Storm Warned (The Grim Series) (14 page)

Morgan complied as quickly as she could. Hell, if the ellyll had asked her to run around the house three times naked, she’d probably do it—she trusted him that much, and his unusual brand of magic had saved many a situation. But she had a feeling he wasn’t telling her all he knew. When she returned she laid a hand gently over Ranyon’s twiggy fingers. “Are we still in danger?” she whispered. “I’ve never heard of an anghenfil. You said it wasn’t mortal or fae, so what the hell is it?”

“Anghenfilod are shadow creatures, beasts of the Inbetween.”

“The
what
?”

She must have looked as blank as she felt because Ranyon patted her hand as if she were a child and started over. “D’ya know how Lurien brings his Wild Hunt all the way from Wales to here, or how Gwenhidw comes to pay you a visit, or how any of the Tylwyth Teg travel over the Wide Waters to this place?”

Morgan nodded. “Sure, they use what they call a
way
. It’s some kind of magical shortcut or a door between places, right? Sort of like being in Los Angeles, and on the other side of the door is New York. Jay and Brooke got into a big discussion one night, and they think the ways are really interdimensional gateways or space-time wormholes.”

“Worse things than worms dwell in the Inbetween, good lady.”

She was about to explain that there were no actual worms involved, but the solemn expression on his face stopped her. In fact, his uncharacteristic seriousness was more than a little scary. “Ranyon, are you saying that some kind of creatures actually live
inside
the ways?”

“Aye, and not just Anghenfilod,” he continued. “There are as many kinds of monsters in the Inbetween as there are fae in the Nine Realms. Maybe more.”

Of course there are.
The more things Morgan learned about the faery realm, the more it sounded like a bad sci-fi movie that she couldn’t walk out of.
I don’t even get popcorn . . .

“Most of the ways are very small.” The ellyll held up a long, twiggy finger. “One person can come and go. Or one grim, but few will hold more than that. ’Tis how I made my own way here, dontcha know.”

“
You
had to go through a way?”

“Aye, and a narrow one it was. If I had ta be doin’ it again, I’d be choosin’ an airplane. It must be a
brammer
of a way to travel—ya don’t have to use a bit o’ magic!”

There was no point explaining that modern air travel was anything but a wondrous experience. Instead she asked, “Can anyone go through a way?”

He shook his head. “Only if they have enough power to do so. Even a small way requires a great deal of magic in order to use it. Ya must open the way, and hold it open long enough to pass through, but ya must also repel the creatures that live there.”

That doesn’t sound good.
“What happens if you don’t?”

“Then you won’t be returning, good lady. The creatures of the Inbetween feast upon magic, which is why they devour travelers like the Fair Ones whenever they can.”

“But . . . But Queen Gwenhidw . . . and Lurien. They both travel here a
lot
!”

“And they command a great deal of power, dontcha know. Enough to use the Great Way that King Arthfael discovered, a way that leads directly from the Nine Realms to Tir Hardd. The Lord of the Wild Hunt alone has enough magic that all who follow him can travel it freely. ’Tis a fine highway I’m told, wide enough that five or six can ride abreast. A’course, there’s a bit of a drawback,” he said, and rearranged his Blue Jays cap on his head. “The monsters in it are bigger too.”

Of course they are . . .
Morgan rubbed her head as if trying to work Ranyon’s words into her brain. Where the hell was Jay when she needed him? This interdimensional travel stuff was definitely his department.

“The Great Way is where the Anghenfilod live,” continued the ellyll.
“
’Tis the only place big enough to hold them. An anghenfil is a great huge shapeless beast, like a soulless shadow, and blacker than anything in yer mortal world. They exist nowhere else—and thank all the stars fer that—and never have they been known to leave.”

“Um, wasn’t there one outside just now?”

Ranyon folded his arms. “Well, now, some fool’s been stirrin’ the pot, now hasn’t he?”

“Maelgwn.”

“Aye, it’s his fault fer certain, that idiot prince and his private band of troublemakers, that an anghenfil came here. It’s not likely Maelgwn would have enough magic of his own to open up the Way, mind ya, but all he’d need is a bwgan stone or two to magnify whate’er power he’s got.”

