

Sidhe's Call

Christy G. Thomas

Published by Christy G. Thomas

Smashwords Edition

©Copyright 2011 Christy G. Thomas

All Rights Reserved by Author

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedicated to Dad and Bob.

Memories never die.

Aboard the _Mohongo_ , North Atlantic, 1849

The ship's prow dug through choppy, unforgiving waters, cutting its way as it transported masses away from lives of starvation to the unknown promises of America. Two weeks at sea and many more to endure as they bobbed on the horizon.

Below decks they huddled in threadbare blankets, mother and daughter seeking security in shadows. Mother attempted to comfort her blonde six-year-old child, wrapping one emaciated arm around the young girl.

"Mama, I'm scared," the girl whispered.

Mother pulled her dirty-haired daughter closer and whispered in her ear, attempting to block out sounds of coughing fits, vomiting, and crying of the sick and dying. "Ah, Allanah. Come here, and I'll tell you something," she whispered. "There is no reason to be frightened. Remember those stories I used to tell you back home? The ones that would lull you to sleep?"

Allanah beamed.

"Want me to tell you one now?" she asked.

Allanah emphatically nodded again, and her mother's voice took on the storyteller's cadence.

"Very well." She smoothed back her daughter's hair and secretly checked for signs of fever. Content, the mother smiled and began her story.

"In the rolling hills of Eire, before the conquests and before the famine, there lived twelve proud families. They were a blessed people, for they shared the land with our ancestor spirits, the Sidhe."

The flaxen-haired girl looked up in anticipation.

"It is true, I tell you, for my grandmother was told by her grandmother. I swear by my life, Allanah.

"The Sidhe are a magical people. They capture sunlight in their hands, take the shape of different creatures, and live for hundreds of years. For centuries, man and Sidhe lived together, peaceably; some were even known to intermarry. Men worked the land and Sidhe kept nature's balance. In those days, there were not only Sidhe living in the lands, but also scores of beings you have only heard of in fairytales. Mermaids, the red man, selkie. All roaming between our world and the Otherworld.

"Then the dark ones came from the southern lands, crossing the waters and stealing our goods. These newcomers saw the Sidhe and wanted their powers, desperate in their greed for land and riches. But the Sidhe could not share their gifts any more than you or I can share the blue of our eyes or the blush of our cheeks. When this was realized, the dark ones were not satisfied and sought to take the Sidhe powers through blood.

"War ensued for one-hundred years. Five of the twelve mortal families fought alongside the Sidhe, keeping the southern forces from annihilating the isle. But magic and blood are both very strong elements, and even the Sidhe could not outlast death. Thousands died—human and Otherworld alike—their bodies strewn about the mounds in which the Sidhe once lived. With mystical powers on their side, however, the Sidhe took back control. The war shifted, and defeat of the southern men was imminent.

"But then the fair Queen of the Sidhe was abducted, her life held by blood-lust captors. By now they knew the Sidhe abilities could not be bought, stolen, or transferred, but their thirst for dominance could not be quenched.

"In exchange for their queen's release, the Sidhe and all Otherworld creatures would leave the Earth forever, allowing the southern forces to rule where they pleased." Mother paused, caught by the concern on her daughter's young face.

"But how, you wonder, could the Sidhe do this? How could they abandon their lands and the humans they loved?

"They did not. The Sidhe's Inner Ring—a council who makes decisions for their kind—refused to pay the ransom and vowed to wipe evil from the Earth. Some say the Ring was foolish-–others say they were following the Queen's orders. But when the Sidhe scouts found their queen's lifeless body in a pool of blood, they lost all hope of victory.

"When would the bloodshed end? Never. When would the Sidhe roam the verdant hills? Never. All they could do was go to the table of compromise.

"Reluctantly, an agreement was reached between the two sides. All Otherworld creatures would leave the Earth, only allowed to return twice a year, at Beltane and Samhain. The gates were sealed, the entrances guarded, and sadness flowed over the isle."

Allanah looked up at her mother's vacant face. "But what about the Ban Sidhe? Tell me about the Ban Sidhe!"

Mother kissed her daughter's sweating brow. "Of course, the Ban Sidhe. How can one tell the story of the Sidhe without talk of the Ban Sidhe?

"All children of the isle know that when the gateways closed not all went to the Otherworld as the invaders had supposed. These elite Sidhe formed what would come to be known as the Ban Sidhe, and they hid out in the hills, their homes protected by intricately woven spells.

"Why do they hide, you ask? To watch, to protect, and to serve. Five families came to the aid of the Sidhe. Five families which the Ban Sidhe swore to watch over, even to death. They bless us at birth, comfort our sorrows, and sing us to our death, which is why they refused to leave us.

"Some say that one day the Sidhe will come back. The gateways will break open and never be shut again. But some also say that there are beings from the Otherworld whose anger against mankind has been brewing for centuries, and if the gateways unlock, the wars of hell will be loosed on Earth."

The mother paused, staring out over the ship's cargo—her fellow countrymen desperate for their lives. Allanah tugged at her sleeve to finish the story to which they both already knew the end.

Her mother crooned the poem she knew by heart,

"With every bird you chance to see,

Remember it could be Ban Sidhe,

Watching over day and night,

Soothing all your woes and fright."

Through the foggy night the ship sailed on, over the salty seas. But above the gray clouds of despair and grief, a flock of crow, gulls, and falcon kept pace, following the ship to its harbor.

Idaho, Modern Day
Chapter One

Stepping through the crowd of black and burgundy cloaks, I made my way to the cliff's edge where I could begin my new life. I pulled my robe tighter, trying to keep out the spring breezes which cut across the desert mesas. My bare toes were only inches away from the edge and reminded me of the night's ceremony. I leaned forward and looked over the side of the black cliffs and into the dark canyon below. The churning water was heard but unseen.

"It must be done," Branna muttered next to me. Her wispy black hair fluttered from the hood's opening as though trying to break free.

I fidgeted with the ties of my grey cloak, unable to make eye contact with my oldest sister. I merely stared at the fabric between my boney fingers, wishing my other sister, Bridget, was by my side tonight instead of Branna. I didn't want to look into Branna's dark eyes—eyes which always sent shivers down my back. Every time I tried to look her in the eyes, I couldn't decipher between pupil and iris; they were like small black stones encased in ivory.

"Morgan," Branna's cold voice addressed me again, "we have all waited long enough for you to take your post, and with the unrest in the northern realm, we must proceed with haste. It is time."

I knew all of this.

But what made standing there and having to just listen even worse was that Branna _knew_ that I recognized all of this. Still, we both understood that it must be said. I must be reminded. I must be treated as though I didn't realize the seriousness of the night's events.

It was ceremony. It was tradition. It was my only option.

"I know," I whispered, head still hanging, hoping she wouldn't say anything else to make me feel even more self-conscious.

Branna's cold fingertips lifted my chin, and her shadowy gaze met mine. I wanted to look away, but I told myself to stay strong and remember that this is what Father would have wanted. He would have expected me to step up and accept responsibility.

"Then let's finish this," Branna said, her voice resolute and brassy.

I slowly nodded, suddenly aware of my pale, freckled cheeks burning hot within the sable hood.

Branna carefully backed away from the mesa's edge, passing the audience of cloaked figures who stood as witnesses to my passage. I stared back at the familiar crowd, hoping I could believe in myself as much as my village seemed to.

Or maybe they showed up out of duty.

Branna made her way back to where our other sister, Bridget, stood on the stone platform, but she was stopped by a bulky arm that reached out from the crowd. It was Burke. I would know his black, tattered robe anywhere. He was the man who used to be our foster-father.

He held Branna's elbow and whispered fiercely, but I couldn't make out any of the words. His eyes shifted about the clan, as though he was making sure no one else was listening. But I could see his lips drawn tight and sense the anger in his voice.

I didn't have to hear him to know that he was concerned about my future, convinced that Branna was not always looking out for my best interest; he had been telling others in our village about his worries. Gossip quickly makes its way around Finias, our small community in the Palouse hills.

Branna briskly shook off his grip and stared at his hand as if it were diseased. Her voice rose so everyone could hear. "That is why I'm taking care of her instead of you, Burke. I never fail!"

"I hope for all of our sakes that you're right!" he boomed back from under his ragged hood.

Branna turned her back on him, continuing to the stone platform where family traditionally waits during the Incantation. She shouted back one last jeer, "Hope does not get anything done!"

Burke did not reply, but I could see it on the edge of his lips. Instead, he apologetically looked up at me from under his cloak. Soon his head became just another one among the cluster of Sidhe.

At the front of the crowd stood Onora, my mentor for the past few months, decked in her burgundy robe. She smiled up at me and nodded, trying to get me back on track with the steps of the Incantation. I remembered all of the advice she gave, the steps which must be taken, and the words which must be spoken. I stood and waited for what I knew would come.

Suddenly, Onora fell to her knees and began the wailing song. Her body rocked, and her voice echoed the discordant melody, a mix of reverie and mourning. The cracks of her age-worn face smoothed and puckered with each bar of the ancient refrain until it came to the end. She fell prostrate on the arid soil, arms outstretched, eyes transfixed on me standing at the cliff's edge.

Huddled shrouds stared on in silence, each face as pale and vacant as the next.

I turned my back on the crowd, once again facing the canyon. I threw back my grey hood, bitter air stinging my cheeks. For a moment I hesitated, my wind-blasted face struck by second-guessing what Onora had told me would happen. The height, darkness, and loneliness crept with icy fingers up my legs and arms.

_I can't do this,_ I desperately thought.

I remembered the oath I accepted, as did my twin sisters and all of those before me. Branna and Bridget took the same chance on their day of Incantation seven years ago.

But they're so different from me.

I shrugged away the tears that began to collect, ignoring the drumming in my chest which begged me to run away and back to the safety of home.

_There is no use fighting what you can't change._ That's what Mother always said. Father was the opposite—he thought anything was possible.

Taking one deep breath, I gazed at the full moon. I called out before I could change my mind, "Aistrím—préachán!"

Not even taking a look back, I dove off the cliff's edge, my heart leaping in mid-air before my body plummeted toward the rocks below.

I didn't have to see it to know what was happening up at the cliff—Onora had told me what would happen.

The crowd would converge at the edge of the bluff, some aghast, others peering expectantly over the lip of black rock. Branna and Bridget would be the only ones who stood back atop the ceremonial stone platform. Branna with her arms crossed, her brow pensive; Bridget holding her hands clasped to her chest in anticipation, gazing hopefully at the full moon. All present would be held in time, breath squelched by the silence of the mesa. Waiting, anticipating.

My cloak rustled and spun about me in the second that flew by as I tumbled toward the canyon rocks. Everything was darkness. Something wasn't right. I shouldn't have been falling anymore.

Onora would be standing at the edge in her burgundy cloak with her arms out to each side, holding the rest of the group from the edge of the chasm. Her head would slowly tilt from one shoulder to the other, fingers drumming the air as if they could feel the winds change. Her arms would fall down to her sides, head hanging down as if she were about to crumple to dust.

I patted my sides, frantically searching for an answer as to why I was still free-falling. _I said the words. I said them the exact way I had practiced._ _Aistrím—préachán!_ The words ran through my mind again, making sure they were the right ones. Did my voice betray me? Did I put an accent in the wrong place?

I shut my eyes, ready for the impact which would end my sixteen-year stay on Earth.

But then my legs began to shake, tingles chased up my limbs, and my heart raced faster than before. My cloak was gone and my long black hair fluttered one last time.

And then I stopped falling.

Bridget would be wiping a tear from her eye and go back to staring at the moon, her eyes tracing its craters in comforting monotony. Branna would be readying herself for action in case my ceremony turned tragic.

But she didn't have to leap to the rescue.

Onora cried from the ravine's edge, "She's done it!" Her robe flurried as she turned round the crowd, her arthritic arms raised in triumph. "She's done it! The little waif's done it!" Her voice rattled through the night, beckoning the crowd to join her in shouts and hurrahs.

Bridget's face relaxed into an approving smile while Branna stood back in stoic pride.

Onora screeched again, "Here she comes!"

From the depths of the caverns I flew like a shadow, mounting up the canyon wall at tremendous speed. As I neared the top of the plateau, the crowd drew back in awe. Suspended in mid-flight, I gave one caw to the onlookers, my feathers shining obsidian, and then I took off in crow-form like a dark comet across the night sky.

With the name of my human ward in my head, I flew west, instinct taking over as I tracked. I stopped to perch on a scrubby tree, collecting my thoughts.

I can't believe I did it!

For a second I thought that I was going to die, but there I was, in bird-form, just like Onora told me it would be.

Maybe there are other possibilities for my future. Maybe not everything is as it is written!

My thoughts were interrupted by the rustle of branches above me. I rotated and tilted my head to see a dark figure looming above me.

"Nice work, Morgan," he said, his figure just an outline backlit by the moon.

I knew his gruff voice anywhere.

"Thanks, Burke," I shyly replied.

His owl-form hopped down a few branches until he sat next to me. "And I'm not just saying that."

I didn't say anything. This wasn't part of the plan. I was supposed to be tracking the human who the Inner Ring appointed as my first assignment. Burke wasn't supposed to be here.

"Your sisters are conflicted," he continued.

"No kidding," I replied with a slight chuckle. Conflicted was an understatement. Bridget and Branna didn't usually see things the same way. "I heard your little scuffle with Branna."

"Ah, yes, sorry about that. I didn't really think she was going to make a scene." Burke shifted on the branch, his wide eyes darting around. "I think you should know that I never wanted to shirk my responsibility for you. Your father told me to keep watch over you, and I intend to do so—even if Branna kicked me out of your place."

It had been a year since Branna told Burke to leave the mound at Finias. She was always chastising me in front of him and Bridget, and one day he just couldn't take it anymore. Words were exchanged—things which neither one should have said.

He wanted to take me with him, but Branna would not allow it. The Inner Ring listened to both of their cases and sided with Branna because she is my blood-relation. Since then, I've only seen him in passing or brief encounters at the market.

"Everyone's talking about the prophecy," he said.

I rolled my eyes. I was so sick of hearing about some ancient prophecy foretold by a crazy seer. I knew the "Prophecy of the Thousand-Year Sidhe" by heart and quickly ran its lines through my head.

Blood denotes dark induction

of circling evils looming.

The Gatekeeper's abduction,

begins our new Queen's blooming.

Cry fierce calls, crow carrion!

Millennia shall she reign.

Bright and dim souls ferry on

to Otherworld and remain.

O'er the ebbing multitude

on bristling equine keening,

one who breaks death's quietude

shall ripen souls for gleaning.

Cries incite the battleground

where Sidhe fend back Hell's phantoms

and hero's faint death rattle sounds --

no penance for soul's ransom.

When war is at conclusion,

bodies festering in mud,

she'll break through all illusion --

pale arms bathed in Keeper's blood.

Burke spoke again, breaking my trance. "When your sisters did not fulfill the prophecy, you know that everyone looked to you, Morgan."

"I know," I muttered. I knew it more than anyone else because I was the one who had to live through all the whispers and rumors around Finias.

"And there's something else." His feet pattered nervously on the branch. "In the human papers there has been a report of a kelpie sighting near the Northern Gateway. Something is amiss, and I think it only fair that you know what your sister has been saying."

"Honestly, Burke, I don't think I need you telling me anything. She's always been more than willing to let me know exactly what she thinks."

Burke chuckled, the branch bobbing under his weight. "True, but she's concerned. When she was your age, she was already done with her complete Incantation period and serving the Inkers. She believes that you need to step forward and take your place. Then maybe this whole business of the prophecy and troubles in the north will be resolved."

I shrugged. I didn't believe in this prophecy any more than I believed in my father ever returning to Finias. "I guess we'll see," I muttered.

"Just think about it, Morgan. That's all." The branch bent one last time as Burke took off. "I'll be keeping watch, even if it is from a distance," he called back to me as he flew back home.

I watched as his owl-form faded into the night, and suddenly I felt so alone and yet so free. I wished no one would watch me at this point. I was so sick of having everyone picking apart every move I made.

Why can't I just go back to being plain old Morgan?

I leapt from my perch and continued on my way, in search of answers, unsure as to what lay for me beyond the desert hills.

Chapter Two

Aidan awkwardly tossed over and over again on the back bench of the grey minivan. His torso wriggled in a struggle against the seatbelt as his parents drove in inky night through the high deserts of southern Idaho. He punched his pillow a few times, just to fluff it up, and tried to keep his shaggy red hair in the perfect position—covering his eyes from any disturbing lights, but avoiding tickling his own face.

Just as he started to relax his aching bones into the ill-fitting seat, he felt a slight tickle of a few lone hair strands stirred by car vents.

"Agggghhh!" he growled as he struggled to find the perfect sleeping position, slapping hair out of his face. For a brief second he wondered if his dad was right, and he should have cut off his "mop." But Aidan never admitted when his dad was right and he was wrong. Or at least he wouldn't admit anything to his dad since that night three months ago, right after New Year's.

His mind wandered to why he was on the trip with his family anyway. Some business having to do with Uncle Quinn, but Aidan didn't know why _he_ had to go—he was fifteen now and could keep himself out of trouble for one week. Besides, Ms. Harbisher next door would have kept her beady eyes trained on him the whole time.

_Nosey old bag_ , he scoffed to himself as he turned over once again.

Still, she would have at least saved him the hellish twelve-hour car ride.

The van gently edged around a sharp bend. Aidan's fifteen-year-old frame drifted with the motion. His knobby knees knocked against each other to the left and then back again toward the window with each turn. Perhaps the van's swaying could lull him to sleep. The key was finding the right sleeping spot.

Aidan nestled his head against the cool window, shoving the pillow on top of his head to block out light and draft, grateful he was finally able to ignore his younger brother's snoring and the low hum of his sister's music long enough to. . . drift. . . off.

He dreamt of walking through his house, but it wasn't really his house. He knew that much. Yet his mind registered it as home. The front door was off its hinges and smashed to splintered boards. A glowing green axe rested atop the remains, but Aidan did not feel panic.

Looking around, he saw no immediate threat. No intruder. He merely saw a large, curly-haired dog sitting in the family room. Panting at him. In the fuzzy consciousness of his dream, Aidan tried to remember the last time he saw a green dog.

_Hey boy!_ He greeted the dog, stepping down to crouch, careful to gauge the slobbering beast's reactions.

_That's a good boy._ Another step closer, and the wagging tongue drooled—one drip descending in slow-motion toward the carpet.

One drip slowly falling. As though he could see it rotating mid-air, shifting.

Slow-mo.

S _s-sss-sss—pll-lll-o-o-ooo-shh-shh-shhh!_

Suddenly, a woman's shriek pierced through the haze, but all he saw were the dog's jaws miming a bark. Aidan's ears were filled with the squeal of someone.

Mom!

Now his heart jumped like he fell off a cliff and splattered on the ground. He held his chest. The screaming was gone.

He heard his mom's voice, but it was muffled words. In relief, his heart leapt to alertness as did his body—in the back seat of the minivan.

Awake.

Again.

"Huh?" He shook himself back to reality, peeking out from under his pillow to check his watch.

Ten minutes.

He was asleep for only ten minutes.

"I said, _Getting enough air back there?_ " his mom echoed from the front.

She was always well-intentioned, but Aidan was annoyed. Being awakened half-way through the night was bad enough, but during a red-eye drive to northern Idaho was more than he could bear.

_Why do we have to go visit Uncle Quinn, anyway?_ he kept wondering.

"I'm _fine,_ Mom." He tried to sound as irritated as possible beneath his pillow.

"What?" she yelled from the front.

He uncovered his mouth, leaving the rest of his head smothered in pillow. "I _said_. I'm— _fine_ ," he breathed through his pillow cave.

He waited for her reaction so he could have an opening to vent about his annoyance with the whole car ride, the last-minute road trip, and being stuck in the back next to his little brother's caged hairless rat, Dwayne.

The rat reeked. He wished he could just dropkick the fleshy, pink rat at the next exit.

If his brother wasn't such a pansy and could handle being away from his bizarre sidekick for more than an hour, Aidan could have stretched out on the bench.

_Stupid rat,_ he thought _._

Besides, the hairless wonder could have survived back at home in the cage with a week's worth of food and water. But no, Fallon whined; Dad and Mom caved.

Typical.

Mom gave her customary calm response to Aidan's moodiness, "Let me know if you need the air turned down." She didn't even take her eyes off of the crossword puzzle poised in her lap; the book light angled perfectly over the pages. "If you can't sleep, why don't you play your Gameboy?" she offered.

"Wouldn't be awake if it wasn't for you talking to me..." he grumbled beneath his pillow, quiet enough so his mom really wouldn't hear.

Aidan sighed in annoyance. Then he became uncomfortably aware of the hot stagnancy of life under cotton. He harrumphed the pillow onto his lap, and sat up straight. His knees slammed harder than necessary against the back of his sister's seat.

He grinned in amusement, but she didn't even twitch.

Aidan looked around for something else to do. Sleep obviously wasn't going to happen anytime soon. But with half of the car already asleep, there was no one to talk to, and he wasn't about to start talking to his brother's rat. He decided to go for his last resort.

When he was ten, Aidan could have spent hours in the car playing video games. He would stare blankly at the glowing screen, lost in electronic worlds. But over the years the games had lost their charm, and he found that they lacked the excitement which they brought five years before. But maybe it was that all of his friends had newer gaming systems. Aidan was too embarrassed to be seen playing with his little kid system while his friends raved about their newest, violently-awesome games.

Mom told him to pack his Gameboy "just in case."

"Ooo. Yeah," he sarcastically muttered as he fumbled to insert the cartridge into its slot. "Nothing like some old-fashioned dragon stomping to kill some time."

It was a fantasy game he had already beaten ten times—and that was in the first two months he owned the game. The glowing screen flickered between scenes as Aidan spent the next hour traversing each level with a master's skill. But the repetitive movements of his fingers on the gamepad and the van's monotonous drone down the interstate made him struggle to keep his eyes open. Yet his body wouldn't just let him nod off.

_Maybe it was that stupid dream_ , he wondered.

Since he couldn't sleep, Aidan decided to go all out and try to actually stay awake.

Quietly he sneaked a swig from his hidden soda—hidden because his mom didn't like to have anything but water in the car and also because his mom constantly harped on him for guzzling caffeine.

During his momentary break from the game, he noticed the buzz of his sister Kaylee's headphones was missing—she must be asleep and the iPod ran out of songs on her massive playlist. That was good enough for him because he was growing tired of being reminded how Kaylee won a new iPod for some essay she wrote on environmental consciousness.

Fallon was still snoring, cuddled up with his Winkie—the blanket he swore off when he turned seven, but still managed to sneak during long car rides. Aidan felt satisfied knowing he would have payback for his ten-year-old brother's annoyance during the car ride. He could give him tons of crap for his Cuddlie-Wuddlie-Winkie when he woke up.

Dad and Mom were in the front whispering to each other; their voices were muddled by the late night radio host blathering on during an interview with a ghost hunter.

_You see, Samuel, in the area of paranormal sciences, most people simply don't_ want _to understand or acknowledge the presence of spiritual beings. Half of the reason why most average people don't see these beings is because of a lack of faith. Pure and simple._

Aidan rolled his eyes and quickly put his earbuds back in place. He settled back into his cramped seat – or at least as best as he could settle.

He was on level three already, using his wizard powers to eradicate some goblins. It was as the next level loaded that Aidan caught something move from the corner of his eye. Something outside of the swiftly gliding minivan. He quickly turned his head to gaze out the window but only saw the reflection of his game screen shining back.

_It must have been the screen_ , he thought.

A full moon illuminated rolling sagebrush hills and craggy plateaus. They passed a dust storm advisory sign.

"Comforting," mumbled Aidan. "Wish I had my freakin' cell phone so I could at least text DJ."

Dad confiscated his phone last week. Aidan's parents received a call from his math teacher about Aidan using his phone to cheat on a quiz. While he had only been using his phone's calculator on a no-calc quiz, Aidan was still punished just as severely as two girls who were texting each other answers.

Aidan thought it was unfair that he was stuck without his phone for two weeks and that he also had to lose total contact with all of his friends, especially his best friend, DJ.

Another flicker in his periphery, and Aidan jumped, nailing his knee on the seat in front of him. He peered out the darkened glass at the landscape flying by; he looked past the barbed wire fence for the movement he knew was following along in the desert.

Nothing.

"Probably just a stupid deer," he told himself, but even so, Aidan turned his back to the window, focusing instead on conquering level four of his dragon quest.

Fifty miles later and the Tanner family drove by four more farming communities. Aidan was passed out on the bench, Gameboy glowing on the minivan's floor. He dreamt of racing through a bog in his backyard, slaughtering dragons.

Chapter Three

The minivan came to a sluggish stop. Aidan turned to look out the window with bleary eyes, hoping to see the looming pines that he knew surrounded Uncle Quinn's home. He would much rather be in the forests than stuck in the boring death-riddled desert.

_Nothing but dehydration and dust,_ he thought as he looked at the sparse landscape.

"Ulllllgh," he moaned from the back, turning over only to get a fresh waft of rat urine. " _Gross_!" And he turned back toward the window to stare in disappointment at the dingy gas station's half-lit yellow and red sign: _Jim's_ Stop _-n-Gas_.

"Where the heck are we?" he complained while rubbing his eyes with his palms.

"Calm down, Aid," his mom cautioned, fumbling around in her purse.

"Just outside of Boise, and this is going to be our last stop until we get to your uncle's, so you better make sure to use the facilities now." His dad carefully checked the GPS—a birthday present from the family—or what mom liked to call his fourth child. "Yep, just a straight shot for the rest of the night. Only about six more hours 'til we're at Winchester Lake."

