized.

The warlock dragged himself to his feet and limped after the others.

“Depart!” the newcomer bellowed. “Or meet your end.”

The lead warlock raised his hands, summoning two swirling orbs of fire above them. Seemingly satisfied with their size, he launched them at the bike, which spoke volumes to the warlocks’ priorities. They’d rather kill me, than deal with the far more immediate threat. Perhaps retaliation for their fallen comrade, though this felt like it was driven by a more deliberate intent.

The fire hurtled toward me, or more particularly, the bike I was hiding behind. In the heat of the moment, I cobbled together a shield and a tight latticework of ice spread before the bike. In my haste, my spell-work was a little scattered. It wasn’t enough to entirely absorb the fire, but it did divert it. The fire rolled along the icy barrier, playing across its surface, melting all the way before slamming into the sand and dissipating.

I’d almost been BBQed more times than I cared to count today, and was quickly tiring of being hunted.

My mentor was a stern advocate for the best defense being a decisive offense, so I rose from behind the quad and presented a unified front with my newfound ally.

“Who are you?” I asked.

The man in the felt hat didn't say a word.

The warlocks trudged forward, their leader gloating as he walked. “Two for the price of one. You were foolish to intervene.”

The man in the felt hat stopped beside me, his right hand raised toward them in a tight fist.

He looked the leader in the eye and chanted, “Duratus!”

The lead warlock paused, seemingly rooted to the spot.

“What?” he growled, his words fading into a pained groan as his skin turned blue.

Then he exploded.

Like a human frag grenade, as every cell in his body seemed to expand at once. Amplified by the energy of my unidentified savior. The warlock exploded in a mass of flesh, bone and magic that annihilated him and shredded both his companions, in what was the single most violent act I’d ever witnessed. There was warlock everywhere.

Before I could stop myself, I bent over, emptying the contents of my stomach onto the beautiful sandy beach.

“Warlocks should know better,” the newcomer muttered.

“Sweet mother of mercy,” I whispered, my nose twitching at the scent of my own bile. “I’d hoped I was past this.”

I took a careful breath, and lifted my gaze back to the warlocks, confident there was nothing left in my stomach to lose. Where the three of them had been only moments ago was a twisted and bloody mess. Brutal but effective.

I turned to thank him for his timely intervention. Only he wasn't there.

I looked about, turning toward the lake, but he was gone.

Glancing down at the sand, I found his footprints vanished half a step behind me. It was almost as if he’d simply vanished mid step.

“What on earth?” I muttered, utterly perplexed. How had he done that?

“Hello?” I called, “Are you still there?”

Nobody answered me.

“If you’re going to save my life, the least you can do is tell me your name,” I hollered at the lake.

But there was no sign of him. Not even a ripple in the surface of the water to witness where he had been. I shook my head in utter bewilderment. It was the icing on a completely bonkers day.

“Well, thank you, I guess,” I called, though I doubted he could hear me. The man, or whatever he'd been, was gone. I waited and watched, surveying the beach but there was nothing.

Well, nothing except the four dead warlocks I now had on my hands. I wasn’t strictly working, and while I didn't have an active bounty on them, there was every chance they were wanted somewhere. They seemed to have no qualms in killing people, and would fit squarely in the cross-hairs of the Congress. If we could definitively connect them to the killing of the Glade Guardian, not only would it clear my name, but I imagined the Summer Court would no doubt look favorably on us having answered that injustice.

If I could ever find them. There was meant to be a Sidhe presence on the island, at least according to Alasdair, but these warlocks moved with impunity.

I suppose if they had killed the guardian, they might have also dealt with his retinue.

From what I understood, normally, warlocks tended to operate alone. Typically they were humans whose power had manifested but rather than submit themselves for training at one of the world's many magical institutions, they chose to go it alone.

The problem with that approach is that power tends to corrupt, and those given supernatural talents find it only too easy to use those abilities to gain advantage or dominion over others.

Warlocks tended to be solitary creatures; it was a survival tactic. When cabals gathered, they made for tempting targets for the Arcane Congress. The fact they were congregating here couldn’t be a coincidence. The real question was, how many were there? The island was jam-packed with tourists. There could well be more lurking among them.

The optimist in me hoped there were only four and that I might salvage whatever vestige of my holiday remained. But the cynic inside me said they were more likely to be an iceberg’s worth of them, and I had merely seen the tip of whatever plot was at work here.

I had come to Moreton Island to get away from the events unfolding at home, and somehow I had wandered right into the middle of the whole mess.

Not wandered, I corrected myself. I'd been sent here by Alasdair.

Had he known what I’d find here? If he had, why hadn't he warned me?

As soon as I got back to the resort, I was going to have a stern word with my mentor. But first, unpleasant as I might find it, I needed to take a better look at what I was dealing with. I had four bodies, or at least what was left of them. Who knew what clues they might hold?

I made my way over to the grizzled remains of the warlocks and fought the urge to be sick again. Looking down at the crimson mess, I gave up on their leader. He was little more than a crimson smear that had spread himself over as large a radius as he could manage. What was left was thawing and melting into the sand.

The other two had been shredded but were still more or less in one piece. I searched their bodies, finding a little cash but no identification. Both of them did have the same tattoo though. A crimson flame on their right shoulder-blade. As I looked closer I realized it wasn’t a tattoo at all. It was a brand that had been burned into place. I winced as I thought of what that would entail. It wasn’t much, but at least I had something to identify them with. If I got a hold of Alasdair I would have to ask him what, if anything, he knew about them. Maybe he’d come across them in the past.

As I dwelt on their magic, an uncomfortable thought settled in my mind. These warlocks were pyromancers, and they had more than a passing familiarity with it. My experience in the supernatural community was a little limited, but I’d never seen anyone work fire like that except Alasdair.

Alasdair had sent me here, and on my first day I’d been ambushed by a contingent of pyromancers, with the same skill set he had. It could just be a coincidence. I certainly didn’t want to think it could be more than that.

Was it possible that these men were known to him? The supernatural world was broad and diverse, and I was barely getting acquainted with the fringes of it, but something told me there was more than coincidence at play here.

As I stared at the brands on their backs, it dawned on me that I'd never seen Alasdair's back. Which was probably a good thing for our working relationship. Even with his clothes on, I found his muscled form and Scottish brogue disarmingly alluring. I was going to be tremendously disappointed if, after everything we’d been through, he was trying to get me killed.

I set the thought aside. “Surely not, Nora,” I muttered. “That's just your paranoia talking.”

The bodies yielded nothing else I could use, so I stopped and studied the markings on the beach. Someone had painstakingly fashioned an immense series of small ditches in the sand. They wove all the way around the crystalline blue lake that the man in the felt hat had emerged from. Did it have something to do with him? Was he the reason they were here?

I discarded that theory. He’d started following me on the boat, so things weren’t lining up. I strode to the top of the dune to get a better view of it. The lines appeared to be an enormous circle with what looked like a star positioned inside it. The star pressed up against the circle’s edge at each point but the inner edges of it almost touched the edges of the small lake. It was considerable, and whoever had fashioned it, had done so with painstaking care. It had a pristine symmetry to it that would not have been easy to form in the sand.

It reminded me of an image in the Otherworld journal of a summoning circle. Though that circle hadn’t had a star inside it.

According to the journal a circle could be used to summon a creature from beyond the Veil, though doing so was fraught with peril as beings from beyond the Veil tended to respond poorly to being dragged into the mortal realm, and without adequate preparation of the knowledge of their true name you were unlikely to be able to bend them to your will.

Many mortals had died at the hands of creatures they’d hoped to bind to their will.

If it was a summoning circle, what were the warlocks planning to draw into our world?

Looking at it I concluded it wasn’t the sort of thing I should leave lying about. I pulled a branch of dead-fall out of the scrub beside the trail and made my way around the lake, completely obliterating the circle. I hoped my efforts might frustrate whoever had prepared the arcane aid.

Approaching the bodies of the warlocks I doubted I had seen the last of their kind. Something was at work here on the island. The death of the Glade Guardian, the warlocks’ ambush, and now this circle. These men would have more allies here, and I didn’t want to be here when the others discovered their friends.

I dragged what was left of the bodies out of the open, and threw them into a bit of scrub off the beaten track. They were heavier than I expected and I was puffing and panting by the time I rolled the third body down the dune into the scrub. The fourth was more of a stain at this point so I kicked some sand over the blood, and collected my things.

The bodies would need to be disposed of properly at some point, but Alasdair was far better at that than I was. His magic was eminently suited for reducing things to ash. There was also the fact that I feared I didn't have enough energy left in my proverbial tank to do much more than I had. The sun was rapidly setting as I made my way back to the quad. The kids and Mom would be worried sick, but I was alive, and the people who had tried to kill us were dead. At least this lot, and that would have to do for now.

It was time to head back to the resort but I was still down a passenger. Sleet still hadn’t reappeared and I was beginning to get worried.

“Sleet, buddy? Are you there?” I called.

“Yes,” the Fairy squeaked, flashing back into visibility less than a foot from my face.

His sudden reappearance caused me to stagger backward clutching at my heart.

“Wow, next time give me a warning buddy,” I panted. “You almost scared me to death.”

“Sorry,” Sleet replied, buzzing around my head and settling back in my pocket, peeking out over the top. “The bad man hit me, so I hid.”

I gave him a hug with my hand. “It’s okay buddy, they’re gone now. They can’t hurt you. Thanks for lending me a hand.”

“Anything for you Nora,” Sleet replied, settling down in my pocket.

I smiled as I made my way back to the quad. “Just take a load off, we’ll be back at the resort before you know it,” I said with a confidence I wasn’t quite feeling.

I swung my leg over the bike, and hoped for the best. On the second kick the engine fired up and I peeled over the dune and onto the beach. If I had my geography right, I figured I was somewhere on the north-western side of the island, I only had to keep the ocean to my right and head south down the beach and eventually I would hit the resort. Hopefully before my fuel ran out.

As I shot down the beach I pondered my next move. I had four bodies on my hands. All of them were clearly ensnared in some sort of plot against the Summer Court. Blue Balls had said that much. He’d also been acting as if I were a part of it, like I should somehow know what they were planning. He was giving me far too much credit. The extent of my involvement with the Summer Court was that their last bounty had paid my rent.

That and the fact Naerine Oaksidhe wanted to kill me. But I hadn’t seen her since she’d dragged herself through the Veil barely able to stand upright. I had no idea what they could be up to here.

And yet Blue Balls had been utterly perplexed by the fact I knew nothing about it. Perhaps I was thinking about this from the wrong angle.

I was so focused on what I didn’t know, that I was overlooking what he had said.

He’d known my name. That alone was disconcerting but the fact they’d tried to frame me was even more unsettling. How did they know me? And why had they dragged the Glade Guardian all the way to Beenleigh to murder him? What good did framing me accomplish?

According to Blue Balls, the Summer Court were off looking for him. The more I thought about it, the more important that fact became. The Summer Court had left the island unprotected, and now the warlocks were here, and they were planning some sort of ritual or summoning.

That made more sense to me. But why frame me for it?

When I claimed the Red Cap’s bounty, the Old One had told me I would gain notoriety for it. Such a large bounty so early in my career was unheard of. Eventually word would spread. If the Camp was the Arcane Congress’s means of hunting warlocks in the wild, was framing me an attempt to get a potential threat out of the way?

Perhaps that’s why they assumed I knew more than I did. Maybe they figured the Camp was onto them.

The thought made me question whether the Old One and Alasdair knew more than they were telling me.

It was certainly a possibility. One that I was going to have to explore, carefully.

“Hmm,” I mused as the quad tore along the beach, spraying sand behind me. It was all conjecture and supposition, but it was certainly starting to fit together as a working theory.

My mind turned to the Glade Guardian and what Alasdair had told me about the Sidhe nobility. If the Glade Guardians were responsible for protecting sites of power, or relics of great significance, that left me with two choices. Either Moreton Island was the repository for some item of great value to the Summer Court, or, the island itself was a site of power.

The island was a bastion of natural beauty, largely untouched by man. It was exactly the sort of place the Summer Court might feel at home. With humans confined to only a small part of the island, they could no doubt move freely even here in the mortal world. A freedom the warlocks had wanted for themselves.

My presence threatened that freedom and conveyed the notion that the Camp was on their trail. That had to be why they had attacked me. They had expected the island to be devoid of protection. Then out of nowhere a bounty hunter, an amateur perhaps, but an effective one, had shown up to spoil their game.

I scoffed. They thought I'd come to investigate, when really I'd only happened upon them by accident. If anything, the fire they’d set for me had led me to their ritual. Had it been intentional? The warlock who had tackled me off my bike might have been better served simply killing me.

Why go to the effort and risk of trying to subdue me? I suppose it could have been a ploy to capture me, or perhaps they were just improvising. Maybe they had expected the fire to take care of me. If we had been much later leaving the beach, I suspect the inferno would have been too big to contain.

My hair whipped about me in the wind as I rounded a promontory on the beach and the first buildings of the resort came into view, stretching along the shore front. There was a series of bungalows, a small hotel and some standalone residences.

Not long to go now, I mused. I couldn’t have more than a few minutes’ juice left in the tank. If I did run out, I intended to coast as far as I could before pushing the quad the rest of the way. In my current state, I wanted to avoid that if at all possible.

Thankfully the bike held out, and as I reached the buildings, I detoured behind the first, following the trail that led back to the reception building.

I slowed my pace and taxied in behind the reception building. Barry stood there, biting his lip. My mother, Shay and Conor were all standing beside him, looking equally worried.

Barry glanced down at his watch as I coasted to a stop.

“Oh, thank heavens you're all right,” my mother called, her voice trailing off as her eyes took in my disheveled appearance. “What happened to you, dear?”

I looked down and realized my dress was stained with blood. Not mine. I was pretty sure most of it belonged to Blue Balls but I didn't intend to explain that in front of Barry.

“What happened to you?” Barry asked as he circled the bike. “And what happened to the bike?”

I followed his pointing finger to the sizeable dint in the front bumper.

“Sorry about that,” I replied. “I hit a patch of uneven ground and slid into a tree. The bike’s a little dinged up but still good. My thigh, not so much. I snagged a branch. It looks worse than it is though, so don't worry.”

I lied through my teeth, hoping the presence of the blood would deter him from delving too deeply into my story.

Barry looked at me, utterly befuddled as I stepped off the bike.

“Don't worry, Barry,” I patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll cover any damage. Don't you worry about a thing.”

He looked at me, looked at the bikes and ran a hand through his sandy brown hair, clearly not sure what to do.

I looked down at my watch. It was almost five o'clock. They would be feeding the dolphins soon and I didn’t want to miss that.

“Okay kids, let me race back to the unit and get changed. I'm going to clean up a tad, pop something on this leg and I'll be back in a jiffy. Why don't you guys head over to the restaurant and grab a table for dinner?”

My mother looked at me skeptically and mouthed the words, “We'll talk about this later.”

Of course we will, I thought to myself. Because that's what we do now, we talk. I hobbled down the esplanade to the unit. I hadn't cut open my leg but it was packing a heck of a bruise. Stopping in front of the unit, I fished in my bag and found our keys. I unlocked the door and let myself in. I made it past the kitchenette and stopped, my heart skipping a beat as my eyes almost popped out of my skull.

There, resting on a silver platter in the middle of my bed, was the severed head of a Summer Sidhe.

Chapter 10

I stood there, staring at the severed head, my feet seemingly glued to the floor.

It took me a few moments to come to my senses. Slamming the door of the unit shut, I looked for any sign that an intruder might still be in the unit. I felt violated. Someone had been in my room. Someone with murderous inclinations.

Were they still here? Lurking somewhere in the darkness?

I made my way through the unit, searching each room from top to bottom, including the cupboards and anywhere else someone might be able to hide. But no one was there. The front door had been locked when I got home, so I checked the next port of entry, the patio door. The catch rested in the unlocked position which was strange as none of us had been through it yet. Presumably that’s how our intruder had entered.

The door was unlocked, not broken, which meant they’d used either a key or magic. I was feeling less and less safe by the moment. If a locked door couldn't keep them out, we certainly weren’t safe here. The warlocks knew who we were and where we slept. The severed head had to be a message. A warning. It certainly told me that there were more enemies on the island than those we had killed earlier. Someone had placed the head recently.

My breath came in short anxious puffs. They’d already tried to kill us once, and anyone who could kill a Glade Guardian of the Summer Court would surely have my number. I’d like to think I'd give as good as I got but I was still so new to this and they, clearly, were not. I locked the door to the patio, not that it was going to do us any good, and made my way over to the bed. I needed to do something. But right now I wasn't quite sure what the right something was. I needed help.

I went to the bedside drawer and pulled out my phone. Alasdair had to know something about what was going on, and if he didn't, I needed to bring him into the picture.

For all I knew he was still tied up with the Summer Court or chasing shadows at home when the real threat lay out here, on the island.

Alasdair would know what to do. Or at least, so I hoped. I dialed my mentor’s number wondering just how much I should tell him. Surely I was being paranoid about the warlocks. Fire was a common element that human wizards tended to favor. Practitioners weren’t that scarce, were they? Why was I so quick to be suspicious of my mentor when he had done nothing but save my life?

Was it because he was a man and I’d already been around the block once? I knew what it was to be lied to and betrayed. I could still feel the bitter sting of my hubby’s betrayal. Trust was not something I did readily these days.

The fact he’d sent me here to the heart of the chaos didn’t help. He’d been cagey with the body of the Glade Guardian, so clearly trust was still an issue for both of us. Perhaps the revelation that I was a scion was weighing on him more than he’d led me to believe.

And if it was, did he still have my best interests at heart? Why had he sent me here? I’d put my family in harm’s way. Not that I’d have been willing to leave them at home after what had happened with the Red Cap, but I might have picked a different island for my holiday if I’d known the whole picture before we left.

My presence here had been met with extreme hostility.

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach as the phone rang and rang. Why wasn’t he picking up?

What if Alasdair had discovered who I was? Not just a scion of the Summer Court but the literal offspring of Oberon himself? Could he see past that?

Or perhaps, the Old One had discovered the truth and rather than keep me as a member of the Camp, they had decided to feed me to the wolves. Neither of them had any love for the Sidhe, and certainly not the Winter Court. I couldn’t see them training me if they knew the truth.

What was it the Old One had said? The day I met them he’d been bickering with Alasdair about me, and mentioned the novelty of training one of them to hunt their own. What if the novelty had worn off now that my potential had manifested? What if, out of fear for what I was becoming, they had sent me here to die?

My paranoia was rising thick and fast as the phone rang out and went to message bank.

I was in a full-fledged panic now. Why wasn't Alasdair answering my call? Had I been hung out to dry? I felt like Michael Westen From Burn Notice. Except I’d been burned and left for dead in a deadly crossfire of warlocks and the Summer Court.

On the other hand, what if something had happened to my mentor? I didn't know what to think but I couldn’t say nothing. So I left a cryptic message. One that I hoped would only mean something to him.

“Hey there, Alasdair.” I paused for a moment. “We’re at the place you suggested I go, and something unusual just turned up. It's the thing our friend in the woods lost. Something is definitely going down here. Call me back.”

It was nondescript enough that anyone who stumbled upon the message wouldn't know what to make of it, but Alasdair would know where I was, and what was in the middle of my bed. Hopefully it would alert him to the reality that things were going down on the island.

I wondered if I should call the Old One, but realized I didn't even have a phone number for him. I’d only ever spoken to him at his caravan or at the Camp. I wasn’t even sure if he had a phone.

Hmm. I guess that’s what happens when you simply show up to work. That's how I got the job. I’d never had a reason to call the Old One, or the Camp itself for that matter.

Somehow I doubted the Camp would be listed in the phone book.

I threw my phone back on the bed in frustration. Neither of them were going to be any help to me, so I was going to have to figure things out on my own.

“Think Nora,” I muttered as I paced back and forth.

“Why is Nora talking to herself?” Sleet asked, standing up in my pocket and taking a look around. He took one look at the head resting neatly on the silver platter in the center of my bed, and let out a shrill cry.

“Yep, that’s what I thought.”

The Sidhe’s long sandy blond hair was stained red with blood, likely his own. His features were sharp and angular, and his nose had been broken. His pale complexion had a bluish tinge to it. Probably a combination of the blood loss and the freezing. I wondered if he'd still been alive when he lost his head, or if that had happened post-mortem.

“Why do you have it?” Sleet asked, pointing at the head.

“Someone put it here,” I replied. “It seems we’ve ruffled some feathers.”

“But Sidhe don’t have feathers,” Sleet replied.

“It’s an expression,” I tried to explain. “It means we’ve upset someone.”

“I’d expect so. He won’t be happy you cut off his head.”

I plucked the fairy out of my pocket and held him in my palm. “I didn’t do this. Someone else did, and they’re trying to blame it on us. We need to get rid of it though before they succeed.”

“Very sneaky,” Sleet nodded, stroking his chin. “Sidhe are very sneaky, they like to trick people.”

“This one won’t be anymore,” I replied. “Do you recognize him?”

Sleet bounced off my palm, used his wings to slow his fall and landed deftly on the bed. He strode over to the head and took a closer look.

He wandered around the head once, then reached up and pushed the head’s eyelids up revealing eyes that were a rich shade of gold.

“Very old,” Sleet whispered. “Definitely Summer Court.”

“How can you tell that?” I asked. “The age? I didn’t think the Sidhe aged like we do?”

“They don’t,” Sleet agreed, looking up at me. “Humans get all wrinkly, like dried raisins.”

“Hey!” I felt personally attacked. “I’m not a raisin.”

Sleet bit his lip. “Not you of course, Nora looks very young.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Nice try. A bit late for that now.”

Pointing at the head, I tried to change the topic. “You spent some time at Court. Any idea who this is?”

“I only saw him once. Solanus, I think his name is. Very powerful. Had the favor of the Summer Queen.”

Well, that settled that. I couldn't keep the head here, it would inevitably be found, and if the Summer Court were the ones to track it here, all hell would break loose. I also couldn’t risk my mom or the children finding it either. Frankly the three of them had been through enough already.

The warlocks had told me they'd attempted to frame me, once. Perhaps this was an attempt to up the ante. For all I knew, they’d tipped off the Summer Court who could be on their way here right now. Even if Alasdair succeeded in persuading them I was innocent, it would be pretty hard to explain away their Guardian’s head on my bedcover.

I raced into the kitchen, looking for choices. I couldn’t stroll down the esplanade with a severed head in hand. Not if I wanted to avoid a riot. I didn’t quite think I could pull off an actually headless-Nick cosplay right now.

Pulling out one of the freezer bags in which I'd brought our food, I set it on the bench. The bag had a foil liner on the inside designed to insulate and keep the cool in. It was my best bet, and on the plus side, it was waterproof.

Gingerly, I lifted the head off the platter and put it in the bag. Carrying both the platter and the bag into the bathroom, I washed the platter in the sink, running boiling water over it in an attempt to wash the blood away. We wouldn’t be eating off it, ever, but the platter I could explain away. The head I could not. Next, I filled the freezer bag with water, submerging the head completely before placing my hand on the surface of the water. With a thought, I willed Winter into it, freezing the entire thing solid. I was invariably leaving traces of my magic all over it, but I couldn't afford to do nothing, and left as it was it would surely stink worse by tomorrow. The only plan I'd come up with would backfire if some island wildlife managed to uncover it. Covered in water and completely frozen, if I buried it, it might remain hidden for a day or two. Plenty of time for me to hopefully get to the bottom of whatever was going on here.

I had considered simply hurling it into a dumpster and hoping for the best. But I suspected that if any of the hotel staff discovered a severed head, a police investigation would ensue. They might even shut down the resort and evacuate everyone off the island. If that happened, I wouldn't be able to prevent whatever was going on here. I suspected the warlocks weren't camped at the resort;there were a dozen private residences on Moreton Island. They could just as easily be hiding in one of them.

The police evacuating the resort might just clear the path for them to carry out whatever ritual they were intent on.

It also wouldn’t remove the threat to me and my family. That would still be out there somewhere.

I needed to get to the bottom of this, and I needed to do it before whoever these people were did lasting harm to me, my family, or anyone else. Here in the wilds, bounty hunters were the last line of defense between normals, and those who would use their magic to take advantage of them.

So, with the head frozen in ice, I zipped the bag tight. I gave it a once around making sure there was no obvious sign of what it contained and then set it aside. Pulling off my ruined dress I tossed it in the trash. Stained as it was with blood, there was no way I'd ever be wearing it again. Though perhaps burning it was a better decision.

The dress would almost certainly tie me to the dead bodies on the north shore, but I had to prioritize. One problem at a time. I could find somewhere safe to dispose of it later. Burning some clothes might not arouse suspicion if it was done carefully. Tossing them into someone's fire pit on the beach while I was carrying a severed head was likely to arouse suspicion.

Jumping in the shower, I quickly washed the sand and grit off me. I didn't labor the process. Much as I wanted to relax under the steaming hot jets, I expected to be in the water in an hour feeding the dolphins. But the warm water did feel like heaven on my sore muscles, and helped me feel a little more alive. I fixed my hair in the mirror, pulling it up into a messy bun and tucked my phone in my bag in case Alasdair called back.

Looking around the apartment, I checked once more to ensure that everything was locked and with my bag over one shoulder and the freezer bag in the other hand, I made my way out of the unit and onto the esplanade, Sleet buzzing about overhead.

It was almost dark out. The sun was setting and it would be time to feed the dolphins soon. I made my way behind the units, checking both ways to see if anyone was watching, before I stalked up the sand dunes into the national park. It was getting dark, and no doubt people would be curious if they saw me, but I hoped to avoid that. If nothing else I might be able to pass myself off as a tourist out for a twilight picnic. I hiked up the sand dune and into the scrub. The uphill sand climb was the kind of cardio that made me question my life choices, but I plowed on. Weaving through the scrub and trees, I pressed deeper into the park. Making it a few hundred meters into the park took more effort than expected, and I was running on an empty tank so I stopped to catch my breath.

“This is the job, Nora,” I told myself. “You can do this.” I wanted to get in some words of affirmation before my inner critic opened her mouth.

I glanced around to make sure nobody was following me. The coast seemed clear. I couldn’t even make out the resort through the trees so it seemed unlikely anyone looking out a window there might see me.

“Sleet, keep a lookout would you?” I called. “If anyone comes near us, let me know.”

“On it!” Sleet replied, his wings beating a furious rhythm as he took up sentry duty.

With another set of eyes in the sky, I knelt down and started to dig. In the soft sand it wasn't particularly hard going, but it was a pain in the ass as the soft sand kept flowing back down into the hole. Using both hands like a shovel I scooped deeper and deeper, eventually hollowing out a space big enough to jam the freezer bag into it. Content that it was deep enough, I pushed the sand back over it. It was only about six or eight inches below the surface, but that would have to do. If I'd had a shovel, I might have been able to make it deeper, but out here it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Someone would have to be wandering through the dunes and randomly start digging in order to find it. It ought to be safe here. Most kids were doing their digging down on the beach.

Searching around, I gathered some dead fall and piled it on top of the buried head for good measure. It both helped conceal the shallow grave but also served as a marker so that I could find it again if the need arose.

If I could make it through this mess in one piece, I intended to tell the Summer Court where they could find the remains of their Guardian so that he might have a proper burial. He deserved that much. I also hoped it would build trust with them. I might be a scion, but I had no ill will for the Summer Court. If they left me alone, I had every intention of living in harmony with them.

They had never done anything to me, well, except perhaps Naerine wanting to shoot me. But if she could get past that, so could I. Their bounty had paid me enough cash to bail me out of trouble. So as far as I was concerned, things were even.

I looked around again, to be sure I hadn’t been observed and made my way back through the scrub.

“Let’s go Sleet, dinner time!” I called.

“Dinner,” the little fairy echoed, buzzing past me before executing a loop-de-loop. Oh, to have that much energy.

Fire and Stone was a delightful restaurant, divided into two seating areas. One served Japanese cuisine, the other Chinese.

Each had decor that helped accentuate the atmosphere you might expect in the respective country. On reaching the waiting area, I made my way past the line of hungry diners, earning me the evil eye from an impatient woman near the front. I smiled and kept walking. I’d dealt with far worse today. On reaching the counter I gave them Mom’s name and they guided me into the Japanese portion of the restaurant where everyone was already waiting for me.

Shay had a half-finished bowl of Udon noodles in front of her. Conor had polished off most of a plate of fresh salmon onigiri and in front of my seat at the table, there was a bowl of Udon noodles ready, though likely a little cooler than I would have liked on account of my tardiness.

“Sorry, dear, I ordered for you,” my mother said as I sat down. “I wasn't expecting you to be so long.”

I sighed as I picked up my chopsticks. “I had an unexpected distraction.”

“Anything I should know about?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

The children watched my every word and I didn’t want to panic them.

As I picked up my first noodle, I nodded slowly.

“Bruce is going to need to come out to play tonight, just in case.”

Chapter 11

I attacked my Udon with all the self-restraint of a bachelor living next door to a brothel.