“I thought those stones were pretty darn rare.” Her husband, Rhys, had one, a big one. He’d been forced to battle a monstrous bwgan that the Tylwyth Teg had sent to kill him, and had pried the dark glittering stone from the skull of the creature after slaying it. Morgan couldn’t help but shiver as she thought of the horrible, toothy skeleton that was buried somewhere on their farm . . .
Archeologists in some distant future are going to have a field day with
that
thing.

“As a member of the royal family, Maelgwn likely was given a bwgan stone of his own. If not, he knows where to find a few of the cursed things. One way or t’other, he’s opened the Way.” Ranyon looked thoughtful for a moment. “If he was too stupid to close it properly, one of the monsters might have trailed him, hoping to make a meal of a grim or two. The prince had at least half a hundred of the great black dogs with him when he ran his hunt through Liam’s farm.”

“Grims? They like to eat
grims
? You didn’t tell me
that
part!”

“I told ya, they’ll eat anything fae, even warths and bwganod and the Fair Ones themselves.”

“And ellylls like you?”

He slapped a twiggy hand over his heart as if it pained him. “I keep tellin’ ya, ’tis one ellyll, and two
ellyllon
!”

“Sorry. I do try to remember, but the language still confuses me.”

“
Hmpf.
But as fer yer question, no. ’Tis as Caris said: elementals have an older, deeper magic from the earth itself, dontcha know, and ’tis fair to say”—he held up a narrow fist—“it doesn’t
agree
with the likes of Anghenfilod.”

Just as Morgan was starting to relax a little, he added: “The creatures of the Inbetween do seem particular fond o’ death dogs, though. I don’t think one’s been eaten in the past hundred years—they’re far too quick to be caught as a rule—but the Anghenfilod aren’t about to give up the notion.”

“
But Caris was a grim!
Surely, she can’t be safe here? And what about my husband? And Aidan?”

“Now that’s a different story, dontcha know. Neither of
us
detected Caris, did we? If it weren’t for the silver collar we found, we’d never have known what she used to be.”

Morgan wasn’t convinced. “What about smell? Or—or maybe the color of her aura? Is there anything to give her away, anything at all that you or I might not notice, but one of these monsters would?”

The little ellyll shook his head. “The only thing that could detect her now is another grim. Remember when Rhys and Aidan met? They knew each other’s secret the moment they shook hands. But an anghenfil wouldn’t be interested in them or in Caris, ’cause none of them are grims anymore. They’re human.” He shrugged. “No magic in ’em. And it’s only magic the beasts are after.”

Morgan wanted that in writing. The whole story just didn’t fit in with any of the faery stories she’d read as a child—although she had to admit,
Monsters of the Inbetween
hadn’t exactly been on her bookshelf. “Just for my own sanity, Ranyon, tell me again that they don’t eat humans. Please?”

“Anghenfilod can’t eat
anything
that belongs to the mortal plane,” he said. “Now meself, on the other hand, I’m more than fond of the food here. And I’m fearful if that meal doesn’t happen along soon, I’ll be lying on the floor, too weak from hunger to move so much as a finger.”

Ranyon proceeded to mug his most pathetic expression, complete with big sad eyes and quivering bottom lip, until Morgan couldn’t help but roll her own eyes.

“I am
so
not letting you watch
Shrek
anymore,” she said. “And we’re definitely not done with this conversation. What I’m hearing is that we have a bunch of very large monsters running around that won’t eat humans but might kill them anyway if they get too close. Am I right? Is that why you’re charming the house?”

“No fae creature has come near yer own home uninvited lately,” said the ellyll. “And yer the dearest of friends with the queen herself. Yet you and yer good man still take plenty o’ precautions just the same.”

It was true. If someone melted down all the iron horseshoes and nails that studded every roofline, every doorway, and every fencepost of the Celtic Renaissance Training Center, they could probably make a cauldron the size of a ten-person hot tub. Rhys added more iron charms all the time and regularly salted the fence lines and gateways for good measure. As much as she’d like to believe they were finished with the darker forces of the faery realm, she knew better.
There’s never going to be an end to it. They’re going to come back, sooner or later.
“We’re just trying to be prepared.”