"Six more hours and it will be time for breakfast," Aidan muttered. He slipped on his Chucks and squirmed between his brother and sister's bucket seats.

He slid open the minivan's door and slouched into the chilly darkness, grateful he kept his faded grey sweatshirt on during the ride. Now he put the hood up over his frigid ears, tucking his frizzy red hair—or what he called his insulation—into its cave.

He stretched until his back popped, but he also heard the faint whirr of the passenger window of the van descending. Internally he sighed and thought, _Now what?_

"Aid?"

Yep, Mom was going to give him "the rules." Again.

"Mom!" he spun around and snapped before she could start. "I'm fifteen years old! I know not to talk to strangers _or_ wander off into the desert alone! Jeez, can you give me a break?"

He turned his back in a huff, not quite sure of where to storm off. He shuffled momentarily, long enough for his mom to have the last word.

"I was just going to give you some money to go buy yourself a treat, hon. But if you want to be that way—" and all he heard was the sliding of the window as it closed.

"Whatever," he muttered, kicking at random stones in the dirt parking lot of the crummy gas station.

_This looks exactly like the kind of place where some serial killer abducts his next victim_ , he thought as he scanned the rusty two-pump station. There was only one working outdoor light that randomly flickered.

He was surprised that there wasn't any creepy hillbilly music playing on the outdoor speakers—just silence. But then he wasn't sure which scenario was more unnerving.

He wandered over to the side of the gas station's main building and stopped to fidget with the slowly dripping, cracked water hose which suffered from years of neglect. He sniffed the end of the hose and caught a distinct iron smell.

"That's nasty," he scowled as he flung the hose back down with the rest of the coil.

After considering how rundown the outside of the place looked, Aidan decided he would rather take a chance and relieve himself outside rather than risk using the urinal and suffering death by cockroaches. Of course, the back of the building did not look promising either. As he searched the desert for a nearby tree to utilize, he heard faint shuffling behind him followed by the distinct _snap_ of a twig.

Someone was sneaking up on him.

_Dear Lord, I'm gonna die,_ he thought, panic rising in his chest. He assessed the possibility of an escape route but knew it would be too risky to cut behind the back of the gas station.

Slightly more scuffling of feet behind him, picking up its pace.

_Yes, it is definitely an_ it _. All things that go bump in the night are_ its _._

He didn't know what else to do, so he spun around and feigned his best kung-fu pose at the intruder.

"Heeee-ya!" he bellowed, toe pointed and arms outstretched, eyes closed and his face contorted, awaiting attack.

"Waaaaaaaaaaa-AAAAAAA!" he wailed a rising crescendo, flipping his hands like they were fan blades. He dared to take a peek at his attacker.

Rather than fending off a killer chainsaw cowboy, he came face-to-face with pudgy-faced Fallon who squealed with laughter.

"Great." Aidan lowered his arms and partially raised leg, attempting to act as though nothing was out of the ordinary. "Why are you sneaking up on me like that?"

"Nice moves, Twinkle Toes!" Fallon erupted in laughs again, his face turning red, belly shaking with glee.

"Shut up, FAT-ton," Aidan shot back.

"Gee, Aid, I haven't heard that one before."

Aidan stared at his annoying brother who stood with gut sticking out. Dwayne was precariously perched between Fallon's neck and shoulder, nesting in the extra fabric of his jacket. Dwayne stared at Aidan with bulging pink eyes.

He should have named that thing Sméagol. Creepy.

"Well, have fun looking out for werewolves! I'm goin' inside!" Fallon turned around, gave one last face, and pranced off around the corner, Dwayne spinning around on his shoulder and tittering what sounded like insults in Aidan's direction.

"Werewolves," he mocked. "What a dork."

Shrugging off his brother's interruption, Aidan casually looked over his shoulder and scanned his perimeter—partially to make sure that no one else saw his freak-out session and also to make sure no one else was around so that he could finish his "business."

There were not many trees for Aidan to choose from—only one scraggly Russian olive surviving on the outer border of the gas station—but he managed to find privacy behind its tangled boughs.

Aidan remembered his key rule for urinating in an unknown location (he learned enough from his hours of playing combat games and reading books on surviving the zombie apocalypse). _Number one rule is don't start whistling to yourself because: one, it tells any would-be attackers your exact location; two, it drowns out the barely perceptible warning noises of any ninjas sneaking up on you; three, it lessens your level of alertness._

As he glanced about him to keep an eye out, Aidan noticed movement atop a nearby thirty-foot pole. He stared above the glow of the streetlight; his eyes strained in the glare. He heard some kind of swishing noise.

"Is that a bat?" he muttered to himself, eyes squinted.

True, his first thought about the bat led to visions of vampires surrounding him in the middle of nowhere. But then he remembered that some bats carried rabies, and he mentally rushed himself to finish peeing so he could just get back inside the van and be done with the stupid drive.

Click-clack-clack-click.

He sharply turned his head back to the hovering light, and as his eyes adjusted, he thought he saw wing-movement above the dingy beam.

His thoughts returned to earlier that evening, riding in the van, and the shadows he swore he saw in the corner of his eyes, rushing alongside the van and then disappearing whenever he sneaked a look. In his mind he hoped it wasn't, but his heart furiously thumping in his chest would not be convinced otherwise.

Could it be that there was some kind of desert monster chasing him, following him, just like some creature out of the pages of that _Odyssey_ book his English teacher made him read last year?

He also remembered his childhood fear of the dark and how getting up to go to the bathroom at night always freaked him out. Nightmares always brought on his restless nights.

_I'm fifteen. It's nothing. I'm not afraid of anything._ He brushed his fear away, dismissing the thought as childhood paranoia.

Suddenly, a flurry of movement and the obscured form took flight, gliding from the light post, and landed eight feet away from Aidan up in the tree boughs.

"Jeez!" he breathed relief. "Just a stupid bird." Aidan laughed to himself, feeling a little silly for his caution and fright.

He zipped up and stared at the bird, which oddly, stared right back at him. It tilted its head in almost robotic fashion. The black beady eyes shone back at him, even in the darkness of night. He knew the bird was a raven or a crow, but he didn't really know how to tell the difference. His eighth grade science teacher said something about the size difference, but Aidan couldn't have cared less about Mr. Shankel's obsession with all things avian. Mr. Shankel's classroom was packed with various cages housing his precious pets, while on the tops of every cabinet were stuffed versions of his living displays. Aidan thought this combination of living and dead was the creepiest part of his science teacher's collection.

Aidan thought that the raven fascination was a prerequisite to becoming a teacher. His English teacher would never stop talking about the symbolism of blackbirds, but Aidan still struggled to remember if it was a crow or a raven that was the subject of some famous poem. Something his teacher said about the bird's speech capabilities, size, common symbolism, and blah-blah-blah. He couldn't keep it all straight. Birds were birds.

"Aren't you supposed to be able to learn how to talk or something?" He said it more to prove Mr. Shankel wrong than to converse with the bird.

The bird tilted its head the other way and clicked its beak together. _Click-clack-clack-click._

"Yeah, just as I thought. Genius."

The black bird kept staring at him, kept tilting its head from side to side like some kind of bored, caged parakeet. Aidan was sure that in a second it would start pacing up and down the branch, bobbing its head. But the bird remained stationary, except its head tilting in the night, its marble eyes staring down at Aidan. The bird, the dark, being in the middle of nowhere—it all started to weird him out. But as Aidan reached to grab a pebble to hurl at the bird, he heard his dad calling his name from across the parking lot.

He took off toward the minivan, grateful to be leaving _Jim's Stop-n-Gas_ , but the bird stared on.

Click-clack-clack-click.

Chapter Four

Onora shuffled across the stone floor, rusted kettle delicately slung on her withered wrist like a behemoth trinket. The crusty bread loaf she held in her opposite hand flumped onto the knotty table, jiggling an assortment of cutlery, mismatched saucers, and a jumbled basket of glass vials, each containing a variety of liquids, powders, or crushed leaves.

She glanced up at her two guests, smiling meekly with arrow-straight teeth. She poured mugs of musty smelling brew for Bridget and Branna who sat patiently awaiting Onora to begin their conversation. A faint whisper of an ancient tune escaped from Onora's weathered lips, dancing in the cave's dank air.

While the old seer's dwelling was carved into the side of a cliff, you could only detect that fact from the scent of prehistoric raindrops and sounds of animal chatter echoing from nearby chambers. Her home was charming and small, despite her high-standing among the Ban Sidhe. It was only a single room, but its size did not matter because she lived fairly secluded and alone.

From the center of the room to the ceiling's edges draped a billowy purple sheet of velvety cloth, and from there the draperies cascaded dramatically down the walls of the circular room, brushing the floor with black tassels. It was much like being cased inside a coffin, but less confining.

I stood unnoticed behind the curtains, hiding close to the cave's entrance should I need to escape. After tracking Aidan throughout the night, I had to visit Onora. I had to talk to her about everything that happened. But when I saw my sisters arrive at the cave, I remained hidden, no one aware of my presence.

No electric lights or fires were necessary inside the crone's home – captured moonlight hung in orbs inches below the ceiling, twinkling brighter whenever Onora swished her hand this way and dimming when she flicked her wrist that way. The table at which my sisters sat in silence was tucked away at the end of the room closest to my concealed exit.

Bridget calmly sat in her uncomfortable chair. Branna's impatient index finger swirled in mid-air under the table, twirling a dust bunny against the floor again and again; her black eyes burned more intensely with each flick of her wrist.

Bridget ignored Branna's fidgety spell-casting. But both of us know this is what our oldest sister does when she's really annoyed.

Bridget's gaze shifted to a round, puffed pillow at the opposite side of the room.

Onora quickly noticed her gazing. "Mmm hm. Yep, Bridget. _That's_ my bed. I sleep there." A creaking laugh escaped before she could slap her veiny hands over her mouth. "Sorry, dear," she rattled, her knobby-knuckled hands mindlessly ripping the bread into sizeable chunks and leaving them atop the table, "but I'm always amused the first time young folk see the way I live. Maybe I should get one of those beds that dangles from the ceilin'!" She slapped her crooked leg, a poof of dust bouncing off her gathered skirt. "Woohoo! That would drive 'em all _mad_ , now wouldn't it?"

She shuffled back to a glowing yellow ball floating above the floor in the center of the room, several pots hanging over the warmth, bubbling at varying degrees. Snatching a tiny copper pot from midair, Onora spun back to my sisters, clinking across the floor as she crept back.

"Hangin' beds, ha! That'd be a sight!" She slapped the pot on the table, melted goat butter sloshing over the rim. Onora always had a pot of butter ready whenever I visited—it was her favorite snack.

"Onora—" Bridget interrupted.

"Oh!" the hag caught herself in a common distracted moment. "I suppose you want to talk about young Morgan, eh?" She hobbled to the open stool, her immense rump plopping between Branna and Bridget.

"Well--" Bridget grasped for delicacy, as usual. She's always careful not to step on anyone's toes.

Branna sighed heavily. "What she _means_ to say is, why else do you think we came all of the way out to the Charcoal Crags?"

"I thought you may have wanted to view the scenery. Maybe see where crazy old Onora lives? Huh?" More cackling as she rearranged her broomstick skirt on her lap, slapping her leg in amusement.

Branna glared at the ancient woman. She was not remotely amused.

"A little testy, now, aren't we, Branna?" Onora winked at Bridget.

Branna shifted uncomfortably. She held her lips tight.

"She's just a little... tired. From the ceremony. That's all," Bridget covered.

"Hm. Very well. Whatever you say. But you both better drink your tea before I get offended." She smugly sipped her own steaming cup, smiling over the brim. "So. What is it you want to know?"

Silence passed as Bridget glanced back and forth between Onora and Branna. I too waited in anticipation, hoping I was still safely hidden.

"You were there! You saw it, didn't you?" Bridget sputtered. "We all _saw_ it!" Her voice rose in excitement.

The ancient hag snatched a chunk of bread, dipped it in the melted butter and took an enormous bite, chewing with mouth half-opened as she smiled. After a few gnaws, she took a sip of tea to wash it down. It was like she dragged out her teatime just to get under Branna's skin.

I loved every second of it, but had to keep silent.

"Well," she took one final swallow of the moistened bread, "no one's to say what you saw or what I saw. Perception is the key, am I right?"

Branna remained silent, lips draw tight and glaring at Onora. Unlike me and Bridget, Branna trained with the seer Muirna and not Onora. She didn't know her like we did, and her impatience with my mentor was obvious.

"I guess," Bridget replied for them both. "But, if I may ask, what is it _you_ saw?"

"Ocular showed me Carrion Crow, same as you. But did you see with Sidhe?" Her wildly bushy eyebrows arched. "Did you let yourself go? Eh? Did your mind tell you there was more behind the blue-black feathers? Eh? Did it?" She looked at my sisters, accusation seeping between her passionate words.

But my sisters just sat there, as though they didn't know what to say. Maybe they didn't see anything. Maybe all they saw was nothing but my successful transformation and flight; the first step on the journey to being full Ban Sidhe like them.

"Do you doubt it was there?" Onora asked.

Bridget was drawn in by Onora's words. "What, exactly, do you mean by _it_?"

Branna's calloused voice cut through the dank air. "What she means by _it_ is, do you give in to all of this prophecy stuff that has been rattled on and on about for generations? I, for one, am not going to stick around to find out what this bag of bones has to say about Morgan. What can she, who has only known our sister for three months, know better than her own blood-–her family?"

"Aren't we _all_ family?" Onora whispered between sips of tea.

Branna slammed her mug down, hot liquid splashing over the rim, and she stood in a fury. She breathed through huffing and puffing nostrils, the quick inhales and exhales failing to calm her irritation. "I have letters to write and questions to answer. Mysterious happenings are afoot, and I do not have time for guessing games. I'm done here. Bridget, if you remember anything Dad taught us, you'll come to the same realization." With that, Branna stormed to the entrance, right where I was standing.

I took off in crow-form before she could find out that I was eavesdropping.

Concealed within shadows of a discreetly carved cave next to the ancient seer's hovel, I clung to jagged stones. My breath was labored as I tried to hold back gasps, desperately trying to keep exhaustion and astonishment at bay as I watched Bridget's avian form soar by the cave's mouth.

I could not believe everything I heard just minutes before while hiding behind the curtains—everything I heard before Branna stormed out and gave me a warning to find a better hiding spot.

Luckily.

I knew Branna would have no clue that I was listening or hiding—her anger was so piqued that no presence could break through her emotional walls.

I don't think Onora would do anything if she knew I was hiding out—it was the way Onora always handled things, letting me explore and take risks.

But what did I learn from sneaking out and visiting the Charcoal Crags? I risked three weeks of Seclusion by violating curfew and another two weeks of grounding if the clan discovered that I was visiting Onora's after the Initiation Ceremony was complete.

Yet I couldn't help being there on that night—to hear what they had to say.

Everyone in Finias was talking about sightings of hellhounds in the mountains of Northern Idaho. Common whispers filled the taverns. "The prophecy. Do you think it is beginning?" Eyes shifting as I walked down the street. "Their family tends to be crow."

But beyond wanting to know about the activities taking place in the north, I wanted answers about my destiny.

I already knew most of what Branna thought about me; Branna was never very talented at hiding her opinions and feelings. In fact, Branna usually went out of her way to find opportunities to express herself, wanted or not. It had been years since Branna's callous comments brought me to tears; I was simply used to it at the age of sixteen. It was no surprise to me what Branna said about both Onora and me—Branna's stance that Onora was a mumbling old has-been and that I was her dim-witted and fragile sister.

It was more of what Bridget and Onora had to say that intrigued me. With all of the rumors spread about the prophecy, I had to have answers. Everyone I was remotely close to and who had rights to privileged information blocked every question I asked.

Burke barely even felt comfortable talking to me. Bridget stayed silent. Branna would just get annoyed.

My breathing began to return to normal, my body relaxing now that I knew Bridget was already on her way back home.

"What a day." I sighed, sinking down to the floor, its cool dampness soothing my aching limbs. Shifting was not as easy and pain-free as I thought it would be, but Onora taught me that the residuals would wear off after a few hours and would lessen in intensity the more often I changed.

Onora. One of the few people who treated me normal. Most of the others either whispered in my presence, eyes darting at me and then away as though I would not be able to tell what they were talking about, or they simply acted as though I did not exist. I wished they would just talk to my face, even if their words were harsh. It's the one thing I could appreciate about Branna—at least she was blunt and honest.

The last three months in the Crags was the best time I could remember since Father left two years ago. Onora seemed to wipe away the ugliness of the world with the wave of her hand. I could even manage to avoid thinking about my parents for those few hours a day.

Every time I walked through the dusty tapestries, I would be reborn. The girl I was one day was not the person I had to be the next. Onora always believed that each day was a new beginning for reinventing the self.

Out of everyone I knew, Onora actually practiced all of the mumbo-jumbo she preached, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

Yet I still wondered.

What did Onora say to Bridget and Branna? What were her exact words about the ceremony? What was it that Onora saw with Sidhe Sight?

With how upset Branna had become, I knew that there must have been some kind of promise in what Onora saw.

There must be.

Or maybe Onora was just messing with Branna's head.

Yet, Bridget, my always protective sister, took off from the Crags with such haste that whatever Onora told Bridget had to be important.

Or maybe Bridget was so disappointed in me that she left in a hurry.

I didn't know what to think anymore. I was relieved that the whole Incantation was over and done so that I could continue with my life, regardless of some prophecy divined by Onora's grandmother two hundred years earlier.

Maybe once I returned to Finias everyone would already know that there was nothing to the prophecy. Nothing to Morgan. Nothing to whisper about as I walked by, willing myself to be invisible under my wall of dark hair. Nothing but thin air.

"Morgan," the call was unmistakable, the raspy voice as familiar to me now as the warmth of Mother's embraces. Yet, I ignored it. Why couldn't I be left alone with my thoughts?

"Morgan." The voice grew more insistent, echoing off the walls. "We need to have a moment."

Onora spoke from the recesses of the narrow passageway which connected to another passage in the back of Onora's home—an opening too small for anyone to slip through in Sidhe form. If I looked hard enough, I would see peregrine eyes blinking back at me in the dark, and Onora's trademark speckled feathers gleaming like a beacon.

Without words, I shifted form in the cave's echoes. My crow-self bounced from rock to rock, the cave's walls too slim for flight, and squeezed through the narrow stone channel, emerging in the welcoming light of Onora's home.

Chapter Five

Aidan stretched as best he could on the cramped futon, his sinewy body arching and twisting, shoving away morning in Uncle Quinn's dusty home office. The morning sunlight filtering through the broken slat of cheap mini-blinds had initially woken him, but routine noises of people rustling about and showering kept him from drifting back to sleep like he so desperately desired.

He sat up on the concrete mattress, dragging his sweaty palm across his face in an attempt to snap himself out of sleepiness.

"Worst... bed... ever." Tossing his pillow across the room he sighed, "Whoever invented the futon must have had a day-job in torture."

After glaring at the green plaid sheets for a solid minute, Aidan slowly peeled out of his cocoon and stood on the shag carpet. Breakfast's sweet and savory smells wafted under the door, and his growling stomach brought him to full alert. He slapped on an Asteroids t-shirt, jeans, and flannel shirt—a shower could wait until after he ate.

Hurriedly he threw the covers over the mattress and hefted the futon upright. He knew that it was around the kitchen table that discussion regarding this visit to hillbilly hell would occur, and after that, decisions would be made for the day's activities. He hoped to be able to get in a few requests so that he could maybe get to spend some time exploring the surrounding woods and avoid being around Uncle Quinn.

Aidan had not seen his estranged uncle since he was about six, and he didn't remember much of anything about him. All he knew was that Quinn now lived with his wife, Aunt Holly, in a secluded two-story cabin in the middle of Idaho's wilderness.

Pasty and aloof, Uncle Quinn belonged to some political activists in the area called Brothers for Freedom. Aidan knew that was code for skinheads. Back home in Utah, he only heard the worst about all of the gun-toting, lunatic, white supremacists of Northern Idaho. It did not seem to be a stretch that his uncle's political ties were with some of those very same whack-jobs, and looking around the "office," he was leaning toward believing those rumors.

The night before, he hadn't even bothered turning on the lights when he crashed onto the folded out futon. Now, in the light of day, everything was clear.

Old Dixie loomed on the wall above the desk.

Bingo! Now on to clue number two.

His eyes scanned past the militaristic medals pinned to the walls, and that was when he realized he was surrounded.

Every type of small, dead animal one could stuff and mount, whether it be fowl, rodent, or mammal, seemed to be either perched on a shelf or hanging grotesquely from the wall. Aidan swore that he could see an armadillo peeking through two skunks which stood ferociously atop an enormous, rusty safe in the far corner of the room.

"Thank you, Uncle Creep-a-zoid," he said. He walked toward the doorway, flicking off the lights. "Nothing like rabid-looking carcasses staring at your junk in the morning."

A ground squirrel frozen in half-chitter stared at him on his way out of the room. He turned at the varmint and snarled.

In the kitchen, Aidan's mom stood near the stove, fidgeting with a spotless pancake turner, unsure of what to do with herself or the utensil. It wasn't that she did not know how to use the turner; it was more like she just didn't know how to edge Quinn out of his place. Uncle Quinn stood in front of the stove next to her, whistling and simultaneously flipping pancakes with his twitching right hand. Every few seconds his hand would quake like a jolt had flown through his body, and he'd use his left hand to steady his right. All while smoking a cigarette that dangled from the corner of his mouth.

_Great. Nicotine pancakes,_ Aidan thought to himself. He didn't think his uncle was nervous about cooking, and it couldn't be nicotine withdrawal that gave him the shakes. He really wondered if his uncle had other hidden demons that plagued his body.

But Aidan knew that, despite Uncle Quinn's spasms, his mom was really freaking out on the inside for other reasons. And it was not just because of the second-hand smoke filling the kitchen. No, Aidan was certain that his mother was more terrified of the inevitable ash that sprinkled down on the pancakes, sinking into the air bubbles, never to be seen again. In her mind, there were probably visions of ashy pockets that she would have to ingest while wearing a plastic grin to keep from offending her husband's older brother.

Uncle Quinn stood in his homemade tank-top, fashioned from an old Merle Haggard t-shirt with the sleeves crookedly cut off and frayed. His muscled arms, covered in blue and black tattoos, shook every few seconds. With each tremor came a deep draw from the cigarette dangling on his lower lip.

Probably alcohol or meth that he's had to lay off of since we arrived.

As Aidan watched his uncle work, Quinn continued to peer through smoke circles. His wrinkled eyes were barely visible beneath his baseball cap bearing a rebel flag front and center.

_Redneck and proud of it_ , Aidan thought.

He could imagine his uncle as the official pancake flipper of all local skinhead meetings, making perfectly angled swastika cakes while discussing Klan plans.

What was harder to come to terms with than his uncle's embarrassing appearance was that he would have to just keep his mouth shut about his uncle's supposed associations. Dad had made it clear when they were packing for the trip that there were to be no questions about Uncle Quinn's activities, friends, or late night whereabouts. Aidan remembered how his dad had stared directly at him the whole time. He knew better than to go against his dad's command. He entered without saying a word, plunking down in the only open seat. He sat across from Fallon who hand-fed dry cereal to Dwayne.

"Get a room," Aidan muttered under his breath as he gawked at his little brother.

Fallon made a face at Aidan, bit off half a Toastie-O and gave the other half to Dwayne, who promptly took the prized food in his paws, gnawing the edges with his buck teeth.

"I hope you get the plague," Aidan sneered across the table.

"I hope you get a life," Fallon shot back, looking over his shoulder to make sure Dad didn't overhear.

"Whatever," Aidan muttered to himself as he poured orange juice into the miniature frosted glass by his plate. He knew it would just be another typical morning in the Tanner household—full of jeering and avoiding a bruised ego.

To one side of him sat his younger sister, Kaylee, who nibbled on her requisite bowl of plain yogurt sprinkled with wheat germ and sunflower kernels.

He sneered at her bowl of horse feed. She had been a health-nut for six months, the longest she had stuck with anything, so Aidan was beyond the point of making snickering remarks about her eating and exercising habits. He was not, however, beyond making faces at his thirteen-year-old sister.

"You don't have to eat it," she shrilly sassed back after he had spent a few moments flaring his nostrils in her direction as he waited for his pancakes.

"Thank goodness," he mumbled and then glanced over at his mom to make sure she hadn't honed in on him.

Luckily, Mom was still fretting next to the stove, fidgeting with the spatula.

He was safe. For now.

While he would have loved to gloat over his mom's internal strife—after all, she was forcing him to spend a week in a cold, unfamiliar four-room cabin in the middle of nowhere—Aidan knew his mom's anxiety over anything resembling dirt or disorder. At home it was Aidan who always kept his mom in check by watching for anything that might "set her off," and he often took care of the issue promptly, before she could even notice a speck of dirt.

He remembered one time when a cloud of cat hair from his sister's long-haired Himalayan leisurely floated across the kitchen floor. Luckily, he was able to snatch the furry enemy before his mom even saw it. Surely she would have found a new home for Whiskers as she had threatened for two years. Of course, Aidan knew it probably would have come to that eventually—had Whiskers not been accidentally run over by his mom last Christmas.

Mom said it was icy. Kaylee said it was malicious.

Since his dad was out of town and he knew his mom couldn't handle cleaning up the crime scene, Aidan told his mom he would take care of going out to scoop up and bury the remains of his sister's enormous cat.