Udon noodles were one of my absolute favorite foods. The thick noodles were made from wheat and served in a delicious dashi broth. The mirin, soy sauce, sugar and salt were a perfect blend of flavors and just made the beef floating in it, simply delicious. I picked up the bowl with one hand and my chopsticks in the other. They moved like lightning as I shuffled as much Udon into me as I could manage. It wasn't as hot as I would have liked, but I doubted whoever had left that severed head for me was concerned about my dinner schedule.

“Take your time Nora,” my mother chastised, “it's not going to run away.”

“No, but the dolphins might,” I replied between mouthfuls of noodle. I had been looking forward to the dolphin feeding all day and I wasn't going to miss it. Come hell or high water, I’d be on that beach when the beautiful mammals came to play. Nothing, not the warlocks, nor a bushfire and certainly not this bowl of noodles, was going to stand in my way.

My mother shook her head.

Sleet perched himself in front of Conor and helped himself to some of the leftover salmon. The fairy seemed to enjoy the fish as he quickly polished off the plate. I raised my hand for the waiter who was passing by the table.

“Could I please get another serve of noodles, a serve of scallops and a round of pudding for the table?”

The waiter scribbled everything on his notepad and disappeared.

“Pudding?” Sleet asked, his ears perking up. It was almost as if he could sense the sugar content.

“Oh you're going to enjoy pudding,” I laughed. “Don't you worry.”

Sleet had really saved my bacon by the lake. As far as I was concerned he had earned all the pudding he could eat.

The waiter returned, setting the scallops in the middle of the table and handing me the bowl with another serve of Udon noodles. I upended it into the leftover broth and continued eating while he set the pudding down on the table.

Japanese pudding, or purin, as it was known there, has a similar texture to a flan, though it’s commonly served with a caramel sauce. Sweet and delicious, it was a tasty treat without being as heavy as a cake-based dessert.

“Thank you,” I called to the waiter. “Would you mind bringing the check with you when you next come past? We’d love to make it down to the dolphin feeding.”

He looked at my bowl of Udon that had been freshly refilled with a look that contained a world of judgment, smiled and said, “Certainly, I'll be back in a moment.”

I had worked up quite the appetite and polished the remaining Udon off in short order, slowing only as I reached the end of the bowl. I had found that since working at the Camp, I was burning a lot more calories than I did at the library. It wasn't really all that surprising, but it was taking my body some time to adapt and my dietary intake seemed to shift by the day. I cut up the scallops to give everyone at the table a try. Conor shook his head and instead dug into his pudding. Shay tried them, but half a scallop was plenty for her. Sleet consumed the other half, and Mom and I finished off the plate.

By the time the waiter returned we were well into our dessert. Sleet’s excited slurping sounds brought a few judgmental stares from our fellow diners as he fit an unfathomably large amount of pudding into such a small frame. I handed the waiter my card.

By the time he had put through our meal, we were ready to leave and with Sleet resting on my shoulder we made our way out the door. We were traveling a little slower than when we arrived, and I was feeling the effects of that second bowl of Udon.

I had no regrets though. Once we made it through the dolphin feeding I had every intention of retreating into my room and enjoying a good night’s sleep.

At Tangalooma resort, the wild dolphins come right up to the beach, playing in the shallows beside the pier each night. Years of being fed resulted in at least a handful of dolphins showing up most nights. As the sun set, the dolphins would swim up to the beach and wait in the shallows while resort staff would walk out small groups of patrons, a few people at a time, to feed them by hand.

I still remember doing it as a child. Being so close to one of my favorite animals had been the highlight of our trip. The sun had set, and it was dark as we joined the queue of resort patrons waiting to feed the dolphins who were eagerly splashing about.

The resort staff filtered us into five groups distributed evenly across the beach.

“Mum, why don't you take Conor and I'll take Shay,” I suggested.

Conor stood nervously shifting in the sand. New experiences could be a little daunting for him.

“Why don’t you take Sleet with you?” I added. “Show him the dolphins.”

At that he perked up a little. “Come on Sleet,” he beckoned, holding out his hand.

The little faery stood up, slower than usual, and with a little effort flew his pudding-filled form over to Conor. Seeming to sense Conor’s hesitation he wrapped his hand around Conor’s thumb. “Let’s do this.”

The staff guided them away, sneaking sideways glances at Sleet. Clearly he was the first fairy they’d caught sight of. Most little folk tended to stay out of sight when in the mortal realm, but Sleet seemed to be making himself at home here.

Shay and I lined up behind a young couple who were talking excitedly.

“That new shipwreck was something, wasn’t it?” The man chattered excitedly.

His partner nodded along. “It still looked new, can’t have been there more than a few days.”

“Yeah, even the fish seemed reluctant to explore it,” he laughed. “Not enough rust for their taste yet.”

The two laughed and I tried to avoid eavesdropping. A new shipwreck seemed a little odd. I hadn’t read anything about it on the way over. Perhaps someone had damaged their vessel drifting into a submerged wreck. It was unusual but it wasn’t the reason I was here. I had engineered this moment alone with Shay on purpose, but I was still not quite sure what I should say.

The sand felt great between my toes as I considered my approach. I was hoping to get to the bottom of what was bothering Shay. She just hadn’t been her usual cheery self lately, and while there could be any number of catalysts, I thought I knew what was to blame.

“Excited about the dolphins?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, I guess,” Shay replied, her arms folded across her stomach to combat the light breeze rolling in off the water.

Clearly it wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped. Abandoning any pretense of beating around the bush, I dove right in.

“Look, Shay,” I started, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about how things are going.”

“They're going fine,” she replied in a tone that was completely devoid of any ability to convince me that it was the truth.

“Honey, I’m going to tell you something that took me a long time to work out. I wish I’d known it at your age.”

She perked up a little at that, her curiosity getting the better of her. She also seemed more interested in the discussion now that she wasn't the center of it. “It's okay to not be okay. Life is hard, Shay, and we’ve been doing it pretty rough since your dad left. I know it's not easy; it hasn't been for me. I wanted you to know that we’ll get through this together.”

My daughter didn't say anything, she simply nodded along.

“Sometimes in life, people do things that hurt us, and that sucks. But what I want you to know is that I'm here for you. No matter what, no matter what happens, I'm on your side, okay? I am not going anywhere.” I wrapped one arm around her and pulled her tight.

“What if you don't have a choice?” Shay asked, her voice fading to little more than a whisper.

“What do you mean?” I wanted to give her room to talk.

“The work you do now is dangerous, Mum. We've all seen that. What if someone hurts you? What if they take you away from us?”

My gut twisted in on itself and I felt a little sick. It wasn’t the Udon. I had misjudged things, badly. I'd figured Shay was worried about her dad. I knew how being abandoned felt first hand. I’d figured that was what was causing her to be so withdrawn. I’d grown up without my dad and figured she was feeling like I had. But no, she was worried about me.

“The Red Cap could have killed you, Mum. He could have killed us all.”

In her mind the trauma with the Red Cap was a result of my new job. It was an easy assumption to make. It was the first one I had, before I knew who I really was. It was time to share that truth with Shay.

“I know hon, but he's not here because of the job I took. He came because of who we are. Because of who my dad is.”

“Your dad?” Shay asked.

Until my mom had told me the truth, I’d had nothing I could share with the kids about their grandfather. Now that I knew more, I wasn’t sure just how much I should share.

How do you explain to your daughter that her grandfather is the King of the Winter Fae, and that he is regarded with awe and dread by beings on both sides of the Veil? Career day at school might have been a lot more interesting if he’d shown up for it.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Your grandfather is an important person and the Red Cap discovered that. He thought he could use us for his own benefit. So, even if I hadn't become a bounty hunter, the Red Cap or something like him, might come looking for us. I don’t want to scare you, but I only took this job so that I can learn to protect us. Because, whether we like it or not, there are things out there in this world that might want to harm us because of who we are.”

“Who you are,” Shay corrected, looking down at her feet.

Great. Teenage insecurity is bad enough without wondering if someone is going to try and kill you. “We aren’t like everyone else, but there’s nothing wrong with being different, hon.”

“You might be,” she replied. “You can do magic; so can Conor. People are afraid of you, because you’re special. But I'm not. I'm just me.”

Her words broke my heart as I got the first real glimpse of the pain she’d been hiding beneath the surface.

I pulled her tight against me as she broke down, tears streaming down her cheeks as she sobbed into my dress.

“I want you to listen to me, Shay. And you listen good.” I swallowed hard to keep my voice from breaking. “You are incredible. You're beautiful, smart and kind. You might think magic makes people special, but it’s not true. The Red Cap had magic and he used it to hurt people. You, and everything you are, is what makes you special.”

“But I don't have any magic,” she replied.

“Yet,” I replied. “But we don’t know the future. I spent most of my life thinking my magic was useless. You have no idea what life has in store for you, Shay. But magic or not, you have the potential to do anything.”

“What do you mean, Mum?”

“I mean I spent my entire life thinking all I could do was chill a drink. It's only now that I'm discovering who I am. You have a long and beautiful life ahead of you. You might manifest powers, you might not. But it doesn’t matter. Some of the most amazing people in this world have no special powers, but are themselves special. Your gram, she doesn’t have magic, but the life we live here is a result of the courage she showed when she was younger.”

“I guess,” Shay replied, digging into the sand with her bare feet.

“You're my daughter, you always have been and you always will be. And no matter what else happens, I want you to know that you and your brother are the most important part of my life. So don't get down on yourself about magic, dear. It brings more trouble than it solves. For now, let’s focus on what you have in front of you. You still have school, books and boys to worry about. Who needs magic in that mix?”

She laughed. “I suppose you're right but it would be nice.”

I kept one arm wrapped around her. “But in the meantime, let's have some fun. Okay?”

“Okay,” she replied, a little bit more convincing than she had the first time around. I knew it wasn’t problem solved, but at least I knew what I was dealing with now.

I had been so worried about Conor that I hadn't noticed Shay's mood deteriorating. Here I was trying to keep my fractured little family together and one of the most important parts of it was feeling like she didn't belong. I determined to do better.

Something that would be easier now that I understood what was bothering her. I was going to have to think of more things we could do together. It would also help if I could find something else Shay could focus on. That way she could enjoy what she was good at, instead of feeling forlorn about what she wasn’t.

Because the truth of the matter was that I had no idea if or when she would manifest any powers. She might live her entire life as a normal, the influence of her father's bloodline perhaps. Or maybe she was simply a late bloomer as far as magical talent went. She was my bloodline after all. And it was hard to believe that the genetics of the Winter King could produce a normal untouched individual.

All my life, my magic or perceived inadequacy in that department had damaged my self-esteem. I wasn't gonna let the same thing happen to my daughter.

“Next!” the resort worker called. He was standing knee-deep in the surf, the evening tide lapping around him.

We strode down to the water's edge.

“We’re going to get wet,” Shay announced as the waves splashed the resort worker.

The breeze was whipping across the top of the water sending spray everywhere.

“Saturated,” I replied, “but we’re going to have a blast, trust me.” I took her hand and led her into the water. We followed our handler out and waited as he reached into a pouch at his side and pulled out a pair of feeder fish. He handed one to each of us.

“Slimy,” Shay whispered as her little hand wrapped around the fish.

“Good thing we don’t have to eat it,” I replied.

She grinned, as the trainer held his fish out. “Grip it like this,” he instructed, clenching his fist and holding it pinched neatly between two fingers so that the majority of the fish hung out away from his fist.

“Then just bring it down to the water and our friends here will come right up and eat it out of your hand.”

“This is Starfire,” he announced, pointing to a gray dolphin that was bobbing about six feet away. “Don't worry, she loves kids.”

The waves rolled over me, but I leaned down anyway, holding my fish in the water. It took Starfire only a second or two to spot it. She darted forward, cleanly plucking the fish out of my hand. She floated in front of me for a moment, so I reached out and patted her flank.

“She likes you,” the resort staff member replied. “Normally she darts away as soon as she gets the fish.”

I leaned down and looked in her eyes. “That's a good girl,” I replied, patting her flank again.

Emboldened now that Starfire wasn't moving as much, Shay held her fish out tentatively. Starfire paddled up beside her, deftly taking the fish before offering her flank to Shay for a pat. Shay brushed her hand along the dolphin’s smooth side for a few seconds before the mammal trilled, and darted back out into the water.

We turned and made our way back to the beach, utterly soaked from the waist down but Shay was smiling from ear to ear.

“You’re right Mum, that was pretty cool.”

I put my arm around her to shield her from the cold as best I could.

“You're pretty cool,” I replied. “Starfire came right up to you. You sure have a way with animals.”

Mom and Conor made their way across the beach toward us.

Conor looked every bit as excited as Shay, practically bouncing about on the sand by the time we reached them.

“Did you see that, Mum? It ate right out of my hand.”

I hadn't seen it as I'd been too focused on Shay and the dolphin that had been in front of me. But I didn't want to dampen his excitement

“It sure was, wasn't it? Let's get you guys up to bed before you catch a cold.”

The combination of cool breeze off the water and our wet clothes made for a chilly walk back to our unit. I paused at the door.

“Mum, you stay here with the kids for just a moment. I need to check something.”

She gave me a little bit of a look that told me she'd want an explanation later but I ignored it as I opened the door and slipped inside. I closed the door behind me just in case. If anyone was waiting for us, I wanted to protect my family from their ambush. If someone had been back, I wanted the chance to sweep it for any unwelcome surprises. My kids were at their quota for severed heads. If anyone subjected them to that again, more heads would roll.

I swept the apartment but it was clean. No unwelcome intruders waiting for us within. I opened the door and beckoned everyone inside.

“All right everybody, come on in,” I called, stepping to the side as I held the door open.

The family trundled into the unit. We prioritized getting the kids out of their wet clothes first. We shuffled them into the shower while I told Mom about the unwelcome present that had been left in the apartment.

“It certainly seems like someone is going to a great effort to frame you. What did you do with the head?”

“Buried at out in the national park. I wanted to be sure no one would find it, but be close enough to retrieve it for the Summer Court should they come looking. They might be able to learn something from it that I couldn’t.”

The bigger concern was they knew where we were so we were far from safe.

“Nora Byrne, trouble follows you wherever you go,” my mother chided.

“I think you're at least partly to blame for that Mum,” I replied. “You’re the one who shagged the Winter King.”

“Don’t be so crude dear,” my mother replied, a wicked gleam in her eye. “I prefer the word seduced.”

I laughed. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Looking around the unit, I scratched behind my ear. “I do think we ought to change up the sleeping arrangements, though.”

“What did you have in mind?” my mother asked.

“Let's put both the kids in the back room. That way if anyone tries to get in, they have to get past us first. We can wait out here with Bruce, and take it in shifts so that someone is watching the door at all times.”

Mom nodded reluctantly, clearly not excited at the prospect of staying up half the night.

“Good thing I brought a book,” she replied.

“Me too,” I answered, thinking of the Otherworld journal tucked in the drawer beside my bed.

“We don't have anywhere we've got to be in the morning, so if we take our time and be clever about it, we can play catch up and sleep in. Five hours each ought to do the trick. And we can always take a nap if we have to.”

“Five hours?” my mother protested. “I can't survive on five hours’ sleep.”

“I’m sure you’ve had less, you little seductress, you,” I replied.

“Fine,” my mother said, abandoning her protest as Conor joined us in the room.

He eagerly grabbed his Switch off the charger while we made our plans. Once Shay had finished her shower I took the next turn, racing through my evening routine so that I could put the kids to bed.

Tucking them in, I gave each of them a kiss on their foreheads.

“Feel free to read or play as late as you like, we’re on holidays after all, but I don't want any complaints from you in the morning,” I called as I made my way to the door.

“Yes Mum,” answered their voices in unison.

“Sweet dreams,” I called as I closed the door.

Sleet was resting contentedly on the pillow and I didn't feel the need to wake him. The poor guy had been working overtime all day. So I simply plonked myself down on the divan and waited for Mom. She emerged from the bathroom, slipped into the kids’ room and returned with the leather case.

Bruce might come in handy after all.

She assembled the shot gun and tucked it out of sight beneath the couch. It was close enough that whoever was on the divan could reach for it in a hurry. I'd left my knife in my bag on the other side of the room, so that no matter where we might be, we would have a weapon ready to hand.

“So who's staying up for the first shift?” Mom asked. “Me or you?”

I loathed mornings, and waking up at two a.m. wasn’t going to change that. I’d rather read late and crash hard later.

“Why don't you rest first?” I replied. “You're used to waking up early. I'll take the first watch and you can have the second.”

“Fine by me,” she replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

As she pulled the covers over herself and got settled, I surveyed the unit and asked myself what Alasdair would do. One set of eyes, two points of entrance. I couldn't watch them both at the same time. I got up and rooted around the kitchen, finding an empty bottle of Ramune that one of the kids had brought back from the restaurant.

The Japanese soft drink came packaged in a glass bottle, with a steel marble set in the neck of the bottle. To take a drink you needed to turn the cap over and strike it with your palm, which would send the marble down into the neck of the bottle. What purpose it served I had no idea, but it certainly suited my purposes now.

I locked the front door and then balanced the bottle on top of the door handle. If anyone tried to come through, the bottle would crash to the floor, likely shattering it. It would make a hell of a racket as the steel ball-bearing bounced around the tiles.

Mom was already dozing when I lifted the Otherworld journal out of the drawer and made my way back to the divan.

Bruce resting just out of sight brought me a good deal of comfort.

I flicked through the journal, looking for the chapters that spoke about Sidhe magic. After the battle on the beach I had a lot of questions about glamours. Both Sleet and the man in the felt hat seemed capable of vanishing at will. I wanted to know how to do that. I also wondered if it was possible to see through their glamours. If I was dealing with the Sidhe, I needed to be able to see them.

I tried to focus on the words on the page, but there was something about the day that was bothering me. It sat at the edge of my mind gnawing at me.

The longer I sat the more confident I became that none of us had opened the balcony door. After living in Beenleigh all my life, I'd been certain to lock the unit behind us each time we left.

Which meant either someone had used magic to open the door, or they’d been given a key.

Add to that the fact that they had found our unit so readily, an uncomfortable thought lodged itself in my brain.

That wasn’t the only unusual happening. There was also the fire that had almost killed us. We’d set out alone, and I’d been looking for any pursuers. After seeing the man in the felt hat twice already, I was paranoid in checking our back.

If they hadn’t been following us, it meant that they knew where we were going. And only one person had known that. He’d gone so far as to suggest our trail, right after we’d given him our room number for the fuel charge.

Barry.

All roads led back to him. Come morning the concierge and I were going to have a little chat.

Chapter 12

The sound of silverware scraping against ceramic bowls roused me from my slumber. The downside to the unit was the presence of the kitchenette and dining table in the same room as the bed I’d been sleeping in.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Shay called, mimicking my favorite morning greeting.

I raised my weary head off the pillow and looked about. My watch had passed uneventfully and on rousing Mom I’d actually managed to get a little sleep. I rolled over and looked at the flashing alarm clock. It was almost nine-thirty a.m. I revised my estimation. I'd actually had quite a decent sleep. My mother smiled at me from the divan where she was reading and loosely supervising the chaos prevailing in the kitchenette.

“I didn't think there was in any harm in letting you sleep in, dear. We are on holidays, after all, so we don't have a schedule.”

She was right. Technically I didn’t have anywhere I had to be. But after my realization last night, I did have a lead I wanted to run down. Barry.

The concierge better have answers for me. I kicked my legs over the side of the bed and pushed myself to my feet. I might have spent the last two weeks trying to work on my fitness and cardio but it certainly hadn’t made it any easier to get up. I hated getting up.

Staggering into the bathroom, I splashed some water on my face.

The bracing cold certainly helped to feel a little more alive.

Wandering back into the kitchen, I made my way over to Conor and Shay who were sitting at the small table. I kissed each of them on the head and grabbed a bowl for myself, filling it up with Nutrigrain and pouring the last bit of the milk into it. I’d need to pick up another bottle while we were out today. Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, I sat down. Sleet sat next to Conor, chomping on a piece of cereal.

“Any plans for the day?” I asked. “What does everyone want to do?”

“Maybe the pool,” Conor suggested with a smile. No surprises there, he hadn’t managed to soak Shay yesterday, and he wasn’t one to leave a job half done.

“Always a possibility,” I replied.

“I'd like a magical sugar ring,” Sleet replied wistfully as he popped the rest of the kernel of Nutrigrain in his mouth.

We all looked at him as we tried to work out what he was talking about.

“Magical sugar ring?” I queried.

“You know,” he replied, his voice growing higher and higher the more excited he got. “They sell them at the food wagons. They are golden yellow and covered in sugary topping. They look delicious,” he concluded as he lay back against the table, staring dreamily at the ceiling.

I laughed. “You mean a donut?”

“A donut?” Sleet mulled over the word. “Yes, that’s it. A donut!”

“Well, I'm sure we can swing that and still have plenty of time for other activities. We could try snorkeling or sand boarding. Maybe even take out the bikes again.”

If nothing else it would give me a chance to talk to Barry again.

“I don't know that that is such a good idea,” my mother replied. “Not after yesterday.”

I didn’t answer her. I knew her stance on wandering back into harm’s way. But I really wanted to take a longer look about the island. I wanted to scout around to see what I could gather about what was going on here. I also needed an excuse to get Barry outside the lobby where I could lean on him, if I didn't like his answers. Interrogating him at his desk in the resort was bound to attract unneeded attention.

I had the distinct impression Mom knew exactly what I was up to and was doing her best to thwart my efforts.

“Probably best to avoid potential trouble,” she added once more. “We are on holiday after all. Besides, I already phoned the front desk. It seems most of the activities are on hold as the resort staff are all on hand supervising the quidditch championships.”

Of course they were. Perhaps all the staff were tied up, or perhaps someone in the resort’s management was in league with the warlocks and doing their best to restrict access to the rest of the island.

The harder they tried to thwart me, the more determined I became to investigate the matter further.

“Quidditch sounds kinda fun,” Shay chimed in. “Could we watch the game?”

Before I could consider my response, Mom chimed in. “That sounds like a lovely idea.”

She flashed me a stubborn, satisfied smile.

But as I thought about it, I realized she had solved my problem for me. I really didn't want to drag my family into harm’s way, but neither could I just confine them to the unit. I wanted them somewhere where they'd be nice and safe while I had a poke around. A packed quidditch pitch seemed like a great place to start.

“You know what, I think that sounds like a blast. Tell you what, I’ll head down and see what the roster is for the games. You guys finish off your breakfast and get ready. I'll be back soon.”

I wolfed down my bowl of cereal, had a quick rinse off in the shower and made myself human, or at least as human as I was going to get with fifteen minutes’ work. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, low fuss and functional. I checked my work in the mirror—it was certainly passable. Leaving my family to relax in the unit, I made my way down the esplanade to the resort’s lobby.

As I walked I noted preparations were well underway for the games. An entire stretch of the beach had been converted into a giant quidditch pitch. A boat at the wharf was unloading steel beams and what appeared to be welding equipment was being loaded into a small truck. At the pitch, bench seating was being hastily erected by the resort’s staff while some temporary shelters were being raised for much-needed shade. The whole thing surprised me a little.

I'd heard that the Harry Potter series had spawned a quidditch phenomenon in the real world, but I hadn’t pictured this. There were fans gathering in their favorite team colors while two teams raced around the beach drilling in earnest with all the intensity you would expect from professional athletes. If someone hadn't tried to kill me yesterday, it was the sort of thing I might have sat down and enjoyed watching. But right now, I had bigger fish to fry. I made my way to the concierge’s desk, but instead of Barry there was a bubbly sandy-haired woman in her thirties waiting to greet me with a big smile.

“How can I help you today?” she asked.

I paused as I considered my approach. Best not to ask about Barry immediately. I didn’t want to arouse any suspicions. “We aren't here for the convention, but the quidditch looks interesting. I was wondering how we go about getting tickets for that? Do we buy them here or do we need to go somewhere else?”

“The quidditch? No need to buy tickets at all. It's free for all resort patrons. But you best be early as the seating isn't ticketed, and it's shaping up to be quite the matches today. We are heading into the semi-finals, after all.”

“The semi-finals?” I asked.

“Indeed, we have the Stranglers playing the Griffins this morning. I expect it will be one of the best matches of the season so far.”

I had no idea about either team but the fact that it was free certainly appealed to my budget. “So we just wander down to the beach?”

“That's right. The first game starts in about an hour. The second semi-final will be played at two, between the Dragons and the Death Eaters. The two winners will face off against each other in the grand final tonight at eight p.m. It’s going to be incredible.”

The Death Eaters. Who willingly names themselves after the bad guys? I wondered. Named for Voldemort’s followers in the book series, I expected they were likely the villains of the quidditch circuit.

“And when exactly does the first game start?” I asked.

“It's game on at eleven,” she replied “but I dare say you'll want to be early.”

“Of course we will.” I looked at her name-tag. “Jill, I met the most helpful young man here yesterday, Barry I think his name was. I was wondering if I could catch him? I just had a couple of follow-up questions for him.”

Jill shook her head. “I'm afraid he called in sick, seems to have come down with a nasty head cold.”

“A cold, in this weather, what are the chances?” I replied, not believing it for a moment.

“Right?” Jill seemingly missed my sarcasm. “Terribly unlucky.”

He was going to be terribly unlucky when I caught up with him. If he had told those warlocks where to find us, I was going to show him what a head cold truly was. I suspected he’d made himself scarce when they failed to make it back.

“Would you like me to pass on the message?” she asked. “Or maybe I can help you?”

“No, not a problem Jill, forget I mentioned it.” I was about to walk away, but thought I would double check my mother's information. Just in case.

“Say, Jill, maybe you can help me. The resort’s other activities like the sand boarding, and the snorkeling, are they still on?”

“I'm afraid not, not today,” Jill answered. “We need all hands on deck for the finals.”

“Of course, not to worry, there’s always tomorrow I guess.”

I had considered asking her where I might find some snorkeling equipment, but after the previous day's events I wasn't giving anyone a chance to take another shot at me. The more discreet I could keep my movements, the better chance I had of working out what was happening here.

As I left the lobby I pulled out my phone. No messages, no missed calls. Alasdair hadn't even checked in after my cryptic message. It bothered me more than it should have. I’m sure he was just tied up with the Summer Court, but the niggling doubting voice inside me worried there was more to it.

I called him again, but it went straight to message bank. Part of me wanted to kick his ass for not taking my calls. The other half wondered if he was okay. He had gone to treat with the Summer Court and in my experience, they could be unreasonable on the best of days. Taking them news of their Glade Guardian’s murder certainly wasn't going to be a safe task. I wondered if Titania, Queen of the Summer Court, was the sort to shoot the messenger.

I tried not to linger on that unpleasant thought as I shoved my phone back into my pocket. Walking down the esplanade I enjoyed the sight of the waves crashing on the sand as I headed for the same store I’d visited yesterday. The same chipper young woman was manning the counter.

“How are the swimmers? I hope they were the right size,” she said as I approached the counter.

She had a good memory, and clearly took an interest in her job. Or was it just me that she was interested in?

Don’t let the paranoia take over, Nora.

“No, they were great,” I replied with a smile. “But I was thinking I'd go for a little dip around the wharf, head south. See if I could spot those dolphins as they play in the bay.”

“They're just gorgeous, aren't they?” she replied.

“They sure are. But if I’m going to be in the water a little longer, I'd love to get a wet suit, maybe a snorkel and some goggles.”

“Sure. You’ll find them in the back corner there on the left. Just head past where you found the swimsuits. Wetsuits are on the rear wall. Sizing can be tricky at times. We only carry a limited stock.”

I tried not to take that as commentary on my body shape. She was just being helpful after all.

“No worries, dear, I'll take a look around and see what I can find.”

I made my way to the back of the store. I had zero intention of seeing the dolphins today, but if the resort staff were trying to track my movements, I thought it best to leave a false trail.

An abundance of caution is what Alasdair would promote. Hopefully anyone looking for me was going to be heading south. While I had every intention of checking out the shipwrecks to the north—especially the one I’d overheard that couple talking about last night. I’d checked and the government hadn’t added any new vessels to the reef in recent years, so it was worth following up. Its timing could be a coincidence, or it could be something more. And right now I needed every lead I could get.

So I intended to check it out for myself. I couldn't ignore the timing or the location, particularly its proximity to the summoning circle I'd happened upon last night.

While my family were safely watching the quidditch, I planned to make my way up the beach and check out the wrecks for myself.

I knew the tides could be treacherous but I was a far better swimmer than I was a runner, having spent as much time in the water as I could growing up.

Fortunately, in Brisbane, you can swim just about all year round. Winter could get chilly at times, but the cold had never bothered me. One of the perks of being a scion, I suppose.

I rummaged through the wet suits. The clerk hadn't been lying. To find one that fit around my waist, I was going to need a larger size than I would have liked. The result was a suit that was a little long on my short frame, but after trying on two others I determined that it was my best bet. It would at least allow me to breathe which was always a plus. I could live with it being a little long on my legs.

For thoroughness, I added a diving belt. It had a pouch which would come in handy for somewhere to place the knife. I rummaged through their options and found a snorkel and goggles that fit far better than the wet suit. Last but not least, I found some flippers and threw them on the pile. I looked at the price-tags and winced. The gift shop pricing was punitive but if I wanted to explore the wrecks they really were my best bet. I paid the clerk as she bundled my purchases into a bag.