“Aye. And I’m preparin’ too.” The ellyll sighed deeply. “Because it’s worrying me greatly that the anghenfil might not be alone. Where there’s one, there’s usually many, dontcha know. And if they’re still here, then maybe Maelgwn hasn’t left at all. Otherwise, they would have followed him back into the Inbetween.”

“Now wait just a minute! I thought the hunt had to return to the Nine Realms before dawn. It’s a rule!”

“The
true
Hunt, the Wild Hunt led by Lurien himself, must return to the kingdom at the end of the night. Private hunts are expected to return as well. And if fer some reason they cannot make the trip in time, they must camp where’er they be until the night comes round again. That’s only because it’s written in the fae law, mind ya, not a’cause of any necessity. They’re not like umpires that sparkle in the sun, dontcha know.”

“
Vampires
. And in most books, they don’t sparkle—they burn up.”

“Aye, well, a hunt doesn’t do either one of those things.”

“Then why have a law?”

Ranyon looked aghast. “Good lady, the law was made to allow respite for the mortal realm during the sunlight hours. ’Tis not fair to humans for the fae to trouble them
all
the time.”

She wasn’t sure how
fair
it was to have the Fair Ones troubling them at all. Just the thought of the Wild Hunt roaming freely 24-7 made her feel ill. “Well, then, what about a
rogue
hunt, like Maelgwn’s?”

The ellyll sighed again. “They’ll do as they please, now won’t they? Until someone from the realm stops them. But I imagine the prince has prepared for that.”

Morgan studied Ranyon’s face carefully, and what she saw there astonished her. “You think Maelgwn left the Great Way open at this end
on purpose
! But—but he’s Tylwyth Teg, isn’t he? You just told me that these creatures eat his kind.”

“That they do. And he might be counting on that very thing. Caris did say that the prince wanted Tir Hardd for his very own. But he’s far from strong enough to take it and keep it by himself.”

It didn’t take much to put it together, but it was nearly overwhelming to say out loud. Her voice came out as a whisper. “What if—what if he’s formed an alliance with the residents of the Inbetween?”

Ranyon’s expression said it all.

TWELVE

D
espite her relief at being indoors, away from whatever might be skulking about and watching them, Caris felt like an intruder herself to be wandering through Liam’s home without him. And that feeling was amplified by Ranyon’s revelation about the house being alive in some strange way. Was it aware of only itself, or was it aware of her as well? Did it understand her intentions? Her curiosity was huge about other, more basic things, too—whatever did Liam do here in such an enormous space all by himself? It would take two of her father’s stone farmhouses to fill it, and there’d be room left over. The attic alone, filled with dusty boxes and old furniture, would shelter a fair-sized family.

Caris had hoped to gain just a
little
insight into Liam from his home, but the house had definitely been decorated with a feminine hand. No doubt his aunt had lovingly chosen the pretty floral wallpapers, elaborate quilts, and lace curtains in the upstairs rooms. Of course, even if Liam
had
added any male touches to the house, it would be impossible to tell now. Glass was everywhere, pictures had fallen from walls, and countless things had toppled from shelves and shattered. The lush carpets were rain-soaked and dirty, shards of glass driven into them. Even the lovely hand-sewn bedding glistened not just with moisture but with millions of crystal-clear slivers. She entered a once-attractive bedroom that had been done up in delicate fern greens. The hues reminded her of Rhedyn, the faery who had attempted to help her.

Now the pleasing colors were just a backdrop for a thick scattering of dark, wet chestnut leaves . . . As Caris placed one of Ranyon’s magical charms on each broad sill, she glanced out the gaping gabled windows. What had the yard looked like before the storm? There was only a mass of broken trees and a giant’s dustbin of garbage as far as the eye could see. Added to the scoured fields and the great roofless barn, it was a sobering reminder of the immense destructive power that Maelgwn and his hunting party had unleashed.

Just for sport.

