Haunted Moon (33 page)

“Well, that’s something, at least. And we have Y’Elestrial on our side.”

Another pause, and then Trenyth held up a piece of paper on which I could see some faintly written decree. I couldn’t read it, but I could make out the official seal of Y’Elestrial.

“One more thing. Queen Asteria and Queen Tanaquar have agreed to send your father to Aladril, to speak to the seers and see if they can help. He leaves in the morning.”

That was a surprise. Dropping in on Aladril was no small feat, and to dare ask them for help meant that both queens felt the impending war might not go their way. I shot a glance at my father, who was standing, arms behind his back, in typical guardsman stance.

“So, that is our news. Taath says the sorcerers are creating magical weapons—spells, charms of all sorts, anything they can to do as much damage as possible. And they are attempting to harness the magic of the sands—dangerous, unpredictable…”

“The magic left over from the Scorching Wars.” I softly let out my breath. The rogue magic of the sands was inherent in the lands down there, long ago imprinted during the Scorching Wars when the sorcerers laid waste to vast swaths of forest and grassland, leaving only charred, burned desert in their wake. The magical residue of battle had sunk into the land, turning it into a wild, dangerous place.

“Yes, and it’s not hard for them to harvest. Especially with someone like Telazhar. And especially since he does, indeed, possess one of the spirit seals.” Telazhar put down the papers and sat back. “Okay, so that’s where we’re at.”

I smiled softly. Since being around us, Trenyth had picked up some ES slang, but if I pointed it out, he’d find a way to deny it. So, instead, I just leaned forward and turned off the voice recorder.

“Got it. Thanks, Trenyth. And I suppose…well, I’ll fill in the Triple Threat on what’s going on. We’re all in this together, especially since Gulakah is putting the pressure on over here.”

I told him what was happening with the eggs and ghost harvests. “I’m going in tomorrow night to infiltrate. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

“Be careful, Camille. Gulakah is smart. You can’t trust anyone at his network. They’re all in his pocket, one way or another.” Trenyth stood up, letting my father take the chair again.

Sephreh just sat there, staring at me, a solemn look on his face.

“What?”

“Leethe is dead.” He lowered his gaze. It was the first time I’d heard his voice crack in a long, long time.

I stuttered, unable to speak. Leethe, our housekeeper and cook. She’d taught me how to manage the house after our mother died. She’d done her best to comfort me when he yelled at me for not keeping things just the way Mother did, and she’d covered for me when I came in late from partying. Leethe had been old when Father brought Mother back to Otherworld. But she hadn’t been old enough to die.

“What happened?” I didn’t want to hear—didn’t want to hear of a horrible death. Didn’t want to hear that she’d suffered.

Father let out a slow breath. “She was hanging out the washing. Apparently, when the new girl—she hired a young girl to help her lift the water and carry things—dumped the washing water, she spilled some on the flagstones in back of the house. On her way back inside, Leethe was carrying the clothes basket, and she didn’t see that the stones were slippery. She stepped on a slick spot and fell. She…hit her head on a sharp stone. It killed her instantly.”

I sat very still, searching for something to say. I was so used to deaths from battle and collateral damage. I’d seen eighteen people mowed down by the spirit demons earlier today, and while it wrenched me, it didn’t hit me like this news. Leethe had been comfort and home, and her arms had been big enough to embrace all three of us girls when we returned from Mother’s death ceremony. Leethe had been
foundation
.

Father cleared his throat. “Camille? Did you want to say anything to her family? They’re coming to pick up her body tomorrow.”

Of course they were. They’d seen the shattered soul statue and knew she was gone, just like I’d seen Mother’s and knew she had died. I wondered who had found it. Maybe her sister, or her niece? Leethe had been unmarried, and while she’d had numerous lovers, she’d never borne a child.

“Camille…Camille?” Sephreh’s voice cut through my thoughts.

Shaking my head, I tried to snap myself out of the fog. “Um…please, tell them…I don’t know what to say. There’s so much…she was such a part of our lives. I wish we could make it home for the funeral, but I don’t think we can.” I paused, and then, pressing my hand against the glass, I said, “Please tell them we loved her. She was family.”

Sephreh reached out then and pressed his fingers against the glass to meet mine. “I will, daughter. I’d better go now. But…”

“Yes?” My hand was still pressed against the reflection of his.

“When the civil war was going on, I kept thinking, if we win this, then I’ll bring my daughters home. And we won, but then Shadow Wing loomed larger and you couldn’t even think of coming back. I understood. But every day now, I think about you and your sisters and the dangers you face, and I worry.”

He leaned forward. “Camille, I want you to promise me, stay as safe as you can. Lean on your husbands when you need to. Tell your sister Delilah…she needs to let Shade help her. And Menolly…well, she needs to protect her wife.” Pausing, he waited for me to say something, anything.

After a moment, I said the words I’d been longing to say for months but had shelved on ice, believing I might never say them again. “I love you, Father.”

He leaned back, straightening his shoulders, and slowly withdrew his hand from the Whispering Mirror. “I love you, and your sisters. More than you will ever probably know. And now, good night.”

“Good night. Sleep well.”

The light in the mirror faded back into a milky swirl of fog, and I covered it with the black velvet cloth. I picked up the voice recorder and, carrying it with me, opened the doors leading out on the balcony. My floor was the only one that had a balcony, and we often gathered here when the weather was good, to watch the stars and talk.

But tonight the rain was coming down in torrential sheets, and I stayed out for only a moment before darting back
inside and locking the doors. I quietly exited the study and, hearing Delilah and Shade on the steps, hurried to the landing to stop them before they rounded the curve leading up to the third floor.

“Father called. Trenyth was there. We have news of the war.” I paused, then went on. “And Leethe, she had an accident. She died.”