I thanked her, grabbed the bag and hastened back to the unit.

“Well, I've got good news,” I announced, making my way into the kitchen. “The quidditch games are free and anyone is welcome. All we need to do is head down and grab some seats. They are setting up now. Apparently, it's the semi-finals, today.”

“Who's playing?” Shay asked.

I dug through my memory, trying to remember what Jill had told me. “The Stranglers versus Gryffindor, I think.”

“You mean the griffins? she asked excitedly.

“Yes, that’s it.” I smiled. “Have you heard of them?”

“Everybody knows them, Mum, they have Edward Chanston.” She made that face girls do when they stare at their crush from afar. I had no idea who she was talking about, but I was glad she was excited about it.

“Well, I take it Dreamboat’s in. How about the rest of you?”

Conor shrugged, less impressed by Edward than his sister was. “Can I bring the Nintendo?”

“Sure, hon, probably best to bring your headphones as well. There will be a few people around. Watch the game if you want, play a game if you don't. It’s your holiday after all. We can head to the pool a little later.”

That seemed to win him over as he ran to pack his things.

My mother looked at me and then looked at the bag I was carrying.

“Why do I get the distinct impression you won't be joining us at the game?” she whispered, quietly enough that the kids couldn't overhear her.

“Because I need to find out who is trying to kill us before they succeed,” I replied. “So you take the children to the game where you'll be nice and safe. I'm going to take a look around and see what's really happening here.”

“You shouldn't go alone,” my mother replied. “It’s not safe out there.”

“I have no intention of going alone,” I replied. “Sleet will be with me. Won’t you, little buddy?”

Sleet perked up at the mention of his name. “Of course,” he called. “And what do we know about the donuts?”

If only I could harness his single-minded focus on sugar consumption and turn it toward something useful. He’d be unstoppable.

My maternal instincts warned me that I really had no idea how a fairy’s body processed sugar, and I’d need to keep an eye on him. He wasn’t exercising any care. Could the fae catch diabetes? If they could, Sleet was on a collision course. I made a mental note to look into it, but saw no harm in him indulging a little while we walked it off.

“I know precisely where they are,” I replied. I’d passed the cart on my way to the lobby. “We can pick one up while we’re out.”

“Excellent,” the little fairy replied, folding his arms across his very full stomach.

Everyone rustled around the unit, getting ready for our day out. While they packed, I slipped into the bathroom and pulled on my wetsuit. There was every chance that I was going to regret it once we got out in the sun, but if I did overheat, I could just dive into the water for a quick cool off. The quickest way to the wrecks was along the beach, so I shouldn’t have any trouble finding somewhere to take a dip.

We bundled the kid’s gear into the beach trolley and made our way out of the unit. I double checked the door, just to be certain.

Down at the quidditch pitch the crowds had swollen considerably. It would appear that Jill was right and that it would be the day’s main attraction.

Shay pointed at one end of the pitch. “That's the Griffin’s goal. Let's set up over there.”

If I had to hazard a guess, I would suppose that Mr. Chanston was the Griffin’s keeper. But there was no harm in indulging her daydreams so we made our way over to the seats behind the goal.

The fact that they were the end of the pitch closest to the shipwrecks, and perhaps the easiest to sneak out of, was an added bonus.

We jostled along with the crowd until we found some seats. Once everyone was situated, I turned to the kids. “Okay, you stay here with Mum, I'm just gonna duck off and get Sleet his donut. We'll be back soon.”

The kids nodded and I stood up and made my way through the crowd, Sleet taking refuge from the masses in my pocket.

Once we cleared the bustling crowd, he spoke up. “Did I hear you say donuts?”

“You sure did, buddy. We’re going to grab a donut for the walk then we’re heading up the beach.”

“The beach? What about the quibbich?” Sleet asked, tripping over the unusual word.

“There is a different game afoot here, Sleet. And I plan to get to the bottom of it.”

Sleet looked at the donut and down at his feet. Clearly, he had no idea what I was talking about, so instead he took a bite out of his donut.

I set off down the beach, wondering what clues this new shipwreck might bring.

Chapter 13

I trudged up the beach, trying to judge the distance as I walked. The island curved away from the shipwrecks at its northern point and I wanted to be sure I made the shortest swim to them that I could. I might be a confident swimmer, but I wasn’t one for making life any harder than it had to be. I’d taken a bite or two out of my donut as we walked, but it was a bit early in the day for the doughy treat.

I’d brought us one each but I'd barely made it halfway through mine before Sleet had finished his off. So I gave him the other half of mine. I found it impossible to say no to those big blue eyes.

We meandered our way up the beach, our casual pace giving me ample opportunity to keep an eye out for unusual activity. There was the occasional individual relaxing in the sand, but it seemed the majority of the island's guests were a part of the convention. And most of them seemed intent on watching the quidditch match.

I did have an ulterior motive for taking Sleet with me. Not only did he make for a great lookout, one who was frequently overlooked by others, but I also wanted to quiz him more on yesterday's fight. The warlocks had given him such a fright I hadn’t wanted to press the issue yesterday, but now that he’d had a chance to relax and was distracted by the remains of my donut, I hoped I might have more luck.

“Sleet, I wanted talk to you about those bad men yesterday.”

He shuddered. Perhaps not as distracted as I had hoped.

“Bad men, not nice,” he muttered.

I nodded my head in agreement. “Not nice at all but you were very brave.”

“I don’t know about that.” Sleet blushed. “I ran away.”

“Which was very clever,” I replied. “You distracted him and disappeared before he could catch you.”

“It’s a good trick,” he nodded for emphasis. “Fairies very good at hiding.”

“Precisely, and that’s what I want you to do any time someone tries to hurt you.” I couldn’t bear the thought that someone after me might bring him harm.

“You want me to run away?” he asked, suddenly skeptical. “Not very brave.”

“Sometimes it’s better to be sneaky than brave,” I replied.

“Really?” Sleet looked up at me.

I smiled. “Absolutely. That’s why I’d like you to teach me all about it.”

“You want to learn to hide?” Sleet tore off a piece of the donut and popped it into his mouth.

“Yes. I might need to do it one day, and I don’t know how. Could you teach me?”

“Me, teach you?” The pitch of his voice grew higher. “To disappear?”

“Yes, sometimes I could see you and sometimes I couldn't,” I waved my hand around in the air opening and closing it for emphasis.

“Oh yes,” Sleet said with a grin. “It’s a very good trick. Keep Sleet safe, but…”

“But, what?” I replied, worried that the magic might require a finesse I hadn’t mastered yet.

“But, you’re Sidhe,” he whispered. “A Winter scion, you should already know how.”

I groaned. “Perhaps, but I never had anyone to teach me, Sleet. I grew up here, not in Faerie.”

“Probably a good thing,” Sleet replied as he mulled that over. “Much nicer here.”

Focus Sleet. I tried to be patient but the fairy’s attention seemed to be drifting.

“Yes, I was hoping you could teach me. Just in case.”

“It’s easy,” Sleet replied. “You just have to think about it and…”

One moment he was there, then he was gone. I could feel him resting on my shoulder, but my eyes couldn’t see him. It was the strangest sensation.

After a few seconds he flickered back into view. “See, easy.”

“Hmm.” I might need to reconsider my approach. Sleet might be able to do it innately, but perhaps that was a byproduct of being a fae. Human wizards certainly couldn't. I was neither fae nor human but somewhere in between. Still if Sleet’s words were any indicator, it should come naturally to me. I just needed to know where to start.

“Easy for you, perhaps. But can you teach me?”

Sleet thought about it for a minute and then shrugged. “I can try. Sleet’s never been a teacher before.”

He pulled off a piece of donut, stared at it for a moment and then threw it in the air. As the little piece of glazed dough arced through the air, it vanished. A moment later Sleet's head darted forward snatching it out of the sky. His contented chewing noises told me that he’d caught it.

My heart beat a little faster in nervous anticipation. If he could make the donut disappear, surely that meant he was working an actual glamour and his disappearance wasn’t simply a product of his fae nature that manifested to protect him from harm.

“First lesson,” Sleet announced proudly. “Something is there, even if you can't see it. If you hide, and they hit you, it still hurts.”

“Got it,” I replied, having deduced the same from feeling his weight on my shoulder. It also gelled with what I'd seen when Naerine and her Summer Court companions had worked glamours in front of me. The deception itself served little protective purpose other than to trick an opponent’s senses. If you were discovered or your foe blindly flailed into you it would still hurt.

“But how do I do it?” I replied, trying to skip to the heart of the matter.

“You must use your magic.” Sleet paused as if searching for the word. “To not be…”

“Not be seen?” I asked, finishing his sentence before his concentration lapsed again.

Sleet shook his head. “No, you must not be.”

I shook my head. “I don't understand.”

Sleet chewed through the final piece of his donut.

“Let me show you.” He rose off my shoulder, hovering before me, his wings beating like a dragonfly. One moment he was there and the next he was gone. Yet I could still clearly make out the sound of his wings as he buzzed around me. While I couldn't pinpoint precisely where he was, the steady sound of his beating wings allowed me to track him. My head tracked his movements in spite of the glamour.

“See Nora, I cannot be seen, but you still know where I am. Not being seen, is not enough. You must not be, anything.”

It clicked. “You mean, if I want to be good at glamours, then I don't want to be seen, heard, smelt, touched or tasted. Though it felt like if I was being tasted I had entirely failed in my undertaking anyway and was likely already firmly in the maw of some truly unpleasant beast.

Sleet reappeared, nodding furiously. “Exactly. You must not be.” He landed on my shoulder and sat down. “It is harder than you think, but fairies are very good at it.”

The explanation made sense, but I wasn’t particularly feeling any closer to being able to work my own glamour.

“How does one not, be?” I asked.

“That's the trick, isn't it?” Sleet replied. “You have to use your magic and your mind. Your trick is only as good as your mind, and your magic makes it so.”

In principle, it seemed to function the same way my magic did. When I drew on Winter’s touch, I simply envisioned what I hoped to conjure, and willed it into existence with my power. I felt like this was one of those times when a human wizard would have an advantage over a Sidhe. Their use of language as a focus made it easier to manifest one's will when working magic.

Or so I thought.

Without a verbal focus, I found my mind wandered at times, resulting in unpredictable manifestations of my magic. That seemed particularly dangerous when my safety might hinge on a carefully fabricated illusion. I was getting all kinds of mental images as to how that might backfire. One minute I might be invisible, only to have an ice cream truck drive past and suddenly my foes see a giant chocolate milkshake where I’d been hiding moments before.

But I wasn't one to let the difficulty of a task deter me. So, reaching into my pocket, I drew out my phone. I raised it much as Sleet had raised the donut, and I tried to focus my whole concentration on it.

As I trudged along the beach, I closed my eyes trying to filter out the sound of the crashing waves, the cheering of quidditch fans and the feel of the sand between my toes. In my mind, I formed an image of what it might look like should I succeed in vanishing the phone. Well, not truly vanishing it of course, but to conceal it with a shroud of magic. I opened my eyes, focused intently on the phone and attempted to project the image in my mind onto it. Power flowed through me, washing over my phone. There was a haze, as the phone flickered for a moment and slowly but surely it vanished. I couldn't see it with my eyes, but just as I had Sleet, I could still feel it between my fingers. I squeezed just to be sure and I felt the phone pushing against me as I tried to close my fingers.

“I did it,” I shouted, punching the air with my left hand. No sooner had I done so than the phone flickered back into being.

I wasn’t going to let that lapse in concentration get to me. I’d actually freaking done it. And on the first try too.

Maybe I was getting the hang of this magic stuff.

Sleet was not nearly as impressed, eying the visible phone and shaking his head.

“Nora, you have to focus very hard,” Sleet insisted in a stern teacher’s voice, shaking his finger as he spoke.

I took a slow drawn-out breath to calm my nerves. I'd managed to do it once. I had only lost track of things when I got carried away celebrating. Prematurely perhaps but it was nothing that I would let stop me a second time round.

“I can do this,” I told myself, out loud, because sometimes you really just need to hear someone say it, even if it’s you. The power of positive thinking went a long way; unfortunately I was born with a stout inner critic where my self-esteem should have been.

But I was determined to get this.

Once more I concentrated on the phone, and projected my will onto it. The phone vanished from view and I smiled. But this time I learned from my mistake. I reined in my elation. I wasn't in the habit of making the same mistake twice.

Maintaining the illusion required all of my concentration and a steady stream of power. I quickly got the impression that trying to maintain a substantial glamour for a prolonged period of time would be limited by a combination of an individual's focus and magical reserves. Which was good to know. Someone might hide for a moment but someone trying to evade me for a sustained period would find it exhausting.

As I focused on my phone, Sleet looked down at his own empty hands, only his vanished donut wasn’t an illusion. The little glutton had already polished it off. He truly was a black hole with the power to suck all confectionery in the galaxy into his tiny mouth.

Fortunately I had come prepared. I released my illusion, tucked my phone into my pocket and reached into my bag. It took me a moment of rooting around to find it, but rolling around the bottom of the bag was a cookie I’d thrown in at the gift shop.

Sleet’s eyes lit up as his favorite treat came into view. I carefully peeled off its plastic wrapper and held it up. Before he could reach for it, I made it disappear.

Unwilling to be so easily thwarted, Sleet leaned forward and sniffed the air. “I can still smell it,” he gloated. “For it to be gone you must get rid of the smell too. Eyes and nose, that's how nasty things find you.”

I tried to maintain my focus, not wanting to let the cookie reappear.

“How do I get rid of the smell?” I asked.

“The exact same way,” Sleet replied, “Like the first time you have two choices. There are lots of ways to fool the nose.”

I didn't recall having two choices the first time around and got the impression my little fairy had omitted some part of my education, but I let him continue. I wasn’t going to stop him while he was on a roll.

“You can try to will away the smell,” Sleet instructed, “which can be very tricky. Or you can replace it with something else, which is much easier.”

I considered Sleet's words. Perhaps I was trying to show off, or maybe it was that stubborn Irish streak in me. So rather than take the easy way out, I set about trying to remove the cookie’s scent from the air. There was only one problem. I wasn't exactly sure how I was to get rid of the smell completely. After all, what did nothing smell like? Not being able to answer that question made it all the more difficult for my will to manifest a result. So I reluctantly abandoned that attempt and opted for the more plausible second choice. I took a scent that was readily available. That of the salty ocean breeze and willed it into the illusion, hoping I could mask the more subtle scent of the sugary treat.

“How about now?” I asked, eagerly.

Sleet leaned forward and took a big sniff, recoiling almost immediately “Ew, too salty,” he concluded.

“But you couldn't smell the cookie, could you?” I asked

He shook his tiny purple head. “You learn very quickly Nora. You are very clever.”

I don't know why, but the compliment made me smile more than expected.

Letting my illusion collapse, the cookie came back into view and I leaned forward and took a big bite out of it. Then I offered the rest to Sleet. “A well-earned treat for a job well done.”

Sleet pointed at my cookie. “For me?”

“Yes,” I laughed. “If you’d gone to school rather than terrorized one, you’d know that students often bring a treat for their teacher.”

I broke off a piece of the cookie and handed it to him. “Treats you say,” Sleet whispered. I could almost feel his mind working.

“But seeing as you’ve been such a good teacher, this is for you.”

Sleet squealed with excitement as he devoured his piece of cookie.

“Sleet likes teaching!” he exclaimed, “and cookies.”

Like that was news to me. As he reached for the second half, I held onto it.

“How do I see through someone else's glamour?” I asked. “What if I’m not trying to hide, what if I’m trying to find someone or something that is hidden?”

Sleet pondered the question for a moment.

“First you need to know that there is something to find. So, look for things that don't make sense. Things that might be lying to your eyes. A smell where there shouldn’t be. Tracks when you can’t see your prey. Many things can warn you that something is hiding. Once you find it, you look with your magic eyes.”

“My magic eyes?” I replied. That was a new one.

“Yes,” Sleet nodded eagerly. “Your magic eyes help you see the power that is around you.”

Sleet closed his eyes and opened them, this time they glowed with a faint blue luster. It reminded me of how I had found Conor.

“Magic eyes,” Sleet concluded as if that was a complete explanation.

Sleet started moving his hands back and forth in front of him. “Can you see it, Nora?”

I shook my head.

“You have to use your magic eyes, Nora,” he replied swiftly. “Human wizards aren’t very good at it; they call it wizard sight. Others call it the third eye. It helps you see what your eyes might miss.”

I closed my eyes and imagined for a moment that I could see the currents of power that I could feel in the air around me. I pictured what they might look like if I could see them as readily as I could feel their caress and call to them with my gift. I willed myself to see things as they truly were. I opened them and suddenly the world was alight. All about me faint wisps of power flowed through the air. I looked down at my feet and could see the magic of the island itself pulsing with a steady hum of emerald green power. It was surprisingly vibrant in contrast to the soft white sand.

Then I looked at Sleet. Between his hands, currents of magic ebbed and flowed. Tiny little bursts of blue, silver and purple. His eyes glowed more brilliantly now that I could truly see. He looked up at me, his eyes finding mine.

“There you are,” he whispered giddily. His words stirred a feeling deep within me.

For the first time, I felt like I was truly seeing and being seen as I really was. It was exhilarating.

“Now when you think someone is cheating and hiding so you can't find them, look with those eyes. They might hide themselves, but they can’t hide their magic. That is much more difficult. Only the truly powerful can do that.”

I lifted my gaze and took in the world around me. Reveling in the sight of my world as it revealed itself to me. The brilliant currents of power through the sky; the steady answer of the thrum beneath my feet. It was an intoxicating, brilliant kaleidoscope of color.

Right up until stabbing pain tore right through my skull. I closed my eyes, grabbing at my temples as I felt an immediate headache coming on.

“You must pace yourself Nora,” Sleet chided. “Magic takes energy, too much and you get a very sore head.”

It seemed like using my Sidhe sight—at least that’s how I thought of it—required more power than I had anticipated.

Rubbing vigorously at my temples I risked opening my eyes. The world appeared normal once more.

“You couldn't have told me that, sooner?” I asked.

Sleet shrugged. “Some lessons are best learned the hard way. So you don't forget. That's what my dad told me.”

Hearing Sleet speak of his father sent a jolt of sadness through me.

Sleet's family had helped my mother escape the Winter Court and when their actions had been discovered, his parents had been executed for defying my father’s will. To make matters worse, Sleet had been given to the Red Cap. My mother gaining freedom from my father had cost him his.

I knew it wasn't my fault, but it didn't make me feel any better.

Sleet worked on what remained of his cookie and didn’t elaborate, so I let the matter go. There were some things you couldn’t fix, but I liked to think that by taking care of him I was helping do what his parents would if they were here.

We walked in silence for a few minutes, reaching a promontory that brought us as close as I figured we would get to the southern-most shipwreck. Barry had counseled against swimming out to the wrecks, citing the strong tide, but after yesterday I had to wonder if that wasn’t him attempting to conceal the presence of the new shipwreck from us.

At least three boats were moored between the wrecks and the beach and none of them seemed to be straining too hard at their anchors. Having spent my life at the beach I knew well the dangers of rips and tides, but felt confident enough that I could swim out of one if the need arose.

“What are we doing?” Sleet asked, staring out at the water.

“I'm going to go for a swim,” I replied, setting down the bags.

“But I don't like swimming.”

“I know. You think I haven’t noticed you always seem to disappear at bath time?”

Sleet blushed, his little cheeks growing a deeper shade of purple.

“But I have to go in there. So if you could keep a lookout while I swim, that would be great.”

“I can do that.” Sleet leapt off my shoulder and gave me two thumbs up. The kids were wearing off on him.

I peeled my summer dress off, placed it in a pile with my thongs. I didn’t have anywhere for my phone so, looking around and spotting no one, I buried it in the sand beneath my dress. It didn’t look like many people were out, so I hoped it would still be there when I got back.

A waterproof pouch would have been swell but I’d had a lot on my mind this morning.

Lifting the snorkel and goggles out of the bag, I fit them over my head. I tucked the knife into the sheath on my belt and grabbed the flippers before wading out into the water.

Putting on the flippers, I gave Sleet a thumbs up and waded out a few more steps before diving into the water.

It was cool, a welcome contrast to the summer sun beating down overhead.

Now I just needed to find the shipwreck the couple on the beach had been talking about. The more I thought about it, the more suspect it seemed. And I certainly wasn't ready to treat anything on the island as a coincidence. I just hoped the wreck held the answers I was looking for.

The lake the warlocks had ambushed me at was only about a half-hour’s walk away, perhaps a little more. The proximity wasn't lost on me.

As I surfaced, I blew the water out of my snorkel and started powering through the water toward the wrecks.

With each stroke, I couldn’t help but wonder what secrets waited for me there?

Chapter 14

The cool water was heaven on my skin as I powered across the surface of the bay. Here, the waves were almost non-existent due to the man-made barrier created by the sunken ships I was swimming toward. Some of them had settled, and become submerged in their entirety. Others loomed up out of the water, their rusting superstructure towering over the waves.

In time they would gradually sink into the soft sand, their steel hulls rusting and giving way to the relentless salt and sea. The water here was clear, and the snorkeling mask allowed me to see everything. The soft sand sloped gradually down to deeper depths. Schools of vibrant-colored fish darted about the bay.

It was always a relief to be able to see what was around you. While only a few people died to shark attacks each year, the statistic was poor comfort should you be the unfortunate soul who did come face-to-face with a great white shark. I certainly wasn’t willing to bet on it, as luck had not been on my side this week. So snorkeling alone as I was, I tried to be vigilant and remain wary of my surroundings, all the while powering toward the wrecks with slow steady kicks as my flippers did their job to perfection.

It had been a good two or three years since my last snorkel, so I took the time on the journey out to acclimatize myself once more. I was in no particular hurry, though I was driven by a curiosity for what might lie amid the rusting wrecks. For practice I dived down beneath the surface, closing my mouth as water filled my snorkel and pushing myself deeper with steady kicks. As my oxygen reserves grew low, and my lungs started to protest, I kicked back to the surface. No sooner had my snorkel broken through the water than I exhaled, the plume of breath forcing the water out of the tube in a burst of salty sea spray.

My lifeline clear once more, I swam along the surface, breathing through the snorkel as I searched the depths.

Some things were just like riding a bike, you never really forgot how to do them. I passed the first boat at anchor. Pausing, I checked its deck but couldn't see any people moving about the ship. It was a modest vessel, perhaps thirty feet in length, with an enclosed cabin. I swam on toward the first of the wrecks, at the southernmost point of the man-made barrier.

The submerged ship had become home to a dozen varieties of fish, some I recognized. Others I had no idea about. I passed schools of bream swarming about the wreck. There was also trevally and yellowtail kingfish. All in all they were spectacular. If I didn’t have work to do, I might have dawdled here enjoying the sight of them darting in and out, through the rusted holes in the ship’s hull.

Coral and other marine vegetation was growing all over the vessel, turning the rusty wreck into a vibrant reef swarming with life. It was even more vivid than I remembered as a child. Funny how the water had seemed so deep back then. Now it didn’t bother me at all.

I remember thinking these wrecks must have been the size of the Titanic, in my childish imagination. Now I looked at the back of the submerged fishing trawler and smiled as I swam past it. Only the very tip of the prow stuck up through the surface of the water.

Making my way north along the man-made tidal break, I found a cluster of shipwrecks close together. Two of them were wholly submerged, while the third loomed up out of the waves. Taking a deep breath, I dove beneath the surface, eager for a closer look. I rounded the bow of the first ship so that I could see behind it. Fish by the thousands played through the wrecks but I saw no life of the human variety out here.

It would seem that closing down the resort's attractions for the quidditch finals had given me an excellent opportunity to explore the wrecks unmolested.

I kicked back to the surface and broke through, filling my lungs with fresh air as I let the snorkel dangle free. I kicked over to the deck of the ship that was jutting out of the water. I figured it was the perfect chance to catch my breath. There was no need to push myself and fatigue was not a friend for anyone caught in a rip.

The ship was sticking out of the water, it’s sloping deck rising away from me. It dwarfed the other ships around it. I felt about on the deck, testing to be sure it would take my weight. The edges were a rusted mess, but the main deck hadn’t rusted through. So I pulled myself up onto it and rolled onto my back, catching my breath and resting my muscles.

I'd always been a confident swimmer, but I had no intention of treading water for my entire exploration. Just the thought of that was exhausting. I lay on my back on the deck for a minute, massaging my legs. The swim out had certainly been a thorough workout. I took advantage of the raised deck to survey the vessels in the makeshift bay. There were three other functional vessels moored in the shelter of the shipwrecks. One of them was at the far northern part of the break, while the one I had passed bobbed deserted on the water behind me. The last vessel lay about hundred meters, still away at anchor. It was a larger vessel, perhaps fifty feet long and looked like it cost about the same as the house we lived in. The yacht had two decks and a jet ski tied to the back deck. Which should mean the owner was still on board. Unless of course they had a smaller launch to ferry them to shore. Which was always a possibility.

“Oh, to have dumb money.” I laughed as I shook my head. The jet ski, a recent model Sea-doo, was probably more valuable than my car. If its owners were aboard, they seemed far more intent on lazing about in their cabin rather than enjoying the magnificent vista nature was providing for them out here. Staring at all this through tinted windows just wasn’t the same. Or so I thought. I’d never been on a yacht, so I guess I had nothing to compare it to.

I turned my attention back to the shipwrecks around me. They had been sunk in a line running roughly parallel to the coast. They’d been sunken a few years apart, so they suffered from different stages of rust.

Looking along the line, I spotted something silver amid all the red rusting metal. From its polished sheen it looked like the aluminum hull of a submerged ship. Though that only made sense if it had capsized. Unless the whole hull was silver. From here it was hard to tell as it rested between two of the other ships.

It obviously hadn’t been here nearly as long as the others. My heart skipped a beat. Was it the shipwreck the couple on the beach had been talking about?

Easing myself off the deck of the ship I was resting on, I slid back into the water and pushed off. I eased into a steady freestyle stroke as I made a beeline for the new shipwreck.

My fatigue forgotten in the excitement of finding the ship, I powered through the water. Schools of fish parted, darting away as I plowed unapologetically through their midst. I passed the rusted-out hull of a ferry. The closer I got the better I could see the new shipwreck. It was a small yacht, perhaps thirty-five feet long with an enclosed cabin, but it was resting on its deck in the sand, the hull pointing up toward the surface.

A giant gash was readily visible in its ruined hull. Perhaps the pilot hadn’t been a local. Had he struck one of the submerged ships by accident? Or perhaps drifted into it during the night?

It seemed more likely that they’d hit it at speed to do this much damage. The accident had destroyed their buoyancy and sent them to the bottom. Fortunately for whoever had been on it at the time, in this sort of shallow water and so close to the beach, they were likely to have survived the incident.

Though I wouldn’t have liked to be them if it had happened at night. That would have been terrifying. I swam closer to the vessel. It didn't appear to have a name, which made it a little more unusual. Those with cash to splash on this sort of maritime hardware loved scrawling a clever name down the side of the boat. It also didn't appear to have any lights on it, another unusual anomaly.

Why would anyone be piloting such an expensive vessel without the proper safety precautions in place?

Moving closer, I rounded the hull of a submerged sand trawler. I was about fifteen feet from the luxurious yacht I’d observed earlier. They seemed to be anchored near the wreck, but even at this distance there didn't appear to be anyone on it. Perhaps they were Harry Potter fans too. They could have moored here and wandered down the beach to see the game.

If that was the case though, why wouldn't they simply drive down to the game and dock at the resort’s pier?

It didn’t make sense but wealthy holiday makers were known to do all manner of inefficient things in the name of having a good time.

Resting in the water a moment, I treaded water above the new shipwreck as I looked about for any sign of danger.

As I prepared for my dive, I thought about my options.

It was starting to look like a yacht owner had grown careless and wrecked their brand-new toy. If that were the case, I probably would have been better served scoping out the island’s interior.

As part of me wondered if I'd wasted a day wandering up the beach and swimming out here, the rest of me determined to make the effort to swim down anyway. I’d come all this way after all, and it seemed unlikely the resort was going to loan me the quads again. Not after the condition I'd returned them in yesterday and particularly not now that Barry had disappeared.

The concierge being sick was about as likely as a white Christmas in Brisbane. The timing of his sudden affliction was just a little too convenient to ignore. I looked down at the yacht and sighed. It was still my best lead. My only lead, really.

If nothing else, the walk had done me good, and learning about glamours from Sleet had been an added bonus. That particular education seemed like it would stand me in good stead as a hunter.

I bobbed in the water and tried to relax my breathing. Full of adrenaline and excitement I would burn through my air much faster. And given the wreck was a good three or four meters below the surface, I was going to need every bit of breath I could muster. Filling my lungs, I closed my mouth and sank beneath the water. Executing a half turn, I felt the water surge into my snorkel tube, but I spat it out of my mouth and let it dangle from the mask. I wasn't going to need it on this trip.

Kicking hard I propelled myself downward, with slow purposeful strokes. I could feel the increased pressure on my ears the deeper I got but at this depth, it was more of a nuisance than any real threat. Still, I made a note not to surface too quickly as there was no point taking unnecessary chances.