Regardless of his mom's fastidious cleaning habits, he knew she genuinely tried not to inflict her tidiness on others. She let Kaylee have a cat, she tolerated Fallon's rat, and she always washed Aidan's stinky soccer jerseys without complaint.

She didn't inflict her tidiness on others, she just constantly ran around cleaning up after everyone. A dirty dish would only last about three seconds in the sink before she donned her rubber gloves.

But sitting there staring at his mom, who now moved on to chewing at her nails, Aidan wished there was something he could do.

_Nothing. What will she do when I'm gone?_ he thought. _I'm a sophomore in high school. In a few years I won't be around to run surveillance._

Aidan sighed and poured himself another glass of orange juice.

"Cakes on!" Uncle Quinn's voice boomed through the cramped kitchen, as he swung a steaming plate of breakfast into the center of the round table.

Aidan now discreetly examined his uncle. Mom had rushed him to bed the night before, so he was only able to catch a glimpse of his dad's only brother. Quinn had been sitting in the family room watching TV and sipping on Budweiser, barely lifting a hand to say hello.

His uncle was considerably older than his father—there was actually a fourteen-year gap between the two. But now, by looking at him in the kitchen fluorescents, Quinn appeared fairly young with his bright red moustache and full head of auburn hair that tapered into an expertly trimmed mullet in the back. His moustache was the kind of a different era; it was the bushy caterpillar found on men in old westerns. But Aidan could see Quinn's age in the crow's feet around his eyes, how they changed their intensity with each altering facial expression.

"Ready to help clear some underbrush, Aidan?" His dad smiled while Aidan slathered peanut butter on his massive stack of pancakes.

"Didn't you mean Aidan and _Fallon_?" Aidan drenched the four-high stack with artificially flavored maple syrup and shoved a massive hunk in his mouth, smirking across the table between chomps.

Fallon stuck out his tongue, which was covered with chewed remnants of what had been pancakes and a sausage link.

His dad ignored Aidan's comment and merely turned to Quinn. "I'm sure he'll be happy to help out. Right, Aid?"

The death-glare from his dad was enough for him to simply nod and not argue about how unfair it was that he would have to spend his break doing grunt labor while his brother tromped around doing who knew what. Aidan also knew not to even bring up the obvious sexism that his sister, who was only two years younger, would not even have to help out.

Angrily he finished the last scrapings on his plate. At least breakfast helped make up for the horrible days that were to come.

Ash or not, the pancakes were definitely made from scratch—deliciously crisp on the edges and flaky in the middle. Whatever his mom's opinion about Uncle Quinn's cooking habits or Aidan's revulsion at his uncle's affiliations, the proof was in the pancake.

Yep, he's definitely the Klan Kook.

Aidan laughed to himself.

Now Mom was at the helm, flipping pancakes so Quinn could sit with the "boys," and she served up another plate-sized carbo-cake to Aidan. She ruffled his red mop of hair with one hand, winking at him like she always did to try and cheer him up.

Dad and Uncle Quinn discussed the latest political wrangling of the area, and their voices faded into background noise.

As he slathered the cake with a heaping tablespoon of peanut butter, Aidan wondered where Aunt Holly was at this time in the morning. It was odd that in the short time he had been at the house he had not caught a single sighting of Quinn's wife.

Quinn and Holly had been married only three years earlier at a last-minute courthouse wedding, and so the family was never formally introduced. His dad had received a phone call the next day, but it wasn't from Quinn; apparently Holly called to introduce herself because Quinn refused to call his younger brother.

Holly was Quinn's first wife; in fact, everyone was surprised when they heard Quinn had finally "settled down." She was in her mid-twenties—young enough to be Quinn's daughter—but apparently she had an "old soul," according to what his mom told him. She worked in town at her nursery and garden store, and in her spare time was head of the local Pink Pistols, a group of gun enthusiasts and outdoor recreationists. Aidan pictured her looking like some kind of rugged mountain woman with three missing teeth and a way with a six-shooter. Northern Idaho's Annie Oakley.

Breakfast rushed by with the two men talking about the lay of the land. Quinn's place was made up of the lake-front home, three acres of woodland, and another ten acre parcel of farmland further out of town. Aidan merely listened in on their conversation since he had nothing better to do, and he knew his mom would berate him if he left the table before everyone was finished.

His uncle was no longer sheriff, and now Quinn simply farmed to make a living, his wife running their nursery business.

Yet the men were not working on the farm today, and thirty minutes later, as their four-wheelers pulled to a stop in the middle of the pine forests, Aidan could see that clearing brush was going to kill him. It wasn't just little bushes and weeds—there were massive, gnarled trunks and brambly thorny branches. But then he noticed the chainsaws the men were unloading from his uncle's ATV.

_Maybe I'll get to hack down some trees with one of those monsters_ , he hoped to himself.

Uncle Quinn, trademark Marlboro in his mouth, tossed Aidan a pair of leather gloves with his red, shaking hands. "You're on removal and stacking."

Two hours later, the trailer was half-full of debris, tree trunks, and limbs, all carefully sorted by Aidan. He was proud to stand back, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm, and survey the progress he made.

He still thought it was unfair that Fallon and Kaylee didn't have to help. After all, when Aidan was ten he had started helping outdoors, so why couldn't Fallon and Kaylee?

Fallon's probably at the cabin exploring with Dwayne. Maybe I'll be lucky and Dwayne will fall in the lake and drown. Or, the hairless beast could be scooped up by a hawk and never seen from again.

Aidan chuckled as he wiped another trickle of dirt-laden sweat off his forehead.

Kaylee was probably doing sit-ups or going on a "healthy" walk around the woods.

Oh well, at least Dad and Quinn aren't talkers. It must be genetic.

Aidan enjoyed the serenity of the woods, the random chirping of animals, and how voices bounced through the dusty air.

"Time for a break?" Dad reached over and handed Aidan the canteen.

Cool water sloshed down Aidan's throat in welcome gulps.

"Nothing like some hard work in the morning, huh Aid?" His dad smiled— one of the first smiles Aidan had seen from his father since he lost his job at the accounting firm six months before.

"Yeah Dad, sure." Aidan rolled his eyes, his dad not noticing. While his dad may enjoy the work, Aidan didn't want to be caught feeling the same way.

Aidan could barely see Uncle Quinn standing deeper in the woods, a trail of smoke reaching up to the pine boughs the only obvious indication of his presence.

In the silence between father and son was the slow creak of pines swaying above them.

"Aid?"

He looked up at his dad.

"Thanks for coming up here with us. I know it's not the best timing and everything, and I know it's not the average teenager's idea of a great getaway, but Uncle Quinn needs our help."

_Typical dad_ , thought Aidan. _He always knows how to make me feel guilty about acting like a selfish jerk._ "No problem, Dad." He handed the canteen over.

"Maybe tomorrow we can get up early and go fishing on the lake like we used to back home." He gulped a mouthful of water and then sloshed some more over his sweaty face. Looking over at Aidan, he continued, "What do you think about that?"

Aidan was surprised. It seemed that in the past year his dad really hadn't wanted much to do with him at all, and truthfully, he hadn't really wanted to change that. Ever since he saw his dad at that restaurant, Aidan could barely stand looking at him. But Aidan had kept his mouth shut and never said anything, especially to his mom. She would have been heartbroken. Now his dad wanted to act like nothing was wrong, everything was just fine, like they could go back in time before the entire cesspool of crap rose to the surface. Back to before his dad lost his son's respect and his job.

"And there's something else you need to know," his dad continued. "You're getting older, and I think that you shouldn't be kept out of the loop with things. That's one reason I only wanted you out here today; so that I could talk to you without your brother and sister listening in."

Aidan knew this couldn't be good. He could tell his dad was dancing around something as he stood there fidgeting with the canteen strap. Was he going to admit to what Aidan already knew? Or was he just going to make up another lie to cover for himself?

His dad handed him the canteen and wiped his palms on his dungarees. "Well, I don't know how else to tell you this, but Quinn was just diagnosed with lung cancer. I've seen you notice his tremors—side effects from his treatments. Or at least that's what he's told me."

"Seems like a good time to be smoking it up," Aidan muttered sarcastically.

"I know, I know. He's been a chain-smoker for as long as I can remember, but I guess he figures that stopping now isn't going to change anything. The doctor gave him six months."

Aidan shrugged, but inside he was boiling. _Now Quinn needs the Tanner family for chores and so he invites us up to Winchester?_

"So," his dad shuffled his feet among the dried pine needles, "we'll be staying up here at least this week."

"At least?" Aidan couldn't believe it. Now that they were up in no-man's land, his dad dropped the bomb that he would not only be spending a week, but also tacked on an indefinite stay.

"Come on, Aid. We haven't been up here to visit in a long time, and I feel awful about that. The least we can do is help out Quinn in his time of need. We're family, right?"

Aidan figured he didn't owe his uncle anything. Quinn never made an effort to visit Utah, either, so Aidan concluded that both sides were equal on the abandonment issue.

And his dad, of all people, talking about the support of family? It was more than he could stand.

"We?" He flung the rattling canteen back at his father's chest, his voice building, "How come _we_ have to make up for _his_ mistakes?"

"Keep your voice down, Aid." His father's face was turning red with each second.

"No! How come _we_ have to pay for _your_ mistakes? I'm tired of _your_ mistakes ruining _my_ life!"

"What the heck is that supposed to mean?" His father took a step toward Aidan, his chest puffed up.

"You know what it means." He coldly stared into his dad's face. "I saw you with _her_."

In the instant his dad looked away, trying to come up with something to say, Aidan stomped off into the forest.

Seconds later, his dad's voice boomed through the trees. "Aid! Aidan Fergus Tanner! Get back here!"

But Aidan increased his pace, running through the overgrown woods, limbs of saplings slashing at his face as his chest heaved with restrained sobs.

He wouldn't cry.

He stopped by a massive white pine, pacing like a giant cat.

"No one cares about my life at all."

Left. Right. Kicking needles and dust, pain and anger.

Aidan thought about all of the time he gave for his family—all of the hours of watching his younger siblings so his parents could look for work or attend to their own needs. He remembered the nights when his friends were out being kids and he was stuck babysitting while his mom worked swing shifts and his dad was out of town looking for another job.

_Yeah right, looking for another job._ Aidan wiped at his face again.

When his dad lost his job, Aidan had to give up club soccer because they couldn't afford it anymore. Even his room was taken away, and he had to share with Fallon when his dad converted Aidan's room into an office for his latest venture of being a private accountant.

It's what it all comes back to, isn't it?

"I'm tired of giving!" he shouted at deaf trees, his fist pounding the pine's jagged bark.

Blood trickled from his grazed knuckles, the pale flesh searing with pain. Aidan stared at his wounded hand and smirked. At least he could still feel, and at least he wouldn't have to finish clearing the woods with his dad. He wouldn't have to face him for a while.

He punched the tree again.

Chapter Six

Prior to witnessing the boy's outrage in the woods, I thought he was a whining, rude, and selfish brat. Now I knew that everything I assumed about him was, in fact, correct. But at least I had an idea of why he was so upset.

Even though he was only a year younger in appearance and years of existence, for me it was a gap of decades. Not only do Sidhe live almost five times longer than the average human, but also the nature of my kind pushes children to grow up when they reach ten years old. It's the way we are—and it's what's expected.

In a way, it's unfair that such selfish creatures as humans are allowed a longer period of rebellion. I was supposed to purge myself of all such emotions by ten.

_Saying is easier than doing._ That's what Onora used to tell me. I knew plenty of young Sidhe in Finias who lapsed and lost their maturity for a moment.

_He's such an ungrateful thing._ I sighed at my post in the boughs, my bird mind crisp and alert.

Now that I witnessed the boy's temper and was close enough to hear him, I saw him for what he was.

Stupid child.

That was what he seemed to me.

_Stupid child._ I rolled the words around in my mind.

Then I caught myself. I sounded like _her_ , and thought the very words I heard from Branna over and over again.

And yet...

I shifted my claws on the limb, settling in the gentle rocking.

I guess he's overwhelmed? Overburdened?

The prophecy dictating the rise of the Thousand Year Sidhe, our new leader, frightened me. To think that the prophecy could come true for me and that I would hold a place of authority with my kind! It was scary.

But wouldn't it be nice for someone to rely on me?

So it kept playing with my head and my heart. I memorized the prophecy's cryptic phrases. But it was the prophecy that made me feel it was my duty to complete Aidan's call.

Crow carrion.

The two simple words flew through my mind that tied my family to the prophecy. Two simple words that made my sisters the first anticipated candidates for fulfilling the divination of the Thousand-Year Sidhe. Yet when their lives moved on and showed no further similarity to the prophetic words, the clan's eyes moved on for another candidate.

Me.

I was only nine when Bridget and Branna went through the Incantation. I was busy finishing up my last year of childhood. I remember the hours I spent exploring caves with Father and singing with Mother. In my heart, I wished to have that time back—that I could just bask in carefree childhood.

No one would want anything to do with me if it wasn't for the prophecy.

I thought of Onora and the words she said to me the other night after I listened in on my sisters' meeting with the Seer.

"Let the oracles spout their cryptic phrases and the council pass their judgment, Morgan. Neither I nor your sisters know what is to become of you. You are the only one who can decide that."

I had cried back in frustration, "What if I can't decide? What if I don't want to decide?"

"You are the only one who can."

The words of the sage echoed in my mind. _I have to decide._

Except my sisters want to tell me what to do all of the time. It makes no sense.

A part of me craved a life like Onora's—living in seclusion hundreds of miles away until others came calling. I would have a sense of purpose and feel genuinely needed by others, but I also wouldn't have everyone looking over my shoulder all of the time, chastising every move I made. Burke used to keep me sheltered from all of that.

Despite the pain, I missed the first days when Father left. That was when Burke was in charge, acting as foster-father and telling us that our father would be back. He said Father would never abandon us after the disappearance of my mother, Endas. I still wished he was right. But if Father didn't leave on his own accord, then that only meant one thing: Father was taken.

Burke was the first to tell me stories of the Chain of Constance—a secret group within the clan who was supposed to have been eradicated hundreds of years ago. They were extremely traditional, always believing that Sidhe had no business mixing with humans. Yet, I saw their point, considering the last time my kind was open with humans it led to much death. They were definitely the ones who had the motive to do something to Father.

Luckily Father thought of us after Mother died and made his wishes known. Burke was Father's best friend and like an uncle to us. He was in charge when Father went missing. But Burke and Branna could never agree, and every night ended in shouting matches and flurries of spells cast in anger. Finally Burke lost the battle and went back to living at his own mound, leaving Branna in charge.

Now Branna always told me what to do and when. Sometimes I swear she's just mad that the prophecy was not about her.

The prophecy. That was still like being told what to do, even if it were true.

_And perhaps that's how Aidan and I are exactly the same_ , I thought as I remained perched at the tops of the white pines, staring down at the unknowing boy. _We both want to be appreciated. We both want control over our own lives._

Before this moment I saw my task in keening the boy's fate as rudimentary, just another step forward in my development. But now his anger and frustration mimicked my own, and part of me wished I could swoop down to him and show him who I was so he could see that he was not the only one who had difficulty in life.

Pain is a part of every creature's life.

But I remained in my state—the crow unseen amongst the boughs.

Maybe there is a way. Surely, getting a closer look at my ward won't hurt anything. I'm supposed to track him, right? I'm supposed to find the time and place to let him know that he's going to die.

I could not recall any rules prohibiting closer contact. There was only the rule of not being seen in true form prior to the keen—the crying of his death—because it was only at the moment of my announcement that I could really be seen by him.

He would never guess anything other than that I was just a curious bird.

_Hopefully he won't hurl rocks at me like he wanted to last time,_ I thought as I soared down through the trapeze of branches, my decision already made as I narrowly skimmed past the gnarled bark and lighted on a fallen log.

The boy stared up from his bloodied knuckles.

"What do you want?" he gruffly said.

Turning my head to the side, I saw his face more clearly—the reddened eyes hidden behind his mop of fiery hair, the freckles, much like my own, splattering his cheeks and nose.

_What's so special about him?_ _What makes the O'Briens any more significant than any other human family?_

I remembered the stories from the old land. Stories from a time before the Sidhe were forced to hide and other creatures were pushed into the Otherworld. Humans and Sidhe once lived side-by-side in Ireland, and the O'Briens were one of five families that openly mingled with the Sidhe, accepting us into their society. It was this unity that led to the Sidhe watching over the five families and helping to warn them of their deaths. It was the one comfort we could give to the humans. Unfortunately, over time it became misunderstood, the stories were lost, and the families began to see our calls as unwanted omens.

I looked at Aidan again, trying to understand if there was something more to him than what the stories told.

He spoke again. "I just can't get away from stupid birds, can I?"

My clawed feet pattered nervously on the log, ready to take flight in an instant, if needed. But I remained, watching.

Why is he the one? How is he going to die? For what purpose?

He wiped his face with the open flap of his flannel shirt, tears and sweat erased, but not undone.

I wished I could hear his thoughts.

Maybe it's best if he just talks to me like I'm some random bird.

I tried to simply listen and observe.

And then the boy stared at me as though he could really see me. As if he could see through the façade. See through the Sidhe magic.

"Now I'm the jerk, right?" He laughed to himself, his words of malice circling through the air. "And now I'm crazy 'cause I'm talking to a bird."

He scuffed his feet around in the fine dirt, his eyes following the swirling patterns.

Click-clack-clack-click.

It was all I could manage to do in order to appear normal.

His head shot up, and he gazed at me.

My heart thundered in my chest. Maybe I had gone too far.

"It seems..." he muttered and then was lost in thought, staring.

He looked sideways at me, tilting his own head to the side like a mirror of the bird he saw.

"Were you...?" He shook his scruffy head, roughly running his hands through his tangles of hair, as though it would clear his mind. "No, can't be. I'm just plagued by crows." Another uncomfortable laugh in the quiet woods.

_Click-clack-clack-click._ My head turned the other way and as I did so, the boy turned his head the same.

"I could swear... But that would be insane."

Aidan kept his head cocked to one side as he leisurely stooped for a tattered pinecone at his feet. He lightly tossed it in one hand-–up and down, up and down.

I leapt into flight just before he unleashed the pinecone with fury. The cone hurtled through emptiness as I retreated to the treetops, cawing the entire way.

The cone's bobbling off trunks and rocks ceased, and then the pollen-laden forest was silent.

"Can't everyone just leave me alone?" he whispered to no one.

I swooped through the ancient doorway and into the mound I called home, followed by a flurry of papers scattering off the great room's center table and onto the floor.

"Way to make your appearance known," snapped Branna as she bent down to clean up the mess.

"Sorry," I apologized in a whisper, rushing over as best I could in my normal state, bones aching from the hours of transformation.

I wasn't used to shifting back in mid-landing like my sisters could, but the more I practiced, the better at it I would become. I hoped. Most of the time I botched the landing and either morphed mid-air, thumping on the ground and knocking the wind out of myself, or I transformed too late and skidded in full animal form across the ground before transforming back.

"It's okay!" Bridget skittered into the room, light as a leaf as usual, her motherly tone dusting away my shame as she rustled nearby papers into a neat pile and handed them to me. Just as quickly, she left again, busy cleaning the sleeping quarters beyond the great room.

I finished picking up the last few sheets, gingerly placing them on Branna's stack, and gave her an apologetic smile.

Branna gave no direct response, but merely got down to business. "What did you find during your tracking today?"

"Ummm..." I knew this type of question and answer period would come. It was my sister's duty as guardian to ensure that I completed the keen without a hitch. But I thought I would have at least a couple of hours of preparation to think through what details to share with my overly critical sister. Or at least I could figure out how to word things.

"You learned how to hum?" Branna snickered to herself.

"No," I replied slightly above a whisper, my freckled cheeks blazing red. I always hated it when she twisted any response I made; any phrase that came out of my mouth made me look stupid once Branna was done with it. _Why couldn't Bridget be the oldest so that I could just talk to her instead?_

"Well, then, what?" Branna went back to her papers, writing in beautifully intricate runes, her eyes not leaving the pages as she continued the interrogation.

It all made me feel non-existent, as though any words I uttered would be either half-ignored or fully-analyzed and nitpicked. Either way, I was in for it.

"He's up north, just like I thought on Incantation night when I followed him."

"Good, and...?" Branna dipped her quill back into a miniature cauldron of deep purple pigment, scrawling another line of runes.

I took a deep swallow. _Better just get it over with._ I said it was quickly as I could, the words streaming from my mouth like an avalanche. "He's with his family staying at an old cabin at Winchester Lake for the week, maybe more, and his uncle has cancer. Lung cancer."

Branna stopped her work, tensely setting down the quill and turning to me with a clenched smile. "And what has _that_ to do with _anything_?"

Her words cut through me in seconds, leaving me grappling for a response.

"I just— "

"It doesn't _matter_ if he's with his family, Morgan. Your first keen only involves the boy." She sighed as though conversing with me was a dreadful chore. "And what does his uncle's health have to do with your job?"

"Well, his uncle is a member of the O'Brien clan, right?" I waited for her to jab at me again, but when none came, I continued. "And if we are bound to their clan, then shouldn't one of us be looking out for his uncle? Shouldn't someone be preparing his keen?"

"Ah, very nice, Morgan." Sarcasm leeched through Branna's words as she leaned back in her chair, propping her feet up on the table. "Yes, I suppose the council would have _no idea_ what's happening with the O'Brien brood, would they? I guess the scholars of our kind would be _surprised_ by one of our wards passing from this world to the next without our knowledge. I'm _so glad_ you were able to figure that out for us."

Her sneer made me want to fly away and never come back.

Branna picked up her quill and mocked writing a message with rushed movements. "Hold on, let me get this down so we can take it to the elders!" She slammed the quill back in the inkpot. "Ha! You're priceless."

I had never wanted to choke the cackling out of Branna's throat more than at that instant.

"That's enough, Branna," warned Bridget from the nearby doorway, hands on her hips just like Mother used to do when she was annoyed with our fighting.

"Yes, ma'am." Branna saluted the air, and then broke into more hysterical laughing. She finally stopped once Bridget walked past and shot her a death-glare.

"Come here, Morgan." Bridget offered me a seat in front of the hearth. "Now," her delicate voice whispered, "tell me all about your day."

How could my two sisters ever coexist in the same house, let alone the same womb? Branna, the abrasive yet motivated twin, was bound for a leadership role within the clan, much like Father. Bridget, on the other hand, was a free spirit, much more like Mother in her ability to negotiate and nurture. Thankfully, Bridget always knew to intervene, I just wished she would do it sooner rather than later.

"Well, like I said, he's with his family," I cautiously began.

"Yes, and?" Bridget encouraged.

"And he has a brother and sister, mother and father, an uncle... oh, and the uncle's the one who's dying. You know, the one I was telling Branna about?"

"Yes, Morgan. And about Aidan? Anything you noticed about Aidan?"

"He's angry?" I cast my eyes to the ground, remembering Aidan lashing out at his father and subsequently throwing a pinecone at me.

"Angry?" My sister seemed pleasantly surprised.

"Yes, but just your typical teenage boy anger." I reached for the appropriate term. "Angst?"

Bridget giggled, relieving my discomfort. "Okay, then. Angst. Anything else?"

I shrugged. "He seems perfectly healthy to me."

"Ahhh," Bridget leaned back in her rickety wooden chair. "I see. And so you wonder how one can forewarn the death of a healthy young man?"

"Boy, really." I tried to hide my blushing.

"Oh, fine. Boy. So, he's healthy? What matter is that?" Bridget was so lighthearted about the whole exchange, it gave me a creeping feeling in my spine, a feeling I would never reveal to my doting sister.

"Well, if he's healthy, then how do we know that he's going to, you know—"

"Die?" Bridget smiled widely, as though she was speaking to a child about their time playing in the spring sun.

I sighed, forcing myself to say it. "Yes. Die."

"Morgan, my sweet Morgan." Bridget tucked a stray piece of my dark hair behind an ear. "We cannot all know the secrets of the Inner Ring, am I right? _For knowledge in the hands of many results in ruin for all, whereas knowledge safely guarded leads to protection of the clan._ You know that."

Of course I knew it—I knew the second law of the Inner Ring like I knew the cold reality that I would never see Mother. I knew all of the Ring's laws since I was seven, just like every other child of the Sidhe. But deep in my gut, I felt sickened by the thought of the laws and the secrets they protected.

_How can I rule over a system I don't even fully know?_ I wondered as I stared into Branna's trusting eyes.

"Yes, I know, Bridget. Sorry if I misspoke."

"Quite all right, Morgan." Bridget patted my knee, eyes sparkling in the dimly lit great room.

Eyes so wide and reflective. Eyes, I realized, much like sheep.

Chapter Seven

Aidan was grounded to the perimeter of the cabin for his outburst at his dad. His knuckles on his right hand were bandaged tightly by his mom's deft fingers. He thought it was just as well that he was punished. He didn't want to go anywhere with his dad who had simply ignored the root of their argument in the forest. Of course, all that his dad relayed to his mom was the part about Uncle Quinn. Not a word was said about the accusation Aidan had flung at his father.

_Besides,_ thought Aidan as he twirled his trusty pocketknife around in one hand, _Uncle Quinn is so fidgety all of the time._

Aidan didn't know if his uncle's twitches were really some kind of side effect from his cancer or if Quinn was just a weirdo; he was still considering the idea that Quinn was a junkie off his fix. Either way, Aidan felt uncomfortable around him and usually found a reason to leave the room when Uncle Quinn came in. Sitting at the dinner table, watching a man wither away and die was not Aidan's idea of a good time or a worthwhile chance for family bonding.