Anger surged through her. Anger about the yard and the house, about the farm and the livestock, and most of all, anger that Liam had been injured.
He could so easily have been killed
, she thought as she continued her task of placing charms as she’d been instructed, sometimes having to brush away a pile of glass to do so.
The Tylwyth Teg have neither care nor concern
, she thought.
And there’s no one to stand up to them—or to Maelgwn—but Lurien and Queen Gwenhidw.
Did they know where the prince was? Did they have any notion of his grand plans to rule Tir Hardd?
And if I were to tell them, what could I say? He said he wants Tir Hardd, but he didn’t say how he planned to get it.
Maybe Maelgwn had no plans at all. Maybe he was simply speaking out of temper, still furious that he didn’t get to be in charge of the place.
Rather like a spoiled child who didn’t get what he wanted
, she thought
—
except that this child was incredibly dangerous.

She finished her task on the second floor and went downstairs to the living room, depositing the little talismans along its tall windows. The bowl was empty when she entered the kitchen where Morgan and Ranyon waited at the table.

“I’ve set out the charms but—oh, I see you’ve done these ones already.” She stopped and took a good look at her new friends’ faces. “Whatever is wrong? Both of you are like to have seen a ghost. Is Liam okay?”

Morgan put her hands up. “He’s fine. Honest.”

“We’re just not certain how fine he’ll be after we tell him about the fae,” said Ranyon.

“You’re going to
tell
him?” Caris could hardly believe what she was hearing. “Then we must surely be in dire straits, for it’s dangerous for mortals to know such things. The Fair Ones have been known to kill to protect their secrets.”

“Aye, but we won’t be asking their permission, now will we?” asked Ranyon. “And as fer killin’, the Tylwyth Teg have never needed any particular excuse to shed blood, fae or human.”

Or to imprison them forever
, she thought, and shivered in spite of the heat. “You’re both right, of course. It’ll be a hard thing for him to hear, but a good thing. Liam deserves to know what he’s facing and a chance to defend what’s his.” He would want that, she was sure of it. “But will he listen to us? Couldn’t Ranyon just, well—just
appear
to him instead?”

“If he sees a strange and mysterious creature . . .” began Morgan.

“Who are ya calling strange?”

“Not like that, Ranyon, honest,” she explained. “I mean, if Liam sees something he’s
not familiar with
, he’s sure to think he’s hallucinating, and he’ll probably blame it on his concussion. I think our best shot is to talk to him reasonably first.”

Caris wasn’t convinced. “Reasonable? There’s not a reasonable thing about it. If we tell him a wild story about faeries, he’s sure to think we’re
all
touched in the head.” It bothered her a great deal that Liam had questioned her sanity. She understood what it must have sounded like when she’d talked of the fae, but still . . . “I surely wish we didn’t have to tell Liam at all.”

Morgan rose and put a kind hand on her shoulder. “I understand. You don’t know how much
I
wish we didn’t have to tell him, but not because he’ll think we’re nuts. It’s because once you know about the fae, you can’t ever go back and
unknow
. It’s like a loss of innocence for a human being,” she explained. “And then you’ll be watching your back forever.”

“I hadn’t looked at it that way,” said Caris. She hadn’t considered that perhaps Liam—or anyone for that matter—might
prefer
to remain in the dark. For a moment, she remembered her own younger self, carefree and without fear, completely unaware that the faeries and monsters of the old stories were far from imaginary. It was indeed easier not to know—but it had also left her vulnerable.

“I see danger everywhere now,” continued Morgan. “I’m learning to live with it, which is why I’m able to leave my home and go to work every day—I refuse to let the Fair Ones win by being afraid to live my life. But some days it’s hard, and I can’t help but wish I didn’t know what I do.”

The ellyll rolled his eyes. “Seems to me ya did everything ya could think of in order
not
to know
the truth o’ things!”

“Yeah, you’re right about that. I really did fight it.” She shook her head. “When Rhys first tried to tell me, it caused us a lot of problems and pain, long before we were ready to handle them. I hadn’t learned to trust him yet, and I couldn’t—
wouldn’t
—accept the existence of the fae. Not until they nearly killed us.”

“Here’s hoping that Liam won’t be as stubborn,” said Ranyon.

Caris hoped so too. “Who’s going to be telling him?”

“I say we wait for Jay, and then we tell him together as soon as the opportunity presents itself,” said Morgan. “Normally, I’d wait and tell him on the weekend when Rhys can be here too—but with monsters running around, I don’t think we should wait.”

“And after we tell him, then what?”

“And then it’ll be up to Liam to find the strength to believe,” said Morgan.