Reaching the submerged yacht, I felt along its hull, the gaping hole clearly the source of its demise. There were rust-colored markings along the hull, a likely indicator of contact where it had brushed against one of the other ships.

Satisfied as to how it had gotten here, I made my way to the doors at the back of the vessel. I found the handle and pulled on it to open the door. But it wouldn't budge.

Was it locked?

With the damage to the hull, it had to be flooded. I expected minimal resistance on the door. I positioned my feet against the bulkhead and pulled with everything I had, but the door wouldn’t budge. Not even an inch.

Could it be locked?

Surely not. For the occupants to have escaped, they would have had to open it. Who bothers locking a door when a ship is flooding beneath your feet? One more bizarre fact to add to the rapidly growing collection about the ship.

Not to worry. One of the first workings Alasdair had taught me was for opening locks. It was something of a fundamental skill for a bounty hunter. I did as my mentor had taught me. Placing my hand over the door’s locking mechanism I willed power into it. It was a subtle spell designed to unlock the mechanism from the inside. But I felt nothing. No discernible response from my magic that would indicate that the mechanism had turned.

Odd.

I'd performed the simple spell dozens of times. I could do it with my eyes closed, and I was pretty sure I could do it underwater, if I had to. So I didn't think that was the issue. No matter how I pushed and pulled against the door, I couldn't budge it. The more I fought with the door, the more I worried that its occupants were still inside, drowned as their vessel went down in the shallow water.

Abandoning my futile attempts to open the door, I let myself drift away from it. Studying the rest of the vessel, I looked at the ocean floor around the ship and paused.

The ship itself was strange but the indentation where it rested in the sand was even more so. It continued beyond the prow of the boat another two or three feet. I’d have thought it was drag from the ship coming to rest on the ocean floor, but that would have been hours ago. It should have well and truly found its level.

“Or perhaps you're wasting your time playing at being a deep-sea rescue operator,” my inner critic whispered.

Shut up, I told myself. I didn’t need her second guessing me right now.

Here I was three meters below the surface. Unable to get into this stupid boat and I was arguing with myself. I didn't have time for that kind of stupidity. I shoved my inner critic back into her corner and tried to focus on the problem at hand. I tried the lock once more. It wouldn't budge.

I circled the boat looking for any other possible entrance, but couldn't find anything and, what was worse, I was rapidly running out of breath.

In frustration, I pushed off the ship and started slowly drifting to the surface, exhaling gradually as I went, the small stream of bubbles rising past my ear as they raced for the surface.

As I stared at the boat, my eyes made their way back to the ocean floor, and the unusual impression the ship had made. I added to that, the lack of a name on it and the doors that seemed wedged shut. Perhaps I wasn't as fit as I thought or perhaps something else was happening here.

Sleet's words came back into my mind, “So look for things that don't make sense. Things that might be lying to your eyes. A smell where there shouldn’t be. Tracks when you can’t see your prey. Many things can warn you that something is hiding.”

Use your magic eyes.

Running out of breath, I figured it was worth a shot. I closed my eyes, drew on my power and manifested my Sidhe sight. Opening them, the water was now a brilliant shade of aquamarine, but beyond that the ship caught my eye

My stomach flipped. The yacht was gone, well, not gone. But for the first time I saw it in its true form. It wasn’t a yacht at all, but an elegant ship fashioned from a bluish steel woven in bands. I’d never seen the patterns before and yet they seemed familiar to me. The yacht’s cabin was gone but the ship did have a sealed canopy with opaque glass windows. The door, in its true form, had a large silver lock but whatever it was made from had resisted my efforts to open it.

Something about its design told me it wasn’t a human vessel at all. Add that to the fact it had been hidden behind an elaborate glamour made me all the more suspicious. Someone didn't want it to be found.

My heart pounded in my chest as I made my way to the surface. I needed another look, but first I needed air.

I must've drifted as I rose because I found myself surfacing underneath the boat that had been at anchor. I kicked free of the bottom of the hull. I cleared the bottom of the boat and surfaced right behind it. I gasped, filling my mouth and lungs with fresh air. Panting, I treaded water and tried to process my discovery.

A pronounced click behind me interrupted my train of thought. I turned, awkward and slow, but as I did I found myself staring at the familiar face of Naerine Oaksidhe, or more precisely, staring up the barrel of the pistol she had leveled at my head.

“Nora Byrne,” she gloated. “I was wondering when I would be seeing you.”

Chapter 15

In a heartbeat, I made and discarded a dozen options. I knew water could be quite effective at stalling bullets, but I figured my chance of getting beneath the surface before Naerine pulled the trigger was non-existent. So, I drew on my power. What other choice did I have? She’d pulled a gun on me, and our last encounter had ended less than ideal. If she hadn’t been bleeding out I imagined she might have pulled the trigger then.

No sooner had I begun drawing on my power, than Naerine shook her head. “Just give me a reason, and I'll put a bullet between your eyes faster than you can frame that spell you're considering right now.”

I exhaled, paddling gently in an attempt to stay afloat while hopefully not giving Naerine a reason to shoot me.

“What do you want, Naerine?”

“I was hoping we could have a little chat,” she replied, her lips drawn tight together but betraying the faintest hint of a smile as she lorded over me, from the deck of her yacht.

“And here I was hoping we'd never see each other again,” I replied. “What do you think is going to happen when Alasdair discovers you’re bothering me again? I suspect he’s going to be pissed.”

“Isn’t he always?” Naerine replied with a smug smile. “If being contrary was a superpower, he would be a champion of the people. I've never met a more disagreeable soul in all my time in this world.”

She wasn’t wrong. He could be cagey and difficult, and possessed all the diplomacy and tact of a piranha at dinner time. But hearing her talk down about my mentor really got underneath my skin.

Not that I could do anything about it with a gun pointed at my face.

When I didn’t say anything, she continued. “Besides, we both know he's not here. Last I saw him he was trying to convey a remarkably implausible story to my Queen.”

My pulse quickened. At least that meant he had made it to the Summer Court. Though it certainly didn’t seem like it had gone down well.

Perhaps that explained why he hadn't returned my call. Was he still there? Or had Titania, Queen of Summer, taken umbrage at her dead ambassador and shot the messenger?

“I'm still a member of the Camp,” I replied. “And if you pull that trigger you and the Court are in for a world of problems.”

“Perhaps,” Naerine replied, “but that's only if they find your body. There are places we could stash what's left of you that no one would ever find. So why don't you come up here, dry off and we can have a little chat.”

I looked around the bay, desperate for other options. “Oh, I’d rather stay here, if it’s all the same to you.”

“It isn’t, and it wasn’t a request,” Naerine replied, her fingers tightening on the trigger. “Perhaps you need some encouragement.”

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” I replied. Paddling toward the edge of the boat. I considered diving under it, but where was I going to go? I couldn’t hope to outrun a yacht. So I reached up and placed my hand on the deck.

I looked Naerine in the eye. “Permission to come aboard captain?”

“Permission granted,” Naerine replied, motioning at the deck as she took a step away from me. She seemed standoffish, and eager to stay out of range while keeping the weapon trained on me.

Thinking as I went, I tried to deploy everything I had learned in the Otherworld journal.

“If I am to be a guest on your vessel, will you guarantee my safety?”

To bargain with the Sidhe was to court disaster, but I was already at gunpoint and the last time we met, Naerine had very nearly put a bullet in me. If it wasn’t for the fact she had been outnumbered, she just might have. She likely still believed I was responsible for the death of principal Dare, and perhaps even ambush of her group outside the school.

After all, she’d come looking for the Winter Court and no sooner had she cornered us, than the forces of Winter arrived, slaughtering her patrol. She alone appeared to have survived the Red Cap’s onslaught.

“I most certainly will not,” Naerine replied, “and you are no guest on this vessel. You'll be my prisoner.”

I paused. Not liking the sound of that one bit, but neither did I think I could take her. Naerine had the high ground. There was a small chance I could slip under the water. But she would get off a shot or two. It would come down to how good a marksman she was, and I wasn’t quite ready to gamble my life away. Besides, I’d come here for answers, and there was no way I’d get them by running away. The safer course seemed to be climbing aboard the vessel.

Perhaps with time I could convince her that I wasn't her enemy. Perhaps she knew more about what was going on around the island than I did.

I reached up, grabbed the deck with one hand and the rail with the other and pulled myself up onto the back of the boat. Water streamed off me as I sat on the deck catching my breath.

“Shall we head inside? Somewhere a little quieter?”

“That depends on whether you can put the gun away,” I replied.

“Not a chance,” Naerine replied.

“Suit yourself,” I answered. “I'm happy to talk to you, Naerine. I'm even happy to tell you what I know about what's been going on here. But if your finger so much as tightens on that trigger I won’t be held responsible for what happens to you. Particularly not after last time when you damn near shot me for no good reason.”

Naerine seemed to consider my proposal for a minute. And then slowly she moved her finger outside the trigger guard but didn’t put the gun away.

It was a reluctant middle ground.

I took that as progress. “Just give me a moment to get these flippers off.” Reaching into the water I undid my flippers and sat them down on the deck. Standing up, Naerine opened the cabin of the yacht for me. She pointed inside at a series of chairs around a small table.

I felt like a gangster playing Russian roulette but Naerine took a seat and so did I.

“What do you want?” I asked. “You wanted to talk, let’s talk.”

“So you're a Winter Court scion living in the middle of the Summer Court's realm,” Naerine ventured.

“That feels more like a statement than a question,” I replied. Naerine might think she had me at a disadvantage, but I had questions I wanted the answer to as well, so I wasn’t giving anything away for free.

“Why?”

I shifted a little in my seat. The wetsuit wasn’t nearly as comfortable in this position.

Naerine might know what I was, but she had no idea who I was. She also knew far more about the state of affairs between the Summer and Winter Courts than I did. So while I wasn't even sure my father knew I existed, I could almost certainly be used as leverage in a war I wanted no part of.

I had flashbacks of the Red Cap threatening to kill me and take Conor. I didn’t want my children drawn into a bloody tug of war that could kill us all.

“My mother is originally from Ireland,” I answered honestly. “In her younger days she was beguiled by a Sidhe of the Winter Court. When she became pregnant, she fled out of a desire to protect me from them. She wasn't sure how her lover would react to the news and she wasn’t taking any chances. So she came here. The furthest point she could find from their influence.”

Naerine studied me intently, her golden brown eyes searching my face for any hint of deception. It was one of the reasons I’d opted for the truth. It gave her nothing about my identity, and it was an all too believable story about who we were and why we were here.

“Have you any contact with the Winter Court?” she asked. “Scions are rare, and sought after for the freedom with which they can move between realms.”

“I've never met my father,” I replied, “and until recently I knew little of the Court or its business. It wasn't until the Red Cap showed up in town and that ice troll tried to kill me that I was drawn into this mess.”

“The mess at the library,” Naerine replied. “That was you?”

I nodded.

“We tracked that particular incursion but Alasdair got there first. He has always been an enterprising hunter.”

“That was the day I met him. And with the library out of commission I needed a job. So I took work at the Camp.”

“Dangerous work,” Naerine replied. “Not the sort of thing most would wander into willingly.”

“Do you have any children?” I asked, resting my folded arms on the table before me.

“One,” Naerine replied, her granite countenance softening for a moment, before she regained her composure.

“So you know what it means to be a parent. I took the work to provide for my family. At the time I didn’t understand the extent of my abilities but I was willing to work. I managed to track down Alasdair and the Camp and persuade them to take me on. That's when I met you and your friends.”

Naerine set the gun on the table, its barrel facing me. “So you would have me believe that when the Red Cap showed up here in town you knew nothing about him, or why he was here?”

“Got it in one,” I replied. “I was as surprised as the rest of you. More so perhaps when I learned that some of the people who had died were apprentice hunters. I’d not known a thing about the Camp.”

“And that when one of our closest allies was killed and we come to investigate, you knew nothing of the Winter Court ambush that was cunningly prepared and brutally executed. You expect me to believe that?”

“I expect you to believe the truth,” I replied. “Principal Dare was a friend. One who’d helped me keep my son in a normal school and helped us get the support we need. His death was a loss for us all.”

“And you had nothing to do with it?”

“No,” I replied, fighting to keep my tone from growing impatient. “What’s more, I've never made any attempt to harm you, Naerine. When we last met you were on death's door and I was still riding a high from killing the Red Cap. If I'd meant you harm, Alasdair and I could have done it then. The Congress would have ruled it self-defense and we’d be in the clear.”

“I was armed,” Naerine replied. “And I had the draw on you then, much as I do now.”

“You’d have been lucky to get one of us,” I replied. “Certainly wouldn’t have been able to stop both of us.”

Naerine sat, quietly processing that, deep furrows appearing in her brow. She seemed conflicted, but I had no idea why.

I pushed a little further. “So I don't expect you take my word for it, I expect you look at my actions and see reason for yourself. Clearly you’re no idiot, and I can’t find a single thing I’ve actually done that would give you cause to hate me so.”

She pushed her long blond hair out of her face. There was an alien beauty about the Sidhe. They were humanoid but their features so smooth and perfect it beggared belief. She could be sitting at this table or walking the catwalk for Victoria’s Secret and not be out of place in either location.

“What business did you have with the Red Cap?”

“None, initially. I went to the school to catch a fairy that was causing mischief. It was the least dangerous errand the Camp had to offer. So I went after it.”

Naerine nodded along. “I wish Dare had come to us first.”

“I don't,” I replied.

She raised an eyebrow.

“The fae was of the Winter Court. You’d have killed it, would you not?”

Naerine shrugged. “Or interrogated it in our search for his master.”

“And he would have deserved neither fate,” I replied. “The fae had already forsaken its master and was simply trying to survive in our world. It hid the first place it could find a steady supply of food.”

“It does not belong here,” Naerine replied.

“Well, I'll have you know he is now under my protection, as a member of my household, and I'm responsible for his safety and will demand reparation of any who bring him harm.”

Naerine cocked her head to the side. “For someone who says they knows little of our Courts, you appear to know a great deal. Such subtlety is not Alasdair’s style. Who taught you?”

She was right, of course. Alasdair cared little for the interactions between the Sidhe and their minions. He was far more concerned with safeguarding the mortal realm than understanding the complexities of the Courts and their eternal rivalry.

“I am a librarian,” I replied. Or at least I was. I wasn’t quite sure where I stood on going back to work there now. “I read about it,” I answered noncommittally.

Naerine stared at me, clearly trying to read me but I ensured my face remained impassive. It was the truth, there was no lie to detect but neither did I want to tell her about the journal. It was my edge and I had no intention of giving it up. I imagined that she wouldn't be delighted to find such an extensive repository of knowledge about their lands and people floating about the mortal realm. I had no intention of surrendering it, so best she didn’t learn about it.

“And the Red Cap, you killed him?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“From the lowliest errand on the Camp's board to a lieutenant of the Winter Court—that is quite the leap. He was number one, was he not?”

“How do you know that?” I asked, a little worried at how much of the Camp’s business appeared to be common knowledge.

“The board is an open auction,” Naerine replied. “How else are potential patrons meant to know what market value is?”

That was interesting, I hadn’t known that. So, the busier the Camp was, or the more dangerous the target, the more a patron would have to bid in order to get the attention of local hunters.

Naerine let out a sigh. “I'm surprised you survived the encounter. The Red Cap has killed more experienced hunters than you, many of them.”

“He underestimated me,” I replied evenly. “A common failing, particularly among men.”

Naerine smiled. “How did you find him? My patrol and I had been hunting him for days without so much as a trail.”

“The Red Cap took my children, likely in retaliation for me taking his fairy. That was his mistake. My hound tracked their scent into the woods and when we found them, we killed them all.”

“Your gifts are more pronounced than the day I first met you. Back then there was only the faintest wisp of power. So subtle Alasdair could pass it off as the lingering stench of your encounter with the ice troll. He lies easily, your mentor.”

I shrugged. It wasn't my place to make excuses for him, but the truth of it made me less comfortable particularly given everything that had happened since I’d arrived on the island.

“I imagine he was trying to protect me from your blind hatred of my kind,” I replied.

“Oh, it's not blind Nora Byrne, I have a lifetime of experience with the children of Winter. My hatred might be many things, but it is well earned, and never blind.”

“Well, I can't help what I am, I can only determine what I do. I killed the Red Cap for taking my family, I have continued as a hunter because I want to protect them from any who might bring them harm. I have no malice for the Summer Court. If anything, I would thank you.”

“What?” Naerine asked, confusion evident as one eyebrow rose and creases formed at the corners of her lips.

“If it weren't for you, someone might have found my family years ago. The presence of the Summer Court has likely deterred those who would have followed us. And what’s more, the cash from the Red Cap’s bounty has solved a multitude of problems for me. So I have no reason to want to bring harm to any of you, and every reason to want you around.”

“That doesn't explain how you came to be here,” Naerine continued. “Now, on this island. Am I really to believe that a scion of the Winter Court just happens to be swimming in the ocean, diving about a vessel from the Winter fleet that found its way into the mortal realm? A vessel that appeared only a day before Guardian Solanus disappeared from the island?”

If Solanus was the Glade Guardian the warlocks had tried to frame me for killing, he was well and truly dead. I felt like we were getting somewhere for a few moments. But I wasn't sure how I was going to navigate this particular line of questioning without sending Naerine into a rage. Was she aware of Solanus’ passing? Was she testing me?

“Something is going on here on the island,” I replied, “and I have no part in it except my desire to stop whatever is happening here. I’m a hunter, I’m here to hunt.”

“That doesn't particularly feel like an answer,” Naerine replied. “What are you hiding, Nora?”

“Nothing,” I replied. “As I said, I'll tell you everything I know, if you give me your word you have no part in the plot,” I answered. I had no idea who I could trust right now. I needed answers and I also needed to eliminate possibilities.

“You would extract an oath of me, scion? I think not.”

“I'm not asking you to forsake your office, your honor or your people,” I replied. “I merely wish for your assurance that you have no part in it. Give me your word that you and the Summer Court are not behind it, and that you will let me go safely when I am through and I will tell you the entire truth as I know it.”

She’d been unwilling to promise me safe passage before. I wondered if I had succeeded in swaying her opinion now.

I held out my hand.

The Otherworld journal had been explicit about treating with the Sidhe. So I had worded the agreement with care. It would not be easily circumvented. The real question was, had I established enough rapport with Naerine that she would actually enter into the bargain?

The Summer Sidhe looked at my hand, looked at me and then took it. I felt the tingle of power that rolled down my arm, through my hand and into her. It was an icy cold sensation that swept through me, followed by a warm tingle that felt like the kiss of the sun, passing through my being starting with my right hand.

“Tell me what you know,” Naerine said. “You have your bargain.”

“It all started yesterday when Alasdair and I received word from the police that a body had been found in the woods outside Beenleigh. We found your Glade Guardian, minus his head, lying in the dirt.”

Naerine tensed, but I plowed on. I was committed now and so was she. “There was evidence that the scene had been staged. We both concluded that whoever had done it had done so with the intention of framing me for the killing. There was clear evidence of Winter’s presence at the scene, though the magic was not mine. Alasdair sent me out of town and suggested I come here while he bore news of the killing to the Summer Court.”

“Doubtless trying to protect you from us,” Naerine observed. “You put him in a difficult position, Nora Byrne.”

I blinked in confusion. “Me, how?”

Naerine smiled smugly. “Alasdair loathes visiting Faerie. Clearly he figured it was the only way to protect you, so he endured a trip to the Summer Court and the prospect of potential death at my Queen’s hand in a bid to save your life. He suffers much on your account.”

I knew it shouldn’t but it kind of made me feel good as Naerine explained the magnitude of Alasdair's actions. My mentor hadn’t made a big deal out of it, but the more she said, the more I realized that it was. Here I was wondering if he had conspired with the warlocks on the island and all the while he was enduring personal hell and risking his life for mine. I felt terrible in my thankless ignorance, and wonderful at the same time. The way you do when you realize someone cares.

“You say something is going on here at the island. What do you know of it?” Naerine asked, and this time her tone was more inquisitive than accusatory.

“Yesterday I was ambushed by a warlock. I got the better of him and during his interrogation he let slip that his cabal was responsible for killing your guardian. He mentioned that the attempt to frame me was designed to lure your fellow Sidhe off the island and give them the freedom to move about more easily.”

“A cabal you say?” Naerine paused. “How many are we talking about?”

“At least four that I found. Three of his companions stumbled across me while I was interrogating him to the north east of here.” I paused a moment. “The four of them will no longer be a problem, but I have no idea how many others there might be.”

“You killed four of them?” Naerine asked, only now I detected a hint of respect.

“They are as dead as can be. I kicked a little sand over their corpses but you could find them without much effort.” I left out the man in the felt hat, as I had no idea what role he played in all this. He’d come to my aid, but I still had no idea why.

“You are full of surprises, Nora Byrne.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I replied. Seeing as everyone else who spoke to me was busy talking down to me or telling me what I couldn’t do I much preferred to consider Naerine’s words as reassurance.

“Your Glade Guardian appeared to have been tortured; the real question is why? What could they have wanted from him?”

“Solanus was ancient, even among our kind,” Naerine replied. “There are many secrets he’d be privy to.”

Naerine was playing her cards close to her chest, clearly not wanting to discuss the Summer Court’s secrets with a scion of the Winter Court.

“Well we know that a group of human warlocks somehow ambushed and killed him. I guess that’s a start.”

“Human warlocks?” Naerine mulled over the words as if their very taste on her tongue was unpleasant. “I doubt they were alone. Solanus’ mastery of the arts was something mere humans could never hope to match. He’d have thwarted thrice their number without breaking a sweat.”

I represented the human half of her remarks, and tried not to take it personally.

“Yeah, but humans fight dirty. Besides, I’m not guessing, they told me as much. Why take credit for it and risk your wrath if it wasn’t true? What do they have to gain?”

“You spent some time with these warlocks?”

I nodded. “They tried to kill me yesterday by starting a fire. They were hoping it would do their dirty work for them.”

Naerine’s hands closed into fists. “The nerve of them, they could have burned our glades to cinders.”

“Don’t worry, I took care of it, and went after them.” I intentionally omitted anything about Conor. I didn’t particularly want Naerine paying attention to my family.

“I tracked them to a site where they appeared to be preparing for some sort of ritual. That was where they ambushed me.”

Naerine leaned back in her chair, leaving the gun on the table. “And there were four of them?”

“Not all at once,” I replied. “I dealt with the first before he realized what he was up against. That’s when the others showed up. They took more doing but they’re dead too.”

“Can you take me to the site of their ritual? If there was a group of them working in concert with ritual magic, it would explain how they got the drop on Solanus.”

“I can take you there,” I replied. “But I’m afraid I destroyed the circle. I wanted to frustrate their plans as much as possible.”

Naerine nodded but I could see the disappointment in her eyes. “A sensible choice given what you knew, but we’ll learn little of their intent without studying the markings they were using.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone was around. The warlocks mentioned the Sidhe had left the island in search of their guardian. That was the reason they dragged him to the mainland.”

“They would have had to kill him here. Solanus would have never abandoned his post willingly,” Naerine countered.

“Why? What’s so important about the island? What does he do here?”

“That I cannot say,” Naerine replied. “What can you tell me of the manner of his death? Alasdair took word to the Queen but I haven’t seen the body for myself.”

“He’d been tortured, likely involving severe hypothermia. They certainly seemed to want something from him. Any idea what that might be?”

Naerine opened her mouth, but didn’t answer the question.

“Do you have any idea why they’re trying to frame me for this?” I asked. “I didn’t know Solanus, yet they seem intent on dragging me into this.”

“It seems they want us otherwise occupied,” Naerine replied. “Throwing us into conflict with the Camp would certainly distract us from whatever they have planned here. And if we are at each other’s throats that would take the Camp out of commission too. Hunters are natural predators to warlocks and their ilk. Next to our presence here on the island you would be the greatest threat to them.”

As she spoke her eyes widened and I could almost see her mind working.

“What is it?” I asked.

“You said the warlocks and their circle lay to the north east of us?”

“Yes, why?”

“When were you last there?” Naerine asked as she reached for her gun.

I panicked for a moment until she tucked it back in a leather holster at her waist.

“Yesterday, why?”

“Describe it to me. The place you found their circle.” Her voice grew more frantic as she spoke.

I hadn’t really considered that the location itself might be significant. But the way Naerine focused on it made me wonder what I had missed.

“Well, you head north up the beach, following the coast until you find a shallow crystal-blue lake formed in the soft white sand. It’s not too far from the beach, really. They had set up their circle around the lake. It was massive.”

“The pool of Ngugi,” Naerine whispered. “It’s worse than I feared.”

“What’s the pool of Ngugi?” I’d heard the word somewhere, but I couldn’t place it.

“I know why they’re on the island,” Naerine concluded, “and why they ambushed you there.”

I was just about to ask her what she was talking about when something struck the glass window of the yacht. Moments later purple light flared like a miniature fireworks display. It only took me a moment to track the motion to the source. Sleet hovered, frantically trying to get my attention.

Naerine saw him too.

“What’s the annoying little creature want?”

“His name is Sleet, and he was watching my back,” I replied. “If he’s here, there’s a reason for it.”

Moving closer to the window, I noticed movement on the beach behind him. There were dozens of people streaming over the sand dune. All of them were wearing black robes, and looked far more like warlocks than Harry Potter enthusiasts.

“It’s a warning,” I replied. “You said you were alone on the island?”

“Yes,” Naerine replied. “The Court couldn’t spare any additional forces. We are sorely pressed by the forces of Winter at present.”

“Well that’s unfortunate because we appear to be incredibly outnumbered and somewhat surrounded. We need to get out of the bay.”

Naerine scanned the gathering on the beach.

“Warlocks,” I muttered. “A lot more than four of them. What’s the chance they know you’re here?”

The warlocks fanned out across the beach. One of them strode down to the water’s edge and raised his hands.

An immense ball of flame coalesced between them.

“It would appear our presence has been noticed.”

The ball of fire arced out over the bay toward us.

“Understatement of the day,” I muttered, drawing a deep breath and as much of Winter’s power as I could manage.

Chapter 16

The massive ball of fire soared over the still waters of the bay, arcing unmistakably for the yacht Naerine and I were standing on.

The yacht that was no doubt laden with enough fuel to be an arsonist’s fever dream.

“Do what you can about that,” Naerine shouted, pointing at the fireball. “I’ll return fire.”

Return fire? Had she gone off the deep end?

It was two of us against dozens of them with more appearing by the moment. We needed to abandon ship. But there was no time to argue and it was more of a plan than I'd come up with, so I set about my task.

Focusing my will on the gentle waters of the bay, I brought a geyser of water up out of the bay. It fountained right through the first missile, extinguishing it in a spray of hissing mist.

I punched the air in triumph but the gathering warlocks started following their companion’s example, launching a barrage of fiery death toward us.

I stared at the cloud of projectiles. I wasn’t going to be able to catch them all. I was having flashbacks of the helplessness I had felt staring down the forest fire yesterday. A cold sweat ran down my brow.

Then in a moment of perfect clarity, I remembered what Conor had done. He’d brought help.

Ignoring the fire, I focused on the sky above.

The sun was sweltering, and seemed to grow brighter and brighter. Suddenly a lance of golden light seared down from the sky. It blasted straight through a handful of warlocks as if they were nothing. When the glare waned, ashes littered the beach where several warlocks had stood moments earlier, their bodies reduced to dust on the wind by the sheer intensity of the summer blaze.

Naerine’s magic at work.

I turned my focus to our defense. Conor had conjured a storm, but I doubted I could work something of that magnitude on such short notice, so I worked with what I had at my disposal, drawing on the south-easterly breeze blowing across the bay. Then I funneled power into it until it was a tempest, and redirected it toward the beach.

The billowing wind dueled with the flaming missiles and one by one, they whiffed out in the face of the unrelenting wind.

The gale reached the shore, stirring up sand that blinded the warlocks, forcing them to shield their faces from the fine particles that no doubt stung wherever they impacted.

“It's working,” Naerine shouted over the wind as she pummeled the warlocks from the back of the yacht. She didn’t bother with fire, having learned from the warlocks’ failings. Instead, she formed spheres of brilliant gold arcana, two or three at a time. I could feel the power coursing from her as she threw orb after orb at the remaining warlocks.

The spells, driven by the winds of my tempest, slammed into them, carving through their cloak-clad forms as if they were nothing. Three more warlocks fell in quick succession.

The boat rocked beneath our feet as the waves in the bay grew more tempestuous. Collateral damage from the tempest I was instigating, but I couldn’t relent now. We were winning. We stood on the back of the yacht dueling with the practitioners on the beach. At least ten of them had fallen, and others had been incapacitated by the sand storm. But still the others pressed on.

The warlocks’ power seemed to pale compared to the might of Summer and Winter working in concert.

Until a lone figure crested the dunes of the beach. The newcomer wore a purple cowl and cloak over what appeared to be an emerald-colored dress that dragged along the sand.

My tempest tore the cowl off her head, and I saw her red hair billowing in the wind. The features of her face were difficult to make out at this distance.