As he sat on the front porch overlooking Winchester Lake, Aidan mindlessly whittled away at a stick he found in the brush pile, his hands effortlessly working the knife into the soft, green wood. The movement of hand and knife set him at ease as the spring wind ruffled his hair and clothing. Yellow pine pollen danced through the air and coated the world in its golden film.

The rest of his family was out with Uncle Quinn, visiting the local drugstore for groceries.

Aidan enjoyed having the late afternoon to himself, sitting on the porch with one leg propped up, working at something of no consequence. For a moment he was stuck back in an old photograph from the family album—the summers they used to spend at their old cabin near Redfish Lake. He and his dad used to be king anglers, reeling in one rainbow trout after another in the predawn hours at their favorite fishing spot.

I miss those days.

Aidan dug the blade deeper, gouging out more of the curling tree flesh, the intricate pattern he crafted, etched more clearly in the length of stick.

His mind wandered to the animals' chittering and rustling through the treetops. He heard a faint caw break through the dreamy melody. Aidan thought about the crows. Everywhere he went there seemed to be crows of some kind—almost like seeing seagulls everywhere even if it's nowhere near the water.

It did not just bug him that he kept seeing the black birds, but what plagued him was that they all seemed to look the same. And there was always just the one.

As he was about to drift off into daydreaming about the best trap to set to catch the stalker bird, Aidan heard a faint rumbling.

He looked down at his stomach.

The noise grew louder, coming from behind the cabin and on the main road. It was much too loud to be his parent's minivan. He peeked around the corner and spied. Flying around the last bend and headed toward the cabin, a pickup truck's massive white-walls kicked up a billowy dust cloud.

"Great. Rednecks," Aidan groaned. "So much for a quiet afternoon."

He stood and dusted himself off, ready to participate in conversation with the locals. _Hopefully I can understand them._ He laughed to himself as he pictured their toothless mouths gumming words at him _._

Aidan figured that if he were to tell them that Quinn was out, then they would just get back in their pickup and leave.

As the park-ranger-green truck swiftly approached, he could see there was only the driver on board, and the back of the truck was overflowing with greenery. Faster and closer it came, but the truck didn't seem to be slowing down or starting to stop. And it was coming right for him as he stood gazing from the porch—closer, closer!

Suddenly, he made his decision and leapt, trying at least to save himself because the porch was a goner. He tucked and rolled as best as he could, but fumbled his landing.

_Thud!_ He slammed flat on his back.

The truck came to a squealing halt only feet from his covered head, the remaining dust cloud from the crazed driver settling all around. The gurgling engine stopped.

Screeeeeech!

The driver's door flew open as Aidan remained prone on the ground. His eyes darted to catch a glimpse of the maniac he was sure would come around the truck and end his life with a rusty pitchfork. But instead of the heavy plodding of work boots, Aidan saw strappy, flat sandals and perfectly painted crimson toenails and silver anklets jingling under a smiling sun tattoo.

The feet rushed over, noises pinging and panging everywhere, and Aidan peered up to see an astonished woman looking over him like some kind of hillbilly angel. She was murmuring something, but he couldn't take it all in—her curly blonde hair, dimpled cheeks beaming down at him.

"Wha?" he mumbled, sitting up and not even bothering to try and brush the dirt off anymore.

"I said, _Are you okay?_ " Amused, the woman offered her porcelain hand and helped hoist him back to his feet, gently patting the accumulated dust off of his shoulders and hair.

"Uhm, yeah. I'm fine." He was surprised he could even speak, having seen his pathetically short life flash before his eyes only moments before.

"I really didn't think you'd jump like that! I mean, I like to make an entrance, but boy, I never expected one like that!"

She fanned herself after the exasperated half-apology, and Aidan realized that this woman was not just some hillbilly angel like he originally thought. Between her broomstick skirt and obviously bra free chest, this woman—more like girl—reeked of Bohemia.

Must be patchouli in the air – or something like that.

"You're Aidan, right?"

He glanced up from eyeing her, stumbling to recover. "Uhm, yeah. That's what most people call me. And you are?"

"Why, Aid, I'm your Aunt Holly!" And with that she pulled him in for a tight squeeze, mashing him against her chest.

He never felt so awkward in his life.

"I can't believe you jumped like that! It was just like watching a stuntman," she beamed from ear to ear, full of sunshine and joy.

_Too much joy_ , thought Aidan. _What kind of person almost scares someone to death in order to make an appearance? Wait. I know. A crazy one._

"Well, you mind helping me take some of these plants to the greenhouse?" She threw her thumb at the back of the pickup.

He knew he couldn't tell his aunt no. Was he just supposed to sit there and watch her make a bunch of trips back and forth? Besides, he was already in enough trouble with his dad and he didn't dare anger the one person who probably had not yet heard about his outburst.

"Sure." Aidan tossed his folded pocketknife and whittled branch onto the porch and followed Holly to the back of the truck.

"Sure you mind? Or sure you'll help?" she teased.

"Well, obviously I'll help if I'm following you!" he joked back.

"I appreciate it." She heaved the tailgate down and hefted the first potted plant into Aidan's waiting arms. "Greenhouse is in the back of the yard. You've probably seen it in the clearing."

Aidan simply nodded and trudged to the backyard.

So much for a relaxing afternoon alone.

The greenhouse's cloudy windows and tufts of weeds surrounding its perimeter did not leave Aidan much to hope for in helping Holly. What screens still existed on the exterior were shredded or dangling from their corners. The bricks in the pathway leading to the dirt-smeared door laid askew, corners of faded red leaping from the earth to trip a daydreaming walker. Aidan imagined what it once was—a tightly knit herringbone pathway from the back of the cabin to the greenhouse. A clearing to the right revealed a timeworn square of weed strewn bricks and a dilapidated grey Adirondack.

Holly turned the rusty knob and the door swung inward.

Aidan was overwhelmed with light beaming through the topmost crystalline panels, reflecting off intricate runs of pristine silver pipework that hung down over row upon row of pots and trays exploding with greenery. Plumes of vibrant flowers peaked over and under lengthy boughs and dinner-plate leaves.

"Big, isn't it?" Aunt Holly closed the door behind them, keys dangling from one hand while her other arm cradled a clay pot filled with an oversized fern.

"Yeah, I'd say so. Bigger on the inside than it looks from out there." He continued staring around the vast building.

"You can set that down over there." Holly motioned with her chin toward the table next to a cast-iron sink.

After the final load was transported into the greenhouse, Holly led Aidan around on a tour of sorts. While she did not go into the specifics of each plant type, she showed Aidan down the center aisle and simply pointed out how each area of the greenhouse was arranged—by color.

"Scarlet, coral, gold..." Her finger traced each section as she named them. "Of course, some are not in bloom yet," she stopped and held a massive variegated leaf, "which is normal. Wouldn't want them to show all of their blooms in here and then get to the store missing all of their beauty."

He wondered if organizing plants by hue was at all an accurate way to organize a greenhouse, but he figured she was the one who was still in business. All that Aidan ever accomplished in his Horticulture Class was growing a lima bean plant to maturity. After three failed attempts and the help of some hidden Miracle-Gro.

As he stared about at the glass walls and ceiling, he realized that the greenhouse did not seem as revealing as he assumed a virtually clear building would make him feel. He had imagined that being in a greenhouse would be the closest experience to how a goldfish must exist, but it was really more like being in your own private jungle. Baskets dangled from some of the waterlines, vines splayed up from enormous pots on the ground, and the tabletops were packed with various stages of growth.

"Over one-hundred-years old." Holly beamed like a proud mother. "Quinn and I have been working on it for a while—pretty much just focusing on what has to be done to keep the nursery going—but when we have some free time we try and gussy it up a bit."

He wondered how the greenhouse could have been built that long ago, considering that one-hundred years earlier Idaho was still mostly wilderness. Besides that, how would an enormous greenhouse, that was almost big enough to play soccer in, be planted in the middle of such an old forest? He shrugged the thought from his brain—maybe the structure was moved onto the property from somewhere less remote or constructed piece by piece.

"Well, it looks pretty nice."

What kept his attention locked, however, were the pipes that hung overhead. The intricate lines reminded him of his eighth grade science project which tried to demonstrate more efficient ways to channel hot water through residential buildings.

"Quinn installed this system before he got sick." Holly stared up at the ceiling along with Aidan. "This," she touched the nearest reach of pipe, "is his pride and joy. This system sends water and any type of nutrients directly to the plants. I can even switch different sprayers on and off, customizing what each and every plant receives. Not bad for such a small operation. He put these in ten years ago—before he even met me. Heck, before I was out of high school."

Aidan had to give Quinn credit. He may be a crazy skinhead, but at least he had the brains to rig up piping.

"He did this all by himself?"

Holly proudly nodded.

"Why? I didn't know he even liked plants—besides, you know, farming."

Holly cocked her head to the side, "Aidan, didn't your daddy tell you anything?"

Aidan looked at the floor, shuffling his feet so he wouldn't have to look her in the face, "We don't talk much."

"Well, your uncle has been growing in greenhouses since he was in high school. I guess he used to win all kinds of state competitions." She led him back to the front of the greenhouse and the tables where they set the new plants.

"Then it must be a good thing that he married you, right? Someone to help out since he's sick?" Aidan knew there had to be a reason why someone so young married his unpredictable uncle. Now he had an idea that their marriage was one of mutual benefit.

Holly's fingers fumbled with dusting stray clumps of potting soil off the marble counter. "Before he was sick, Quinn was already stepping out of the business. He wanted to spend more time out on his land. Live the farming life. Once the diagnosis came, the transition progressed faster than we thought it would. Now I'm pretty much running the place, and he's finishing what will most likely be his last harvest unless he goes into remission."

"My dad didn't tell me anything about that. But he never really tells me anything anymore. He only talks to me to tell me what to do. He just barely told me about Quinn's cancer."

"Yeah. I heard about your little... tiff... this morning." She said it so delicately that now Aidan felt embarrassed over the way he had acted. If he had known that his behavior would have been broadcast to everyone, he figured he would have tempered what he said at least a little bit.

Aidan wasn't sure how much Holly had been told, or even if she had been told any of the details of the argument. If it weren't for her relationship with Uncle Quinn, Aidan would spill about his dad's affair. For some reason, he couldn't stand that she thought he was just being unreasonable. But he knew it was not worth the price he would pay if his dad found out that he had divulged the information, so he just shrugged his shoulders.

"We sometimes don't see eye-to-eye, that's all."

"I know it doesn't help at all, but I can see where you're both coming from. It isn't much fun to work at someone else's house while on vacation, but I think we can make it a little bit more hospitable for you and your family while you're here. What do you think about that?"

Aidan eyed her with suspicion. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well, I'm working on a new project and your uncle needs some help clearing out some debris to make room for a second greenhouse. Maybe I can talk to your dad and you can help me out while he helps Quinn with the greenhouse. I could even pay you. Maybe even buy you some new computer stuff. How does that sound?"

Again, he shrugged. "I guess so."

"Good, then it's a deal. No more of you running your mouth or running off, and I'll make sure you don't have many opportunities to do so!" She busied herself with repotting a plant, carefully lifting the leaves as she grabbed handfuls of dirt and tucked the soil around the roots.

"Wanna help?" She wiped her nose with the back of her arm, her hands encumbered with her repotting, and indicated nearby plants with the swish of her head.

"Okay." Aidan threw on a pair of gloves, burying himself in work, and the sound of Holly's numerous pieces of jewelry jangling like a gypsy filled the otherwise silent afternoon.

Two-dozen plants and one hour later, Aidan and Holly finished repotting, placed the plants in their appropriate rows, and checked the watering timer.

"Business must be good, huh?" Aidan asked, prying for more information.

"As good as it will ever get, most likely. But your uncle thinks that if we expand our Icelandic line that business will boom." She shook her head, dimpled cheeks making her appear younger as she restrained a smile. "I can only hope!"

As they turned to leave the greenhouse, Holly took what looked to Aidan like a ridiculously large syringe out of her canvas bag and inserted the slender needle into a nearby valve. Aidan could see the valve's tubing lead to the watering system, fertilizing the plants.

"Time to go fix dinner," Holly sang as she closed the door, turning the lock one, two, three times.

_OCD freak_. Aidan chuckled to himself. It seemed that the Tanner men preferred women with the same eccentricities.

Then Aidan's mind flashed to the red-haired woman's face from the restaurant and his stomach dropped – who knew what she had that his father found so much better than his mom.

"Wanna help me tackle that, Aid?" She didn't even look up from rustling about in the hemp purse slung across her torso.

"Huh?" He woke from his rambling thoughts.

"Where were you off at just now?" Holly teased.

"Soccer." He reflexively sputtered. "Just thinking about how I miss the team."

"Oh yeah, I remember your mom saying something about how you played keeper?"

She really was trying. "No, I'm sweeper. Not keeper. No biggie, though. So what were you asking me about?"

"Dinner. Do you want to help with that?"

"Sure, I guess."

How could he say no to Aunt Holly? She was the first one to really take any time to talk to him. Their time together kept his mind occupied, keeping him from thinking about his argument with his dad and dark questions about Quinn.

The work, well, that was worth the tradeoff in Aidan's mind. In fact, Aidan supposed that he actually didn't mind working with plants. He preferred working with Holly in the greenhouse over working with Quinn and Dad anywhere, anytime.

If he was really stuck in Winchester for the week, he figured he would make the most of his time by steering clear of everyone else and taking every opportunity to help Holly. Besides, even though she was his aunt, she wasn't bad on the eyes or his wallet.

Chapter Eight

"Hand me that trowel over there." Bridget strained as she stooped over a low bed she busily planted with Bearded Tulips every spring – a special variety created by splicing tulips with irises and then adding a sprinkling of Sidhe magic.

She loved changing out the colors amongst the numerous plots surrounding our family home. While our parents' absence left our lives incomplete, it still felt like home in the mound at Finias.

Two years had gone by since our father disappeared after scouting a location for a new Sidhe village. The old clans of the Irish families we watched over were spreading farther with each year. While Sidhe have powers to move over vast distances in little time, our father, Delvin, repeatedly insisted in council meetings on the need to hide in the open. He told the rest of the Inner Ring that the old ways of living in hidden preserves would have to end as less and less open land could be concealed from technology. At what point would the wilderness areas be paved and our protections eradicated? His answer? Live within the human world and mask ourselves as human. Besides, our Sidhe ancestors used to live side-by-side with humans and that worked for some time.

The older High Sidhe thought he was a lunatic, but some of the younger members agreed with Father and allowed him to begin searching for a community in which to settle a test-group of Sidhe.

We had not seen or heard from him since that warm, summer morning he left in search of a new home. We were orphaned. Mother disappeared years before. Many rumors about her fate still flitted around Finias—suicide, abduction, becoming mortal—you name it, and it was discussed as truth.

Such thoughts filled my head as I stared off at the green fields of wildflowers and grass surrounding the mound, preventing me from hearing Bridget's request until the third time she shouted.

"Morgan! Hand me that trowel!"

"Oh, sorry." I delicately handed the tiny shovel to her—handle first, of course.

I went back to sitting nearby on a rotting log, shoulders slumped forward as I shielded my body from the crisp spring air. I watched Bridget dig, transfer the bulbs to a worn sheet of canvas next to her, and then continue with the next bulb.

"I hope I can get all of this done. I need to get going if I'm going to put together that potion for the Inner Ring before bedtime."

"A potion? What for?" I asked. Bridget was a Nurturer and often was called on for healing potions or identifying plants, but a potion for the Inner Ring? I knew it must be something significant.

"Something to do with problems in the Northern regions. Creatures appearing that should not be freely roaming. The potion should help track them down." Bridget squinted in the sunlight, her nose crinkling like it always did.

"What kind of creatures?"

Bridget shrugged. "I don't really know, but when the Ring asks for something, it's my duty to help."

"I see," I said. Everything Bridget did revolved around what was right for the clan. I didn't know if Bridget would understand my current dilemma, but I didn't have anyone else to turn to. I figured that now was as good of a time as any to ask. "Bridge, do you ever wonder what it's like for them?" I fiddled with a long blade of grass that drifted between my knees.

"Like for who?" Her eyes didn't shift; her hands continued their monotonous work.

"You know," I hesitated, worried I was going to sound like an idiot, but since I already started, I would look even more like an idiot for not finishing. "Mortals."

Bridget paused in her work, dusted off her perfectly tailored gardening gloves on her matching mint green apron, and gave me an assuring smile. "I suppose I have—once in a while. I guess every time I'm out here working the soil with my hands rather than doing things the easy way, I'm dabbling in my idea of what life is like for them."

"Oh. Okay." I fidgeted with the hem of my knee-length dress, avoiding my sister's careful eyes.

"Just, okay?" Bridget prodded between shovels of dirt. "Come on, Morgan. What is it you are really wondering about?"

I watched the verdant grass that slipped between my toes as I slowly moved my bare feet back and forth. "I wasn't really – well, I was not really asking – what I meant was..." I sighed before continuing. "What do you think it's like for them... as in... death?"

Bridget's head dropped slightly, but enough for me to know that she was not pleased with this turn in the conversation. "Death?" The word slithered off the end of her tongue as if it was a filthy sock she held out with the tips of her fingernails.

"Yeah, their death." Now that it was out there, I felt a little relieved. I wanted to ask Bridget about mortal deaths ever since I saw Aidan in the woods. "What would it be like to only live for fifteen years and then have it taken away from you? Was it this hard for you on your first keen?"

"They're mortals, Morg." Another bulb plopped onto the canvas. "My first was keening Aidan's great-grandmother. But all of my subsequent calls meant nothing more or less than the first. They are simply a job to complete—a mission to fulfill. Once you sing a soul to the Otherworld, you'll see that keening is an important task, but not one with which we should become emotionally involved."

"It's not that I'm... involved." My cheeks burned as I strained to explain myself. "It's just that I look at Aidan and I wonder how fair it can be that he has to die. Where is the sense in a fifteen-year-old's death?"

"Why are you worrying about something like that? All mortal creatures go through the cycle, and we see it all around us in the natural world." She shrugged and went back to digging up bulbs. "Once you've foretold the death of your first mortal, the rest of your assignments seem fairly unremarkable. Trust me. Aidan will be just another name on a list of many."

I couldn't believe what she was saying. Bridget, my normally compassionate sister talked of human deaths as though it was extinguishing a fire, plucking a blade of grass, scattering the dried seeds of the dandelion. I expected this kind of response from Branna – which is exactly why I did not go to Branna with the question – but Bridget? I thought Bridget would understand. I thought Bridget could bring comfort.

"Something wrong, Morg?"

I swallowed deeply, trying to control anger that boiled in my belly, urging for release. Clenching my lips tight, I managed a quick, "No. You're right."

I excused myself from helping with the spring plantings, muttering something about studying I needed to finish, and stumbled out of the garden. I brushed past Branna, who spoke with a red-cloaked Sidhe outside the mound's front door. Into our home I dashed, averting my tearing eyes from Branna's suspicious gaze. I fell onto my bed in a heap, coughing cries into the pillow.

"Unremarkable?" I spoke the word into my suffocating pillow, still unable to believe Bridget's upsetting words. I turned over and stared up at the ceiling, arms crossed over my heaving chest. "I have to take part in someone's death and that's just ordinary?"

I wished Mother was there to console me or that Father would return and take me out to the hidden desert caves like he used to every Saturday morning.

Father would understand. Didn't he always say that he thought there must be some mortal blood in his line somewhere?

I turned to the white orb hovering on my nightstand. Within the orb floated Father's prize-possession he left with me the summer morning that he left. I begged him not to go, and then he pulled the silver coin from his pants pocket and put it in the palm of my hand.

"My promise that I'll be back." His last whisper and a kiss on the forehead, his crinkled eyes promising more outings and lessons. The coin – the first human money he ever owned – a guarantee that he would be back to Finias the following Saturday.

Two years later and the coin still hovered, suspended and protected in the white, swirling orb of moonlight. Every night I still stared at the treasure and spoke to him as though he could hear from wherever he was. I told myself that he would soon return.

Daddy, please come home. I can't do this alone.

Chapter Nine

Aidan carefully placed the shiny silver bracelet in the center of the concealed snare, checked the tautness of the rope, and then dashed back into the house before anyone noticed he was gone and what he was doing outside.

Mom unloaded groceries into the antique fridge – orange juice, toaster waffles, and more plain yogurt.

For Kaylee, of course. Bleh!

Holly busied herself at the stove, humming as she watched three different steaming, boiling, churning pots of savory dishes.

Aidan finished setting the table and took a moment to poke his head in the rest of the bags, desperately searching for the one request he had made before his mom went into town.

Underneath the bag of hamburger buns?

Nope.

He rummaged deeper, pretending he was helping put things away as he searched.

Next to the carton of eggs?

No luck.

His last hope? Paper bag at the end of the counter, right next to Uncle Quinn who stood leaning his butt against the counter, deep in conversation with Kaylee regarding the benefits of some natural herb Holly grew.

Apparently Kaylee's on to her next obsession. Homeo-whatever.

Cautiously Aidan stepped toward the bag, not wanting anyone to notice his approach. Slowly he crept closer, but far enough from Uncle Quinn so that he wouldn't feel Aidan's encroachment on his personal bubble. Aidan's fingers gently brushed the lip of the bag, sneaking a peek at Quinn and his sister to make sure they hadn't noticed.

Before he could retreat or change his stretch across the counter, his sister bellowed, "Aid, you trying to steal Quinn's beer?" Her voice rang in shrieking delight, and Aidan's stomach flopped on the floor like a dying fish as Quinn casually turned around, staring down at Aidan.

"No." Aidan took a step back and then saw the gotcha look on Quinn's face. "No!" Aidan's cheeks blushed as he shrunk further away from the bag, hands held behind his back like a reprimanded two-year-old.

"All you have to do is ask!" laughed Uncle Quinn, pulling out the six pack of Bud, tearing one loose from the plastic ring and holding it out to Aidan.

Before Aidan could protest, his mom swooped in, snatching the white and red can in her claw and shoving it back at Quinn's chest. "I don't _think_ so!" Her voice cut through the tiny kitchen.

"Oh, Marge," Quinn smiled, "I was just foolin' with the boy!"

_No one calls Mom Marge. No one._ Aidan's eyes darted from Quinn to Mom, waiting for her to escalate the exchange.

Aidan's mom would have preferred Margaret long before Marge. Everyone called her Maggie or Mag, but not Marge. His mom was teased relentlessly in school for that one – chants of "Large Marge" or "Marge is in Charge" plagued her childhood.

Aidan could see her face tense up, the normally rosy cheeks devoid of all color.

Uh oh, here comes the eruption.

He was about to clear out of the kitchen when it happened.

"Quinn. Look." Her razor voice kept Aidan at a standstill. "I understand that things may be a little, well, _different_ up here. Maybe even a little... hokey. But excuse me if I don't find underage drinking to be something to joke about. And furthermore—"

Her pointer finger was poised, ready for the kill, when the unthinkable happened. Quinn didn't say a word, but casually nodded his head as he walked past her, what was left of the six-pack dangling from his shaky hand while the other hand gave her a shuddering salute.

His mom just stood there, finger at the ready and pointing at nothing, mouth still open in mid-sentence.

Kaylee stifled a giggle, but Aidan still remained frozen.

Suddenly Uncle Quinn's red mane and smiling face popped back in the doorframe. "Oh, Aid, if you were lookin' for your zit cream, they didn't have any at the store, so I guess you'll just have to use some good ol'-fashion soap."

As Aidan's face reddened, all he could hear were Fallon and Kaylee laughing in unison. Holly rushed into the other room and he could only hear the tone of her voice reprimanding her husband. Aidan's mom didn't say or do anything, but just stood there with her hand over her mouth like even _she_ was trying to keep from laughing at him.

Aidan slowly walked outside, managing to keep himself from saying all of the words he wished he could fire back at his uncle. With his dad in the other room, Aidan didn't dare lose it. He didn't dare push his luck and miss out on saving what was left of vacation.

Uncle Quinn is such a jerk. Even if he is dying. Why are sick people always exempt from being told when they're being complete pricks?

Aidan stepped off the porch and threw his pocketknife at the sap-oozing knothole of a nearby pine, the knife glancing off and landing with a thud in the underbrush. He shuffled to find his knife and eventually settled in the shadows of the porch.

From where he was sitting he could still try to make his mark. He flung the knife from his seated position.

Thwang!

It veered off again.

He got up from his spot on the ground, and retrieved his knife. He picked it up, wiped the blade off on his pant leg, and returned to his hidden location on the side of the cabin, away from the laughing and taunting.

At least from here I'll be able to tell if I catch anything in my snare.

The knife hurtled through the air again; the distinct whir was the only sound among the creaking boughs above.

Holly would understand what a jerk he is, wouldn't she?

He retrieved his knife again, returning and readying to aim his old blade worn from years of Boy Scout campouts.

Probably not. She married him, anyway.

Thwing!

Another miss.

Why would she marry someone so old? He's twice her age. She's closer to my age than—

He stopped short and threw again, not even bothering to aim, just merely flinging his arm in annoyance.

Thunk!

Aidan's eyes shot up to the knothole – a perfect hit. He simply sat staring at the tree, twelve feet away, knowing in his mind that he must not be seeing things correctly.

"Must be dumb luck," he mumbled as he carefully stood to get his knife once again.

Then he heard it as he twisted the red handle to remove the blade. The telltale squawk and flapping came from the back of the house.

The snare!