Delilah uttered a little “Oh,” but I knew that Leethe’s death would hit me the hardest. I’d been the one to turn to her time and again, just as my sisters had turned to me.

“I’ll take this and transcribe it before bed.” Delilah took the voice recorder from me. “You go rest. I know…you go rest.” She leaned down and kissed my forehead, then motioned for Shade to follow her up. I heard her explaining to him who Leethe had been as they vanished around the corner.

Turning back to my rooms, I opened the bedroom door. Smoky was reading—some suspense thriller by J. A. Jance. Trillian was doing sit-ups on the floor, and Morio was sprawled across the bed, one arm over his face.

Grateful for their presence, grateful they were in my life and that I didn’t have to face the night alone, I shut the door behind me and shut out the world.

The winds were playing around me, and I opened my eyes. The ocean next to me sloshed against the beach, the gray sheen meeting the silver of the skies, to blend into one long, merged watercolor landscape.

Fuck. Not again. The Ocean of Anger…

I was barefoot, struggling through the sand that shifted with every step. There was something I needed to know. I also realized that I wasn’t inside Gulakah’s mind, because the overwhelming fear wasn’t present.

Stopping, I turned to the choppy water, shading my eyes as I gazed over it. There were waves, cresting against the shore—breakers coming in.

I loved the water, loved the restless energy of the ocean and the depths of emotion buried beneath it. But the ocean was as joyous as she was volatile, as generous as she was demanding.

Here, this particular ocean was filled only with anger. There was no joy, no frolicking dream—only a brooding
nightmare. Here, spirits didn’t haunt the waves on ghost ships—they
were
the waves.

And then I saw it—saw something I recognized. Gulakah, rising from the depths. As I watched, he began spitting something into the sea, spraying it like a battery of bullets. Orbs…silvery orbs. Silver orbs—oh hell,
this
was where the spirit demons came from.

Created from the very depths of the primal pool, the eggs—and the spirit demons—must be a manifestation of all the resentful ghosts and spirits that inhabited the realm. Somehow, the imbalance must have given them the power to manifest. And Gulakah was able to use that power, drawing on the vast sea of fury and wrath to which he was tied.

I squatted down, watching. No wonder the spirit demons and bhouts fed on magic—they thrived on it here.

Here, it was easy to see he was a god. He was huge—towering over the landscape, with his olive green reptilian scales and serpent-infested hair. His roving eyeballs, now fully in their sockets, were a dull black, and his face, a snout, much like that of an alligator’s. Jagged, razor-sharp teeth filled his mouth as he opened it and let out a long shout that reverberated through water and shore.

Petrified, but reminding myself that I was
not actually in his mind
, I watched, looking for some clue that might help us. And then I saw it. A thick, pulsating, silver cord ran from the back of his tailbone directly into the ocean—and I knew that was how he was getting his power. And if we could disconnect that cord…

“You understand now.” Pentangle stood beside me. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the Lord of Ghosts.

“We have to cut the cord that binds him here. But will that help us destroy him?” I rose to my feet, standing beside her, basking in the crackling energy that flowed off her.

She nodded, her headdress perfectly aligned, though it looked far too heavy to wear comfortably. “A god without his energy source is a wounded god. Remember, his power
does not come from the Subterranean Realms. And even the gods can die. But you must attack him from his own realm. The realm of the dead.”

“And how do we do that? Even if we can find him, how do we get him over to the Netherworld? We aren’t strong enough.”

“The balance must be restored.” She handed me a small silver orb. “This…will help you when the time comes. You cannot use it except for the task I appoint to you. This will gate you and Gulakah into the Netherworld. But you must touch him.”

Before I could say another word, she vanished, and I looked back at the orb in my hand. It began to melt and then absorb into my palm, and I felt a rush of energy as the charm became part of me.

A loud roar caught my attention, and I looked back out over the ocean. Gulakah was wading into the ocean. He dipped his snout in the water and caught up a spirit orb, tilting his head back. And even though I knew I wasn’t really in his mind, I shivered as he began to crack open the egg and devour the demons inside, and grow stronger.

I struggled to wake, blurry from the dream. Quickly, I sat up and looked at my hand. Sure enough, a shimmer of silver flickered from a strange rune imprinted on my palm. It had been real. Pentangle had given me a gate spell.

A glance at the clock told me that I’d slept in. When I came downstairs, it was almost noon. Tomorrow was Beltane. Tomorrow night, Morio and I were due out at Talamh Lonrach Oll for the full moon.

I hurried through the kitchen and out back. The rain had departed and the day was actually rather warm—the temperature was nearly sixty. I wandered over beyond the trailer, stopped short by the sight of Morio, Smoky, Rozurial, and Trillian as they worked on the house, with shirtless, glistening backs as they hammered and nailed and built a home for our Iris.

They looked up, and all of them waved. I stood there, smiling, leaning against the side of the trailer—which was going back to the rental agency today—and soaked up the sight of my men. Even Roz—though he was just a friend—all of them were family.

Waving for them to come in, I turned and headed back to the kitchen. I wanted to tell them my news, but it would be easier when everybody was gathered inside. And it wasn’t like I could run out in the next five minutes, find Gulakah, and gate him over to the Netherworld where we could…garrote him or whatever it was going to take to kill him. I forced myself to sit at the table while Hanna set a plate of waffles and bacon in front of me.

As I started to eat, caught up in my thoughts, I realized that Delilah, Iris, and Vanzir were all being oversolicitous. After about the third “How are you feeling?” I pushed back my plate and set down my fork.

“I’m not eating another bite until you tell me why you’re all being so nice. I’m not sick, so what gives? It’s not like I don’t appreciate your concern—because I do—but I’d like to know what the hell is going on.”