She brought her hands together above her head in a clap that peeled like thunder across the bay. At the sound my spell dissipated and the winds stilled.

How had she dispersed my will so effortlessly?

My jaw dropped low. I’d never seen anything like it.

Naerine’s next volley hurtled straight at the newcomer but a sapphire shield materialized around her. The golden orbs rolled off its surface, smashing into the sand dunes behind her, sending up sprays of sand but leaving her entirely unharmed.

Naerine turned on me, her eyes blazing gold and her face contorted in rage. “That no human warlock, it's a Winter Sidhe. It’s a trap. You did this.”

“I didn't, I swear it.” I could sense the rage coursing through her. “I have no part in this. And whoever that is, she isn't with me.”

Naerine’s eyes smoldered and I held my breath fearing the temperamental Sidhe might turn on me. Her magic stood ready to be unleashed, and at this range I didn’t like my chances of raising a shield in time.

I had to think quickly and, in that split second, I made a decision.

I released my power, not at Naerine, I simply let it dissipate. I couldn't win a war on two fronts anyway and if we wasted any more time fighting with each other we were as good as dead. Naerine could hardly focus on the Sidhe on the beach if she thought I was going to stab her in the back.

The muscles in her face relaxed as she regarded me.

I took the opportunity to try and focus her on the real threat.

“When we found your Glade Guardian, he showed signs of Winter’s touch upon him. It must have been hers. I don't know her and have no more love for her than you do, Naerine. She tried to frame me for murder, and they’re trying to kill us, so focus on the real threat!”

“She's made a grave mistake then,” Naerine hissed as the ship listed to one side.

Sleet's shrill voice screamed from above. “Nora!”

My eyes tracked the voice to his tiny form buzzing about the boat, his little finger pointing out behind us toward the shipwrecks. I turned and a cold chill ran down my spine. Blotting out the horizon was a wall of water, black as the night sky, its crest frothing as it barreled right toward us. At that height it would sweep right over the top of the shipwrecks, and break on top of us.

“Fly, Sleet, up now!” I shouted. If the wave broke on him, he’d almost certainly drown.

“What about you?” Sleet called back. “Nora can't fly.”

“I’ll take care of me, go now!”

Sleet shot skyward, and I looked around, weighing my options in a moment, painfully aware that it was all the time I had. “Abandon ship!” I shouted to Naerine.

I couldn’t afford to wait to see if she listened. Running for the edge, I took two steps and leapt off the boat. Diving toward the wrecked ships and the wave I had only one chance, and that was to get under the wall of water and hopefully into the shelter of the shipwrecks so as not to be drowned by its force.

Hitting the water, I kicked hard, hoping Naerine had the presence of mind to follow me. We’d need each other if we were to have any chance of surviving. I was only a few meters from the nearest shipwreck when the force of the wave rolled over me. I kicked on. The danger lay in being caught in the break itself, tossed and tumbled by the force of the wave until you drowned. My guess was the Sidhe on the beach had summoned the wave, so I figured it would break right on the yacht we'd been taking refuge on.

Beneath the water, I couldn’t hear anything, but looking over my shoulder I could make out the hull as it rolled, capsizing and being pitched forward toward the beach, propelled by what was left of the wave’s momentum.

I had gambled on the shipwrecks to our west robbing the unnatural wave of its momentum and I stayed as long as I dared beneath the water where its pull was lessened. There was a tap on my shoulder and glancing back, I found Naerine swimming behind me. She pointed at the shipwrecked hull we were sheltering next to. She was right, we couldn’t stay here forever and we couldn’t afford to surface and risk them discovering we had survived. Our best chance was to give them the slip in the shipwrecks. I seriously doubted the warlocks would come in here looking for us, though I had no idea how the Sidhe would react. Would she content herself with the ruined yacht? Or would she come hunting?

We swam through a breach in the ship’s hull and kicked for the surface. The wreck towered above the waves, and the cavernous steel room formed by the interior of the wrecked ship provided the perfect shelter. We made our way to the deck and pulled ourselves onto it. I worried about its structural integrity, but right now I was tired, my muscles ached from the effort of the swim that had brought me here and my heart raced from barely dodging death on the tidal wave.

I panted and sputtered as I tried to catch my breath. “Who is that?”

Naerine looked paler than usual. “That was the Leanansidhe.”

“The Leanansidhe?” My mind crawled through the names I'd read in the Otherworld journal. It took me some time, battered as I was but I got there. She was a Sidhe of great beauty, and the creature the Scottish knew as the Leannán sídhe. Known for ensnaring mortal lovers with her beauty and wiles, she was ancient and powerful.

Naerine continued. “She is a creature of Winter with great standing before the Winter King. If she is here, it is at his errand.”

I closed my eyes, wrestling with the revelation that the Sidhe before us was bearing out my father’s will. All my life I'd wondered about my father. My curiosity didn’t stop when I discovered he was the Winter King. A million times as I child I had wondered what he might be like, what would happen if I ever met him. In my childlike hope I wished for the day we might be reunited.

When I discovered he was the Winter King, I'd tempered those childish daydreams with a healthy dose of reality. My father was the malevolent overlord of all of Winter, a force of nature. Still, there was a part of me that had clung to the hope he might be excited to see me. After all, scions were supposedly rare. Maybe he’d be excited to find he’d sired one.

Those hopes were now as dashed as the yacht we'd been standing on.

“How did she do that, with the storm and the wave?” I asked.

Naerine looked at me, her jaw drooping in disbelief. “Nora, your power might be considerable but your understanding is infantile. Winter’s domain is not just ice and snow, but wind and water and darkness. Your storm wrestled with her will and lost so quickly your mind didn't even register the battle. Scion you might be, but she is no student, she is a master and if she wants us dead it bodes poorly for the both of us. She could best Solanus; she can certainly destroy us.”

Debris drifted in the bay before us. I'd survived the Red Cap, so it seemed my father had dispatched someone far more capable to get the job done. The realization felt like an icy knife plunged right through my heart.

He didn't even know me. He hadn't taken the chance to get to know me. I fought back tears at the depth of his rejection. I'd thought I was ready for it, but I wasn't. And I didn't want Naerine to see me cry. I rolled onto my side, facing away from Naerine.

I was a grown-ass woman; I had the right to cry. A tear rolled down my cheek.

“If you're quite finished feeling sorry for yourself,” Naerine interrupted. “We best work out what they're doing. If they come after us, we’re going to have to run.”

“Where to?” I replied, studying the bay. It didn’t present a lot of options. “Do we take our chances in Faerie?”

Naerine shrugged. “If we must. But we should assume they might be prepared for that eventuality. We’re safer here, with the danger we know, than charging into Faerie to face whatever lies in wait there.”

“Why didn't you bring more help?” I groaned. “Whatever is happening here is clearly important.”

“We had no idea what was happening here,” Naerine replied. “The Winter King does not focus idly on a single domain. His influence vexes our borders continuously.”

“One of his trusted aides is here,” I replied. “Surely that’s enough to warrant more help?”

“We knew nothing of that when I was dispatched,” Naerine replied. “The Summer Queen does not chase shadows, she is master of the chess board, and while Winter’s powers might be waning, Summer’s ascent has not yet reached its zenith. Until then, our forces are deployed holding Winter in check.”

That’s when I realized that no matter how important I thought my life was, it was hardly a blip on the radar of the respective Courts. They had been balancing each other since the dawn of time. What was one scion in the scheme of things?

But it wasn’t just about me, was it? There were other things happening here. That Winter vessel beneath the waves had nothing to do with me. At least nothing I knew of. There had to be more at play.

“Let us see what they are up to,” Naerine replied. “Then if it is warranted, we can take word to my queen.”

I had the feeling Naerine wasn’t willing to be the woman who cried wolf. She wasn’t going to ferry word to the Queen unless she knew exactly what we were up against.

Her approach made sense, but I only hoped we’d have enough time to do so. In my limited experience, when you were dealing with the Winter Court, things moved quickly.

We crawled up on deck, where we could get a view of the beach through a rusted hole in the vessel’s side. At this distance, there was little chance that they would see us.

The warlocks had made no effort whatsoever to pursue us. Instead, they had gathered on the beach, their surviving members forming a semicircle with the Leanansidhe in the center. Her hands were raised, while the warlocks around her were on their knees, seemingly supplicating themselves before her.

“What are they doing?” I asked.

“Channeling something,” Naerine replied. “The power being gathered is considerable. But the real question is why is the Leanansidhe in league with a group of human warlocks? That makes no sense. If their plot is important to the Winter King, she ought to have a detail of his guards. The Leanansidhe’s station warrants her own escort.”

“Perhaps she’s trying to avoid detection,” I replied. “I imagine it would be difficult to sneak up on your Glade Guardian if she had two dozen Sidhe as an escort. The humans wouldn’t raise the same level of alarm I imagine.”

“Treacherous,” Naerine whispered. “Just like a Winter Sidhe.”

It wasn’t clear whether she was talking about my suggestion, or about me.

There was nothing to be gained by arguing with her, so I sat in silence watching the ritual take place on the beach.

The ritual continued as bubbles started to break the surface of the bay. The clear waters frothed and seethed, stirring as something large moved beneath the waves.

A silver prow burst through the surface, followed moments later by the rest of the Winter vessel. Water streamed down its hull as it receded. Drawn by the magic of the ritual, the vessel moved slowly but inexorably toward the shore.

They were raising the ship. But why?

Chapter 17

Drawn by the collective might of the Leanansidhe and her coven, the vessel was dredged from the depths and dragged to shore.

I lay and watched, feeling every bit like a drowned rat as I waited, eager to know what had been hidden within the sealed vessel.

“What's the deal with the ship?” I asked Naerine. “You were sitting here watching it, surely you must know something?”

“Little,” Naerine replied. “It showed up in the early hours of the morning three days ago. According to Solanus, it struck the shipwrecks of the coast and promptly sank. Solanus reported its presence. But that was the last report we got from the island.”

“Were you able to get inside it? It took me a little while to get past the glamour, but the cabin itself was locked.”

“No, the seal defeated me too,” Naerine replied, pushing her soaked blond hair out of her face. “I spent most of last night trying to breach its defenses. I tried several times but whatever enchantment had been placed on it was proof against my power. If the Leanansidhe wrought it, that certainly explains a lot.”

“But what is a Sidhe vessel doing here in the normal world?” I asked, before feeling a little foolish. Hidden as it was behind a glamour, I realized it might be more commonplace than I had at first supposed.

“It is rare for the Winter Sidhe to risk their ships in your world. Glamours deceive the eyes, but the navies of your respective domains tend to take poorly to unidentified or unexpected vessels in their waters. The Summer Court tends to use registered mortal vessels. Winter’s navy tends to remain beyond the Veil where it belongs. They will not squander lives for a misunderstanding.”

“So why would this one be here then?”

“I have no idea what brought this one through the Veil, or what business the Leanansidhe has with it. But their combined presence here on the island can't be a coincidence. It was brought here for a purpose.”

“What is so special about the island?” I asked. “It's beautiful, I get that, but what am I missing?”

Naerine had proven reluctant to share any of Summer’s secrets with me, but the island was clearly a vital part of whatever scheme was at work here. I needed to know why, and figured if I played at being ignorant, Naerine might feel the need to be a little condescending. I could weather her arrogance if it got me closer to the answers I was seeking.

“It's a site of power,” Naerine answered. “A confluence for the lines of magic that pass through the human world. They flow close to the surface, and are more easily accessible than other places.

“Are they common?” I asked. “Sites of power?” The entire concept was new to me. The author of the Otherworld journal hadn’t even mentioned them.

“Not at all,” Naerine replied. “With the abundance of magic that courses through them the Veil tends to be thin between our world and yours. Those controlled by the Sidhe are guarded fiercely for their strategic importance. The lake of Ngugi has been guarded by the Summer Court and the original inhabitants of this island for millennia.”

That’s where I had heard the name before. The Ngugi were the traditional human inhabitants of Moreton Island. Had they named the lake, or had they taken their name from it? I found the notion of them working with the Summer Court fascinating.

“You work with humans?” I asked, as the ship ground against the shallows, its progress slowing.

“We do when our interests are aligned,” Naerine replied. “The lake is sacred to both our peoples, and they live in harmony with the land rather than attempting to subdue it. In return we try to prosper their efforts.”

“Until they were driven south to the other islands?” I replied.

“Exactly, some of them have found their way back, but not nearly as many as there once were. It is one of many reasons Solanus was set to guard it in the first place. Sites of power are less common in the Wilds. So we guard it against those who might bend its power to perverse courses. At this time of year its power waxes a great deal. If I were to hazard a guess, I'd say the Leanansidhe intends to use that power to further the ambitions of the Winter King. No doubt a retaliation for his loss at the Falls.”

“The falls? What falls?”

Naerine shook her head. “Never you mind. Suffice it to say the Winter King believes we are responsible for a recent setback he endured. Perhaps he means to balance the board by striking at one of our bastions in this hemisphere. No doubt hoping to weaken the coming Summer by doing so.”

“He can do that? Change the course of a season?” I asked, my voice trembling. How could I hope to prevail against someone with that kind of power?

“The Sidhe are the seasons, Nora Byrne. One can only grow great at the expense of the other and while everything is meant to have its balance, of late the seasons are off-kilter. The Winter just gone was bitter in its bite and longer than those before it. The Winter King consolidated his power considerably, but the thawing of the Falls was providential for the Summer Court. The Winter King.”

“Oberon,” I chimed in.

“Do not use his name,” Naerine hissed. “Would you draw his attention here? There is power in a name, Nora. If you would survive our world you must first learn that.”

The color rose in my cheeks as she chastised me like a child. I bit back a retort realizing that in her eyes, I probably was. Forty-two was a blink in the lifespan of the Sidhe. “Okay, okay, the Winter King. I got it.”

Naerine continued, “The winter King is usually content to rest during Summer’s zenith. Left to its own devices, nature tends to balance itself. But the Leanansidhe’s presence here is a signal that he is no longer willing to wait. Winter might be gathering for war.”

In that moment, Naerine’s earlier comments made sense. I had only seen the events that were unfolding around me, but if Winter had experienced such a prolonged extension of its power, perhaps Naerine was right, they might strike now while Summer rested on its laurels. Was war between the Courts common? The Otherworld journal had indicated that treachery and scheming was ever present in the enduring conflict between them. But I found little talk of prolonged war.

Naerine’s lonely presence on the island made more sense. If Winter was mustering, Summer would have to hold its own forces in reserve.

“What are we going to do about it?” I asked. I wasn’t looking for a war, but if the Leanansidhe had framed me for Solanus’ murder it seemed inevitable that I would be drawn in eventually. I’d much rather pick my battlefield.

“We can't do anything from here; we have to get back to the island,” Naerine replied.

“It's a fair swim.” The bay was a lot calmer now, but I’d lost my flippers when the yacht went down. The swim would be punishing on my already tired muscles. “We’ll have to circle around the back of the shipwrecks to ensure she doesn't spot us.”

“True,” Naerine mused. “But I was planning on taking a more direct route.”

Her smug expression told me she had a plan, so rather than ask, I looked around the bay. There bobbing in the water was the Sea-doo that had been attached to the back of her yacht. Freed from its moorings, it drifted in the bay. By some miracle it had survived the wave and not been tossed against the beach like the yacht had.

“You want to take the ski? Surely they'll hear that a mile away?”

“Undoubtedly, but if the engine starts we’ll be out of the bay before she can do anything about it.”

“What if she summons another wave like the last one?” I replied. “We’ll be pummeled on that thing.”

“Then we best go while she is otherwise occupied. Besides, even the Leanansidhe has limits. That last wave will have taxed her greatly, which is why she is leaning on the aid of her acolytes to bring the ship ashore. If we are quick we can be out of here before she can muster a reprisal. We get to land, regroup and consider our choices.”

It was fine in theory, but in my mind I was picturing the pair of us wrestling with a jet ski that refused to start while a bevy of warlocks tried to barbeque us from the beach.

I wasn't convinced it would be smooth sailing, but I didn't want to wait here while my family was alone at the quidditch game, and I could see the merit in moving while the Leanansidhe was occupied.

“All right, let’s do it,” I replied, leading the way down the deck and into the water.

We slipped beneath the surface and out through the same yawning hole in the hull we’d used earlier and swam for the ski. It was bobbing in the water of the bay, but I made most of the trip on a single breath, and was careful to surface on the opposite side of the ski to the Leanansidhe. Busy they might be with raising the battered Winter vessel, I still wasn't keen for a second round.

Naerine broke through the surface of the water beside me.

“So, how do you want to do this?” I asked.

“I’ll start the ski, you watch our back. The second it’s going we ride like the Winter King himself is after us.”

I tried not to wince at the image of my estranged father running us down.

“And then?” I asked.

“We scout out the lake and send for reinforcements.” Naerine reached up and grabbed the ski.

“I thought you said none could be spared, I replied as she pulled herself out of the water with a grace I couldn’t hope to match.

“Knowing the Leanansidhe is here might change matters,” Naerine answered. “In the Winter Court, there are few in as high standing as she. If the Winter King is moving, the Leanansidhe will be the vanguard. She is cunning, and easily able to bend men to her will. Knowing she is here in the mortal realm might move my Queen’s opinion on the matter.”

That was music to my ears. Having already had our asses kicked by the Winter Sidhe once, I wasn't particularly keen for a rematch. Not a fair one anyway. We needed reinforcements and I needed to get word to Alasdair. Hopefully he would be able to help.

“Well, you drive, I'll get on back,” I said.

Naerine fiddled with the ignition, as the water streaming off her soaked clothes pooled in the footwell.

I grabbed the handle at the back of the Sea-doo’s seat and dragged myself out of the water and onto the reboarding step. I was scrambling to my feet when the Sea-doo roared to life. The sound from its engine carried across the quiet stillness of the bay.

The warlocks lifted their heads, and the Winter vessel ground to a halt, stuck in about two feet of water near the beach.

Shifting my ass into gear, I jumped on the seat, and wrapped my arms around her waist. The mother in me was prompting me to put on a life jacket, but there were none and at this point death by drowning seemed like the least of our problems.

Naerine twisted the throttle and the ski took off. The muffled shouting from the beach was soon drowned out by the rising roar of the jet ski’s engine.

Naerine steered us across the bay, while I watched the action unfold on the shore.

A salvo of icy missiles arced out from the beach, a physical manifestation of the Leanansidhe’s displeasure.

“Faster,” I shouted over the roar of the engine.

Naerine gave it everything she could, the Sea-doo almost skipping across the surface. We stayed parallel with the shipwrecks to keep as much distance between us and the force on the beach as she could. The icy missiles missed us by mere feet, slamming into the rusted hull of the ship we were passing. The impacts sounded like hailstones on a corrugated iron roof as they shattered into a thousand pieces.

As the distance grew, I smiled. The Winter vessel certainly wasn’t seaworthy and the farther south we traveled the more likely it appeared Naerine’s gambit would pay off.

“They can't catch us out here,” I whooped, punching the air with one fist.

“We're not out of it yet,” Naerine called back. I glanced over my shoulder to see a contingent of warlocks moving south down the beach. Following our progress, albeit on foot. We'd reach the resort long before they did but we’d have to lose ourselves in the crowd at the quidditch match.

I was hoping they wouldn’t attempt to butcher their way through the masses, but even as I made the assumption I realized I had very little on which I could base it. Still, some plan was better than none. Which is what we’d had until now.

“They'll never keep up with us on foot,” I replied. “Make for the resort, we’ll lose them in the crowd there.”

“It's not them I'm worried about,” Naerine shouted as she pointing ahead of us. There, hovering above the water off to our left, an immense rift was opening as the Veil between worlds peeled back like the curtains at a theater. The bottom of the portal was a good two feet above the crashing waves but through it I could see Faerie in its supernatural splendor. There was a lake of such sapphire blue waters it defied belief. All around it were mountains, snow resting on their peaks as a cold wintry breeze surged through the rift. It was hauntingly beautiful in stark contrast to the sunny beach behind it.

Staring into the Otherworld felt surreal to me. It felt both alien and yet a part of me. The feeling gave me pause. On my first and only trip into Faerie Alasdair and I had almost been consumed by man-eating serpents. They were the largest snakes I’d ever seen and I was Australian, so that was saying something.

“And that’s not you?” I asked, my hope dying by the moment.

“It's her.” She didn’t need to say who.

But why would the Leanansidhe open a rift to the Otherworld? Surely she was providing us with an avenue of escape? With enough air off the right swell we could just about throw ourselves through it. But if it was the Leanansidhe’s working then surely we’d be riding right into a trap.

The thought dissipated as three sleek black shapes rose out of the lake, toward the portal. Their red eyes gleamed as their heads broke the surface. Ridges of webbed fins lay pressed flat against their heads. But for the strange fins, they looked almost like an otter, but they were impossibly large. Each of the creatures was somewhere between twelve and fifteen feet long. They strode out of the water, padding toward the rift, no doubt answering their mistress’ call. The three beasts moved in unison, a pack of natural predators. And we were the prey.

They slipped through the portal and plunged into the sea.

“Dobhar-chú,” Naerine warned. “The Leanansidhe’s hunters.”

The Dobhar-chú disappeared beneath the waves, and Naerine steered hard right as we blasted past the southernmost shipwreck, heading for the open water. Naerine watched the water ahead, while I tracked our foes. The closest Dobhar-chú broke the surface sailing out of the water with the grace of a dolphin. It arced neatly through the air before diving back into the water and vanishing into the depths. Their lithe shapes danced through the water in a display that would have been beautiful were it not so terrifying to observe the speed at which they moved.

I readied my magic, knowing the knife in my belt wouldn’t be nearly enough to stop them. Naerine powered away from the beach and I knew what she was hoping for. The waters here were teeming with wildlife. From fish to dolphins, Naerine was hoping to distract the hunters long enough to allow us to escape. My heart beat a million miles an hour as I tried track the three shapes moving behind us. Two of them were still behind us, but the third now raced alongside us. The Dobhar-chú was perhaps thirty or forty meters off our port side trying to cut us off in case we made for shore. Naerine instead headed further out to sea, only to find a boat making a beeline toward us.

It was a smaller vessel. Thirty feet, with a cabin and crew I couldn’t make out from here, but from their angle toward us, I guessed their intention.

“Our day just keeps getting better and better,” Naerine groaned.

“I don't suppose they’re friends of yours?” I asked as the boat raced straight at us.

“No, if I had to guess, I’d say they’re more of her reinforcements.”

To make matters worse, the Dobhar-chú on our starboard flank powered through the water, seemingly steering us into a collision course with the ship, while the other two shadowed us from behind, eager to exploit any lapse in concentration.

“We can't take them all on out here and if we end up in the water with those, we are as good as dead,” Naerine shouted.

Well, there was some optimism for you. At least my gut instinct was on point there.

“Make for the beach then,” I shouted, knowing full well the Dobhar-chú were never going to let us get there unmolested.

“What are you going to do about that?” Naerine nodded toward the Dobhar-chú that was insistently corralling us away from the beach.

“Whatever I can,” I replied drawing on my power.

I drew water from the ocean, and infused it with Winter’s touch, distilling it into a frozen harpoon three feet long. We raced for the beach and the Dobhar-chú charged toward us.

“Thar she blows,” I shouted in my best impression of Captain Ahab.

As the Dobhar-chú cleared the water I used an effort of will to launch the icy harpoon at it, guiding it true. The frozen missile slammed into the giant hunter, catching it just before its hindquarters.

The Dobhar-chú let out a keening howl of anguish, the harpoon hanging from its side as it turned on itself, veering away from us to vanish beneath the waves once more. Naerine took advantage of the distraction and yanked the handlebars left, gunning for shore like a bat out of hell. I tracked the wounded Dobhar-chú as it dove, vanishing from sight. Fortunately in my fascination with the animal kingdom I’d spent years reading about the pack hunters of Africa. I’d familiarized myself with their techniques, and the Dobhar-chú were no different. No sooner had the wounded creature peeled off, than the other two behind us made their move, closing the gap between us by the second. Naerine hurtled toward the shore with a speed that defied all notion of self-preservation.

To fall in the water was to die, but at this rate getting out of it was going to break our necks the second the ski struck sand and pitched us headlong onto the shore.

“Ready yourself, Nora Byrne,” was all the warning Naerine gave of the insanity she had planned.

“For what?” I bellowed back, my words lost in the roar of the engine.

My hands tightened around her as we raced toward the beach. Without warning, Naerine yanked the handlebars to the right. For a moment we were no longer headed directly at the beach but alongside it. The sudden motion threatened to throw us both off the ski as we decelerated abruptly. Without any further warning Naerine stood, slipping out of my grip like she had been soaked in butter. Stepping out of the footwell and onto the seat, she leapt off the ski, right as it struck sand. The Summer Sidhe landed deftly on her feet, pitching herself forward into a neat roll as I was thrown off with all the grace of a drunken windmill.

I had the presence of mind to tuck my head, landing on my shoulder and rolling with the momentum that had pitched me onto the beach. Fortunately the sand was soft, or I’d have broken bones. Instead it simply hurt like hell. To make matters worse my elbow caught me in the ribs, knocking the breath out of me.

I gasped, and the gasp morphed into a lengthy groan as I rolled across the beach.

Sand went everywhere, but I didn't have time to worry about that now. I hurt everywhere, but if I worried about that too much, I risked replacing it with a terrible case of being dead.

Drinking in the terror-fueled adrenaline of our flight, I pushed myself to my knees and looked around for options.

Off to my left, in the distance, a contingent of warlocks moved down the beach toward us.

Naerine rushed over to me as the first of the Dobhar-chú stuck its head above the water and made for shore. Its companion was right behind it. The two giant hunters rose out of the water, their short fine black hair pressed flat against their flesh as they padded into the shallows with a patience born of being the top of their food chain. The third seemed to be dragging its feet, probably on account of the harpoon in its flank. It appeared well behind them and was exercising an abundance of caution as it hissed at us.

The boat that had been heading for us, was now racing toward the beach in a mad dash that resembled Naerine’s breakneck approach.

I rose to my feet, staggering unsteadily as the two Dobhar-chú made it to the sand.

Since becoming a bounty hunter. I'd pictured my death many times but being eaten by a giant otter was not one of them.

My new job was providing a plethora of new experiences for me.

Nora, you numbskull, what have you got yourself into this time? My inner critic whispered.

“Shut up and do something useful,” I spat back.

She was not so easily silenced, this time.

Like what? I am just a reflection of you and neither of us have a bloody clue how we’re meant to survive this.

Chapter 18

The Dobhar-chú closed in on us. Now that they were out of the water, I could see them more clearly. They had four webbed feet that had helped propel them through the water. Each toe had a menacing black nail that looked liable to shred human flesh with ease.

Their beady red eyes were a vertical slit, and they stared intently at us. The closest Dobhar-chú yawned, displaying an open maw full of teeth, with pronounced canines on both its upper and lower jaws. The flared fins on the side of their faces bristled as they shook the water from their sleek forms.

In stark contrast, I felt like a freshly crumbed steak. Having rolled arse over earlobes across the beach, my drenched form had collected every particle of sand on the beach. Wiping the gritty sand away from my mouth I turned to Naerine.

“A little more warning next time, perhaps?”

“I said ready yourself, didn't I?” she said, her golden eyes tracking the circling Dobhar-chú.

“Yeah, as you abandoned ship,” I replied, still chafing from my landing.

“So, you must move faster. You are as swift and graceful as a bowlegged buffalo.”

I spat out a mouthful of sand and turned on her. “One more of those and I'm going to forget about them and set to work on your prissy little ass.”

Naerine grinned. “Good to see there is still fight left in you. We’ll need that.”

“What’s the plan?” I replied. “Have you faced creatures like these before?”

“No,” she said, “but we’re out of the water and on the most favorable ground that we can hope for. Let us sell our lives, dearly.”

I blinked, a little taken aback by her candor. “Any plan that doesn't involve us dying terribly?”

The third Dobhar-chú poked its head out of the water, the boat coming in fast behind it.

“I'm open to suggestions,” Naerine replied as the Dobhar-chú started circling us. They were twenty feet away but making no effort to close the distance.

“Through the Veil?” I suggested. “Surely you can get us out of here?”

“From here our choices are limited. If we seek refuge in Summer’s domain I cannot guarantee your safety and my own kind would have my head for bringing a Winter scion through our borders without leave. With tensions between our people, we are better off taking our chances with them.” Naerine pointed at the Dobhar-chú.

“What are they doing?” I asked, motioning at the two hunters staring us down.

“Probing for weakness,” she said. “I imagine their companion’s wound is giving them pause. They are opportunistic predators. They will seek for an opening and exploit it.”

“Like that boatload of warlocks?” I asked.

The boat was closing fast, not to mention the warlocks running down the beach toward us. While the party on the beach were still well out of range, we would be contending with those on the boat at any moment.

Were the Dobhar-chú simply corralling us until their reinforcements arrived?

The wounded Dobhar-chú glanced over its shoulder and started for the shore. A small wave washed over its back as it dragged its wounded mass into the shallows.

Or they could be waiting for their companion to join them.