He leapt from where he was standing, swiftly folding his knife in one swoop as he dashed to the back of the yard. There it stood, one leg tethered to the ground, its massive wings beating the air in a frenzy of desperation. It cawed again, this time directing its anger in Aidan's direction, as though it knew he was the one responsible for its predicament.

"So, I finally got you." Aidan sauntered up to the bird, but stayed out of pecking range.

"Time to put you away and see if any more of your friends decide to show up."

He dashed to the detached garage where he had seen an old wicker birdcage from decades long gone, and quickly returned with the bird's prison under his arm. He set the dingy white cage on the ground and slowly crept toward the black bird, his arms stretched out on either side, one holding the unfolded knife.

"Now, how do you think I—" he inched forward a few feet.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Her voice echoed through the trees.

Aidan spun around to see where she was standing. "Aunt Holly?" She was nowhere to be seen, but he also could not see very far into the trees lit by the cabin's motion-detection lights.

_Must be playing a trick on me and hiding._ Aidan's serious expression unfolded into a grimace. He would show her what he could do.

"Here, birdie." He tiptoed toward the bird, its wings now at rest as it picked at the knotted rope around its ankle.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he lilted his voice just like his mom did when she was trying to cage Dwayne. She always hated having to put the hairless rat back in his cage.

"Come on." He clicked his tongue, attempting what he thought sounded like a bird beak opening and closing.

"It will peck your eyes out." The voice – her voice, he was sure – echoed as a whisper through the towering trunks.

Aidan shrugged off his aunt's warning. If she really meant it, she would come out and face him directly. Besides, if she was okay with Uncle Quinn's collection of taxidermy in his office, why would she care about him catching a bird? It wasn't like he was planning on killing it or anything like that.

While keeping the bird distracted with the floodlight bouncing off his knife he held in one hand, Aidan used his free hand to grab at the end of the rope closest to him. He stretched in both directions, trying to keep the bird from noticing what he was doing while trying to keep from falling over.

Slowly, slowly he inched toward the aged rope until finally—he got it!

Aidan swiftly pulled the stake from the ground and reeled in the rest of his lasso, the bird finally aware of its shortened leash and the jaw-like door of the cage coming its way. Desperately it tried to take flight, wings flapping and swiping Aidan in the face, almost making him drop the rope.

_It's now or never!_ He leapt on the bird, his hands crashing down on the bird's wings, pinning them against the heaving sides of the animal. Its head turned and twisted, thrashing back and forth with its beak, pecking furiously at nothing as he shoved it in the cage, threw the door shut, and clasped the lock.

Unsuccessfully it flapped inside its prison, as Aidan sat back panting, proudly staring at his new possession.

With each deep breath he took, his heart rate descended back to normal, and the bird's flapping ebbed until it merely stood in the middle of the cage, not even making a sound.

He looked around at the empty woods, half-expecting Aunt Holly to run out and scold him for capturing a wild creature, but the chastising never came. Holly never showed herself from the shadows as Aidan absconded with the caged bird, sneaking it into Quinn's office and leaving it under a green wool blanket in the corner. He rushed to go eat dinner and didn't look back at the bird.

Chapter Ten

_Trapped_ , I thought to myself as I was forced to stay even longer in bird form. I was too afraid to change back for fear of what would happen to my body if I changed while trapped in the cage.

Will the cage break? Will the cage become infused with my body when I transform, the roof slats melding with my arms and neck, the bottom of the cage permanently resting on my hips, my legs sticking out from the bottom? Can I even will myself to change?

I started to hyperventilate, the narrow bars of the cage seeming to constrict around my feathered body.

_Perhaps it's better just to wait it out. I don't_ think _he'll kill me. I wish Father was here. He'd know what to do._

The old Army blanket covering the cage kept the air stagnant, but in the bottom corner, if I turned and bent over just right I could spy a gap in the blanket. I stretched down to look out of the cage at the room I briefly glimpsed when Aidan hurried me inside.

_I should have transformed as soon as that noose was around my ankle._ But the tricky part with transforming was that sometimes animal intuition and desires take over and a bit of my Sidhe mind could give way to animal.

_No wonder I was so drawn to that bracelet_ , I thought.

But there was something more to it than the fact that it was a sparkling piece of jewelry. It seemed oddly familiar to me—almost like the bracelet my mother used to wear at bedtime when she sang her soft ancient Sidhe songs, the bracelet tinkling like a tambourine in rhythm with the cadence of her alto voice.

Peeking under the blanket, I spied the worn wooden planks, and the edge of a metal mesh wastebasket. The room was bathed in colorless silvers of night.

Maybe I can get myself out of this cage.

I opened my wings as wide as I could in the cramped confines of the cage, batting them about furiously as I began to recklessly hop up and down.

The cage bobbled a bit.

I leapt to one side, desperately grabbing the sidebars with my talons, keeping myself aloft as I hurtled in the opposite direction. The cage tilted to the side and failed to topple over, but the blanket shifted in the commotion and I could see half of the exposed room.

Once again I shook the cage, jumping this way and that, darting from one side of the cage to the other to get it rocking.

One— Two— Three— Four— and plunk!

The world turned sideways for an instant, but as soon as the cage stopped moving, I jumped up, crow feet now resting on what was the side of the cage, talons tapping through to the office's wooden floor. The door to the cage was still shut tight and none of the cage's wooden slats were bent or broken enough for me to make an escape. I wished I had taken Onora's advice and specialized in Transfigurine techniques – then I would just whip myself into a cockroach and be done with the whole mess. Unfortunately, my kind's natural transformations are birds, and my family happened to align with the crow. Only those who chose to learn the art of morphing could master other animals.

I rocked the cage again, trying to roll it on its side, but the door's lock was too large – like a stone placed in front of a wheel – and it refused to budge any further. Yet, now that I was a little further into the middle of the room, I could take inventory of my surroundings.

To the left was a door. Judging by the light seeping under the crack, it was the door that led to the hallway. Another smaller door for the closet. A small square window on the right wall —dim moonlight. A flimsy-looking couch on the same wall, which the cage now rested against on one side. I spun around and behind the cage was another wall and a safe, and finally a large oak computer desk.

_I'll just wait._ _He can't keep me in here all night, and if he does,_ then _I'll start making some noise. He'll either have to let me go or let his family know about me – they may be a little kinder about letting me go._

My feet flexed. The slats of the cage were uncomfortable for my talons to rest on for long periods of time. I wished I had a branch to hold onto – then just maybe I could feel some comfort. Dismayed, I looked around the room one more time, the light from outside barely illuminating the shadowy corners.

_Is that—?_ I spied an odd-looking statue on top of a shelf near the window. My bird eyes adjusted to the changing light as I peered through the bars and across the room.

The furry paws and teeth came in to focus and I gasped, _A squirrel!_

I leapt back in the cage, tail feathers slamming against the prison. Suddenly, it seemed, all of the animals creeping in the corners came into view. I was surrounded by poor, lifeless creatures.

_Maybe I'll just become another one of_ them _if I stick around long enough._

I was trapped. I tried to settle down, gently folding my wings, preparing to wait until I could come up with another plan of escape.

Maybe when Aidan comes back I can just slip out of the door or claw at him.

My mind drifted to various escape plans – realistic and absurd. I desperately tried to keep my eyes open, afraid if I fell asleep I would either transform back into Sidhe or wake up in bird form, unable to remember who or what I really was. Either scenario could not happen. But no matter how often I stretched my beak open or ruffled my feathers, I could not keep from drifting off.

Scritch-a-scratch. Scritch-a-scratch.

My eyes darted open, pupils dilating to see who was approaching. It came from the door from which I could still spy light spilling from the bottom into the dark room. A shadowy figure shuffled back and forth, in and out of the scarce light.

_Scritch-a-scratch._ _Scritch-a-scratch._ _Scratch. Scratch._

"Hello?" I whispered, and suddenly the sound stopped. "Hello?" I tried again, but no answer.

_Better try something a little more natural_ , I thought.

_Click-clack-clack-click._ My beak snapped its familiar rhythm, the only one I knew to make.

_Scrit-a-scrit-a-scrit—_ It quickly approached, the sound growing with each passing second.

And then it was there on the other side of the cage, staring in at me with its pink eyes creepily glowing, its tiny nose and whiskers twitching in response.

Great, how do I talk to a rat?

I hopped up and down to get his attention, rocking back and forth, and moving my head from side to side, but the rat didn't respond. He simply sniffed around the cage, searching for food.

Suddenly a crack of light emerged from the doorway as the door slowly swung inward, a pudgy pink face poking into the room.

"Dwaaaaayne?" the boy called, his voice unsure of the dark. "Dwayne?" He tried to peer around the room without turning on the lights, merely using the hall light as his only illumination.

Then his eyes rested on me. I tried to sit perfectly still, hoping he didn't see me and would just leave.

Fallon. I would recognize him anywhere.

Luck was definitely not on my side. He flipped on the light, and in bound the chubby boy I first saw at the gas station not so long ago.

"Coooool!" he beamed down at me, squatting down to get a better look.

Dwayne raced over and leapt up on Fallon's bulging thigh, quickly ascending to his shoulder.

"What should we do with it?" he excitedly asked his companion. "Keep it in my room? I could put him in your cage since you aren't using it anyway. It might be a little bigger than this one."

Fallon carefully inspected the cage, slowly lifting it upright and eyeballing me with a crazed look. He scratched his already mussed up hair.

_If he gets me in the other cage, I may never have another opportunity to get out._ I padded back and forth, nervous as I contemplated what I should do next. Part of my mind was becoming fuzzy from being transformed for so long. If I stayed changed for too long, I may never be able to make the decision to escape or change back.

Fallon's eyes grew wide. "I know!"

That look was too evil.

I shook as Fallon raced down the hallway, cage suspended between his arms, jouncing along. He crashed into the kitchen, sweat gleaming off his forehead. Everyone at the table looked up in sudden silence, frozen in time—Quinn in mid-gulp of his beer, Mom mid-spoonful of peas, and Dad mid-dabbing his mouth with a napkin. A young girl, who I assumed was his sister, merely shrieked at the sight of me. Aidan's face lost all color, his mouth agape, but it quickly turned into a quiet rage.

"Look what I found in Aid's room!" Fallon squealed with delight, prancing up to the table with the cage in hand.

I tried to keep hold as best I could and managed to avoid bashing my head on the cage.

Their mom turned to Aidan and sharply asked, "What?"

Aidan tried to brush it off. "I don't know what he's talking about. He's the animal lover, not me." He jabbed another piece of meatloaf with his fork and shoveled it in his mouth. "Be-shides," he mumbled between bites, "i's juss a s'upid birr."

"It's not just a stupid bird." A blonde woman in a long broomstick skirt glided from the table, gently snatching the cage from Fallon's chubby fingers.

"Heyyyy, Aunt Holly!" he began his protest but was silenced by the woman's upraised index finger.

"What it needs," she softly spoke, "is to be out where it belongs. If you don't mind?" She indicated the door to outside.

Aidan scowled. Their dad shrugged. Fallon stood with his mouth open, ready to protest, but nothing came out.

In a moment, Holly was outside and quickened her steps. Once within the woods she set the cage on an abandoned log and stood back, staring at me with squinted grey eyes. She leaned forward, hands resting on her knees.

Quietly she addressed me, her face much more serious. "You're lucky I found you. But you better stay away from here because next time you may not be so fortunate. You understand?" She turned her head to the side. "I mean it!" Her finger jabbed in the air at me.

I cawed. It was all I could do – placating the crazy woman.

"Very well," she said.

The cage door sprung open, and I hopped out of the narrow doorway. I turned once and caught a final glimpse of Holly staring at me with a hint of disdain. It sent a chill through me. I didn't wait any longer to leap into the air and soar over Winchester Lake's moonlit waters.

Chapter Eleven

After Fallon's initial protest that, indeed, the bird had been housed in Aidan's room, his dad ended the matter. The bird was gone and the issue was put to rest.

Dinner was finished in silence, and Holly said no more about the incident with the blackbird. She merely glanced at Aidan when no one was looking and winked. It all made Aidan uncomfortable—it was like she knew it was him that captured the crow, and her wink made them in on that secret together.

"Well, I guess these dishes won't clean themselves," Mom got up with napkin in hand and started to collect the plates as the rest of the family retired to the family room.

Once everyone else was out of earshot, Aidan intervened. "I got it, Mom. Go sit out on the porch and read." He hefted the stack of plates out of her arms and awkwardly carried them over to the sink.

She began to protest, but Aidan merely shook his head at her. He untied the apron that she hadn't taken off since helping Holly make dinner. Shrugging her shoulders and giving up, she shuffled out the kitchen door and onto the porch, grabbing her copy of _Rogue Warrior_ on the way out.

Aidan cleared the dirty dishes, scraping remnants of scalloped potatoes and meatloaf into the garbage as hot water steamed, filling up the sink.

"Whatcha doin'?" Holly stood in the doorway to the kitchen, the muffled sitcom laughter of the living room blurred by Fallon's Gameboy.

"Just doing some dishes," Aidan replied. He remained hovering over the trashcan, his back facing her, afraid that initiating further conversation with Holly would only lead to discussion of the trapped bird.

He thought about the voice in the woods when he was capturing the crow. It was Holly's voice; he was sure. Despite her warning, he had ignored it and continued his plan.

_She'll probably bring that up if we keep talking._ Aidan turned off the water, its suds nearly overflowing the sink, and slid in the pumpkin-colored dishes.

"Mind if I help?"

"I don't care." He hurriedly reached for a plate to get his work done as soon as possible, ignoring the searing pain in his hands from the boiling water.

Holly took her station next to the sink, ratty dishtowel in hand as Aidan scrubbed at the steaming dish. Now he knew why his mom always wore her rubber gloves – aside from the whole OCD issue. He rinsed the plate and handed it over to Holly, cautiously grabbing the next plate from the water.

"Do you still want to help me out tomorrow?" Holly looked at him from the corner of her eye, needlessly drying the plate for the second time, her hand running over both sides in swift circles.

_What will we be doing on the water with plants, anyway?_ He could picture waders, nets, and water sampling but it didn't sound too appealing. Of course, neither did a cleaning day around the cabin with Mom or heavy labor with Dad and Quinn. But if he went with Holly, she'd have plenty of time to interrogate him about the bird—if she really thought he was involved.

He didn't miss a beat with his work, continuing his scrubbing and handing a new plate over to Holly who had just put the dried one away on its shelf. "Why not?"

"Well, you didn't say a word to me during dinner, so I thought that maybe you would rather stick around here tomorrow."

"I just don't know what we're doing tomorrow. That's all." Aidan mumbled an attempt to avoid promising Holly anything, and hurriedly rinsed a plate.

"Well, good! I already asked your mom and she said it would be just fine!" Holly beamed at him as she snatched the plate from his hands. "I have a feeling you're going to _love_ it!"

It was settled. Aidan would be helping out Holly again.

As he pulled his old green and white Ireland jersey over his head, readying for another night on the Futon of Woe, Aidan stared at Quinn's medals dangling on the wall above the desk.

_Hildegrass Award for..._ He squinted, trying to make out the inscription. _Courage, Decency, and Selflessness._

Aidan scoffed. _Quinn? Selfless? I'd like to see that._

The red ribbon next to the _Hildegrass Award_ held a triangular shaped silver medallion with one fleur-de-lis at the top.

Taking a step toward the desk, Aidan brushed his hair out of his face, peering in for a better look.

" _High Keeper of the Northern Gates_ ," he read to himself. "Weird. Wonder what that's supposed to mean." Aidan dropped down on the futon, his head sinking into his pillow. "Probably some compound he's in charge of."

Aidan's mind drifted into the supple arms of slumber, darkness lulling him into drooling snores.

He woke with a crick in his neck, another victim of the futon's dastardly deeds, and shuffled to the door. Before he could touch the handle to give it a turn, the door creaked open, revealing the dimly lit hallway. Everyone else seemed to be asleep, and the entire cabin was eerily quiet like the eye of a storm.

He reached up to rub his eyes, but then realized that he wasn't feeling the normal morning grogginess that usually plagued him. The cottony mouth, the gluey eyes, and the lethargic limbs. None of it. He felt ready to run, ready to help Aunt Holly with anything and everything. He hadn't felt this great in a long time.

He rounded the corner to the living room, but was unable to move. Not only could he feel some kind of force paralyzing his body, but also he saw it in the center of the room, its eyes staring at him like it had before.

The green dog's untamed hair was unmistakable, but it wasn't panting at him like it was the last time he saw the beast.

_Last time I remember seeing..._ His mind drifted.

The scene was so familiar, and yet there were those subtle differences, but one thing was clear to Aidan. This room was the same room from his previous dream. He had been here before in his mind, and it was Uncle Quinn's home that had been the setting when he dreamed this before.

The dog didn't even blink as it continued staring at Aidan. Aidan could see the broken door and the axe across the room.

He heard her scream, just like he knew she would.

Mom? Holly? Kaylee?

He knew it was a _her_ , the blood-chilling scream coming from somewhere beyond this room. The kitchen? Outside? He couldn't tell the exact location.

Inside he surged to run forward, past the dog, through the house searching for who was in trouble, searching for their pain. But he couldn't will himself to move. He was frozen.

As he stared past the dog, he saw the axe half-embedded in the broken door. This time, the blade was covered in blood.

Aidan's heart leapt and even though he didn't know what to do, he knew he would have to help whoever was in trouble.

I have to see. I have to find out what's happening!

He willed himself forward, struggling against the immobility of his body, like a magnetic force holding him back from those he loved.

_I have to!_ He struggled to raise his arm. He knew that if he could raise his arm, it would be one move toward freedom.

_Arggghhh!_ His mind focused on his fingertips that were barely in view. The fingers twitched. Then slowly his arm rose, reaching into the living room.

Aidan looked at the dog and managed a smile.

The green beast's bearded mouth opened and time slowed. "Brrrrr-ROOF! Roof! Roof! Roof..." Its bark reverberated off the walls, deafening Aidan, who now held his ears with both hands, desperately trying to quell the nausea-inducing twang that resounded in his head.

He slowly raised his head to look at the dog once more. It was staring at him again, but he swore it was smiling at him. Aidan used the last bit of energy he had to reach forward one more time.

Again the blast of the canine's thunderous call, and Aidan doubled over on the floor, smothering his head with both arms as he lay curled in a ball. The pain that had once been only in his head was now flowing through his entire body, and his mind went dark.

Aidan slipped into some jeans and his requisite t-shirt, trying to forget about the nightmare that had left him sweat-ridden and achy.

_It was just a dream,_ he kept telling himself as he got ready for his day with Aunt Holly.

Aidan ambled down the hall and into the kitchen, trying to keep the echoes of numbness from his nightmare at bay. He stopped short at the sight of Holly bent over with her foot on a dining chair, slathering her bikini-clad body with lotion.

"Ahem," he coughed, trying to keep from thinking about Holly, even though she stood right in front of him. He diverted his eyes and tried to picture Mrs. Harbisher, hoping her ghastly image would keep him from turning red... or worse.

"Oh!" Holly popped up her head. "Sorry, I didn't hear you coming down the hall."

"Are we, uh, going swimming or something?" Aidan couldn't quite understand wearing a swimming suit to work.

"Well, you can't wear those if you're going to be out on the water with me," she smirked and pointed at Aidan's jeans with the bottle of lotion.

This has to be another joke. It's way too cold outside to be sunbathing or swimming. We're likely to get hypothermia!

Instead of protesting Aidan just shifted nervously on his feet. "I didn't bring a suit," he muttered, his face downcast, not wanting to look at Holly's scantily clad body more than necessary.

"Well," Holly snapped the bottle closed. "I'm sure your uncle has something you can borrow."

Out on the water in Uncle Quinn's twenty-foot Sport Angler, Aidan stood wearing his uncle's much-too-large dry suit. He felt ridiculous. Aunt Holly could pull off the whole dry suit look; she looked like a Banana Boat model when she wasn't wearing her frumpy skirts and baggy tank tops.

"Ready?" she yelled from the back of the boat.

"For what?" Aidan yelled back over the roar of the motor. He was so surprised that she had let him drive the boat – Dad would never let him even back out the car or drive on a deserted road, and here was over two-hundred horsepower under his control.

"Slow it down!" She fished for something in the bottom of the cooler.

He eased the throttle, bringing the boat to a halt, slight ripples of the lake sloshing against the aluminum sides.

Holly emerged with a spindly, slimy plant suspended in her hands. "Isn't it gorgeous?" she grinned.

"Uhm, yeah. Sure."

They were fifty feet away from jagged stone that met the lapping waves. This inaccessible section of shoreline was pristine – grey cliffs emerging majestically above the blue-green water.

"We're going to submerge about twenty of these. When they're big enough, they'll help with filtering the water and provide shelter and camo for the local fish species."

She handed him the plant, and dug around in the cooler for another.

"Cool." He scowled at the slimy, octopus-esque plant in his hands.

"Yes, very cool. They thrive in cold waters. We've had problems with some invasive plant and fish species for a number of years, and I'm hoping that this hybrid will help the native species re-emerge, and then we can simply take these plants back out of the system once it's recovered."

"Where did you learn all of this stuff?" He had imagined that all Aunt Holly knew about was planting seeds and fertilization, but hybrids and breeding? Correcting mini ecosystems in your spare time? He had no idea.

"Where anyone else would, dummy! Ever heard of a university?" She laughed and shoved another plant in Aidan's hands. "Now, I'll go down below and you will be in charge of handing these over the boat to me. It gets cold down there really fast, so I'll need you to be on your toes. Do you think you can handle that?"

"Down there?"

"Yeah, how else am I going to plant these babies?"

Aidan shrugged, embarrassed that he couldn't put it all together. _Water plants, duh. They still needed soil._

Within minutes Holly was completely geared up – the oxygen tank on her back, flippers on tight, mask and protective head gear in place. She sat on the edge of the boat, mouthpiece in one hand, shouted, "See you on the other side!" and rolled backwards into the water.

He rushed to the side of the boat where she had gone in, eyes canvassing the water for bubbles. And then she was back at the surface, arms outstretched for the first plant, her masked grey eyes the one point of familiarity. Aidan carefully handed one down to her and she descended back into the murk.

Some twanging country music played on in the background from the boat's sound system, and for once Aidan realized that he didn't care. He didn't care if he had to listen to redneck music. If no one else seemed to understand him, it wouldn't bother him. He would just shrug it off if his parents yelled at him for things that weren't his fault. Anymore creepy dreams about green dogs and axes would be just that—dreams. And most of all, he didn't mind spending the rest of the week in Winchester. There were the woods' privacy, seclusion's silence, and the lake's mysteries.

Plus Holly would be around to help reveal their secrets.

Chapter Twelve

I couldn't believe how close I came to being loved to death. I saw how much Fallon focused on Dwayne to know his capabilities.

Quickly I finished my chores, bones aching with every movement. But I was careful to conceal the morphing pains from my sisters. I didn't want to explain why I had been in a changed state for such a long period of time. Yesterday I was supposed to be conducting more reconnaissance on Aidan, trying to find out more about him so that when the time came for his death, I would know how to bring comfort. But I was not very successful.

True, I now knew the layout of the house, but the way Aidan's aunt spoke to me freaked me out.

It was as though she spoke through my Sidhe magic. But I was just imagining things. I was in such a panic at the Tanner cabin.

I continued dusting the ancient, unused mantle. It was merely there for emergencies and looks because my kind captured the power of the sun and moon ages ago.

"When you're done with that you need to go out and help Bridget with her gardening. I'm having a meeting." Branna didn't even look up from her work – runes, again.

My sister was one of the few rune writers in our clan. All Branna ever did was pore over books and scrolls, her fingers permanently stained purple by charmed inks. The charms left the runes indiscernible to anyone who did not drink from that specific ink prior to reading. In fact, each draught of ink had its own complex mixture – including the maker's mark. I didn't learn the art of Inking, but Branna was one of the most skilled Inkers in the clan. Whenever messages needed to be sent to the old world in Ireland, it was Branna who spent hours concocting the perfect blend of incantations, herbs, pollens, and a bit of her own hair.

I had to give Branna credit. She was spectacular with her gift.

Quietly I closed the door, my last glimpse of Branna hunched over her worktable, furiously scribbling away.

It was an unseasonably warm day for Palouse country. The dew clung to bunchgrass and tiny purple blossoms of silky lupine, but the sun melted the prospect of bone-chilling frost.

"Over here!" I heard Bridget's familiar voice echo over the pastureland surrounding our mound hidden among the magically cloaked hills of Finias.

I waded through the knee-high grass, fingertips brushing the tops of wildflowers which were beginning to flower. Bridget was working in the western fields along the tree line, her green apron melding with the surroundings.

"What's going on?" I asked, picking up a shovel. I helped dig a hole for a sapling.

"Well, I'm planting some new trees along the edge here so that the lowland has a sort of privet. Just for a little privacy."

"I didn't mean the tree. I meant with Branna. What's this meeting all about?"

"Oh, Morgan, nothing to worry about." She continued hefting the clay-riddled soil out of the growing hole. "Hand me some peat?"

"I'm just wondering–" I hefted a bale closer to her reach. "There seems to be a lot of whispering going on."

"There's always whispering going on, Morgan." She mixed the peat moss with the existing soil, muttering spells under her breath as she finished a final turn of the earth.

"True, but..." I fished around with how to word things without letting her know I eavesdropped on my sisters' visit to Onora. "You know everyone was talking about the prophecy before my Induction, but now that it's over, I haven't heard a word about it."