He can do it
, thought Caris, her instincts certain of it.
I know he can, if he puts his mind to it.
But she suspected Liam Cole was also a stubborn man, and she’d seen for herself a fearsome amount of anger and pain behind his vivid blue eyes.

“First things first, good ladies,” said Ranyon, and motioned for them to sit on each side of him. “Both of ya hold tight to yer chairs. It’s time to put things to rights.”

Grinning, he clapped his narrow palms together
once
. . . And the entire house heaved beneath their feet like a live thing.

Liam stepped out of the cab in front of his roadside mailbox and paid the fare. His head was sore, his brain was sore—hell, even his goddamn
hair
was sore. At least he’d had his wallet in his jeans when he’d been taken to the hospital, and a kind nurse had come up with a tent-sized T-shirt so he didn’t have to travel home bare-chested. He tried to ignore the fact that purple wasn’t his color and, in fact, matched the bruising that was spreading out from his hairline over his forehead.

The driver eyed him with concern. “I’d be happy to walk you to the house, mister.”

“I’ll be fine,” Liam replied automatically, although he wasn’t so certain of that now that he was standing up. He knew the house was set back from the road, but it seemed like a frickin’ mile away. Maybe two. “I’ll go slow,” he promised, wondering whether maybe he could just lie down on the grass and rest for a while first. Instead, he waved a hand at Morgan’s truck that was parked across the driveway. “I’ve got friends here, so I’m not going to be by myself.”

“I’ll let them know you’re here, then,” said the driver, and cheerfully hammered out three skull-searing blasts of the horn on the steering wheel.

The noise echoed and pulsed inside Liam’s injured head, and he fully expected to throw up or black out, or both. All was forgotten when a curvy woman with long black hair and a bright smile opened the seldom-used front door. Liam simply stared, not even noticing when the cab drove away.

Caris Ellen Dillwyn was even
more
appealing than he remembered.

She ran down the sidewalk and slipped a supportive arm around his waist before gravity could overpower him. Her body was solid and warm against his—and it felt more than simply good. It felt
right
. If only he had the strength, he wouldn’t mind standing there until the proverbial cows came home just because she fit so damn nicely under his shoulder.

Smells good too.
Of course, anything would after being inside a hospital, but Caris possessed a unique scent, subtle but heady, something like wild roses mixed with fresh-cut hay. How had he missed that earlier? As she looked up at him with dark, chocolate eyes, every question he’d so carefully planned to ask her about her canine claims evaporated.
Time enough for that later.
Right now, he couldn’t care less if she told him she was a unicorn.

“Here, now, whatever are you doing back so soon?” she asked. “I thought you were going to let your physician watch over you tonight.”

“I didn’t like the food,” he said. She didn’t even crack a smile at the classic hospital complaint, but then he was pretty damn rusty at telling jokes.

“Well, then, I’ll be glad to make you a bite to eat,” she said. “Whene’er you’re feeling steady, we’ll head in and sit you down.”

In spite of the fact that he was clutching her shoulder for balance, Liam didn’t think he would ever feel steadier than he did in this moment. Somehow, it seemed that Caris hadn’t righted his body but instead had gimballed the rest of the world into its proper place . . .

“I’d like to stay right here for a minute.”
Or twenty.
He reached out with his free hand to lightly cup the side of her face. Her chocolate eyes widened, and her lips parted slightly in surprise, but she didn’t pull back. Her skin was soft against his palm, and if he’d had the strength (and a mouth that tasted less like old carpet) he might have thought about coaxing a kiss from her. Instead, he held Caris’s wondering gaze with his own as he withdrew his hand slowly, circling his fingers on her cheek in a soft caress as they left. He even managed a slight smile—at least he hoped it was a smile. His face didn’t quite feel like his own yet.

“I’m as steady as I’m ever going to be, I think,” he said.
Because of you
, he didn’t say.

Caris seemed to come back to herself, as if she’d been far away. “Right, then, let’s give it a go, shall we? We’ll take it slow and easy.”

Of course, his lower brain couldn’t help but get ideas from a line like that, but there was also something simple, earthy, and oh-so-pleasant about it. It made him smile enough to aggravate his headache, which of course brought his attention back to where it was needed a hell of a lot more: trying to walk to the house.