I gathered my will, ready to lash out at the creatures of Winter. The roar of the boat opening its throttle distracted me. What had at first appeared to be a reckless charge toward the beach was now meandering dangerously close to suicidal. The boat hurtled straight at the Dobhar-chú.

The wounded creature’s ears perked up, its head whipping around as the boat bore down on it. The creature dove forward, but in the shallow water, there was no depths to dive into. Wounded as it was, it wasn’t nearly as nimble as its fellows.

The boat caught the Dobhar-chú beneath its prow. The beast let out an almighty howl. The boat struck shore, grinding the deadly hunter between its hull and the sand. The creature vanished as the boat rolled over it, beaching itself with its momentum.

A shriek of twisted metal signaled the boat’s engine being torn off the back of the vessel.

And then there were two. I looked back to the Dobhar-chú closest to me, only to find it wasn't there. My pulse quickened, and I continued my circle. The hunter was crouched low, dashing at my right leg.

I leapt to the side, diving out of the way of the webbed foot with its sharp claws. I hit the sand. Better that than being hamstrung by the biggest damned otter I’d ever seen. My bruised ribs growled in protest, but I ignored them. I couldn’t afford the distraction. My Dobhar-chú padded away, then turned to face me once more.

The Dobhar-chú nearest Naerine darted toward her. A blinding light poured from her outstretched hand. It was so bright, I had to turn away lest it blind me. The Dobhar-chú hissed and darted away.

Naerine hurled spheres of blazing golden arcana after it. The first two went low, slamming into the sand, but the third struck the Dobhar-chú in its meaty midsection. The Dobhar-chú pitched sideways into the sand, twisting and howling.

Based on the punishment I'd dealt its companion earlier, I suspected it was going to take a lot more than that to put the creature down. If only we had a spare boat to drop on it.

My Dobhar-chú lunged at me once more. I knew I couldn’t just keep trying to evade it. Sooner or later, the massive predator was going to catch me and I’d be in a world of hurt.

Raising my hand, I sent a blast of Wintry sleet right at the creature’s face, hoping to blind it. As Naerine had so tactfully reminded me, I was slower than the Dobhar-chú and couldn't hope to outrun it even on land.

So I needed to outwit it.

The blast buffeted the Dobhar-chú, but the creature closed its eyes and mouth, its thick coat proof against the fine sleet. It charged on, swiping at me with its meaty webbed paws. I watched the wicked claws, sidestepping out of its reach, narrowly avoiding another strike that might have hamstrung me.

This time, the Dobhar-chú didn't give me a chance to regather myself. It shifted its weight before reversing course and pouncing back at me.

The weight of the pouncing creature knocked me into the sand.

I tried to roll away, but the Dobhar-chú was all over me, using its weight to pin me down.

It lunged forward at my face, and I twisted away. Its leering maw hit the sand mere inches from my face. As it shook off the sand, I fumbled with my belt. The wetsuit wasn't going to do anything to protect me against those three-inch teeth. Each tapered to a point and appeared more than sharp enough to strip flesh from bone.

The Dobhar-chú pressed harder on my chest and I worried it was going to crush my rib cage. Opening its mouth wide, it let out a howl of guttural triumph before lunging at my neck.

I slid the knife from my pouch and brought it up into the creature’s stomach. The creature groaned in rage, but its widening jaw continued to descend.

Petrified, I watched in slow motion as the saliva dripped from those great teeth.

“Nora!” a voice called, snapping me out of it.

I yanked my knife to the side. It would have to fight the blade to get at my face and neck, but it was simply too big. Nonetheless, if it wanted a piece of me, it was going to have to bury the knife all the way to the hilt. I'd gone for where I hoped the creature’s heart might be. Unfortunately, they didn't teach Dobhar-chú biology in Year Ten science.

The creature snapped at my shoulder, its teeth puncturing my wetsuit—and me—with ease.

I screamed as its teeth tore into my shoulder. Pain and adrenaline coursed through me. My eyes bolted open, my right arm seizing up completely as the creature shook me.

“Nora,” a voice bellowed again from somewhere behind the Dobhar-chú. It was deep and had a familiar Scottish drawl. On any other day, it might have felt good to hear him say my name. Only now I could hear the panic in his voice.

But he was miles away, at the Summer Court.

Great, now the delirium was setting in.

The Dobhar-chú rose up, its teeth dripping with my blood. I felt woozy, and the sight made me worry I was going to pass out.

If I did, I was as good as dead.

A series of angry barks filled the air.

The Dobhar-chú turned. A streak of gray shot up the beach from the water. It was Bran; I’d recognize my good boy anywhere. His jaws were open, a steady growl rising from his throat as he charged the Dobhar-chú perched atop me. Where on earth had he come from?

The creature turned to face my hound.

“Oh no, you don't,” I groaned. My right arm hung uselessly at my side, but I couldn’t just lay there and do nothing.

I focused my mind on my left arm, channeled all the arcana I could muster into it, and drew on the wrath of Winter that boiled up inside me.

The creature had shaken off my earlier attacks, and I realized that if the Dobhar-chú lived in mountainous lakes in the heart of Winter, a little ice and snow was not going to deter it. So shaping my will, I drew the moisture from the air and water and layered it around my left hand, encasing my wrist and forearm in a massive, jagged dagger of ice.

My skin embraced the cold as the column of ice formed. I grabbed a fistful of the Dobhar-chú’s hair. It stopped, looking down at me in disdain. Or at least it did until it saw the icy dagger where my left arm had been. Lunging forward, I punched at the creature’s throat, putting everything I could behind the blow.

The Dobhar-chú tried to cry out for help, but the keening wail died abruptly as my icy punch dagger tore out its vocal cords. Blood poured out of the wound. The creature tried to run, but ended up collapsing on top of me, its head and neck pinning me to the sand. I was trapped beneath its weight, staring at the clear blue sky. I tried to push the creature off me, but my right arm wasn’t moving and my left was still encased in a gauntlet of ice and slick with the creature’s blood.

The pain in my right shoulder intensified as I tried to get it to budge, but I couldn’t do it.

Then, Bran was beside me, trying to help drag the creature off me.

The last Dobhar-chú issued a keening cry. The beach went still.

I needed to know what was going on. Had the Dobhar-chú gotten Naerine, or had she put it down for good? Where had Bran come from and had I really heard Alasdair’s voice?

I tried again to shift the weight on top of me, but even with Bran’s help, I wasn’t making any headway.

“Easy there,” Alasdair said. “Let us get this thing off you.”

His head appeared above the Dobhar-chú, deep lines of worry etched in his forehead and at the corners of his eyes. He grabbed the Dobhar-chú by the scruff of its neck with both hands and dragged it off me.

I released my will, and the gauntlet of ice around my left arm dissolved, the water running down into the sand.

I looked down at myself. I was a complete mess. My wetsuit was shredded and covered in blood. Some of it was mine, but a lot of it was the Dobhar-chú’s.

“Nora, you’re bleeding,” Alasdair said as he looked at the wound.

“Yup, but we'll all be dead if you don't deal with those warlocks coming down the beach.” I pointed in the direction of the half dozen warlocks still trudging toward us.

Clearly, they'd been hoping to catch us while we were busy with the Dobhar-chú. Six of them alongside the three beasts of Winter would have dealt with us faster than Sleet took care of a chocolate cookie, but now it was six against four including Bran. And they’d just watched us dispatch the three Dobhar-chú.

Part of me hoped they would simply turn tail and run. As brave a face as I was putting on, I was hurting and as the adrenaline faded, my shoulder was on fire.

The warlocks were dangerous, but they were only human. The real question was, were they more afraid of us or the Leanansidhe? I sat up, aided by Alasdair. I cracked my neck and started rising to my feet.

The warlocks’ stride slowed, as they raised their hands in preparation for the coming fight.

Well, that answers that, I guess.

I should have expected as much. I looked like a stiff wind could blow me over right now.

“We need to see to that wound,” Alasdair said.

“Them first, then me,” I replied. “I won’t need first aid if I’m dead.”

The pain in my right shoulder was excruciating and making it difficult to focus. If I couldn’t concentrate, my magic would be useless.

Passing my hand over the wound, I willed a breath of Winter into it. The icy touch cooled the wound and numbed it, which was a tender mercy. Part of me hoped it would help staunch the flow of blood, but if it did, it wouldn’t last long.

“You’ll be of little use to us when you pass out,” Alasdair replied. “At least let me take a look at it.”

“I know you’re better at killing things than fixing them, but didn’t anyone ever teach you first aid?” I said. “First, you have to check the area for other dangers. I see six of them right there.”

Alasdair's mouth curled up into a grimace that could almost be termed a smile. “Nora Byrne, you'll be a smart arse until the day you die. But if you’re not careful, that day might be here sooner than you think.”

“Let it come,” I said through gritted teeth.

My pain was a dull but persistent throb. I'd come too far to give up now. These warlocks had framed me for a crime I didn’t commit and when that hadn’t worked, they’d tried to burn me and my family alive.

Justice needed to be done, before anyone else could be harmed by them.

My temperament shifted from indignation to anger. I’d been running for my life, terrified and afraid, but as I stepped over the Dobhar-chú’s head, a whole new emotion welled up.

Rage. It coursed through my veins like the wrath of Winter itself.

I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, the world was lit with brilliant purple. The dark forms of the warlocks glowed red as I beheld them through the true sight of the Winter Sidhe.

“Nora,” Alasdair said slowly, “what are you doing?”

Chapter 19

I teetered on the soft sand. Perhaps it was the thrum of power washing over me. Or maybe it was exhaustion, or worse yet, the steady loss of blood from the bite the Dobhar-chú had taken out of my shoulder. It didn’t matter though. I might be sore and spent, but I was facing down six warlocks who wanted me dead.

Through my sight, they had a crimson glow that warned of the fire magic they were currently conjuring.

Six pyromancers ready to burn Winter right out of me. Fortunately, I wasn't alone.

Alasdair stood beside me, and I could feel the power rolling off him in waves. The air was thick with magic, and I swore I could almost feel his anger surging with it.

Why was he so enraged?

“Nora,” Alasdair said, “you won’t know your limit until you hit it.”

I thought of Sleet’s earlier lesson. This time, I was ready for it.

Bran stood on the sand beside me, his paws planted resolutely as he barked a warning at the approaching warlocks.

And then there was Naerine. Only a few hours ago, I would have staked everything I had on her putting a bullet in me. Now we were reluctant allies in a plot I couldn't quite see the heart of, and yet seemed to be all about me.

What was the Winter Court doing on Moreton Island? And why had my father sent the Leanansidhe to frame me for murder? Was he trying to get me killed? If so, they were doing an admirable job.

My temper flared as I held my power at the ready. Everything hurt but instead of letting the pain rob me of my wits, I channeled that pain into a keen focus, sharpening my mind on every detail of the warlocks’ approach. I allowed my fury to grow, preparing to unleash it in a devastating salvo the likes of which I’d never before attempted.

I intended to reduce the warlocks to a mess of ice and regret.

The warlocks were either entirely oblivious of the power massing before them, or they didn’t care. They advanced, their eyes studying the dead forms of the Dobhar-chú scattered about us.

It seemed six on four was a far less palatable prospect than nine on two. But still they came, marching across the sand toward us.

In the distance, the Leanansidhe was wading out to the Winter vessel, content for her minions to carry out her will.

The six warlocks eyed us warily, but my sight caught the motion in the sea behind them. A black shroud rose out of the water. I feared it was another Dobhar-chú, but the motion was all wrong. As it cleared the water, it straightened into a humanoid shape.

I shifted my will toward it.

Alasdair placed his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t!”

My sight warned me of the danger the shroud posed but the more I focused upon it, the less clearly I could make out its shape. It was as if its nature was being hidden from me.

I closed my eyes and released my sight. Opening them, I beheld the beach with my own eyes—and the humanoid shape.

The Old One.

He was clothed from head to foot in black robes and his veil. He moved like the wind over the sand. If I hadn’t seen it myself, I might not have believed the speed he was capable of.

“Easy,” Alasdair whispered. “Don't give away the game. We want them watching us.”

Raising his palms, he shouted, “Teine!”

Two orbs of fire coalesced above them. The swirling masses of flame twisted and broiled in the air, growing as he infused them with more and more of his will.

The warlocks summoned fire of their own. A dozen blazing fireballs hovered in the air as they waited for Alasdair's next move.

They were trying to cow us into submission.

But we were only the distraction.

The Old One loped across the sand. He reached into the folds of his cloak, then thrust out at the furthest warlock from his position.

The warlock went down, a dagger buried in his neck. No scream made it out of his ruined throat. The warlock beside him must have heard him fall as he turned but the second thrown blade took him in the heart. He lost control of his conjuration and it collapsed on him, setting fire to his black robes.

The warlocks spun, aware of the deadly threat, but the Old One was already upon them.

I wanted to help, but I couldn’t pick a target. The melee was moving too fast for me to risk throwing a spell with him in their midst.

“Don't,” Alasdair said. “You might hit him.”

There was an anxious concern in his voice. He was, after all, his mentor and though they often argued, I could now feel what lingered beneath it. He cared deeply.

“He needs help,” I whispered.

“Does he?” Alasdair replied, with a confidence in the Old One's abilities that made me feel like a child by comparison.

“Wherever he is now, he won't still be there when your spell hits. The distance is too great to risk it.”

I could see the truth in his words. The Old One danced through their ranks, opening the throat of the first warlock as he slid by, an elbow in his back sending him forward onto his face to bleed out in the sand. The second warlock managed to hurl both orbs of fire at the Old One. He dove between them in an act of aerial gymnastics that anyone with the word old in their title should be incapable of. He tucked and rolled, coming up in front of the warlock, and brought his knife up through his chin.

He cocked her head to the side as another orb of fire sailed past.

There was an economy to his movements that spoke of a lifetime of combat. He didn't even turn to face his target as he threw the blade in his left hand at a warlock opening his mouth to conjure another spell. The blade slipped between his open teeth and lodged in his brain through the back of his throat.

I winced at the bloody mess as he joined his companions in the sand. The last warlock hurled both orbs of fire at the Old One as he closed on him. Her now-empty hands flourished as he muttered something in a guttural language I'd never heard before.

Water streamed from his open palms, dousing both missiles in turn. Where water met fire, steam billowed. In desperation, the warlock produced a plume of fire and funneled it directly at him like a flamethrower.

The Old One widened his own conjuration. Water streamed from his open palm like a fire hydrant had been unleashed.

Steam spread in an ever-expanding fog that clouded them from view. When the breeze dispersed it, the Old One was crouching over the sixth warlock, drawing a knife out of his chest.

“As I said, he's just fine,” Alasdair replied, allowing his spell to dissipate harmlessly.

I followed his example.

“Sweet mother of mercy,” I whispered.

What on earth was he? Never at any time had I been as certain as I was now that the Old One wasn't human at all.

The Old One moved from corpse to corpse retrieving his weapons, raising each blade in turn. A long red tongue darted out through the folds in his veil, lapping the blood off the blade before he tucked the weapon back beneath his cloak.

I was both in awe and terrified at the same time. My boss might not do field work anymore, but watching him in action made me wonder why. He kicked ass.

“Nora, are you all right?” Alasdair asked, his eyes fixating on the blood running down my wet suit.

“I've been better,” I replied.

Bran let out a worried bark, and I crouched down to reassure him.

Running my hand through his fur, I whispered. “Who's a good boy?”

My massive hound gave me a growl of approval, but he too seemed focused on my wound. I wanted to ask how he had ended up with Alasdair, but that could wait. I’d deal with the dognapping later, when I wasn’t feeling dizzy and dazed from the battle against the Dobhar-chú.

“It's not as bad as it looks,” I said, not positive that I believed the words myself.

I looked up at Alasdair. “Take your sweet time, why don't you? I've been calling you since yesterday.”

“I've been busy,” he replied, thumbing his hand at Naerine. “Trying to stop her lot from killing you. Keeping you alive is proving to be a full-time job, Nora Byrne. And here I was thinking an apprentice was going to make my life easier.”

“Good help is hard to find,” the Old One said with a chuckle.

I jumped, then turned to find him standing only a foot behind me, a little close for comfort. Particularly after what I'd just seen him do. I doubted I would even see the blade he slit my throat with.

“Easy, Nora,” he said, placing her hand on my good shoulder.

“But, but,” I stammered, “how did you do that?”

“I command the Camp, Nora. It is a station that is only attained by outliving all who preceded me. If there is one thing hunters do better than all else, it is kill warlocks. Fortunately, they were young and foolish, drunk on power and high on confidence. They remind me of someone I once knew. In my prime, twice as many wouldn’t have phased me.”

I gulped. “Well, that's reassuring. Because there are a helluva lot more of them where that came from.”

The Old One cocked his head to the side as he studied my wound.

“We will see to them in due course, but we must attend to you first.”

“I’m fine,” I replied. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

“The bite of the Dobhar-chú carries a potent venom. If it wasn’t for the Winter within you, I doubt you would even still be on your feet. We must get you somewhere we can see to it safely.”

His words sent a wave of panic through me. Venom. That explained the sluggishness I was feeling. I'd figured it was fatigue.

That didn’t bode well.

The Old One turned to Naerine. “You know this island. I need bark from the scribbly gum, leaves from the hickory wattle, and the budding flower of the prickly moses.”

“I don't take orders from you, swamp rat,” Naerine replied.

Alasdair bristled as the Old One stepped closer to Naerine.

“But we did save your life,” the Old One said, prodding his gloved finger into Naerine’s shirt. “An obligation is owed, and you will repay it. I will not save you and lose her. Go now and don't return without them.” Naerine chafed at being dispatched, but from the sag in her shoulders, I could tell she was in little mood to put up a fight. She was as tired as I was, and an obligation owed was not something she could abide. The fact it was the Old One and he would brook no dissension in the ranks probably contributed somewhat to her compliance. There wasn’t a sane soul left on the beach that would want to irritate him after what we’d just witnessed.

“Unit thirteen,” I called after Naerine. “Let’s regroup there and we can work out what's next.”

Naerine nodded, took half a dozen steps, and then vanished. I could see her footprints in the sand, until they too disappeared. She worked the glamour with a casual ease that filled me with envy.

“How did you find me?” I asked, as the Old One bent closer to look at my wound.

“The coin,” the Old One replied. “I can track them when needed. You shouldn't leave yours lying on a beach.”

Of course. The golden coin she’d given me when I’d become a hunter. I hadn’t even thought to check it for any arcane workings. I should have realized it was more than just a badge of office.

His words made me feel like a child being babysat.

“My bad,” I replied, too tired to argue.

About thirty feet away my dress and boots lay where I’d left them. The coin was tucked in the pocket of the dress. I was lucky no one had stolen it.

“We were heading for the coin when we noticed the chaos brewing in the bay,” he said.

“Yes, all hell was breaking loose.” Alasdair chortled. “We thought, that'll be Nora, right in the middle of that mess.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I replied.

Alasdair grinned. “If there is one thing I'm confident in, it's your ability to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“You told me to come here,” I replied. “So as far as I can tell, that makes it your fault.”

“If a tree falls in the forest and no man is around, is it still his fault?” he said.

“You bet your ass it is,” I replied. “But you’re here now. That’s what counts.”

“When I got your message, I figured we'd need all the help we could get. So I took the liberty of freeing Bran from his incarceration.”

Bran barked his approval.

“That was a five-star pet hotel,” I replied, not sure whether I was trying to sooth my guilt at leaving him there or add to Alasdair’s.

“Well, I didn't check him out, so you might need to sort that one out in due course.”

“You broke my dog out?”

Alasdair shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if they were going to let him go. And we were pressed for time. You have a King’s hound, Nora. Don't leave him on the sidelines when your life is in danger.”

Bran let out another bark of agreement.

“Dogs aren't allowed on the island,” I said. “Otherwise, I would have brought him myself.”

“Service dogs are,” Alasdair replied.

I chafed at the correction. If I’d spent a little more time planning this trip, rather than just reacting to what was going on around me, I might have drawn the same conclusion and brought him with us.

Right now, I’d taken about all the chastisement I was ready to endure.

“And pray tell what service is he helping you with?”

“Companionship, obviously,” Alasdair replied, ruffling Bran’s coat; his thick accent couldn’t hide the mirth. “It makes up for the poor company of his stubborn Irish owner.”

“You ass.” I leaned forward to give him a shove. My feet seized up, and I pitched forward onto the sand.

“Nora?” Alasdair's panicked voice was the last thing I heard, before my world went black.

Chapter 20

When I came to, I was staring up into the veiled face of the Old One. Even at this distance, I could smell the lingering scent of the fetid tea he favored. Memories of him butchering the warlocks on the beach came surging back to the forefront of my mind. Fortunately, I had the presence of mind not to scream.

I groaned as he pressed her gloved fingers into my right shoulder.

“Ow, you found it, doc. That’s where it hurts.”

“Good to see you’re awake,” the Old One said. “That bodes well, but the more you try to use it, the more it will hurt.”

“It's hurting pretty good now.” I looked down at the throbbing wound. A layered compress had been strapped over my bare shoulder. My wet suit had been cut away to my waist and I was a little surprised at the fact I was half naked but for a towel someone had thrown over me.

“Well, that's because you tried to stop the Dobhar-chú’s teeth with your body,” the Old One said as he waggled a finger in my face. “Rookie move, Nora Byrne.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time,” I said.

We were back in the unit. I sat up on my elbows.

“Where is my family?” I asked, expecting them to be here and growing worried by their absence. My mind felt foggy and clouded. I wasn’t even sure how long I’d been out.

“I sent them out with your mother to fetch some things,” Alasdair said as he tidied a mess of leaves off the kitchen bench. “We didn't want them to be worried for you.”

I leaned back on the soft divan and let out a sigh of relief as the Old One fussed over my bandages.

“Nora,” Sleet cried, buzzing past Alasdair's head to land on my stomach.

“Hey, little guy, how are you doing?”

“Much better now that you're awake.” Sleet panted, as he struggled to get the words out in his excitement. “I tried to follow you, but I lost you in the wave and then you took off on the little boat. Sleet’s wings couldn't keep up.”

“Sorry to leave you behind. We were just trying to get to safety. I'm glad you made it back.”

He smiled. “Sleet found you on the beach with the others. Very tired, Nora was.”

“Poisoned, is what she was,” the Old One said, eying Sleet.

He shrugged, the animosity between them not lost on me. “Sleet showed them the way to the unit.”

“Thanks, buddy,” I said. “You've always got my back.”

“Always.” Sleet beamed as he sat down. “You had me worried, Nora.”

“We’ve been through worse.” I tickled him with a finger as I looked around, trying to work out what time it was. With no clock to be found, I looked out the window. It was pitch black outside.

“How long have I been out?” I asked, wanting to figure out how much of a head start the Leanansidhe had with whatever had been locked on that boat.

“A few hours,” Alasdair said. “How are you holding up?”

I looked down at the bandage the Old One was layering over my wound and nodded. My arm still hurt to move but the shooting pain had eased.

“I feel pretty good, all things considered.”

“Now that you’re up, can you tell us what on earth is going on here?” the Old One asked. “Why are there warlocks all over the beach and where did the Dobhar-chú come from?”

I pulled the towel higher, feeling a little self-conscious particularly with Alasdair standing over me.

“Well, it all started when I came on this little holiday Alasdair suggested. I stumbled upon this cabal of warlocks. They tried to kill me yesterday and I’ve been in something of a running battle with them ever since then.”

“Sorry about that,” Alasdair said. “That one is on me. When we found the body, I assumed it was the guardian Eldransidhe who presides over the south east. I wanted you somewhere safe, and Solanus is far more moderate than Eldransidhe ever was.

“It wasn't until I bore word to the Summer Court and met him there that I realized we were mistaken. Unfortunately, the Summer Queen was so incensed at the loss of Solanus she would not give me leave. Bound by protocol, I could not depart without risking her ire. I would have been here sooner, but I didn't want to give the Queen any further reason to be displeased. She seems rather cagey right now and the loss of Solanus didn’t help the matter.”

It seemed like he was lucky to make it out of there alive. It certainly aligned with what Naerine had told me. Something was going down in Faerie, and as usual we were the last to know about it.

“Where is Naerine?”

“She's securing transportation and some additional firepower. Why?”

“It seems tension between the Courts has risen. While I was with Naerine, I asked her why there weren’t more of her kind on the island. She told me that the Summer Queen was holding her forces in reserve to check any advances the Winter King might make.”

“Well, she was certainly on edge, I can tell you that much,” Alasdair said. “She took Solanus’ death particularly hard. When she eventually gave me leave, I spoke with the Old One and collected Bran. We came as quickly as we could. The ferry wasn't running, so we had to charter our own boat. I dare say we've done away with our security deposit on that one.”

“Well, take it out of my next paycheck,” I replied. “You showed up in the nick of time. Things were getting pretty hairy there on the beach. I'm glad you showed up when you did.”

“As are we,” Alasdair replied as he took the kettle and poured water into a cup. He crushed a few leaves and added them to it. “But why are the Dobhar-chú in league with the warlocks? Those hunters aren’t known for their love of humans.”

“It seems they both are serving the same master,” I replied. “There is the cabal. They all seem to have a flame tattooed on their right shoulder.”

Alasdair and the Old One exchanged a knowing look.

“The Burning Hand,” Alasdair said. “They are bad news.”

“You’ve met them?”

He nodded. “A number of times. They recruit young, and almost exclusively from the Wilds. They like to stay outside the Arcane Congress’ immediate influence. They swell their ranks promulgating a gospel of power and dominion over others. It is a compelling message for those who feel like they are forgotten or overlooked. The Burning Hand teaches them their craft in exchange for their loyalty.”

“Well, there are certainly a lot of them here. They ambushed me yesterday and tried to kill me. I got four of them, then a few more on the beach before you arrived. Then there are the six you took care of. But there are a dozen more at least.”

“Where are they?” the Old One asked. “We will see to them.”

“Good luck, they’re working for her.”

“Her, who?” Alasdair asked.

Had they not seen her? “The Leanansidhe. She seems to be calling the shots here.”

The Old One tensed, clenched his gloved hands into fists. “The Leanansidhe is here?”

“Sure is, and she’s running the show. The warlocks answer to her. They seem to be trying to recover a vessel that sank off the coast. I was investigating the shipwreck when we were attacked.”

“We?” Alasdair asked, setting the cup of tea on the table beside me.

“Naerine and I.”

“And how did you come to be working with the Summer Court?” Alasdair said. “Last I knew, she wanted to put a bullet in you.”

“Well, she found me diving about the wreck and invited me aboard her yacht for a discussion at gunpoint. We were making great headway when the Leanansidhe appeared and tried to drown us both.”

“You're fortunate to have escaped,” the Old One replied. “The Leanansidhe is not to be trifled with.”

“You know her?”

“All my people do,” the Old One replied. “We have had dealings in the past. She is as cunning as she is dangerous. She is particularly adept at bending men to her will.”

“Well, we are going to have to do something about her,” I said, sitting up. “They’ve made some sort of ritual circle in the sand to the north of where you found us. Naerine says that it’s a site of power.”

“The Lake of Ngugi,” the Old One said. “At the turning of the season, they would have access to considerable power there.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Whatever the Leanansidhe and those warlocks are up to, it has to do with the lake. We need to stop them.”

“You need to get some rest,” Alasdair replied. “And have some tea. It’ll help with the pain.”

I eyed the home brew. If it tasted anything like what the Old One usually drank, I didn’t want any part of it.

“I can't very well rest with them running around framing me for murder, now can I? Besides, they know we’re here. They have people at the resort. The last boat I got on was sunk by the Leanansidhe. I’m not risking putting my family on a ship until she’s dealt with. The only way I'm getting any rest at all is if we deal with them.”

“If the Leanansidhe is here, Winter will come for this place,” the Old One said. “We can’t afford to linger.”

The door burst open, ending our argument. My mom bustled through the doorway, a large shopping bag under each arm. Conor and Shay slid past her, racing across the room toward me.

“Mum,” Conor shouted as he almost dove on me. I yanked the towel higher in the hope that it would make my shoulder less noticeable.

“Missed you guys,” I whispered as Shay and Conor hugged me. I wrapped my good arm around them. “How was the quidditch?”

“When you didn't come back, we were so worried,” Shay said. “What happened?”

I brushed her hair back out of her face. “Mum just had to take care of a few things.”

I didn’t want them fixating on my injury. They were still sensitive after the incident with the Red Cap, so I tried to distract them. “Tell me all about the quidditch.”

Shay's eyes lit up as she smiled. “It was the best, Mum. We saw Edward Chanston. He was this close.” She gestured furiously as she fangirled over the handsome keeper. “He only let one through all game. The Griffins are playing in the finals tonight. Can we go, Mum?”

I looked at Alasdair and the Old One. The Finals might present the perfect opportunity for us to go after the Leanansidhe.

“You can,” I replied, “but there is something that your mum and her work friends need to take care of. So, if Gran is happy to watch another match, you’re in business.”

The guilt trip. Another parenting maneuver flawlessly executed.

I’d have felt bad if I hadn’t learned it from her.

“The head on you.” My mother glowered at me. “If you think you're going back out there like that, Nora Byrne, you have another think coming.”

I looked at her. “I can't not go.”