Bridget shrugged. "Like I said, always whispering going around. There's the movement of Dryads who have been asleep for centuries, the sighting of a Selkie at Herriman. Always rumors, Morgan."

I knew she would be difficult. Bridget had her own way of being as stubborn as Branna. Another twin thing.

"So, who is coming over?" I tried for more information.

"Oh, just some members of the Inner Ring." Bridget pointed to another sapling. "Hand me that, would you, please?"

I heaved the sapling into the hole and helped her backfill. As we finished, I sat back in the grasses, arms outspread. Bridget moved down another thirty feet and shoveled the next hole.

I stared across the acres of northern prairie which made up our family's land. When the first wave of immigrants arrived in the new land, my ancestors settled in the remote and grassy hills.

The rolling hills were not as green as Ireland, but Father always said it felt like home. For centuries my family lived in the hills of the Old World, watching over the O'Briens after the Great War between human and Sidhe.

When the families migrated, so did the Sidhe, continuing our vow of protection and keening in the New World. We protected the O'Briens at birth and through life, but when death came to the O'Briens, it was our duty to announce the death, comfort the family, and sing the departed onto the shores of the Otherworld.

_I wish it could be different. And I wish Bridget would tell me what is going on,_ I thought.

To the west, an unsettling front of darkening clouds was slowly boiling into the valley. The spring storms that I loved were sure to follow.

"Morgan? Help?" Bridget stood with her hand on one hip, leaning on the shovel with the other.

I sat up and stared at her. "I'll help if you tell me."

Bridget laughed, as if it was a joke. "Tell you what?"

"You know." I kept my voice steady as I continued sitting in the same spot, unflinchingly staring at her.

"Oh. I _know_? Know what? If you're so sure I know something, then you must know that something already." She brushed a long strand of black hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear as she casually propped her chin on the end of the shovel.

My eyes narrowed. "What if those who were supposed to love you the most kept something from _you_?"

"I guess I would think that they had my best interests at heart in keeping it from me. But let me ask you this," Bridget put her hand back on her hip and continued, "if you knew something that could change the course of someone's life and you didn't know if it would be for better or worse, would you still tell her?"

I stared at the upturned earth at my feet. _It's so unfair,_ I thought. _The way she can twist things around on me like that. Why can't they just tell me and have everything be my own decision?_

I swallowed hard. "Yes. Yes, I would tell." I lifted my head and stared right into her eyes, no longer willing to smooth things over by remaining silent or simply by agreeing.

"Yes?" Bridget snorted and went back to her digging. "That tells me you're definitely not even close to being ready." She stomped on the shovel, driving it deeper in her half-completed hole. "She's so right. You _are_ such a child."

A child?

I couldn't believe Bridget would say such a thing and agree with Branna.

"Take it back." My soft voice cut the air before I realized what I was saying.

"What was that? I'm sorry, I didn't hear you." Bridget's mockery pierced me. It was a tone I usually expected from Branna.

I stood up, my black hair flitting in the breeze. "Clean out your ears." My voice shook slightly, but I took a deep breath and steadied myself. "I said, 'Take it back!'"

"Excuse me?" Bridget's sneer morphed to snarl. I hadn't seen Bridget this annoyed in a long time.

"Take – it – back! Is that slow enough for you?" I sputtered. My heart fluttered in my chest, begging me to end the confrontation. But I stood my ground.

"I don't have time for this." Bridget drove the spade into the dirt and hefted a shovelful over her shoulder, dirt scattering in the rising wind. Her stiff movements showed her anger.

I was getting to her.

"You never have time for anything that's important to me!" My hair swirled around in frenzy, but I had to keep pushing Bridget as far as I could, hoping that she would tell me what I needed to know. Surely if she were angry enough, she would forget to keep things hidden and spout something before she could check herself.

"Of all the selfish—" Bridget flung her shovel down, ready to leap over and slap me across the cheek. But instead, she suddenly stopped in her tracks. The look in her eyes was enough to tell me that she was affected by something. Maybe it was the confidence coming through on my face. The fact that I didn't flinch. Didn't back down. Didn't cower.

_Maybe she finally understands_ , I thought.

My words were finally having some impact. I wouldn't let go of the opportunity to express exactly how I felt and hopefully push Bridget for information about the prophecy and the Inner Ring. "Selfish? Well, maybe it's about time I thought of myself! Maybe it _is_ time that I quit getting bossed around and snickered about!"

Bridget's eyes went wide and her mouth hung open.

_Yeah, you never thought I would say it!_ I thought. I loved seeing her so shocked. I should have started responding like this a lot earlier.

"So what is it, Bridget? What's going on?" My voice thundered through the sky as my hair continued to whip around in the oncoming storm.

Dark clouds hung directly overhead, and I spread my arms out on either side to wait the first raindrops.

"I—I—" was all Bridget could muster as she pointed through and above me.

Then I felt it. Not the raindrops. Not the crackling electric air of spring storms. Steaming breath exhaled on the back of my neck. My eyes went wide as I stared at my sister for some clue as to what, exactly, stood behind me. But Bridget collapsed to the ground.

Slowly I turned, head held high so as not to show the slightest shrinking. I came face to face with a red-eyed horse. It stood stoically behind me, its black mane dripping wet.

Rearing back, the horse's sharp onyx hooves pawed the air in front of my chest – just feet away from tramping my skull to pieces. Yet I didn't cower. The intimidating muscle-bound horse's nostrils flared and its neck arched as though ready to charge.

I took a step back, but the ebony horse moved toward me, legs outstretched and muzzle rearing as it whinnied.

Winds bent saplings until the topmost boughs touched the earth as in prayer to the creature with solid crimson eyes.

I prayed, _Please don't kill me,_ as I crouched to the ground, arms covering my head.

_Please don't kill me. I'll tell her I'm sorry. I'll tell her I didn't mean to be such a brat._ I desperately whispered the pleas in my mind.

The horse was going to pummel me with its fore hooves. I awaited an onslaught. I closed my eyes, waiting for it.

Instead, the horse came down on all fours and lowered its muzzle against my partially-covered head. I felt it snort against my scalp. I was certain it would nip at me or wait until I uncovered my head and then strike.

I stayed motionless.

"Haieet!" the shrill came across the grassland from the mound. "Haieet veel!"

The horse took a tentative step back, its breath no longer labored. It lowered its head to nibble on a tuft of grass, but kept its red eyes trained on me.

I remained crouched, staring at the massive horse, blind to the clan members rushing past and toward Bridget. I was deaf to incantations recited over Bridget's still body, and numb to Onora's warm hand on my clammy forehead.

Gradually, I heard Onora's voice break through.

It was just simple muttering at first, "–you feeling?"

"Huh?" I shook my head and looked into the wrinkled face above me, realizing that Onora was not muttering a spell, but was actually talking to me.

"How are you feeling?" Onora's smile went wide. I could barely hear her over the swirling winds.

My heart still drummed away. I shook my head and then remembered. "Bridget?" I swiftly turned to where she lay, but Onora caught me before I could move.

"She's in good hands. The best hands. But how are you, really?" The old seer touched my cheek with her gnarly yet deft fingers.

Her bracelets jangled as Mother's used to when I was a young girl – the bracelets that made the humble music of kneading dough, cleaning scrapes on knees, or rocking a child at night.

In the years since Mother left, I tried to wash the memory of her away so that getting by would be easier. It would be simpler to move on without the reminders. But the sounds were relentless. They spoke to me, and the ancient rhymes Mother taught echoed in everyday ventures. A walk down the hall mimicked the bass rhythm of a dancing circle song. The swish of wind through the long grasses sang lullabies. And it was the one thing that Mother left me – the gift of music making.

Melodies came easily, wherever I went, but I shoved those songs deep inside, keeping them locked away for another time and place.

Even now as I stared at the dark horse, I could hear a song dancing in my mind in sync with the horse's gnawing. It was a discordant refrain that chilled me.

"I'm fine, but what is that thing?" I found myself out of breath as I nodded toward the feeding horse.

Onora did not hesitate. "He is yours, and you are his."

"Mine? What do you mean, he's mine?"

"Well, as much as one can own a horse from the Otherworld. Which isn't really owning at all, now that I think of it. More like... a mutual relationship." Onora pulled a delicate white flower with a bulbous yellow center off a nearby stalk, shoved it in her mouth, and chewed. She spoke with her mouth full of the flower, "Maolaigh."

Onora spat the yellowish glob into her palm, brought out a satchel that was tucked away in her cloak, and added a silvery powder. She blended it together with her index finger, continuing to repeat, "Maolaigh."

"Now," she held her hand out toward me and nodded.

I crinkled my nose. "I have to eat that?"

"Oh, no, no, no!" Onora's belly jiggled as she chuckled. "You need to blow on it. Haven't your sisters ever used chamomile?"

I shook my head no.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," she replied. "Your mother would be most unhappy. You should already know such things. Well, can't change the past, we can only play make-up in the future. Now, blow on it."

"What does it do?" I eyed the disgusting mass with suspicion.

"Calms the nerves! They've never even given you the _tea_? Even _humans_ use it for that!" Onora was about to throw her hands up in the air, but caught herself before sending her concoction flying.

I just shook my head again.

"We'll deal with that later. Now, Morgan, one breath. That's all. We need to stop this storm which you seem to have stirred up without even trying."

I blew on the crone's hand, really just a wisp of air, but Onora's eyes beamed at me expectantly. "Well? How do you feel now?"

I shrugged, "Same as I—" and then the numbness crept from my nose, through my face, tingled each hair follicle on my head, cascaded down my torso, and exploded through my arms and legs. I slumped onto the ground, still awake, but caring much less about anything besides admiring the myriad of grasses surrounding me.

The winds fell silent on the camas prairie, just a trickle of breeze stirring the vegetation.

Suddenly a scarlet-cloaked woman who looked like a praying mantis in robes approached, and Onora stood from crouching at my side.

I mumbled as the bony woman faced Onora, "The Otherworld? What was she saying about the Otherworld?" But my mind raced away like the random darts of dragonflies.

The woman with silver streaks in her black hair was as old as Onora. She swished her cloak out of her way like a magician about to begin a routine. Her pursed lips creaked into a disdainful smile as she looked down on Onora who stood mid-chest to the lanky Sidhe. The woman's red cloak meant only one thing – she was from the Inner Ring.

"Onora," she said, her eyes darting to me. "This child must come to the Chapel. Would you mind escorting her and making sure she arrives unscathed?" Her reptilian voice made me shiver, but it was the way this Sidhe flicked her boney hand in my direction that made me feel completely despised. My presence seemed to revolt the ancient Sidhe, like a sour taste in her tiny hole-of-a-mouth.

Onora merely nodded respectfully at the request.

"Very well." The woman gathered her billowing skirt and half-turned to leave. "Oh, and it was nice seeing you once again. It's been far too long since we've... chatted."

"That it has, Muirna." Onora humbly bowed.

_Muirna!_ My eyes shot up from the haze and took a second look at the impending figure. Branna's Muirna. The Seer.

Seers typically lived in seclusion, only emerging for their ward's Induction and the yearly recitation of The Thousand-Year Sidhe. Muirna's figure seemed somewhat familiar, now that I could place where I glimpsed her cruel face before.

"And the Kelpie from the Otherworld. I suppose you want him to accompany Morgan?" Onora's interlaced hands rested on her paunch, her casual demeanor annoying the High Sidhe.

"You suppose correctly, Onora. After all, where the girl goes, the horse will follow. So it is written, and so it shall be." One final twirl and she was gone, a diminutive swallow flitting across the meadow and into the trees, no longer visible between the boughs.

Onora slapped her flower-smeared hand against her side, cleaning off the mutilated blossom, and turned back to me. "Well, we should be off. You ready?"

"But the horse of the Otherworld?" I was floored; Onora treated every occasion as though it was in the realm of ordinary, but clearly the dark horse that now slowly grazed was extraordinary.

"It will come to you, I am sure, how it all fits together. If you open your mind it will make sense. But the Kelpie, he must go with us, as _Muirna_ said."

"Is Muirna always right about these sorts of things?" I slowly stood from the dissipating stupor.

"I like to keep her thinking so." Onora smirked and guided me through the row of saplings away from home.

Chapter Thirteen

It took several hours for Aidan to help Aunt Holly finish placing the last of the thirty plants, wash the boat, and put away all of her gear. She took him on a long walk from the dock and through the forest, showing him some trails she had blazed in the past few years.

When they arrived back at the cabin it was dusk. Holly opened the hefty door—the one Aidan knew he recognized from his dreams—and the rooms were in turmoil. He half-expected to see the curly green dog waiting for him inside the living room, but Fallon merely sat on the sofa, his legs bent and propped, Dwayne perched on Fallon's chubby knee. Sounds of rummaging and hurried footsteps filled the downstairs, and the tromping of feet on the wooden stairs told Aidan that his family was in a rush.

"What's going on?" Aidan tried to get his brother's attention, but Fallon just kept feeding his hairless rat and stared blankly ahead.

Holly was no longer by Aidan's side, and he figured she must have gone in the kitchen to empty her cooler full of melting ice.

"Fal?" He stood in front of his ten year old brother who looked up and saw Aidan for the first time.

"Huh?" he muttered, his cheeks full of buttery puffs.

"I said, what the heck is going on?"

His mom flew through the room, curling iron in hand, muttering to herself, "Toothpaste, moisturizer..." and exited just as promptly.

"Ohhhh," Fallon lifted Dwayne to his shoulder as he stood. "Mom and Dad are leaving."

Fallon leisurely walked across the room, microwave popcorn bag swinging from his hand.

Aidan followed him into the kitchen, unbelieving what he heard. "Leaving? Why? Did Dad and Quinn get in a fight or something?"

"No, I don't think so." He shoved another fist of popcorn into his mouth. "Mom and Dad said they would talk about it when you got back. They've been freaking out since noon. Someone called."

Aidan sighed. He knew he could not leave it to his brother to catch any details or perform any reconnaissance. He wished he was at the cabin when all of the action went down; he knew he could have pried some information out of Mom.

Holly was at the sink, cleaning the cooler, its contents dissolving down the drain. Fallon tossed the popcorn bag at the garbage – it banked off the rim and onto the floor.

"A phone call?" Aidan thought about his maternal grandparents who lived in Phoenix.

"Yeah," Fallon stooped to pick up the bag and placed it in the garbage can and headed to the fridge.

Aidan quickly followed, prying for more info. "Do you know who it was?"

Fallon shrugged, his back to Aidan as he pilfered through the fridge, jars clinking as they searched.

"You're no help. I swear," Aidan dashed out of the kitchen and took the stairs two-by-two, Aunt Holly's voice faintly calling to him to stay downstairs.

He ignored her and burst into the guest room his parents were staying in during their visit. No one was there, but he saw their half-packed suitcases lying open on the queen-sized bed.

Not wanting to think about something bad happening to his only living grandparents, Aidan hurried down the hall, telling himself that everything was just fine.

Grandpa will be okay. Maybe he just had another mild heart attack.

The door to the room his brother and sister were sharing was ajar, and he heard his parents' hushed voices inside. He leaned closer to the crack in the door to better hear.

His eyes closed, Aidan concentrated on their conversation, trying to pick it up, but all he merely heard were words and phrases.

"Have to do it"

"Time"

"Too much"

"Hard enough"

Suddenly his mom's voice rose and he couldn't mistake it when she sternly said, "Then _you_ can tell them!" Close behind were her footsteps approaching the door.

Aidan jumped back and spun with only enough time to pretend he was admiring the picture on the wall – a prairie scene he thought may have hung in a Motel 6 at some point.

"Maggie!" his dad's voice called as she swung open the door.

She stopped short when she saw Aidan standing near.

"Aid?" her voice lost its intensity. "You back already?"

Aidan turned around and saw her smooth out the front of her cleaning apron and take a deep breath.

_Yep, she's seriously pissed._ His mom was always the best at hiding her anger, and had a perfectly prescribed method for relieving tension. A few lung-clearing breaths, a check in the mirror, and she would be back to normal. At least on the outside.

He managed a faint smile that said, "Yep, here in the flesh!"

"Well, I'm glad you're back. Do you think you could be a sweetheart and go get your brother and sister? Wait for us in the living room." She stepped toward the bathroom.

Yep, off to primp her anger away.

He wouldn't let her get away so easily, though. "What's going on, Mom?"

As she turned back to her oldest son, she wiped at the beginning of a tear that rolled down her cheek. After one shaking smile and a quick, "You'll see in a minute," she hurried into the hall bathroom, locking the door behind her.

"Great," Aidan rushed down the stairs, trying to figure out where Kaylee was hiding.

She obviously had not been in her room since Mom and Dad were arguing in there, and he had already checked his parents' empty room. Uncle Quinn's bedroom upstairs? Not a chance. He kept it locked whenever he was not home; he saw Holly unlock it to get him some swim gear.

_Not in the living room or the kitchen._ _My room?_ He ran down the hall and into the office, but his belongings were untouched and the lifeless room gave no answers.

Aidan grabbed a flashlight off the kitchen counter and hurried out to the deck, the screen door slamming behind his heels.

As he stood at the bottom step, he flipped on the Maglite and trained its beam on the nearby woods. He hated the dark, especially when he was alone. The thought of going out into the woods to find his sister left him chilled – like the creeping nauseous of unnamed sickness.

"Kaylee?" he called toward the lake. "Kaylee?"

One—

Two—

Three—

Four—

Five nervous steps away from the deck and toward the woods.

_I'm fine. Just fine._ Aidan psyched himself up.

He put the flashlight between his legs, using his free hands to make a megaphone around his mouth. "Kaaaayyyyleeeee!" At least he thought it sounded louder.

One more try, and I'm going inside.

The chilly nighttime air tickled on his bare limbs as he rubbed his forearms to warm them.

"Kaaaayyyy—"

"I'm right here," his sister's voice whispered from behind him in the darkness. It sounded like it came from the covered deck.

Aidan spun around, flashing the light from right to left, and sure enough, there she sat, huddled on the unmoving porch swing.

"Are you kidding me?" Aidan huffed as he made his way back onto the safety of the porch, stomping toward his sister who he knew hadn't said anything just to make him face his fear. But as he approached he noticed Kaylee's bloodshot eyes, the way she hugged her knees to her chest and stared blankly before her.

"Kaylee?" He moved the beam of light off of her and onto the warped and worn planks.

"Wha?" She sniffled and wiped at her nose with the dangling sleeve of her favorite oversized "Vegan-ator" sweatshirt.

Aidan's voice softened at an attempt to be the understanding older brother. "What are you doing out here?"

"Just getting some fresh air." Another wiped sniffle. "Dr. Michelle's book on cleansing the soul says you need two hours of fresh air and meditation every day."

She went back to staring out past the porch's banister and slats of wood.

"Come on, Kaylee." Aidan hated begging his sister, but he couldn't stand seeing her like this either. "Why are you out here crying? And don't try to tell me you've had some kind of _epic_ spiritual experience."

He plopped on the empty seat next to her on the swing, the whole bench awkwardly jarring front and back until Aidan put on the brakes with his feet. Kaylee didn't find his teasing quite as amusing as he'd hoped.

"Something bad's going to happen, Aid."

She looked over at him and he could see sincere concern in her eyes. It wasn't the same type of look she gave when pleading for her parents to buy locally and quit supporting corporate America. This was different. Aidan knew that much.

"What do you mean, 'something bad'?"

"I don't know, Aid." Her voice cracked. "That's the worst part!" She buried her face in her sweatshirt-covered hands.

_Girls._ Aidan rolled his eyes, but continued delicately. "Why are you _feeling_ this way, then?"

Suddenly, a rush of blubbering words flowed from her mouth. "Mom and Dad were talking with Uncle Quinn in his room before he left for his meeting. You know, with those skinhead friends of his? He said he would be back after we were in bed, but we all know that means right before breakfast. I mean, you know that he stays out with those crackpots all night and then tries to sneak in at five."

Aidan nodded; he knew Quinn's buddies all too well from the pictures adorning the walls of Aidan's office – sprinkled throughout the taxidermy victims. All were photographs of white men with militaristic uniforms and toting massive weapons; other pictures of Uncle Quinn behind a podium, shaking his fist at the crowd.

Kaylee continued, her previous fit of tears quelled for the moment, "Then Mom made a call. Someone called back. Quinn left in his Army suit or whatever. Mom and Dad started arguing in their room, but I couldn't tell what they were saying. Then Mom started throwing her stuff in the suitcase, and she hasn't said a word to any of us! All I could get out of Dad was that we would talk about it when you got back with Aunt Holly."

Kaylee stared up at Aidan as her last statement hit her brain, exploding on impact. She looked at him as though he was the one with answers, like he was bringing some kind of information from Mom and Dad.

"They just told me to get you and Fallon in the living room. Pronto." He stood up, ready to escort his sister back inside.

"Aid, what do you think it is?" Kaylee whispered.

Aidan shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's Grandpa again." He didn't want to tell her that what was really in his mind was that the auburn-haired woman probably called and told Mom all about the affair.

Kaylee drew her lips tight as she thought. "Maybe. I just don't have a good feeling about it."

After giving Kaylee a few more minutes to compose herself, the two went back into the kitchen. He pulled Fallon from the third juice which he noisily slurped down until the boxy walls collapsed under the pressure.

All three of the Tanner children waited uncomfortably in the living room. Even Fallon knew something wasn't right, no matter how many bites of Twinkie he packed in his squirrel cheeks.

Dad was the first one in the room, an unsure smile on his face as he sat in the rocking chair across the room.

"Aidan, Kaylee, Fallon?" He looked at each of the children in turn. "Your mother will be out here in a minute, and we need to talk to all of you about some very serious things that have come up."

_This can't be good._ Aidan's heart thumped in his chest.

"As people grow older, sometimes things happen that are out of our control." Their dad leaned forward, rubbing his sweaty palms together. "We aren't perfect. We make certain choices, and we live with the consequences."

So Mom knows about her?

Aidan wanted to jump up and fling it in his father's face and let him know that he had known all along. But as he peered over at Fallon's confused face and his sister's quivering bottom-lip, he knew he couldn't do it. This was his dad's job to explain – however clumsily.

Mom tiptoed in the room and stood at Dad's shoulder, her face newly powdered. She no longer wore her requisite apron.

She touched their dad on the shoulder, offering her assistance. "What your father's trying to say is... we're going to have some big changes this week and next." She inhaled deeply. "Grandpa had another incident. He's in critical care. So, your father's driving me to Spokane tonight to take a flight to Phoenix."

Without thinking, Fallon spouted, "Is Gramps going to die?"

Mom looked like she were about to erupt into sobs again. Aidan elbowed Fallon in the ribs.

Dad intervened. "No. He's not dying. He'll be okay, but he'll need some time to recover. Grandma just can't handle all of the lifting, cleaning, and decisions on her own. So, your mother is going down to help out until Grandpa is feeling a little better."

"Oh," Fallon nodded and stuffed half of his fourth Twinkie in his mouth.

"And there's another thing," Mom continued, sitting on the arm of the rocker. "Dad's driving back home to take care of the packing."

"Packing?" Aidan burst in. "Packing for what? Where is _he_ going?"

He glared in accusation at his father.

"I'm coming back here." His dad stared steadily back. It was the first words they had with each other since their argument in the woods.

"We're all moving up here, Aid." Mom gently smiled like she was announcing they were going on an exotic family vacation.

"Yep." Their dad leaned back in the rocker. "Your aunt and uncle offered me a job taking care of the books for their business, and since I haven't had very many takers closer to home, we thought we'd give it a go."

"Moving up here?" Kaylee's surprise cleared up her tear-splotched face in an instant, replacing it with shock. She clapped her hand over her mouth and looked at Fallon and Aidan.

"So why aren't all of us going back with you, Dad?" Aidan folded his arms across his chest and sat back.

"Things will just move along a lot faster if I take care of things. I'm going to have to put the house up for sale with Cousin Tim, and get all of our stuff packed up."

Fallon jumped to attention, "Don't you touch my aquarium!"

Their dad chuckled and held up a hand to stop Fallon. "Don't worry, Fallon. I'll have a moving company help out with everything. You guys will just stay up here with your aunt and uncle until I get back in a few weeks."

Aidan couldn't believe he was going to say it, but he said it anyway, "What about school? You're just going to have me start at a new school right before the end of the year?"

Dad wasn't amused, his jaw tightening despite his relaxed position in his chair. "Aid, I appreciate your _desperate_ concern over your academics, but you'll be helping around the cabin and the farm for the rest of the school year. Kaylee and Fallon will go to school in Winchester. It's too late to transfer you in and still earn your credits, but I hear they have some online classes where you can make up your second semester."

"Online?" Aidan looked around at everyone in the room, but none of them made eye contact with him except his dad. It seemed as though no one wanted to acknowledge that which seemed all too clear to Aidan. "So, let me get this straight. I don't even get to say goodbye to any of my friends? All of the work I've done over the last year to be the first sophomore president of the robotics squad is just flushed down the crapper? Not only that, but I'm also going to have to give up all of my grades back home to start all over _online_?"

"Now, Aid," Dad sternly interrupted. "You're talented with computers and all of that stuff. You'll be fine. Besides, we all have to make some sacrifices – some more than others – but we really have no other choice."

"Yes, you do! You could have me go back with you and at least finish out the year. I could stay with someone."

"Aid." His dad leaned forward, readying to stand.

"I could stay with one of my friend's families," Aidan pleaded, tears fighting to break free.

"Aid," his mom now begged with him to stop.

He stood up, arms gesturing for emphasis. "I'd be able to help pack up our stuff!"