My mother folded her arms. “And why not?”

“Because I found the person responsible for all this, and I need to deal with them.”

I was intentionally vague, hoping the children wouldn’t ask too many questions.

“And who might that be?” Mom asked.

I didn’t want to alarm the kids, but we were at an impasse.

“The Leanansidhe,” I whispered.

My mother’s eyes bulged. She raced to the glass doors leading to the balcony and pulled the curtains closed. “She's here?”

“You know her?” I shook my head. Of course she did. She’d spent decades in the Winter Court.

“Of course I know that scheming hussy. If you're going after her, I'm coming too and I'm bringing Bruce.”

“Bruce?” Alasdair asked, raising an eyebrow.

I dragged my hand through my hair. “You can't come, Mum. Who will watch the children?”

In truth, I was more worried that she would get herself killed. The Red Cap had come perilously close. I wasn’t taking any more chances.

“I will,” the Old One replied.

“Nonsense,” I said. “We need you most of all. We all saw you on the beach.”

He shook his veiled head. “I cannot go after the Leanansidhe, not without breaking my accord with her.”

“You made a bargain with the Leanansidhe?” I had to pick my jaw up off the floor. “Why would you do something like that?”

“It was years ago, and I won’t speak any more of it,” the Old One replied. “I cannot do what I cannot do. You will have to go without me.”

Losing the Old One significantly diminished our combat capability, but his tone left no room for negotiation.

“At least if I am here with the children, it will prevent her from coming after them. She likewise is bound to me.”

“What if she sends the warlocks?” I asked, looking down at my kids still clutching me tight.

“Then I will deal with them like I did on the beach. Do not worry for us. I will make sure nothing happens to the children.”

Having seen him in action on the beach I had no doubt they would be as safe with her as anywhere else on the island. But making your boss babysit your kids was normally a great way to irreparably damage your working relationship.

I looked at the kids to gauge their response. The Old One wasn't exactly normal company, but then again, they lived with a Fairy, so I couldn’t quite tell if they hadn’t noticed, or simply didn’t care.

The Old One raised his lanky, covered arms. “So who wants to go to the quidditch finals?”

“Me, me, me,” Shay shouted, any concern overshadowed by the prospect of watching the Griffins play again.

“It was pretty cool,” Conor replied.

“Then it’s settled,” the Old One said. “You two get ready while us adults finish up in here.”

Conor and Shay raced off to their room.

The Old One leaned in close as he fussed over my bandage. He was close enough I could feel his breath on my cheek.

“Nothing will befall them, Nora,” he whispered. “But you must be vigilant of the Leanansidhe. She is treacherous and her hold over men is as compelling as it is dangerous. Do not let her whisper her lies to Alasdair. He’ll have enough distractions without her poison in his mind.”

Before I could respond, he rose and chased after the children.

I only had a moment to consider his whispered warning before there was a knock at the door.

Chapter 21

Alasdair strode over to the door, one hand resting on the hilt of his machete which he kept in a sheath at the small of his back. Stooping down, he peeked through the peephole and then opened the door.

“Alasdair,” Naerine Oaksidhe called in greeting as she slipped past him and into the unit carrying a bag in one hand. Her human attire was gone and in its place was the same golden-brown armor she had been wearing the day we first met. She was both beautiful and regal in her armor. All I had was the tattered remnants of the wet-suit I’d brought this morning.

“It's good to see you awake,” Naerine said with what resembled a smile. It was the closest thing to warmth I’d gotten out of her since we met.

“I've been better,” I replied, still sitting on the divan. “But I've also been worse. Thanks for having my back when it counted.”

“The battle is not yet behind us,” Naerine replied. “While the humans gather for the evening's entertainment, a steady stream of them are slipping out of the resort and heading north. Warlocks, if I have to guess. Others are watching the area and redirecting anyone attempting to make their way up the beach. If we try to take that path to the lake, they'll see us coming a mile away.”

“And I’m sure they have other allies in the resort,” I said. “They broke into my room yesterday.”

“Here?” Naerine asked, setting the bag she was carrying on the table. “Why didn't you say anything before? We could be compromised.”

“We are compromised,” I replied. “But what are we going to do? There is no ferry running this evening and I wouldn’t trust it with the Leanansidhe around anyway. We have no choice but to deal with them, before they deal with us.”

“They have the lake,” Naerine replied, mulling it over. “They might not bother with us until they have finished there. We cannot afford to let that happen. Is there anything else I should know about?”

I swallowed. I didn’t want to risk the progress we had made over the last few hours but hiding the truth from Naerine was almost certain to backfire.

“Yes, when they broke in, they left your late guardian’s head on a platter here as a warning to me and my family.”

Naerine’s skin tinged red with palpable anger. “What?”

“Don't worry. I put it somewhere safe so that the proper rites might be seen to. But we can’t afford to let that distract us now. If they succeed at the lake, Solanus will have died for nothing. They have what they need from the ship, and it seems they plan to use it while everyone else is distracted at the quidditch game.”

“It was a big wooden box,” Sleet chimed in, still laying on my stomach half-asleep. “Very ornate, lots of carving. Reminds me of the furniture back at Caisleán Geimhreadh.”

We all stared at the little fae in shocked silence. Caisleán Geimhreadh was the seat of Winter’s power and the home of the Winter King. Dad.

If Sleet was right, whatever was on that ship came from the heart of Winter’s stronghold.

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“Well,” he said, “while the Leanansidhe was trying to kill Nora, Sleet snuck in for a closer look. Nora seemed very worried about that boat. So Sleet took a look around. The Leanansidhe opened the ship, and the bad men carried the big wooden box off the boat. Probably this big.”

He mimed the outline of a large box, though it was difficult to say just how big it was.

“Any idea what was in the box?” I asked hopefully.

“No,” Sleet said, his voice full of remorse. “She didn't open it. She just took it with her and went.”

“It has to be something they intend to use in their ritual,” I mused out loud. “Otherwise, why go to so much effort to bring it here and hide the ship?”

“Almost certainly,” Naerine replied. “If we try to interrupt them, we’re going to be horrifically outnumbered.”

“I don't suppose you'd be able to prevail upon your Queen to send reinforcements?” I asked as I eased forward on the couch, not wanting to overdo it.

“The Queen will not commit her forces into an ambush,” Naerine replied. “The Winter King is wily and treacherous and has used such gambits before. She will not move until she has more information.”

I thought of the Red Cap’s strike force ambushing Naerine outside the school. I could certainly see where her caution came from. I imagined that centuries, if not millennia, of intrigue and deception between the Courts was playing on her mind. It was also preventing us from getting the help we needed.

“Help or no help, we can't just let them carry out the ritual. Whatever they have planned, it can’t be good for us or anyone else here for that matter.”

I was trying not to be selfish, but it was hard to separate the fact that any rise in Winter’s power likely had a corresponding decrease in my life expectancy, set as they were on having me killed.

“What do you mean to do about it?” Alasdair asked. “Rituals are dangerous magic. Trained wizards still give them pause. The smallest interruption when that much power is at play can cause unspeakable damage.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” I replied as I gingerly stretched my shoulder. “Something big enough to take out the Leanansidhe and those working with her.”

“If they’re using the lake’s power, you could take out the whole island,” he said.

“That would be a real mood killer,” I replied. “But if we don’t at least try, we’ll be at their mercy. So why don’t you all gather in and let me tell you what I've got in mind.”

Naerine and Alasdair took a seat at the table, and I took them through my plan. It was Alasdair, Naerine, Bran, Sleet, my mom, and me. All counted, there were six of us against the Leanansidhe and as many warlocks as she could muster. But if Alasdair was right and they were relying on the lake’s reservoirs of power, interrupting the ritual at the right moment might spoil it, and with the lake’s power dissipated they wouldn’t be able to try again for months.

We didn’t have to beat them all; we just had to interrupt them. A surgical strike at the right moment might be enough to get the job done.

“It is a bold plan,” Naerine replied. “It has potential. If we can thwart their ritual it could buy us the time to muster a proper defense. Winter will not find us wanting twice.”

She pursed her lips.

“What’s wrong, Naerine?” I asked. “Have I missed something?”

She drummed her fingers on the table as she tilted her head to the side. “No. I just find it hard to believe you would thwart your own people. Their gain is your gain.”

I sighed. This again. “It really isn’t. They tried to kill me once when they sent the Red Cap. When that failed, they tried to frame me so that your Court would do their dirty work for them. They're not my people. My people are here in this unit. This is what I care about. If the Winter Court won’t let us be, then I really have no choice but to do anything I can to thwart their efforts.”

“Very well, but we can't trek up the beach,” Alasdair said. “It’s crawling with lookouts. If we want to get to the lake, we’ll need to go overland, through the island's interior. No small journey, particularly on a schedule. We don’t have time to make it on foot.”

“We’ll need wheels for sure,” I replied, and then remembered how my last quad adventure had ended. “But I don’t think the resort will be willing to lend me anything after yesterday. Any other ideas?”

Naerine reached into a leather pouch on her belt and drew out a key. “The Summer Court still has allies at the resort. This will get us into the equipment shed. We just need to get from here to there without them realizing what we’re up to. The last thing we want is for them to see us coming.”

“I've not practiced my glamours enough to try and pull off something that ambitious,” I said. “So unless you can work one for all of us, I don’t like our chances.”

“We don’t need magic,” my mother said, picking up the two bags she had brought in earlier and setting them on the table. “I figured it would be fun to go to the quidditch in robes like everyone else, so I bought a few things from the convention. If we blend in with everyone else, they might not notice us.”

Mom reached into the bags and pulled out piles of wizard robes in the various colors of the Hogwarts houses. There were also hats, wands, and all manner of other accoutrements.

She spread them out on the table as she spoke. “I took a guess on sizes but they are robes so there is plenty of room under the armpits and around the waist.”

She looked at Alasdair on that one and for once I was relieved she wasn’t picking on me.

Alasdair patted his stomach.

“It's all muscle, deary,” he replied with a chuckle.

“We’ll see,” my mother replied, handing him the biggest of the robes.

Alasdair took it but gave it an uncertain look as he disappeared into the bathroom. I grabbed a fresh shirt and khakis from my bag. With my mom’s help, I slipped into them and layered the set of Gryffindor robes over the top. There was a part of me that wondered how I was meant to stop the Leanansidhe when I couldn’t dress myself. But the robes did fit nicely over the bandage and still gave me plenty of room to move. I was glad it was nighttime, because the robes would have been sweltering hot during the day.

Naerine took a set of Slytherin robes, and my mother was a Hufflepuff.

I had to admit, the robes were a great idea. We would blend in nicely with the rest of the crowd gathering to watch the grand final.

“What’s in the bag?” I asked Naerine. She had lugged it into the unit but said nothing of its contents.

“Firepower.” She drew out several pistols and fitted their holsters to the belt beneath her robes.

Next, she opened a leather case from inside the bag and checked its contents. Looking over her shoulder, I realized it was a high-powered rifle with a scope. It had been broken down into pieces so that it was more readily transportable, but it seemed like something an assassin might use.

My mother took a chair from the table and carried it to the kitchen. Standing on it, she retrieved Bruce from where she had stashed him atop the cupboards. She took apart the shotgun with an ease that would have made a military man proud and proceeded to load the stock, barrel, and some ammunition into Naerine’s bag.

Alasdair emerged from the bathroom, and I did my best to suppress a smirk. The wizard’s robes were a size or three too tight and clung to his massive frame. His coppery beard complimented the outfit, but I would never say that out loud.

“You're a wizard, Ali,” I called, doing my best impression of Hagrid’s accent. It was awful but it got the job done.

“I’m a hunter,” Alasdair replied, leveling a finger at me. “And one more word out of you and your next month’s training will consist of nothing but latrine duty at the Camp.”

I patted him on the back.

“If we survive, it will have been worth it. Don't forget your wand,” I called over my shoulder as I wandered back to the table.

His growl of frustration devolved into a mutter as I made my way into the kids’ room.

“Save her stubborn soul and this is the thanks I get. Next time, I’ll leave ya smart arse on the beach, Nora Byrne.”

Alasdair was grumbling about me; all felt right in the world again.

I pushed open the door and found the kids on the bed. The Old One stood by the window, watching for any threats.

“Mum bought some outfits for you both. They’ll help you fit in with everyone else. They are out on the table.” Pulling out my wallet, I handed them some cash for snacks. “Go wild but whatever you do, don’t go anywhere alone. Take the Old One with you.”

“Call me Etha, please.” The Old One stooped low, placing one gloved hand on his chest.

“Etha,” Shay said. “That’s a pretty name. Where does it come from?”

“It was given to me by the sea,” the Old One replied. “Long ago.”

“I like it,” Shay concluded. “I think it suits you.”

I was a little embarrassed I’d never asked him for his name. Alasdair always referred to him as the Old One and I’d followed his pattern. My inner critic howled that I shouldn’t leave my kids with someone whose name I had only just learned. But Etha had always looked out for me. I had no reason to believe that would change now. I was also confident in his ability to deal with any stray warlocks that might happen upon them.

“Stick with Etha,” I said, giving them a great big bear hug.

“Yes, Mum,” they replied in chorus, returning the embrace.

“Enjoy the game.” I waved as I pulled the door shut to their room.

The four of us intended to slip out of the unit one at a time so that anyone trying to follow us would have a chore on their hands. I was first out the door. I bent down and patted Bran on the head.

“Stay here till I call, okay?”

Bran looked a little skeptical, but I ruffled his fur.

“Don’t worry. I won’t leave you behind. I wouldn’t dare.”

I headed down the esplanade, weaving through the groups of Harry Potter enthusiasts who were milling about as they waited for the quidditch pitch to open. Our group planned to rendezvous behind reception, near where we had first borrowed the quads. Reaching the resort’s main building, I took a left turn heading between two buildings and made my way out back.

As I rounded the corner, a familiar figure was crossing the dark pathway ahead of me. I stopped abruptly, my boots scuffing against the pavers as Barry the concierge passed beneath a streetlight.

Barry turned to me, his face illuminated perfectly by the streetlight. Gone was the resort’s uniform. Now he was wearing the all-too-familiar black robes of the Burning Hand.

His gaze scanned down the length of my robe. Perhaps he thought I was a warlock too.

I drew on my will. Without a second thought, I hurled a sphere of ice the size of a baseball at his skull. Had I the time to think about it, I might have done differently.

He snapped up his hands and a wall of fire began to rise from the ground that would obscure him from view. Before the fire could grow more than two feet off the ground, my icy missile cruised over the fiery barrier and slammed into his forehead.

Barry dropped with a satisfying thud. I raced over to him. There was no chance I was letting him escape, but I needn’t have bothered. He was unconscious, a red welt the size of a baseball forming on his forehead.

“A friend of yours?” Alasdair asked as he came round the corner of the building.

“He's the little rat that got me ambushed yesterday,” I replied. “Almost got the lot of us killed.”

“No criticism here,” Alasdair replied. “If anything, you were too gentle.”

“I’d hoped to ask him a few questions,” I said. “But in the moment, I got carried away.”

Alasdair tapped Barry with his boot. “He’ll be out for hours, I suspect.”

“Ah well. If Barry was heading out, we’re on the right track. He seemed to be helping coordinate their efforts on the island.”

“He’s wearing their robes,” Alasdair said. “An association with known warlocks and an eyewitness of him harming others with his magic is all the Congress would need to execute him. That’s why they tend to congregate here in the Wilds. Less chance of being hunted by the Watchman and his Sentinels.”

“The watchman? Sentinels?” I asked.

I’d never really had any dealings with the Congress. Their influence wasn’t felt keenly this far south.

“A discussion for another time,” Alasdair replied, bending down to pick up Barry. He lifted the warlock like he weighed nothing at all and slung him over one shoulder.

Naerine and my mother rounded the corner. Sleet was riding with Mom to keep an extra set of eyes on her. Of the lot of us, she was a normal and at the most risk. I wanted to take every chance I could to keep her safe.

Naerine unlocked the equipment shed. Rustling around inside it, we found a tool chest and some zip ties. We bound Barry to a steel pillar. With everything going on at the quidditch, I doubted anyone would stumble across him before morning.

Checking his pockets, I found a phone. I slipped it into my pocket. Couldn’t have him calling for help.

Locating the quads, we wheeled four of them out of the shed and closed it behind us. Quietly, we pushed the quads up the sandy trail behind the resort and our unit. I hoped our departure would not be noticed this far from the resort’s lobby.

I’d chosen a quad with a large platform strapped to the back of it for deliveries around the island. As we passed our unit, I let out a sharp whistle. Bran trotted around the corner, took one look at the quad, and sprang up onto the platform, before laying down across it.

Turning to the others, I gave a wolfish grin. “Let's go.”

We fired up the quads and eased up the trail. Climbing the sandy dunes, we made our way into the island's interior. It was a twenty-minute ride to the lake during the day but at night with nothing but the quads’ headlights, we had to move more slowly. We couldn't afford an accident, nor could we afford to stumble across the warlocks or their sentries.

The ride passed in silence. We looked every bit the motley crew, but right now, we were all Moreton Island had to offer. It was us against the might of the Winter Court and the Burning Hand.

I swallowed and told myself the dryness in my throat was simply a product of the warm breeze and not the fear that was starting to set in as we moved closer and closer to the fierce and cunning Leanansidhe.

As we rode, I let Naerine take the lead. After all, she knew the island better than me, particularly in the darkness.

Riding along with the breeze in my face, it was difficult not to wonder what exactly the Winter Court was up to. It seemed my father had ambitions on Summer’s domain. But why was he so determined to dispose of me? First the Red Cap, now the Leanansidhe. He didn’t even know me, and yet it seemed I was going to have to disappoint him.

I tried not to let it get to me. The last thing I needed was to head into a fight with my head clouded by daddy issues, but a part of me hoped that in thwarting his plan I might prove him wrong.

I didn't need his permission or his approval, I told myself. I had made it this far in life without him. If he planned to start getting in my way, I was determined to get in his. If by some miracle I survived the Leanansidhe, I was going to need to seek him out. After all, if there was one thing the Otherworld journal had been quite clear on, it was that Sidhe monarchs seldom traveled to the mortal realm. The author had postulated that though the Sidhe rulers were forces of nature and powerful beyond measure, some portion of that might have stemmed from Faerie itself. Perhaps if I could lure him here, I might stand a better chance.

Wishful thinking, perhaps.

Nora Byrne, you bleeding eejit. You damn near got your arm bitten off today and you think you can take the Winter King. You’re going to get us both killed.

“At least I won't have to put up with your piss poor companionship,” I whispered to myself. It might be the very definition of insanity to talk to yourself, but it was how our little dance went. My inner critic voiced her skepticism, I told her to shut up, and so the cycle went, round and round. I liked to think that at least together we formed one well-rounded individual. Or one complete nutcase.

Naerine eased off the gas and I followed suit. She pulled the bike off the trail, edged over a small sand dune, and rolled to a stop.

I cut the engine on my bike and coasted to a stop.

“It's a bit of a hike,” Naerine said as she climbed off her bike, “but I don't want to risk them hearing us coming. We’d be riding into an ambush.”

When I’d ridden past the lake, I followed the trail all the way from here. I wasn’t even certain we’d taken the same path I had.

“Which way to the lake?” I asked.

Naerine pointed over the sand dune. “It's a few minutes’ walk through this scrub, but if they have got sentries standing watch, they will be watching the paths. I doubt they have the manpower to watch every inch of bush around them.”

That was the sort of optimism I could get behind.

Naerine pulled out the leather case from her bag and crouched in the sand. With a speed born of practice, she assembled the bolt action sniper rifle. Mom assembled Bruce, and we made ready to storm the warlock’s ritual circle. Of the four of us, only Alasdair and I weren't carrying guns.

Frankly, I didn’t feel like I’d need it. Even here, I could feel the energy of this place. Reaching within me, I felt the cool touch of Winter’s embrace. It was reassuring given what we were walking into. I just hoped I could fare better against the Leanansidhe than I had on the yacht. She’d taken me by surprise. This time, I hoped to return the favor.

If I could disrupt her ritual, the resulting chaos might just take her with it.

It wasn’t much of a plan, but I had been out cold for the past few hours, so I was doing the best I could with the time I had been given. I doubted it would be easy, but I didn't have a choice. The forces of Winter had killed a Guardian of the Summer Court and who knew how many others to bring this plan to fruition. If they were willing to go that far, where would they stop?

Their ritual couldn’t be allowed to bear fruit, not with innocent people here on the island. There were hundreds of them, my family among them, all quietly enjoying a game of quidditch, painstakingly oblivious to the fact that less than a few kilometers away events were unfolding that could change their lives. They were the reason I was dragging my beaten and ragged body across the island. Their lives mattered. As hunters, we were all that stood between them and the dangers of the supernatural world.

We picked our way through the scrub, Sleet perched on my mother’s shoulder, Bran stalking quietly behind me watching our back. We walked in silence, slowly climbing a series of dunes until Naerine held up her hand.

We stopped and listened. A voice bellowed something from beyond the next dune. We weren't quite close enough to make out the words, so we climbed the dune. As we neared the top, I dropped to my knees and crawled to the crest. I kept my profile low so that anyone beyond it wouldn’t be able to see my silhouette peeking over the top. Peering over the crest, I could clearly make out the lake of Ngugi. This time, I better understood its significance.

The lake was not how I’d left it. I’d obliterated all traces of the ritual circle. Now in its place was one formed of solid steel. Several trucks were parked off the trail. I recognized them as the vehicles that had been at the dock this morning. I'd figured the materials were destined for the quidditch pitch. Now I realized my mistake. The summoning circle was massive, surrounding the entirety of the pristine lake. Inside the circle, a multitude of smaller shapes had also been formed from the steel.

Standing on one side of the circle, facing the lake, was the Leanansidhe, her red hair waving in the breeze.

In the center of the innermost ring, and half submerged in the shallow lake, was the wooden chest that Sleet had observed being carried from the ship. It was covered with a massive animal pelt, a bear perhaps. I had no idea what significance it held.

Surrounding the central circle was another ring with dozens of warlocks in it. There had to be thirty of them standing shoulder to shoulder in a tight wall of black cloaks facing the central circle.

The Leanansidhe’s voice bellowed over the crashing waves of the ocean behind her.

“Oberon, King of Air and Darkness, Lord of the Unseelie, Master of the Winter Court, we summon thee.”

Power crackled over the lake as a tempest stirred off the ocean beyond it. Wind blasted across the beach and a plume of mist formed in the innermost circle of the steel ritual circle.

The Leanansidhe’s voice grew higher as the hum of arcane power intensified.

My gut twisted. Something was wrong here.

“We have to stop this,” I whispered.

“Oberon, Master of Monarchs, Lord of Faerie, I bid you welcome to the mortal realm,” the Leanansidhe said.

A chill colder than any I’d ever felt ran down my spine.

“Not him,” I whispered. “Not here, not now.”

The Leanansidhe was problem enough. There was no way we could hope to contend with them both.

We’d misjudged their ritual. They weren’t harnessing the lake’s power to unleash an attack on Summer’s realm. This wasn't a ritual at all. It was an invasion. The Leanansidhe had built a beachhead in the mortal realm. And the Winter King was coming.

The mist swirled in a vortex of icy sleet, spinning like a cyclone inside the summoning circle.

“Oberon. Master of Wind and Water and Winter, Lord of the Unseelie, I summon thee.”

The cyclone ceased. The sleet plunged into the lake, revealing a being I had only ever seen in the Otherworld journal.

He was humanoid, but clearly not human, his ears tapering to a fine point. Above them rested a crown of antlers that in spite of the heat seemed to have a fresh dusting of snow resting on them. His armor shone like quicksilver as the blue steel caught the moonlight.

My breath caught in my throat. It was my father.

Chapter 22

Oberon, King of the Winter Court, stood in the waters of Lake Ngugi eying those assembled to greet him. I had imagined this moment in my dreams since I was a little girl. Of course, at the time, I hadn't known he was the King of the Fae, and even if I had, I doubt it would have measured up to this moment.

Every girl wished they could be a princess, but as I looked at my father the reality of it settled on me. I couldn't help but be transfixed by his regal majesty. There was a power to his being that was tangible. Every soul in the circle seemed on edge to even be in his presence.

“What do we do?” I whispered to Naerine.

“I don't know,” she replied. “We were outnumbered before he arrived. Attacking now would be suicide.”

I could feel the steady thrum of power coursing through the air. It was almost electric.

The Winter King looked down at the immense bear pelt resting on the wooden chest before looking up at the Leanansidhe.

“I had wondered who would have the gall to steal from me. You were always too clever for your own good,” Oberon said. Though he made no effort to raise his voice, it carried with such power we could hear him as clearly as if he stood beside us.

“Whatever do you mean, my liege?” the Leanansidhe replied. “I have merely prepared this place for your coming.”

“The working is subtle, but Mathanmòr and I have been companions for millennia. You thought I would not notice the change in his nature? You thought I'd simply put it on and embrace this facade? What then? You think you could ever hope to bind me to your will? Even now, your arrogance is astounding.” The Winter King's voice rose and I could feel his every indignant word in my chest, like the explosion of fireworks detonated too close.

The Leanansidhe and the Winter King appeared to be at odds. That wasn't at all what I was expecting.

“It would have been easier if you did,” she replied. “All men succumb to me eventually, my king.”

“The seasons do not bow before a succubus,” Oberon replied. “I would sooner die.”

“An eventuality for which I have prepared, Sire.” The Leanansidhe’s words dripped with enmity as her full lips rose into a smile. “If you will not yield the mantle of Winter to its new Queen willingly, I will strip it from your aged corpse.”

As if on some unspoken signal, the warlocks began to conjure. The pull of the arcane power being drawn felt like the relentless tug of a black hole as they raised their hands toward the Winter King.

“Now,” the Leanansidhe crowed.

Plumes of fire poured at my father. I lay rooted to the spot as fire hurtled at him. It stopped abruptly as it struck an invisible barrier. A barrier that appeared fixed to the steel of the summoning circle immediately surrounding the Winter King.

My view of my father vanished as fire billowed all about him. The waters of the lake bubbled as the intensity of the blaze caused it to boil, steam rising like a plume as the heat intensified.

I was wrong. It wasn't an invasion at all; it was an assassination.

My mind raced a million miles an hour. The Leanansidhe’s actions meant she wasn't acting on his errand at all. That also meant my father didn't want me dead.

If that was true, why did she?

I put the pieces together, even as everything at the lake was descending into chaos. The Leanansidhe was after Winter’s throne, and I was his heir, the only one I knew about anyway. Was that why I was being hunted? Perhaps the Red Cap and the Leanansidhe had been working in concert. Perhaps my father had nothing to do with it. Had I misjudged him?

The flames intensified and the steel of the summoning circle began to melt. When it failed, he’d be free, but he would also be pitted against dozens of warlocks and a veritable flood of fire. Here in the mortal realm with his hands tied by whatever magic the Leanansidhe had employed to ensnare him, who knew what might happen. If I didn't do something, I could be about to watch my father die.

Angry as I might have been, I couldn't let that happen. I also knew I couldn't let the Leanansidhe take his place. Not when she was trying to have me killed.

“We have to do something,” I whispered.

“Why?” The question came from Alasdair. “We figured they were plotting against us. If the ritual is simply Winter fighting against itself, what need have we to interfere? One tyrant or another upon Winter’s throne, it matters little to us.”

“Well, for starters, she wants me dead,” I replied. “If she succeeds, there is nothing to stop her coming after me again. He might feel differently.”

“Why would he care?” Alasdair asked. “Why risk our lives for him? He would never do the same for us.”

My heart pounded as the waters of the lake evaporated, leaving only sand that was drying by the minute. The intense heat caused the steel of the circle to glow brighter and brighter. Alasdair needed a reason, and I was fresh out of anything but the truth.

The problem was, I didn’t know if Alasdair would ever look at me the same again. Would I still be his apprentice? I would never whisper aloud the hope part of me had that one day we might be more. I didn’t want him to look at me the way he did the other Sidhe of the Fairy Courts.

But neither could I lie to him.

“Because he's my father.”

I wasn’t sure whose gasp was more impressive—Alasdair’s or Naerine’s.

“Your what?” Alasdair replied, his accent thickening.

“My dad. and even though I’ve never met him, I don't want to watch him die.”

“What?” Alasdair replied, his accent thickening as his ire rose.

“You didn't think to mention that before?” Naerine asked, her voice sharp as she stared down the scope of her rifle.

“I didn’t think it mattered,” I replied. “I’ve never met him, and he’s never cared for me. You knew I was a scion. I thought that was enough.”

“It matters a great deal,” Naerine replied. “You aren’t just a scion, Nora Byrne. You are his heir. It changes everything.”

“Not now it doesn't,” I said.

The smattering of warlocks outside the circle seemed intent on what was occurring inside it. While I wasn't sure what I was going to do, I hoped to give my father a fighting chance.

“We will speak of this,” Naerine hissed at me.

“Later,” I replied, waving her off as I started inching over the summit of the dune. It was agony on my shoulder, so I rose into a crouch. “If we survive.”

“What's your plan?” Alasdair asked, following me over the crest of the dune.

“Get as close as I can and unleash hell,” I replied, “and hope I take enough of them out to make a difference.”

Alasdair let out a sigh. “You will be the death of us both.”

“I will die knowing I did all I could,” I said. “If I don’t, I won’t be able to live with myself. She killed Solanus and she tried to kill me. Will you help me save my father, or not?”

Alasdair's eyes were full of conflict as he stared down at the circle. His survival instincts would be telling him to run a mile. Knowing when to call a losing battle was what had kept him alive all these years.

Finally, he nodded. “You'll need a distraction. Give me thirty seconds before you make your move.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, and I meant it.

He said nothing as he rose and stalked down the sand dune, making straight for the trucks parked by the trail.

“Mum, Naerine,” I called over my shoulder, “cover me. Bran, you’re with me, buddy. Watch Momma’s back.”

Bran gave a doggy nod of understanding as he ambled up beside me. I’d been quietly counting in my head. Alasdair had almost made it to the trucks as I neared the end of my count.

Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

I strode down the dunes, drawing as much power as I thought prudent. As I did, a warlock standing outside the circle turned his head toward me. He raised a palm. A flicker of orange wisped into being before it.

Then he twisted abruptly, the back part of his skull vanishing as the report of a rifle shot echoed over the lake.

I nodded my thanks to Naerine as she worked the bolt on her rifle.

If the warlocks didn’t know we were here before, they did now. And having the Winter King on one side, while unknown attackers ambushed them from the rear was causing them to waver.

“Focus on the King,” the Leanansidhe said. “Nothing else matters.”

Beside the lake, the truck’s engine roared to life. The truck picked up speed as it launched towards the ritual circle. Then, Alasdair leapt from the cab onto the soft sand. The truck careened through a group of warlocks standing outside the circle. It ground two of them beneath it before it slammed into the outer ritual circle. It stopped abruptly like it had hit an invisible brick wall, the cabin of the truck crumpling as the truck flipped forward. The Leanansidhe shuddered at the impact.

The circle was a barrier. Of course it was. That meant her efforts were focused on maintaining it and wrestling with the will of Oberon. That was why she'd hired the Burning Hand. She needed muscle to do what she couldn't, and what better to melt the heart of Winter than fire.

“Bring it down,” I bellowed, lashing out at the outer barrier with a fusillade of Winter’s might. Hail, sleet, and icy stalactites slammed into the barrier as I matched my will against the Leanansidhe.

Out of nowhere, orbs of golden arcana smashed into the outer circle. All about the circle, a dozen Summer Sidhe materialized out of thin air, as they dropped their glamours and attacked the circle. They added their magic to mine as they battered the Leanansidhe’s will to a pulp.

“I thought you said you couldn't get any reinforcements?” I shouted at Naerine.

“I said the Queen will not commit her forces into an ambush,” Naerine replied. “We’ll happily be the ambushers.”

It was a timely lesson in dealing with the Sidhe. Words had meaning. Words could be twisted.

The Leanansidhe whirled to face the Summer Court.

“What are you doing?” she called over the chaos. “You would save your foe from his fate? Have you spoken with your Queen? Is it not time affairs between the Courts were settled between two women of substance? Why would she wish to entertain her old lover, when she could deal with an equal? Add your strength to mine and we could end the tyranny that is Oberon once and for all. Winter would ever be in your debt.”

Obligation. A language the Sidhe spoke fluently.

My heart skipped a beat as Naerine held up her fist, the Summer Court’s assault ceasing immediately.

Two of the closest Summer Sidhe turned on me. Bran let out a growl that reverberated in my bones, his teeth bared as he stared them both down.

“Naerine, don't do this,” I called over the chaos.

“She makes a compelling argument, Nora Byrne.”

“I gave you my word that I had no part in this plot,” I replied, “and you gave me yours. Do you not remember?”

“Had,” Naerine replied curtly. “Past tense.”

“Have,” my mother said, cutting her off. “Present tense. Like your head. You have one now. You won't shortly.”

I looked to the top of the hill where Naerine’s rifle had adjusted its aim. It was now pointed at my chest. Unfortunately for her, both of Bruce's barrels rested against her temple. In the melee she had forgotten about my mother.

You go, Mom! I was certainly glad I’d brought her with us.

The warlocks were perilously close to bringing down the internal circle. Time was running out.

“Last chance, Naerine,” I called. “You can do what is right or you can add your blood to theirs. But that'll be on you, not me. Remember that. I didn’t do this—you did.”

The nearest Summer Court Sidhe raised his hand.

A voice with a British accent broke the silence. “I wouldn't do that if I were you.”

The man in the felt hat materialized from behind his glamour, his dagger formed of blue steel wedged against the Sidhe's throat. His other hand was stretched out toward the next nearest Sidhe. “You won't finish that spell before I open your throat. Test me. I dare you.”

I recognized the emotion brimming in the power that crackled off him like a maelstrom. Winter’s wrath. Plenty of it.

“On second thoughts, we've reconsidered your proposal,” Naerine replied, turning the sniper rifle on the Leanansidhe. “This is for Solanus.”

She pulled the trigger. The bullet slammed into the invisible barrier, flattening before it dropped into the sand.

“She killed Solanus. Avenge him!” she cried.

The Summer Court turned on the circle, but Bruce never left Naerine’s temple. My mother did not trust easily.

With a roar, the inner circle collapsed and flames poured into the fresh void. All view of my father was completely obscured by them.

I hobbled forward as fast as my weary frame could take me, hurling blast after blast of Winter’s might at the summoning circle. The Leanansidhe closed her eyes in intense concentration but sweat formed on her brow. The waters of the lake were almost entirely gone, and with them the power she’d used to maintain the barrier and hold my father hostage. The barrier itself began to waver.

Orbs of golden light sailed through the collapsing barrier, striking warlocks and reducing them to ashes. My own attacks found their way through the barrier, adding more warlocks to the death toll.

And then the barrier collapsed, wholesale.

The Leanansidhe turned, her cheeks red with a rage that matched the color of her hair.

Shards of ice hurtled from her outstretched hands like gatling guns, cutting down two of the Summer Sidhe in an instant. The fact her effort was no longer able to hold the circle together meant she was free to turn her considerable might on us.

“Cover me,” I called as I made straight for her.

Bran bounded past me into the fray, snapping at warlocks left and right. A warlock screamed as Bran tore out his hamstrings. Two warlocks turned to face the threat, but the man in the felt hat buried a pair of icy shards more than six inches long in their chests.

The Leanansidhe bore down on me. To my left, my father was being consumed by a pillar of fire. I couldn’t save him and me.

So I made my choice, and prayed I was right.

In my mind, I pictured rain. The torrential rain of a tropical storm but instead of heavy drops, I visualized daggers of ice.

I loosed my will, blanketing the lake with a rain of razor-sharp icy stakes. The exertion of the channeling required all the power I could gather. Forming it into a veritable rain of death, I picked out the black-clad warlocks. I figured if they succeeded, our efforts would amount to nothing. We would die with my father. The Leanansidhe would see to that.

The warlocks’ screams filled the night sky. Intent as they were on the Winter King, they hadn't even seen it coming. Even if they had, the Leanansidhe’s hold over them was so complete that they would have held their course to the bitter end. Dozens of them fell, wounded and dying as I dropped to my knees, gasping for breath.

My mind reeled at the effort. The sheer power I had expended in the assault threatened to render me unconscious.

It wasn't that I didn't know where my limits were. I simply couldn’t afford to care right now. I couldn’t afford to fail. How could I live with myself if I did?

All my life I’d let others tell me I was a minor talent. That lie had almost gotten me killed. No matter what my inner critic said, I was Nora, daughter of Oberon.

If he was the King of Air and Darkness, I was its freaking princess.

I was just getting started.

Raising my hands in front of me, I summoned a hailstone the size of a basketball and sent it flying at the Leanansidhe.

With a wave of her hand, she deflected it. The icy missile barreled into one of the parked trucks, caving in the door.

“Ignorant child,” she said, bringing her hand down like she might swat a fly. A dozen shards of crystalline ice sailed through the air between us. I didn't think I could manage a shield fast enough, so I hit the deck, throwing myself clear. The soft sand was a gentle landing but the closest of the daggers punched straight through my robes and nicked my thigh.

A trickle of blood ran down my leg but it hardly mattered now. It was victory or death. The Leanansidhe would kill me long before I bled out.

I struggled to my feet as the Leanansidhe charged. A spear of ice grew from her hands, its wicked point racing toward me.

I was so focused on the spear I missed the wave of will that hit me like a rock, knocking me back into the sand.

With a grace I could never hope to match, she leapt forward bringing the spear down toward my chest.

I held up my hand and pit my will against hers. The pain in my head was immediate and intense. It felt like a pressure headache with a side of hangover. I gritted my teeth and focused through it.

The spear was bearing down on my heart. Ignoring the pain, I focused on the icy spear. Its progress halted as a blanket forged from my will stopped it tearing through my chest.

Sweat rolled down the Leanansidhe’s brow. Prodigious though her talent might be, she had pitted herself against the Winter King. She was tired too.

I took heart from that and put everything I could into holding the spear at bay. Inch by inch, it descended toward me until I could feel the point against my skin. It pierced my robes, but I refused to give in. A moment’s distraction and the spear would plunge right through my heart.

Bran bore down on the Leanansidhe, baying like the hounds of hell. The Leanansidhe glanced over her shoulder.

Good boy.

The Leanansidhe hurled a barrage of ice at him, but Bran simply closed his eyes. The same spell that had shredded my robe slid right off his thick coat like it was made of steel. I felt the spear retreat an inch as her focus wavered. With my good arm, I shoved the spear to the side, rolling with it. I put all my weight on my wounded shoulder, and tears welled in my eyes. The icy spear slammed into the sand. I lunged forward, conjuring a dagger of jagged ice and plunging it into her stomach.

The pain only seemed to intensify Winter’s might as it rushed through me. So I funneled it into her. The Leanansidhe paled, her once rosy lips turning blue as a weak gasp escaped her.

Bran leapt at her back but before he could sink his teeth into her, the Leanansidhe simply vanished.

A glamour.

I closed my eyes and called on my Sidhe sight. Opening them, I searched for the Leanansidhe.

All around me chaos swirled. The warlocks were silhouetted in red, as was Alasdair. He was dueling with two of them. He dispatched one with his machete as the other grabbed hold of his cloak. Fire spread from the warlock’s hands, catching on Alasdair’s robes.

The Leanansidhe was nowhere to be found, and my head was killing me. So, I released my sight and staggered to my feet. Alasdair, ignoring the flames, spun and raised the machete, taking the warlock’s head off his shoulders with one clean stroke. It wasn’t until the head hit the sand that Alasdair dropped the machete and started tearing off his burning clothes. The robes went first, followed by his shirt.

My eyes wanted to linger, but my brain knew better.

I tore my eyes away from his well-muscled form and turned my attention to the warlocks that remained.

A peal of thunder rolled over the lake as lightning arced between the cloak-clad forms. A dozen warlocks dropped in an instant. They were the fortunate ones.

Frozen stalagmites burst through the sand, impaling any warlock still on their feet. Their screams were shrill and sharp, lingering until they too went still.

My father stood atop the wooden crate, sweat rolling down his face as a vortex of icy sleet whipped around him like a shield of a thousand shards. His hands were raised, lightning crackling between his fingertips, as his glowing sapphire eyes searched for foes.

But there were none. Every warlock I could see was dead or wished they were. The remaining Sidhe of the Summer Court faced off against the Winter King. Their numbers were diminished, but they were resolute. Habit, perhaps.

Oberon's voice filled the air. “Forces of the Summer Queen, I did not come here of my own accord. Nor do I have any part with these traitors. If you depart in peace, I will let you live. If you lift your hand against us, you will all join them.”

The Summer Sidhe wavered but from the grim look on their faces, none of them wanted to be the first to capitulate to the Winter King’s demand.

Oberon raised a hand. “I can bring forth a legion of Winter with a word. Go home grateful that Winter was not your enemy today.”

As one, the forces of the Summer Court turned, parting the Veil as they prepared to leave.

Naerine made her way down the dunes toward them. Her golden eyes met mine and I knew this wasn’t over. She knew my secret. They all did.

“Wait,” Oberon called, his voice booming. “You will forget all you saw or heard here tonight. If you do, I will forget that you even for a moment considered the traitor’s offer. If not, you will be numbered with those who stood against me.”

Oberon stood, gesturing to the coven of dead warlocks littering the lake.

Two emotions welled up within me: awe and fear.

I knew why my mother had fled Caisleán Geimhreadh all those years ago.

The Summer Court departed through the Veil, leaving us behind.

I closed my eyes as the adrenaline of the fight faded, and the pain it had masked rose to the surface.

We’d done it. And we were still alive. My mother, Bran, Sleet, and I were all alive. Alasdair was stomping out the flaming remnants of his shirt, his well-muscled torso catching the moonlight like the stuff of my fever dreams.

As he turned, my eyes followed his chiseled form to his back. There, marked on his shoulder blade, was the tattoo of an orange flame.

Just like theirs.

He was one of them. Alasdair was a member of the Burning Hand.

My breath caught in my throat and swallowing wouldn’t clear it. I felt sick to my stomach.

Was he a hunter or a warlock?

“Hello, Nora.” Each syllable resonated with the same power that had shaken the beach.

I turned and found myself staring up into my father’s stormy blue eyes.

“Hi, Dad.”

Chapter 23

Staring into my father’s eyes felt like looking into eternity. Those eyes had watched empires rise and fall, seen humanity at its best and worst. And as they stared into mine, I felt my soul being weighed and measured.

“Touch one hair on her head and I’ll shoot you, I swear it.” My mother’s voice wavered, but the hands holding Bruce did not. She stood not ten feet away, her shotgun pointed right at the Winter King.

He turned his head, regarded the weapon, and then smiled.

“I did not think I’d ever see you again, Kara Byrne,” he said, his voice softer. “It is good to see the years have not robbed you of the steel that is in your soul.”

“Don’t you flirt with me, Oberon. I can see your game a mile off, and you’ll not be dragging my daughter into it like you did me.”

Oberon laughed. “Is that what you tell yourself to justify what you did?”

“What I did?” She shook her head.

“Yes, you stole away in the dead of night, pregnant with our daughter.” The air around us grew tense as his voice caught in his throat.

“I didn’t know how you would react,” my mother stammered.

“You never gave me a chance,” he said, voice sharp. “You simply took her and ran.”

“The Winter Court is not a playground for children,” my mother said. “I barely survived it.”

“You rose above it,” Oberon replied, “and so would she—had you given her the chance.”

“I couldn’t risk losing her,” my mother whispered. “There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t wonder what might have been, but then I look in her eyes and see the life she’s lived free of intrigue, deceit, and death. And I feel like I did right by her. Can you not see that? Look around you. Is this what you want for her?”

“It has found her all the same.” Oberon sighed. “Put down the gun, Kara. It isn’t enough to stop me, and I would never harm either of you.”

My mother lowered the shotgun, cracked the stock, and dropped it in the sand.

Oberon looked behind her. “Consider your duty done here, Silas. I am in no further danger.”

“But, my lord.” The man in the felt hat slipped out of his glamour, and my mother startled. He was holding the blue steel dagger, its blade still slick with blood. His proximity to my mother was not a coincidence, and it bothered me immensely.

“Will you counsel your king?” Oberon raised an eyebrow. “I am at my limit for defiance this evening. You would do well to return to Caisleán Geimhreadh and ready the legion. The Leanansidhe is to be found. You will lead the hunt.”

Silas bowed deeply. “Of course, my liege, at once.”

He wiped the blood from his dagger and muttering something I couldn’t quite catch, parted the Veil and disappeared into Faerie.

“Who is he?” I asked. “He’s been following me for days.”

“Weeks,” my father replied. “I hid you as long as I could, Nora, but when I learned the Red Cap had made his move, I knew it was over. Others would learn your secret and you wouldn’t be safe. So I sent the Winter Shard to see to your safety.”

The thought both comforted and bothered me at the same time. Clearly, my father cared, which was more than I’d ever hoped for. At the same time, he was making decisions about my life without consulting me. That irritated me. If he knew I was in danger, could he not have said something about it?

“I’m not a child,” I replied. “I dealt with the Red Cap. I can look after myself.”

“Your courage fills me with pride,” Oberon said with a smile. “You’re like your mother in that way. But until the Leanansidhe showed her treachery, even I didn’t know the extent of the plot inside the Winter Court.”

“Your Court,” I replied, not letting him off the hook.

“Yes, but you have much to learn of our people, daughter. To be Fae is to fight for survival and supremacy. There are always those with ambitions to rise higher in station. The Leanansidhe isn’t the first, and she won’t be the last. Now that she’s fled, others will learn of you, Nora. Silas was a precaution, until I could draw out the traitors.”

“You could have warned me,” I said.

“And said what? Most of the creatures of Winter you’ve met have tried to kill you. Who would I have sent to bear such a warning? Silas? Would you have taken the word of a stranger as my own?”

He had a point there.

There was a growl as Bran padded between us, his eyes fixed on my father.

“Easy, boy,” I replied.

Oberon crouched down and stretched out his hand.

My eyes bulged as Bran padded forward and nuzzled his head against the Winter King’s gauntlet.

“Who is a good boy?” My father cooed as he ruffled my dog’s coat. “I said most, didn’t I? You have always looked out for her, haven’t you? I never had any doubt, my friend. Forgive me for sending Silas. It was a father’s fear and not any reflection on you.”

Bran barked twice, his tongue lolling happily as he drank in the praise.

“You know my dog?” I asked, realizing how silly the words sounded as they left my lips.

“My hound,” my father replied. “You thought he simply wandered into that park as a puppy?”

I felt like an idiot.

“I hear you named him Bran.” Oberon smiled. “It is a good name for a hound.”

He ruffled Bran’s coat once more and stood up, turning to my mother.

“You might have thought you were running from me, but I was never chasing you. I am Winter, and I could find my daughter anywhere in this world or mine. I trusted you to keep her safe and did all I could to ensure the same. That is why they came for you. If you were in peril, they knew I would come. The Leanansidhe is old enough to know I would not let history repeat itself.”

What did he mean by that?

He turned back to me. “Perhaps they thought your presence has made me weak and vulnerable to exploitation, or maybe they feared the strength your presence would bolster in the Court. Whatever the case, Nora, the Courts know you exist now. I cannot change that.”

“What does that mean?” I asked. “For me? I don’t know the first thing about being Fae.”

“You will learn,” he said.

“I like my life here,” I replied. “I’m not going anywhere.”

My father shrugged. “We can choose what we do, but not who we are. That die has already been cast.”

“I’m a hunter,” I said. “If they come for me, I will do what I must.”

He placed a hand on my wounded shoulder, and I felt a wave of power wash over me. “I would expect nothing less.”

My father swept a hand through the air like one might brush aside a curtain. As he did, the Veil parted, revealing a courtyard fashioned of black stone.

Two dozen fully armored ice trolls stood armed and ready for battle. Around them, dozens of Winter Sidhe were waiting for his command.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Home.” He scooped up his bearskin cloak off the wooden crate.

“What is in there?” I asked moving toward the ornate box.

“It’s empty now,” my father replied, stroking the cloak. “They used it to smuggle Mathanmòr out of the palace.”

I studied the cloak. It was a fearsome creature to be sure, but hardly worth risking one’s life for.

“Why would they steal it in the first place?” I asked.

“Mathanmòr and I have been together since I was a boy. They do not have my true name, so the Leanansidhe needed something of significance to me in order to draw me here. It was a trap, but I will see him restored and the witch’s magic removed.”

“So you’re leaving? Just like that?” I asked softly, caught a little off-guard by his rush to depart.

“A king’s work is never done. I must attend to the hunt.”

I stared at the assembled force, with Silas at its head, and I almost felt sorry for the Leanansidhe. Almost.

“When will I see you again?” I asked.

“When you’re ready to introduce your children to their grandfather,” he called over his shoulder. “Do not perpetuate your mother’s mistake.”

The Veil closed, leaving my mother, Bran, and me standing by the almost entirely dried-up lake.

Sleet stirred in my mom’s pocket. “Is he gone?”

“Yes,” I replied, my voice little more than a whisper. Right now, I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“Well, that could have gone much worse,” my mother replied.

“Worse?” Alasdair called, his voice gruff.

Face to face with my father, I’d forgotten he was there.

“The Leanansidhe escaped after defiling one of the Summer Court’s sacred sites. I’d just gotten through telling them they have nothing to be concerned about with you, Nora Byrne, and you’re the bleeding daughter of the Winter King. The Summer Queen will think I’ve lied to her. Do you realize the position you’ve put me in?”

“I’m the same Nora Byrne I was yesterday,” I replied. “You told the truth. I didn’t kill Solanus, and we’ve run off those who did.”

I looked around the once-pristine lake where what remained of the Burning Hand were scattered. “Let us hope this is enough blood to sate their need for vengeance. I have things to do.”

“Oh you do, do you?” Alasdair gawked. “You might be a bonnie lass, but you’re a rocket if ever I’ve met one.”

“Rocket?” I asked, brushing the sand off my robes.

“Mad as a hatter,” he answered, shaking his head. “Maybe one too many hits to the head, but you’ve lost sight of sense.”

“No, I’m just tired of being afraid. If they want me, they can come. But in the meantime, I came here for a holiday, and I intend to have it. So you can either get with the program or jump on the first ferry home. It’s your choice.”

Alasdair clenched his fists, and it did all kinds of pleasant things to the muscles in his chest.

Focus, Nora. You’ve had enough excitement for one night.

I didn’t know about that. There was some excitement I could use a little more of in my life.

Alasdair let out a sigh. “I can’t keep your stubborn arse alive if I can’t see you, now can I?”

“That’s the spirit,” I replied, putting an arm around him. “It’s a long walk back to the resort, and you know all my secrets. So why don’t you tell me more about that tattoo on your back?”

He shook his head. “Not on your life, Nora Byrne. Don’t push your luck.”

He’d stood shoulder to shoulder with us against the Burning Hand, so I didn’t doubt his loyalty. But I did wonder how someone with ties to a cabal of known warlocks had found their way to the Camp.

The quads were a few minutes’ walk away, but the moon was full and the beach looked too inviting. So I steered him toward it. Bran padded along beside us as my mom fell in quietly behind us.

“So how do you think Etha fared at the quidditch?” I asked, changing the topic.

“Griffins versus the Death Eaters,” Alasdair said. “She’ll have had the time of her life.”

“You’re kidding?” I laughed.

“Not at all. Why do you think she was so keen to babysit? I doubt I’d have got her out of the Camp for any less.”

My smile grew wider. For everything I thought I knew about Alasdair and Etha, it was moments like this that reminded me just how much I didn’t.

Fortunately, we were booked at the resort for a week, and I had every intention of getting answers out of them both while we relaxed with some well-earned piña coladas.

I had no doubt that Alasdair was right. Trouble was coming. I could almost smell it on the salty southeasterly breeze sweeping in from across the bay. But for once in my life, winter, work, and worries could take a number and get in line.

The End

Nora will return in Ghosts At The Coast, you can pickup your copy here.

Thank You For Being Here

Round two! How was A Bay Of Angry Fae? I had a ball writing it. Including places like Moreton Island where I've taken my own kids on trips was a lot of fun.

I hope you're enjoying the series. Things are certainly heating up for our icy heroine with a heart. Are you ready for Ghosts At The Coast?

While you're waiting, why not check out the other series set in this world?

I’d suggest checking out my Conjuring a Coroner or Urban Arcanology series. You can get the first book free, when you join my newsletter (along with a pile of other goodies and the latest news on my books).

Before you dive into the glossary and the mischief (I mean, linguistic exposé waiting for you there), I just wanted to say thank you for being here.

I’m an indie author, and your support makes all this possible. So thanks for joining me on the journey. If you are enjoying the series, please spread the word as it helps other readers take a chance on a new series.

If you’d like to leave a review, you can do that here.

Until next time,

S.C. Stokes

P.S. Would you like a free novel to enjoy, you can join my newsletter here, or relax with some other like-minded readers in my Arcanoverse group on Facebook.

Glossary of Aussie Slang

If you missed the note before the book began, I’d definitely recommend it. I wanted to be sure to include a full glossary of any Aussie or other slang terms and language choices I made in a Bay Of Angry Fae. I hope you enjoy them in the spirit in which they were included. If I've missed something shoot me an email and let me know!

I chose to use ‘Mum’ in dialogue as that is certainly how you would hear it if you were here. As for measurements of distance, I went with what I would use in the circumstances, so those are as Australian as I am. My family have lived here since the English were giving out free boat trips for outstanding community service.

Without further ado, your companion guide for Bay of Angry Fae:

000 or Triple Zero – The Aussie equivalent of 911.

Bogan – Usually used as a derogatory reference to uncouth or unsophisticated individual. Other Aussie synonyms include ratbag and feral.

Doona – Where other countries have duvets or comforters we have doonas. There are about ten weeks a year here in Queensland that are cold enough to justify having a doona. But that’s probably only because evolution has never allowed us to develop meaningful cold tolerance.

Eejit – Scottish and Irish slang for idiot. No prizes for guessing that one. But I’m just lulling you into a false sense of security for…

McLeod’s Daughters – One of Australia’s least believable prime time soap dramas. It was set on a small-town cattle station featuring a pair of sisters running their late father’s cattle station. The drama and suspense was amplified by a new illegitimate sister showing up at the end of every season. Dad clearly spent more time on other people's farms. My familiarity with it stems from the fact it aired on the same night as JAG and Stargate-SG1 and I have four sisters. Almost as many sisters as Claire and Tess.

Nutrigrain – The breakfast of iron men and women, because biting through them is going to take all the strength you can muster. They are good for anyone concerned with the structural integrity of their cereal once it’s submerged in milk. If that sentence means anything to you, we’d get along splendidly. A very different product to the breakfast bars of the same name and company in the USA.

Ramune – Japanese soda brand. Very popular at festivals and they come in the neat bottles with a marble that you drive into the bottle to open it. I formed a deep love of their Melon Soda while I lived in Japan, it’s probably the most effective currency for bribing me.

Quad Bike – What Aussies call a 4 wheeler. On a side we call some of those who ride them temporary Australians. Which is a reference to their life expectancy rather than their citizenship status.

Seamless Pouch – Hugely popular tourist trinket though I can’t work out why. Sewing enthusiasts might wonder just how such a feat might be accomplished. Well, there’s one part of the anatomy (or in this instance a Kangaroo’s anatomy) that is suitable for such a purpose and it’s just large enough to accommodate a couple of coins. It’s that, and treated for a leathery finish. Just what you’ve always wanted.

Soft drink – What Australians call soda. Probably because ours don’t come in 64 ounce serving sizes. That’s hard liquor right there!

Swimmers – No gold star for guessing this one. In true Aussie fashion we shorten it to swimmers or bathers.

Yabby – It just wouldn't be Australian wildlife if it didn't have claws or some other method to inflict pain on unsuspecting tourists. The yabby can be found across the country from the small saltwater variety that often get used for bait, to the larger freshwater crayfish found inland.

Doubtless there will be more to come in the rest of the series. For everything else, I went with US English spelling (in spite of the setting) as that is what most of my readers are used to from me.

I hope you can forgive these minor inconsistencies in the pursuit of a more flavorful read. Join us for some more fun in Ghosts At The Coast, it's available for sale here.

About the Author

Sam is a writer of magically-charged fantasy adventures. His passion for action, magic and intrigue spawned his Arcanoverse; a delightfully deluded universe that blends magic, myth, and the modern world in a melting pot that frequently explodes.

When he isn’t hiding away in his writing cave, his favorite hobbies include cooking, indulging sugary cravings, gaming, and trying to make his children laugh. You can find more of his work at www.samuelcstokes.com or connect with him at the links below.

Also By S.C. Stokes

Conjuring A Coroner Series

A Date With Death

Dying To Meet You

Life Is For The Living

When Death Knocks

One Foot In The Grave

One Last Breath

Until My Dying Day

A Taste Of Death

A Brush With Death

A Dance With Death

Death Warmed Up

Death Sentence

Urban Arcanology Series

Half-Blood’s Hex

Half-Blood’s Bargain

Half-Blood’s Debt

Half-Blood’s Birthright

Half-Blood’s Quest

A Kingdom Divided Series

A Coronation Of Kings

When The Gods War

A Kingdom In Chaos

Bones Of The Fallen

A Siege Of Lost Souls

Table of Contents

- A Note From The Author
- 1. Chapter 1
- 2. Chapter 2
- 3. Chapter 3
- 4. Chapter 4
- 5. Chapter 5
- 6. Chapter 6
- 7. Chapter 7
- 8. Chapter 8
- 9. Chapter 9
- 10. Chapter 10
- 11. Chapter 11
- 12. Chapter 12
- 13. Chapter 13
- 14. Chapter 14
- 15. Chapter 15
- 16. Chapter 16
- 17. Chapter 17
- 18. Chapter 18
- 19. Chapter 19
- 20. Chapter 20
- 21. Chapter 21
- 22. Chapter 22
- 23. Chapter 23
- Thank You For Being Here
- Glossary of Aussie Slang
- About the Author
- Also By S.C. Stokes