"Aid, it's not that easy." Her worried brow and the desperate look on her face finally broke through his railing. "We don't want to impose more than we have to on our family, and we need you here to help with your brother and sister. Aid, please, don't make this difficult."

He couldn't protest to his mom. She never asked much of him, and when she did, she was always the model of politeness and care.

Aidan sat back down once it was obvious that Mom and Dad had more to say, but Aidan sat with his arms crossed, giving his dad the stink eye.

Dad explained the logistics of the move and took lists from the kids of items they wanted him to bring back in the minivan so that they wouldn't have to wait for the moving truck to be packed, driven, and unpacked. Aidan didn't say anything and just sat on the couch until he was excused to go to his room.

He sat on the futon, staring at the white and green soccer ball he twirled between his hands. The swirling colors kept his mind at ease from the restlessness that the day's news had caused. When the bedroom door opened, Aidan knew who it was before he spoke.

"Aid?" His dad walked over and sat next to him on the futon. He pulled a box out from behind his back and handed it over to Aidan.

Aidan stopped twirling the ball and set it on the ground so he could see what his dad was bribing him with now.

A webcam.

"What's this for? I don't have a computer up here. It will take forever for you to unhook mine and get it up here. Thanks anyway." Aidan set the box on the ground and went back to spinning the ball.

His dad leaned forward, trying to catch Aidan's eyes which continued watching the rotating sphere. "Well, I already talked to Quinn and he said you could use his old computer in here. He hardly ever uses it since he has one at the nursery. I thought that you could use the camera to chat with your friends from home. You can also use it for those classes you'll need to take." His dad urged him, "Go on, check it out."

Aidan once again picked up the box just to humor his dad so he would leave, wondering what piece of garbage his dad bought at the food stop in Winchester. He eyed it suspiciously.

Probably something only compatible with a Commodore 64.

"I had it overnighted from GeekTech after our little misunderstanding. I know you like their stuff, so I just bought the best one they carry." He stood and put his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Thanks. I guess." Aidan casually opened the box and pulled out the bubble-wrapped bundle.

Neither said a word as Aidan unwrapped the camera, set it next to his side and started flipping through the thin instruction manual.

"Aidan?" His dad crouched down to meet him eye to eye. "I really need you to man-up for the next few weeks."

Not more gung-ho macho talk from his football days.

Aidan kept skimming pages in the manual, pretending to be engrossed in the specs.

"Your mom's under a lot of stress, and I'm under enormous pressure to provide for all of you. I just want a decent life for the family. You know," he half-laughed, "that does include you."

"I know."

"Well, I guess what I'm asking, is that you be the man of the house while we're gone. Quinn will be in and out, but with his doctor appointments, running the business, and going to his meetings... well, he's real busy. He won't be here all of the time, and I just need to know that you'll be here for everyone. You know, really _be_ here and not just slug around?"

Aidan cringed at hearing one of his dad's many terms for sitting around and doing nothing: bump-on-a-wall, lazy turd, clawless sloth... the list went on.

For a moment Aidan thought of causing a tiff by threatening to tell Mom about the other woman if he didn't get his way. But none of that would help, and it would only hurt his mom. She definitely didn't need any of that right now. "Okay," Aidan replied.

His dad rose to leave the room, his goal accomplished, and Aidan saw his father's face alight as if someone relieved him of a one-hundred pound burden.

An hour later, Aidan waved goodbye to the minivan as it pulled out of the gravel driveway and onto the dirt road. His brother and sister rushed back inside after saying their goodbyes, but Aidan stood watching the minivan's departure as long as the moonlight would allow.

Aidan wrapped his sweatshirt around him tighter, keeping owl hoots and lake breezes away.

"Be safe," he whispered to the fading taillights.

Chapter Fourteen

The Chapel was more magnificent than I imagined in all of my daydreaming. No one was allowed inside the holy vestibule until after completing their first Incantation. I always longed for the day when I would be able to visit the place where my sisters and parents spent much of their time. When they were all living in Finias, that is.

Its walls were strung with orbs of swirling silver and periwinkle moonlight. Ellylon, four-inches tall, busily dashed below the ceiling of ribbed wooden beams. Their iridescent wings bounced light around the room in flickering waves. The diminutive creatures kept everything in the Chapel running efficiently.

I stepped in from the stone archway, and the massive oak door shut behind me with Ellylon magic. Onora shuffled in ahead of me, addressing one of the older Ellylons in whispered tones as I continued gazing about the room.

The walls, on first glance, looked like they were made of wood, but were actually massive trees placed in a circle. Their boughs reached upward and formed a ribbed ceiling. No sky could be seen through the branches, the leaves were merely pitch above primeval limbs.

Muirna stood at the far end of the Chapel, conversing with two other women in red cloaks. All three looked over at me and Onora, abruptly stopped their talking, and strolled across the room. They delicately wove between the concentric circles of cushions that must serve as the Ring's seats when in session. An orb over three feet in diameter hovered in the center of the pavilion, its dim light swirling arms of smoky light and popping in random succession.

Each seat in the room was unique, expressing its owner's specialties and traits with their colors, styles, and symbols. I remembered watching Mother sew the details on Branna and Bridget's cushions. I spied Branna's spot, with its obvious purple background covered in gold runes – the mark of Inkers. The tassels on the sides of the cushion were jade. I turned to ask Onora what the tassels meant when the three High Sidhe arrived, slightly bowed their heads at Onora, and then raised their chins to me. I lowered my head in response; I knew the ritual, the required respect.

The two Sidhe on either side of Muirna were as wrinkled as Onora, but their eyes were as cold as Muirna's. One of the Sidhe stooped next to Muirna, her hunchback and head covered in a gold scarf. I knew the mark of the golden veil. A Transfigurine.

I only caught glimpses of the hunchback's kind before, but knew the sign of the golden scarf was only bestowed on the greatest of shifters. This Sidhe could mutate not only into known creatures, but could blend different species into one unique morph. It was a skill that took a century to perfect, and the strength it took to make such a change could drain ten regular Sidhe. At an Incantation some years before, I recalled the one and only time I had seen a Transfigurine morph – a silver scaled giraffe with claws for hooves.

The hunchback meekly smiled at me, her gap-toothed grin a yellowing line of stones fighting and twisting for space among her inflamed gums.

I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. At first I thought it was the disgust from the Transfigurine's tooth decay that sent me bending over, but then my eyes involuntarily moved to the shortest of the three women. She was a spindly and almost elf-like creature. She stared at me in disgust. Her upper-lip twitched and I doubled over in pain once again, clenching my stomach with both hands as I collapsed to the floor.

I wretched from the searing pain that felt like a thousand wasps eating me apart from the inside, but I kept my mouth shut tight.

_I will not let them hear me cry._ I thought it again and again.

As the pain tore through my body, the last thing I saw was Muirna's wicked smile beaming down at me like she'd won some kind of sick game. Shutting my eyes to the moonlit room, I took my consciousness to another place in the same way Onora taught me during training.

"Find your sanctuary," Onora's voice echoed from my memory.

I'll find it.

I searched for the place I knew would bring solitude, despite the tugging at my intestines and the burning going from my belly to the back of my throat.

I swallowed the pain back down as best as I could.

I'll find it. Sanctuary.

Not the mound, it held too much sorrow despite the fond memories. No, I knew exactly where I was going as my mind flew across the meadows of Finias, past the Charcoal Crags, and through the twisting black canyons.

There!

Between the rolling desert hills, a cleft in the arid wasteland revealed a moment of verdant color.

Closer, closer I hurtled. To the cleft, past the thin spring that bubbled into a stream, and down the ancient hole cut through stone by the incessant water's spilling.

Once within the dampness of our secret cave, I felt secure. The icy pool of freshwater was barely visible from the dim light that shone through the hole cut by the waterfall above. I felt Father watching from the dark recesses of the cave, just like the first time he took me to our oasis. It was in the cave that he taught me my first defensive spells.

Everyone said I was too young to learn, but Father insisted that I needed to know. I no longer had Mother's protection, and he wanted me to be able to keep myself safe.

_From what?_ I hadn't a clue, and Father never fully explained.

In the cave, my head was fortified and all of his lessons came back. They were no longer playful games in the cave. They were something tangible and reachable. Now I understood what he gave me before he went missing. I pushed the pain out of our cave as though I was ushering out an unwelcome guest.

The discomfort in my stomach lulled to a dull ache, and I sat up on the floor. My mind came back from the cave and into the Chapel.

"Interesting." Muirna stood over me, staring down with raised brows.

"Seems it was faster than usual," the short one agreed, smiling impishly to herself.

Onora stood back, observing the three Sidhe who simply brushed her aside and now stood over me.

"Have you ever seen one come out of it on her own volition, Grania?" Muirna turned to the petite Sidhe.

Grania smiled naughtily, "Never so quickly. I know that for certain. With practice? Well, I'm sure she could learn to withstand my forces."

The three High Sidhe nodded as one, contemplating me with their wrinkled gazes. Then it struck me. Grania was one of the Doloric – able to torture others without a word.

"Tallulah? Why don't you take our young guest with you for a moment and see what you can accomplish with her." Muirna helped me to my feet and guided me with bony hands to the hunchback. Tallulah led me through the Chapel and out a side door concealed between massive trunk walls.

The rock-walled room was cool compared to the warm expanse of the Chapel. I looked around for something familiar to set me at ease, but everything in the nook was new and strange. I didn't know what to expect being alone with a Transfigurine.

Tallulah softly closed the door and turned toward me. Her emerald eyes twinkled in the dim silver light. "Now." She clapped her hands together and took a belabored step forward. "Has anyone ever tried teaching you Transfiguring? Multimorphing?" Her fiendish smile sent my skin crawling.

I fidgeted with the hem of my peasant blouse, avoiding looking at the Sidhe who I was afraid would morph into a frightening creature at any moment. It was all I expected after Grania let loose her powers on me. I had been so helpless and weak. Now I just waited for the Transfigurine to pop into some beast – for some kind of sick joke.

"Uhmm. Not really. No one's ever really shown me transforming beyond the basics. You know, the stuff you have to know for the Incantation. That's all."

"Well, looks like you're going to try today!" Tallulah shuffled over to the only piece of furniture in the small room – a round stone table. "Up here." She indicated the table with the jerk of her shrouded head.

I cautiously stepped up to the waist-high table, unsure of what to do. So, I simply hopped up and sat on the edge, my feet hanging precariously off the edge.

Tallulah rolled her bulging eyes. "This isn't a medical exam. Stand." Her voice was void of any emotion.

In the middle of the six-foot table I awkwardly stood. From this angle I could see the runes inscribed around the table's smooth grey edge. I couldn't make all of them out because, as I had told the High Sidhe, I was only taught the basics. On my right I could make out symbols for dragon and snake, while to the left I read rabbit and horse. The rest of the symbols were largely unintelligible, but I could pick out an odd one here or there.

"Look around you again, Morgan. You are going to pick two of those runes to focus all of your energy on and then you will combine them. The closer the location of the runes to one another, the easier the match." She pointed at the dragon and another symbol right next to it. "If they lie opposite from each other on the table, that is the real challenge." She pointed from the dragon across to the horse. "Understand?"

"That's it? I just think about it?" It all seemed entirely too simplistic.

"It's not just thinking. You must combine them down to the smallest molecule, imagining how the parts all fit together and meld into one stunning creation. Go ahead. Try it out, and we'll see how you do on a dry run."

As I stared around the table, I focused on two I figured would be easy enough to combine.

"Do you have your choices?"

I nodded as I kept the runes for toad and newt locked in my mind.

"Now first picture what its head would look like. Just the head and nothing else!" the High Sidhe warned with the shake of her knobby pointer finger.

The runes morphed in my head, creating an olive blob with two black dots – not at all toad or newt, but a start.

"Details, Morgan. Details," Tallulah coached me.

_Toad's throat._ The blob elongated, creating a thin layer of tissue at the bottom, perfectly structured for croaking.

_Newt's smile._ Again the form shifted and a line appeared above the throat.

I didn't even have to think the words anymore as the eyes turned toad, the head smoothing out and taking on sheen. The throat stayed puffed, but the neck slimmed down to a thin silvery body, its front legs small while its hind legs flexed their massive muscles, ready to leap in midair. The speckled tail kept it balanced and produced toxins that would disable any attacking predators. Its salmon speckled back curved with ease as it slithered into the darkening pools of my brain.

"Once you have it completed, make it a part of you. Say the word."

Out of the darkness its bulbous eyes stared into mine through the slight fog in my mind's periphery. Lips parted, its tongue snapped the word from the air and swallowed it whole and deep into my chest.

"Aistrím," I whispered it, my voice sounding small as it ricocheted off empty walls.

"Louder and like you mean it."

"Aistrím." I spoke it to the hollowness that hid behind my eyes. For a fleeting flash my skin crept amphibian, the wetness palpable inside my newly flexible bones, and then the sensation disappeared with the splash of Newtoad sinking beneath a pool's surface.

My eyes opened to see the High Sidhe standing on the floor before me. Her eyes squinted as she pulled the scarf off her head. She revealed a misshapen mass which protruded from the back of her head and melded with the hump on her back.

"Perhaps I should give this to you." She indicated the golden fabric in her bent fingers.

I tried not to stare at the High Sidhe's deformity, but Tallulah was a Sidhe of legend. She never removed her scarf in public. Stories were told to every Sidhe youth about a young Tallulah who was one of the most gifted Transfigurines ever. One day she tried blending two powers at once – morphing her shapes while casting a defensive spell. Unfortunately, her plan did not work out as expected. The spell backfired, and she was left with the permanent scar. Everyone said she was lucky she didn't die. Elders used her to serve as an example for two important lessons. One, do not be foolish with magic. And two, be willing to take chances. Like the end of her story goes, Tallulah went on to master the art of Transfiguring and spell-weaving at the same time. It was through her mistake that a new skill was born.

I looked away from Tallulah's scarred neck and back. I hoped the High Sidhe did not notice my hesitation.

"Did it work?" I leapt off the table so I wouldn't feel so uncomfortable while talking to the shifter.

"Do you always ask stupid questions?" Tallulah gruffly replied and turned away. She left the way she came, covering her deformities once more with her mastery's golden token.

Chapter Fifteen

With his parents' absence and his younger siblings off helping Uncle Quinn at the nursery, Aidan and Holly had the next day to work together once again.

"Are we going back out on the lake again?" Aidan asked through munches of cold cereal.

On the other side of the scratched kitchen table, Holly didn't raise her eyes from the romance novel in which she was buried. "Yep, we'll be back on the water, but we're going to head up north a ways. We'll probably be gone all day."

Aidan stared at the ingredients panel on the side of his box of cereal, trying to pretend he was not overly interested in the day's plans. "So, will we be picking up some plants and bringing them back here?"

"Kind of." Holly flipped a page in her book.

"Hm." Aidan went on to finish his cereal and promptly washed his spoon and bowl, resting them both on a towel to air dry.

"Well," Holly placed her bookmark and stood up from the laminate-topped table, "I guess we better get going."

Into the boat they loaded one cooler filled with their food for the day, a locked silver box the same size, several fishing nets, and a tackle box. Within an hour they were on Highway 95, heading north through the rural stretches of Idaho's panhandle.

Aidan stared out the window as they passed rolling golden hills that seemed to end at the base of the distant mountains. The tops of the plants bowed in the passing winds, swaying beneath the storm-threatening skies.

"What is that?" Aidan asked, his chin resting lazily on the open window's sill.

"That's rapeseed." Holly kept her eyes on the road, delicately humming to herself.

Aidan sat up and laughed, "Rape _what_?" He looked over at his aunt for some kind of explanation, but at first she just smiled back.

When she saw that he really didn't know what it was and that he wasn't just making a joke, she asked, "You ever heard of canola oil?"

"I guess so."

"Well, rapeseed is made into canola oil. Just another name it goes by."

The truck turned a bend, easily hauling the silver boat behind it as they left the farmlands for the pine forests once again, leapfrogging between what once was and what now is.

"Then why don't they call it rape oil?" Aidan caught himself right as the words came out of his mouth. "Oh – never mind. I guess I get it." He nervously laughed and turned back to staring out the window, the mountain breeze flying in and ruffling his flaming hair.

"Yeah, it wouldn't sound very good, would it?" Holly laughed and turned up the radio. "This is one of my faves."

She began singing a little off-key to the twanging country music blasting through the speakers. Aidan suddenly wished he had some headphones, earplugs, anything.

He rested his head against the door frame and closed his eyes, the music and whipping wind faded from his consciousness as he drifted off to sleep.

It was the slam of the tailgate that woke Aidan up from his nap, and he was surprised that for once in the last week he had not encountered his usual dream – well, more like a nightmare. He stretched his arms back and forth in the cab, and noted Holly's empty seat and the keys left in the ignition.

_Maybe I should go for a little joyride,_ Aidan smiled to himself as he jumped out of the passenger side of the light green pickup, his feet hitting the dusty ground.

Holly hoisted herself up into the back of the boat and rummaged around near the bow.

"We here?" Aidan asked, confused. He looked around and couldn't find any body of water within view.

"Almost." Again, she didn't look up from her work and Aidan was starting to think she was either the queen of multi-tasking or she was the queen of brushing-people-aside-when-she-was-busy.

What he knew for sure was that Holly didn't divulge any more information than she had to, but Aidan was starting to get used to that.

"How much farther?" he scratched at his head, trying to bring himself to full alert.

"Just about ten more miles until we're at Lake Pend Oreille." Now she was flinging a yellow nylon rope over her shoulder toward the back of the boat.

"Why'd we stop?" He looked at the surrounding trees, the dirt road, and the lack of signage.

"I had to use the facilities and something was banging around back here for the past couple of miles, so I wanted to check to make sure nothing was broken." She stood up from her rummaging and cast Aidan a look that said, "Are you done being nosey?"

However, the look did not stop Aidan from asking, "Facilities?" He slowly turned around to look for the familiar brown building with pit toilets. He sure could use a bathroom himself right now.

"If you have to know, Aid, I copped a squat." She climbed down the rear ladder and jumped to the ground, her blonde curls and bra-free bosom moving like bobbleheads on a bouncy road. "If you need to, you can either go out there or you can wait about twenty minutes before we get to the docks. Your choice."

"Sure. I'll go," he cast his eyes toward the trees and away from Holly's lavender V-neck tank top.

Aidan stepped back out of the woods a few minutes later, zipping up his pants as he walked over the underbrush. "Control yourself, stupid," he muttered.

Holly was already perched in the driver's seat with the truck started, the rumbling diesel beckoning him to get a move on. He climbed in, and they were off down the bumping dirt road, but twenty minutes later, as they approached the dock they were to use to launch, he noticed the location's disrepair.

It wasn't quite the pristine dock he imagined he would leap from into the freezing lake – once he was in his dry suit, of course. The dock floated on the surface for the first thirty feet, but after that, missing boards were apparent and the last few feet were slightly submerged. He wondered if they'd even be able to launch from the dilapidated dock. Sure, there was a pit toilet away from the lake's edge just as Holly promised, but the paint was peeling from the walls and it was missing a few shingles.

_Now I see why she just stopped on the side of the road._ He imagined that the pit with its nauseating chemical smell was, like the dock, lacking maintenance for quite some time, and he was repulsed at the thought of what it must look like inside.

"Okay, Aid. You jump out and guide me back. Just watch out for parts of the dock – they're missing a few, uh, planks." She winked at him as he shoved open his door.

"Gee, thanks, Holly. I hope I don't fall in and drown!"

Ten minutes later, the boat was unloaded and the truck with trailer still attached was parked. Holly stood in the stern of the bobbing boat, wrapped in a zip-up sweatshirt necessitated by the lake's chilling breezes.

Aidan was ready to jump in the boat, ready to drive when Holly stopped him. "I gotta go out on the water and take care of something before we get started." She hefted the cooler out of the boat and onto the dock, barely missing Aidan's feet. "In case you get hungry."

"What?" Aidan couldn't believe that she was going to just leave him on shore while she went out. "Why can't I just tag along? I thought that's what you brought me for anyway."

"Well, does a fisherman show anyone his favorite spot? Don't take it personal, Aidan. Maybe next time I'll let you go with me."

Aidan stood on the leaning dock in disbelief, mouth wide open as Holly backed the boat out into the deep waters, her lithe hand waving goodbye. He didn't move until the boat was out of sight and he realized that her leaving him could be just some big joke of hers. His mind thought back to the first time they met, and she had pretended that she was going to hit the porch with her truck – he wouldn't put another practical joke past her.

"What the heck do I do now?" Aidan grumbled as he hefted the cooler down the dock and slammed it on the rocky beach. "And why didn't she unload this piece of garbage _before_ she put the boat in?"

He opened the cooler, pulled out an energy drink, and settled himself on the lid of the cooler.

"Well, this pretty much sucks."

He took a sip from his drink and stared out at Lake Pend Oreille. The sun was rising over the treetops, barely warming his face. Even a quick dip in the lake was out of the question. The trip wasn't going at all according to Aidan's vision.

"I'm not going to just sit around here all day," he muttered, heading back to the pickup in a huff.

He flung open the passenger door and pulled out his grey hooded sweatshirt, struggled to put it on over his head, and grabbed his backpack he had thrown in the back of the truck just in case. He hurried to the shoreline and began following it, his eyes out for any interesting wildlife of which he could snap a quick photo.

The dock was barely out of sight when he saw a hawk gliding high above the lake and trees, its eyes surveying the ground and rippling surface below. Quickly Aidan brought his bag off of his shoulders and pulled out his camera, squatting quietly and readying for any possible shots. The hawk circled out of Aidan's view, flying back over the trees to his left, but it didn't reemerge over the water as Aidan had hoped.

He flung his blue backpack over his shoulder and tramped down the shore, stopping every once in a while to snap close-ups of wildflowers and animal tracks. He stopped at a fallen log a few yards into the forest that was close enough to still have a view of the lake, and rested on the mossy seat.

_Maybe they'll have some kind of nature photography group up here that I can join,_ Aidan hoped as he sat with his digital camera in hand.

He remembered the time he spent earning his Bird Study merit badge when he was in scouts, and the bird house he and his dad built together two summers ago. Now the fading yellow birdhouse was just another garbage antique of the life Aidan once knew. His Boy Scout project would either be neglected until it completely fell apart or the new occupants of his childhood home would tear it down and throw it away without a second thought.

Now it seemed that Holly was going to treat him the way that everyone else seemed to be lately—he was only appreciated for what he could do for someone else.

The sounds of the forest behind him calmed any resentment left from Holly abandoning him on shore, and Aidan found Lake Pend Oreille chilly yet inviting. He watched the surface of the waters, occasionally witnessing the swooping of birds down to its surface.

After a few minutes of taking in the distant scenery, he heard chittering and the shuffling pine needles nearby. He turned to his left, and a curious ground squirrel nervously approached and sat up on its hind legs, gnawing on a seed. Aidan thought of Fallon's fascination with Dwayne.

_I guess they_ can _be kind of cute_.

Suddenly the squirrel looked at the shadowy woods and bounded away, leaving the remnants of its food behind.

"I wonder what the heck that was about," Aidan turned to look where the squirrel had gazed before it departed, but he had to look twice to believe what he was witnessing.

Slowly walking through the underbrush was _her_ – the woman from the restaurant. He would recognize her anywhere.

"No way." Aidan desperately rubbed his eyes and looked again, and sure enough, she kept walking toward him.

She was just like Aidan had remembered her – tall and lanky with long wavy locks of auburn hair and sharp blue eyes.

"Hello, Aid." She waved to him from ten yards out, her flannel shirt brushing the tops of the vegetation as she moved towards him.

"No freakin' way." He stared straight at her, believing that in an instant she would either disappear or he would wake up. He was sure she was some kind of apparition only seeming to walk toward him – he tried to convince himself that she was really just floating through the underbrush and that in any second a wind would carry her away.

He turned completely around on the log, facing the woods instead of the lake. Two yards from Aidan she stopped, hooking one thumb on the pocket of her blue jeans like her appearance was ordinary.

"Do you talk?" Her mouth gave no hint of friendliness or anger, but the plain expression on her face told him that this unnamed woman meant business.

"Yeah, I, uh, talk." Aidan stumbled over the words as he tried to ready himself for whatever it was she wanted to say to him.

"Good. Do you remember me?" Her head tilted to the side like she expected him to say yes.

"Of course I remember you," Aidan's burning gaze tried to cut through the woman who had crushed his world.

"Even better. Mind if I sit down with you for a minute or two?" She indicated the log with her perfectly manicured, opal nails.

"I'd rather that you didn't."

He remembered the pocketknife in his jeans pocket, readying himself if she made any sudden movements. She didn't seem like the violent type, but he figured this woman had to be crazy if she had followed his family up north and was now stalking him in the forests.

"Okay, I understand. I guess." She leaned against a moss covered tree trunk. "You doing okay?"

Doing okay? What the heck is wrong with this lady?

Aidan folded his arms close to his chest. "Why don't you tell me who _you_ are before you start asking _me_ any questions?"

"Fair enough. I'm Erin."

She held her hand out and took a few steps forward, but when Aidan jumped back off the log, clutching his backpack to his chest, she looked down at her hand, trying to figure out what was wrong with it. She put it back down at her side and continued in a hushed voice.

"I really don't have much time to talk, Aidan," she looked over Aidan's shoulder at the water, her eyes searching for something that was not there yet. "She'll be back any minute, and I can't have her see me here. It would cause too many problems."

Aidan threw his thumb over his shoulder. "Holly? How do you even know—?"

"Like I said, no time. Look, Aidan, you simply cannot trust her. It's imperative that you not listen to a word she says. Everything she tells you is a lie." Erin's blue eyes seemed that they were trying to convince him.

Aidan could swear she was starting to tear up. _This lady is pretty good at swindling men,_ he thought as he shoved his camera back in his backpack and gruffly zipped it shut.

"Are you listening, Aidan?" Desperately she rushed forward as Aidan turned to leave the way he came.

"Aidan?" she reached and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him back around to face her. Her blue eyes bored through him.

"Let go of me, you home-wrecking hag!" Aidan shoved her pale hand off his shoulder. "Holly's the only person who's ever given a crap about me!"

Erin's gaze intensified, the light blue of her eyes shifting cobalt, and her voice hissed through her clenched teeth. "You don't know what she's capable of doing. And as for me being a home-wrecker, I had no other choice! Your father should have explained _that_ much to you."

"Yeah, whatever. He won't even admit that you exist!" he spat back at Erin, rage building in his knuckles.

She ignored his burst of anger, and her head darted to look back over the lake's gently lapping waves. "She'll be back any minute. You have to go back and act like everything is normal – don't even tell her you saw me."

"Why should I do anything you tell me to?" His eyes crinkled in annoyance.

"If you don't believe me, ask her what's in the silver case."

"I'm not sticking around to listen to your garbage!" Aidan turned and broke out in a run, grasses and wildflowers whipping at his pant legs as he escaped.

Erin ran after him yelling, "She won't tell you! If she does tell you anything, it will just be a lie!" She stopped chasing him and tried one last time, "She will _never_ show you what's in that case!"

As he gained a good distance between himself and the woman, he was thankful for his soccer coach's relentless conditioning practices. He ran to the truck with his last burst of speed, and he no longer heard the crazy woman's cries.

What does she know about Holly, anyway?

He had barely said it when he heard the faint hum of the boat's motor approaching. Holly killed the motor as the boat neared the edge of the dock. She leapt onto the planks, hurriedly grabbing the rope and tying it to a peg jutting from the aged dock.

"A little help?" She looked over at Aidan as she bent over to finish her knot.

Better now than never.

He rushed up to the boat and jumped in, pretending to be his helpful self, and hefted the silver case out of the bottom of the boat.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Holly held her hands up at him, holding him back from throwing the bulky trunk up onto the dock. "Precious cargo, Aid. Hand it over. Gently."

Aidan hesitated, holding the case with both hands, just out of Holly's reach on the dock. "What's in it?"

"Seeds." Her voice was clearly agitated, like she spoke through her teeth.

Aidan eyed her for a moment and then raised an eyebrow, "Can I look at them?"

Holly sighed. "Aid, they're extremely light sensitive. Remember how deep I had to submerge those plants the other day? Those were established plants which could withstand a few minutes of sunlight, but these? They're too fragile for even a moment in the light."

"Will you show me at home?" He still held the package hostage.

"Fine. We'll see. Now, just hand it over."

He knew he wouldn't get any guarantees, and he also knew that when any adult said "we'll see," it really meant, "No way, but I just don't want to argue with you about it right now."

It was a losing battle. He carefully handed the reinforced box over the edge of the boat. Holly grasped it in her greedy hands. She didn't even wait to tell Aidan what to do with the rest of the gear as she rushed to the truck and carefully secured the silver case in the bed of the pickup.

Suddenly he heard the rumble of the truck's engine and saw the rear lights go white. He stood in the back of the boat, unable to believe that Holly was already backing the trailer to load up the boat. He hadn't even had the chance to go out on the lake as she had said they would! He bit his lip and helped without saying a word. Soon they were on the road heading back south.

_Maybe Erin_ was _right,_ he thought as they drove down the highway.

Holly sat in the driver seat again as if nothing was the matter, delicately munching on her egg salad sandwich she had brought from home. Aidan didn't have the stomach to eat anymore as they wound through the mountains, hills, and finally returned to the familiar dusty road back to the cabin. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep just so he wouldn't have to talk to her until he was no longer trapped in the truck.

Chapter Sixteen

"Slow-ly, slow-ly," Onora's outstretched arm guided me.

I sat on top of the black stallion whose magically-drenched hair dripped every second. We stepped through the door and into the Chapel.

Onora held up her arthritic hand. "Stop!"

I willed the horse to stop with my thoughts. It took me a while just to make the connection with it outside, but I quickly became accustomed to the prickly sensation that invaded my mind while I rode the enormous creature.

The horse with a mane like seaweed waited patiently as I slid down to the ground. Thick rivulets of water ran down its chest and forelegs.

All of the cushions of the High Sidhe were now absent from the meeting hall, and the room was only occupied by me, Onora, the horse, and a few Ellylons who flitted around dusting corners.

The other High Sidhe left after Tallulah gave the news about my shifting abilities and dumped me in my old mentor's hands.

"This will do just fine." Onora carefully turned about the room, inspecting the walls and ceilings. "Now." she turned back to us and clapped her hands together. "We need to get the two of you better acquainted." She looked back and forth between me and the horse.

"Acquainted?" How could I become friendly with an animal? How would that one-sided conversation go? I felt our minds connect when the beast and I were physically touching, but the link ended there.

"Yes, Morgan. How else will you ever work together? Now, Hector, do you think you're ready as well?" Onora stared at the red-eyed horse like she expected a response.

Suddenly the horse's dripping mane sprouted a slight fountain between its ears. I gasped, taking a step away as the water trailed down the horse's shoulders and absorbed into the floor, not even leaving a puddle. The water started gushing from the top of its head, but Onora stood smiling, watching with her arms folded.

"Aren't you going to do anything?" I shouted, pointing at the black stallion, certain that the horse would drown in the deluge.

Onora shrugged and kept watching the spectacle like a child at a fireworks show. The ground began to rumble. The water erupted into torrents, covering the horse's black hide with frothing white falls until all that could be seen of him were the top-most strands of hair peaking above the bubbling spring.

I leapt away from the water that now pooled around my feet, staring in amazement at the horse. I looked to Onora for an explanation. But she waited, her hands patiently folded in front of her as before.

Slowly the flow of water subsided and revealed a man standing where the horse once stood. His slicked black hair stood above his high, distinguished forehead, and his Grecian nose was framed by solid red eyes.

Onora embraced the black-cloaked man, chuckling as he kissed her on each cheek. "Hector! How good it is to see you after all these years. You look just like how I remember you!"

Hector smiled and then gracefully turned to me. "Hello, young one. I'm so glad we are finally able to meet properly."

I half-expected him to kiss me on both cheeks, but instead he simply held out his hand in greeting.

I stared from his hand to the top of his head, sure that there would be another fountain sprouting at any moment or that his hand would turn back into a hoof.

He looked at his hand as though dejected and shook his head. I was too stunned to really say or do anything but stand there.

"Am I not what you expect?" He held his arms out to either side of his body to better display his form, turned a full circle, and smiled at me.

Hector was a tall, robust man who appeared in his mid-thirties, but I knew that what seemed to be was not always reality in my world.

I eyed him suspiciously. "But you were a horse." I thought about it more. The ride from the field, the prickling sensation in my mind that allowed me to control him. I burst out, "I rode you!" My surprise turned to disgust. My cheeks turned red. "You were inside my mind!"

"Just a bit." He toothily grinned at me. "It's not like I invaded your memories, my dear. Just the necessary reading of what you wanted me to do and where you wanted me to go."

I shook my head and then stopped to stare into his creepy red eyes to seek the truth. "So, it wasn't me controlling you?"

"In a way, yes. But actually, no." Again, he smiled, but this time took my hand in his and lightly kissed my knuckles. He looked up at me from his bow. "Your Highness, I am Hector."

"Highness?" I was startled. I drew back my hand in repulsion of the word. "You must have me confused with some other girl." I laughed uncomfortably.

Hector looked at Onora in confusion and then back at me. "Is she not?"

Onora shrugged her shoulders and casually replied, "We will see, I suppose. So many things have been foretold. So many times have they not come true."

"The prophecy? That again?" I sighed. "I can't get away from it, can I?" I hung my head, curtain of black hair hiding my face.

"What? Why would you want to run from your destiny?" Hector eyed me as though I just said the most ridiculous statement he ever heard. "Destiny is not a punishment. Destiny is living to our potential. We can only control our actions and hope to meet that promise which is tucked away in each of us. What results from our desperate attempts is meant to happen because we _chose_ what brought us to that point." He ran his fingers through his thick hair and sighed before smoothing out the front of his clothes and continuing. "But I digress. We need to work on our mind path. Right?"

Hector indicated three cushions which now appeared around the center orb of the room. I looked to Onora for some kind of indication as to whether or not I should do as this Hector creature requested.

She gently held my arm and guided me to a gold cushion. It was covered with green and purple iridescent blackbirds which were embroidered into the fabric. I knew without asking that this was my cushion—my place among the Sidhe. There were no tassels on my seat, not even a ribbon edging. All of those emblems come with time and experience. But I knew the gold field's representation of the Transfigurines. If I took my seat, it would be my acceptance into that part of the clan.

I took a deep breath.

So, the High Sidhe offered me a place in one of the most exclusive groups within the clan.

I stood looking down at the beautifully intricate seat. I whispered, "But I thought Tallulah didn't want anything to do with me."

Onora patted my shoulder with reassurance. "We all _knew_ before you went to the Shifting Stone. It was just a formality."

"But what about my choice? Isn't that what Hector was just talking about?"

"It _is_ your choice, Morgan. It always has been your choice. And so, here it is, and it is yours to make." Onora plopped herself down on her own purple cushion streaked with red embroidery. The pearl, amethyst, and jade beaded tassels dangling on the edges shook as she rearranged her skirt.

Hector, the constant gentlemen, stood behind his swirly green and blue seat, waiting for me decide.

"But I've always been so horrible at shifting," I muttered.

I couldn't believe that they actually wanted me to join. I thought my best hope would have been for an offer from the Nurturers, and I would have spent a lifetime in the fields with Bridget.

I tried to reassure myself. _It doesn't mean that this is it. This is not the end to who I am. My tassels may end up any color, any form._

With hope for more options in the future, I took my seat of gold. Hector bowed to me once more and sat down, hands delicately folded over his crossed legs.

"Now," Onora smiled and addressed us. "Hector and Morgan. The bond between the two of you has already begun, and that must be solidified to protect you both."

Hector nodded – he seemed to know all of this and the reasons, but remained silent.

"Morgan, do you know what Hector is?" She smiled at me with amusement.

"Um... a Transfigurine?" I reached for something which could make sense, but I knew the moment I uttered my guess that I was wrong. Hector definitely was not Sidhe.

Onora gave me a sideways look. "An attempt, I suppose. But you already knew that wasn't it, eh? Morgan, Hector is what some call a Kelpie."

I heard Onora use the term earlier, but at the time, I thought that was the horse's name. "A what?" I asked. I looked at the man who sat with perfect posture on his rounded cushion.

"A Kelpie. Sometimes called a waterhorse. Some think that Ness from the old world is one of his kind. The accounts differ, the names change. But what's important is what Hector _really_ is."

I heard of Nessie—the Loch Ness Monster—but always assumed that those stories were simply made up by humans who either wanted to get rich, scare away others, or make up a story to cover up sightings of real faery phenomena. They were the things of legends and myths. The backdrop of ancient cultures.

"May I?" Hector cut in.

Onora chuckled and covered her mouth, her eyes wide with secret amusement.

Hector looked at her in annoyance. "Something wrong?"

"No!" Onora's eyes watered until she couldn't keep it in anymore, and she burst with laughter. "Better she hear it straight from the _horse's_ mouth! Bahahaha!"

Hector rolled his eyes as Onora dabbed tears of laughter from under her eyes. I stifled a giggle and tried to avoid looking at Onora. I knew I wouldn't be able to stop laughing if I caught sight of my mentor's frivolity.

"I haven't heard _that one_ before," his voice dripped sarcasm. "But I guess that hearing about me, from me, would be better than hearing it from one half-lunatic."

Hector wove his hands through the air, eyes closed, and the giant orb which was half-submerged in the ground before us glowed a deep crimson.

"I transform into several things."

Dark images of a horse, a sea serpent, and a man faded in and out of the orb's swirling light.

"There are not many of us left in the this world, and we are one species of only a few allowed to regularly cross from the Otherworld to the Humanworld. The Death Callers—or Banshee, like you—are one of the other creatures allowed to roam. As you know, the rest of the Sidhe world is only allowed to cross over during certain festivals throughout the year. But we are given this special privilege at all times—this sacred trust."

The orb shifted and revealed lakes and streams – snapshots of places which seemed vaguely familiar.

"My kind live near water. It's an unfortunate necessity of our species, but not the only shortcoming we endure. Have you never heard the legends of the Kelpie?"

I shook my head no. "Only the basics since my parents left."

"That's too bad. Our world is so rich with history—we're timeless." Hector regrouped. "Now, the other distasteful part of my life is that it is in my natural instinct to feed off mortals."

My eyes grew wide, and I looked for answers in the orb, but there were none. My mind raced and I blurted out, "Like a vampire?"

Hector laughed but still managed to keep his modest posture. "No, not like a vampire." His solid red eyes gave nothing away as he leaned toward me and whispered, "I actually eat the body."

I jumped up, "What?" My head whipped around and glared at Onora. "So, you've brought some creature from the darkness to be my friend? What is going on?"

"Morgan, Morgan," Onora's voice cooed. "Like always, your mouth works more swiftly than your mind. There are no dark creatures. Sit down before you work yourself into a fit. Such things as dark creatures are faery tales told to scare young Sidhe from getting any wild ideas. What Hector is trying to tell you is about his nature. He cannot help what he is."

I sat back on the cushion and stared down at my hands which now rested in my lap. There was nothing else to do, and I was slightly embarrassed for not trusting Onora. "Sorry, Hector. Please, go on."

"Not to worry, your Highness. Trust me. I have done much worse in my time. But I suppose that brings me back to where we were – I eat bodies. Well, not all of a body. I have managed to wean myself off of humans over the years. And I can get away with living off of stray goats and sheep for a few decades, but unfortunately instinct takes over until there is a victim. Consequently, my hunger and feeding also helps keep unwanted people from going near certain bodies of water." Hector's red eyes stared into mine. "Morgan, I can be very dangerous, especially near my element. This is why you must work with me on creating this bond."

"I'm confused." I shook my head. "No other Ban Sidhe has _ever_ had another creature that they work with. So, why are you even here? Why do _we_ have to forge this bond?"

Onora broke her patient silence. "Hector knew your father, and when we solicited his help, he demanded that he only work with Delvin's offspring. Branna and Bridget are too set in their ways to be able to open their minds to allowing the bond."

"But what is it we are supposed to do with it? Just prance around together while I try to keen Aidan?" I looked at them in desperation, thoughts running through my head that I was once again being used by those more seasoned than I.

Onora gently touched my shoulder like she did all of those days in training. "Everything will make sense in time. Patience. What makes this pairing vital is the Northern Gateway between our world and the human's is at risk of being opened permanently. Hector was sent to help keep that from happening."

Hector added, "You see? Our kinds are the only ones who can work from the inside _and_ the outside."

"But the marcuck. . ." I tried to sift through everything they were telling me. "Shouldn't the marcuck be the one protecting the gateway?" I didn't want to accept this—that I would help with matters beyond my ability. How could the fate of both worlds suddenly be placed in my lap?

"True, the marcuck protects the gate and keep those who don't belong out and those who pass on from the mortal world in. The problem is," Hector leaned forward, "the marcuck of this particular gateway is set to change over shortly. I am sure the new marcuck will soon arrive at the Northern Gateway, but his partner is missing."

"Partner? What, like his wife?"

"No. One like me who works the waters around the entry point. Kelpie is the first line of defense and creates a bond with the marcuck. But the new kelpie's gone missing, and if it's not found and put back at the gateway by Beltane, all will be lost."

"Beltane. That's only a few days away." I figured how long until it was the semi-annual celebration in my head. "Three days."

Hector nodded. "Without the Northern Kelpie, the new Marcuck will not be able to control the gates. The old Marcuck and his partner must pass on together. Their bond makes it so. No kelpie, no Marcuck. This is why I came here. I am one of the few unattached kelpie left in the world. The rest who are not retired in the Otherworld are bonded with various marcucks at different gateways. If the Northern Gateway's kelpie is not returned, souls will flood the Earth, demons kept hidden will rise to the surface, and human life as we know it will be demolished."

"But our world would continue?" I asked.

Hector sighed, and his red eyes shone in the orb's glow. "It would continue in a new form with all balance lost. But, yes, we would survive."

Hector waved his arms above the still-swirling orb, the clouds shifting and parting, revealing a high mountain lake surrounded by forests stretching on all sides. "Here," he pointed for emphasis, "is the Northern Gateway. Pend Oreille."

I stared at the deep blue water, imagining a creature like Hector residing in such a place. I broke from my trance. "What I don't get, is why I've never heard of Kelpie before. Is there a reason this is kept from all of the Sidhe?"

Onora coughed lightly. "If you don't mind, Hector?"

He merely nodded in his customary politeness, weaving the clouded orb as Onora turned to me. I was starting to get used to waiting and listening, but I kept wishing that they would just get to the point.

"It is the Inner Ring's way. Some creatures of the Otherworld know about the gateways because they pass through them during their appointed times. We, as Hector said before, are some of the few who are allowed to live in the human realm permanently. You see, we have a purpose."

The foggy globe swirled and showed a dark bird soaring through the skies, human souls trailing on its tail feathers.

"The Inner Ring realized millenniums long past that keeping the younger ones from knowing all of the Gateways' secrets would best protect them."

Again, the orb glowed another image: a young man rode on a prehistoric creature, clinging to the mane which hung from its elongated neck. In one hand, a glowing red ball illuminated the water and kept back a shadowy form.

"Was that—?" I pointed at the now-swirling grey smoke.

"Yes," Hector intervened. "That was Arthur. He is the current marcuck who will be passing into the Otherworld, leaving the Northern Gateway vacant. The kelpie? That would be my sister Raena."

I saw in Hector's eyes a glint of a tear, but he quickly sniffled, and it was gone like it never resided in his red eyes.

"It must be difficult for you then," I delicately said.

"What?" His mouth pursed.

I hesitated, but then continued. "Well, if she's your sister, and she's going to pass on. . . well, I just thought that would be hard to accept and even help bring about."

Hector's back went rigid and his voice was just as terse, "I'm not _helping_ bring about anything," he said. "The only thing I'm worried about is making sure that my sister's good name remains spotless and that this thief is captured and destroyed." His voice rose with each word, red eyes filling me with dread for what I said. "Understand, Sidhe?"

His glare made me shrink back into my cloak, wishing I could just hide away from his eyes. The way he said "Sidhe" made me feel like scum – like Kelpie were of a higher rank than my species. But quickly I nodded, not even answering back with the cutting words held in my mind. No one spoke. I was afraid of addressing him again, but he also seemed a bit ashamed of the outburst.

Onora gave me a comforting look that momentarily washed away the pain of Hector's blunt words.

"Hector, Raena will not be sullied by the recent events, and there is no doubt that Morgan here will be able to ensure that it does not happen. I foresee great things for my young prodigy." Onora stood and walked across the room to a faintly glowing ball of green mist which I failed to notice upon reentering the Chapel.

It was this orb that Onora now guided through the air with the swish of her hand and a quiet word under her breath. As the swirling came closer to us, the sphere grew larger. Its multitude shades of green were now evident in the condensing churns of werelight.

"Now. Time to plan." Onora winked at us and reached into the werelight, pulling out a tattered scroll tied up with grungy, snarled pooka hair. Onora snapped her fingers, and the end of her index finger held a dancing flame which she used on the scroll's knotted band. "Nothing like foul stench to keep away prying eyes."

The scent of rotting flesh filled the Chapel. I glanced around, convinced that at any moment someone from the Inner Ring would intervene and berate us for defiling the holy place. But no one appeared, and in a moment the flame was gone as were the hairs which held the scroll rolled tight. The yellowing parchment still held its form without a single singe.

Onora winked at me. "Just a little trick I picked up from an old friend."

With her open palm, Onora casually motioned to the wall, the green werelight shrinking and retreating back to its original location.

"Now." She spread the parchment out before her. "We need a plan."

I moved to look over her shoulder, as did Hector, but was shocked at what I saw. The entire surface was blank.

"There's not a plan already?" My heart thumped harder in my chest. I had been nervous since the High Sidhe brought me to the Chapel, but everyone took care of the necessary steps, keeping me unaware of the motivations for their actions and demands.

"Of course there's a plan, my dear." Onora lightly elbowed me and chuckled to herself. "The key is getting to the plan. But if everything is as I suppose it is, then we should be fine. Your hand, Morgan."

She held her leathery palm out to me, and I quickly complied. With Onora, it's always best to trust her and not make her wait.

Suddenly she gripped my hand with surprising force, crushing my delicate bones as she loudly spoke, "Fuil foilsum."

I suppressed the cry that rose in my throat, but then Onora's other hand pointed its pinkie finger at my aching palm. The fingernail grew two inches and tapered into a crystalline point.

"What are you doing to me?" I struggled against her, but she only held on tighter and laughed.

"What is required! That is what we are doing!" she shouted.

Hector helped to hold me still as the nail dug into my palm, gouging the rune of Ken. The blood pooled from the angled marks, and I let out a shriek.

"Let me go!" I cried. Tears rolled down my freckled cheeks. I felt my face redden with each passing second.

"It is almost done," Onora chastised as she squeezed my hand tighter, releasing blood onto the page.

The drops disappeared in the filaments of the parchment, and Onora finally released me. I floundered to the ground, clutching my burning hand.

I didn't know what to say to the Sidhe I looked up to for so long. I blew lightly on the rune etched in my hand, hoping it would lessen the pain. I scowled at Onora, my body in too much pain to stand up and leave or say anything.

Besides, Onora wasn't even looking in my direction. Her eyes were trained on the Kelpie. "Now you, Hector."

He willingly held his hand over the scroll while Onora gouged her nail into his muscular palm. Hector did not flinch as the three lines on his palm dripped his thick black blood, but once the fluid was collected on the paper, he held his hand tightly to his chest, his lips pursed tight. The only sound which filled the Chapel hall was my muffled whimpers.

Onora's elongated fingernail swirled unseen patterns above the blank parchment where the blood drops fell and disappeared, but from where I was curled up on the floor, I could only see her face. Onora's intense eyes, fixed on the twirling of her pinky finger, gave no sign of the spell's conclusion.

Minutes later Onora's finger ceased its swirling, and the pain in my hand dissipated into a slight throb. I glanced down at my palm where the flesh was already healing over the wound, leaving a faint scar of the Ken.

"It's worse than I thought," Onora squinted at the parchment she now held between her two withered hands, her pinky nail back to its original length.

Hector peered over her shoulder, and his mouth dropped open until he covered it with his hand. "It cannot be."

"But it is," Onora replied.

"What is?" I slowly stood, keeping my distance from the other two. I still had no idea what was going on and why Onora attacked me without explaining anything. I was becoming tired of all of the High Sidhe just springing things on me without simply telling me what was happening.

Onora's finger traced along the parchment. "Leanan. A Leanan is loose. But how?" She turned to Hector for an answer.

Hector searched for an explanation. "Maybe there have been Leanan in this part of the world for quite some time, and she's just emerged?"

"We would have sensed her long before. This, I know. One of you has been in close contact with the Leanan." Onora's cold eyes darted back and forth between Hector and me. "The blood doesn't lie."

"I don't even know what you're talking about!" I sputtered as I raced over to look at the parchment myself, but I couldn't make much from the green runes that covered the surface. Onora snatched the parchment away, rolling it up and holding it under her arm. She took several paces back from us, her right hand outstretched toward us. "Tell me! Which one of you?"

Hector was speechless and kept scratching his forehead, muttering, "But I – Wouldn't I have known – There is no way—." He finally resorted to giving Onora a pleading look.

"I _think_ I believe you, Hector. After all, you're a horrible liar." She turned to me and no longer held the warm and playful look of the mentor I was accustomed to admiring. "You. You've been travelling after this boy. Aidan. Who else?"

"His family... but what is this Leanan?"

"I said who else!" she demanded. Her eyes were on fire, her demeanor unlike anything I had seen before.

"Just his family," I replied. "Mom, Dad, brother, sister, aunt, and uncle. I swear I don't know anything about this Leanan thing, but if you'd just tell me—"

Onora cut me off before I could ask further. "A Leanan is a Sidhe, Morgan. A very despicable Sidhe who feeds off the weaknesses of men. She lures her victim with sweet words and coy looks, inspires him to greatness with her cunning, but meanwhile feeds on him until he is merely the shadow of the man he once was. Sound familiar?"

"Not at all!" I said, so angry at an accusation that I was nearly in tears. "Why do you think I would knowingly associate with such a creature? You know me, Onora. You know that I'd much rather stay at Finias and mind my own business! I never wanted any part of this."

Onora grumbled. She shuffled where she stood, obviously thinking things over. "Well—" she hesitated. Her skirt swirled about her stout frame as she continued padding back and forth on her feet. "Very well. But if either of you run across anything odd, you let me know. Got it?" Her bony finger pointed at us like a dagger, and we nodded in quiet agreement.

"Now." She tightly rolled the parchment as she spoke. "As to the plan. The final binding is set by the scroll, but both of you will have to work together in order to meld your powers. Whatever this Leanan is up to, I am sure it is somehow related to the Northern Gates fiasco. It is too suspect to be merely coincidental."

Onora shoved the scroll back into the green orb that hovered in its corner where she left it. Then the old seer shuffled back to the center of the room and stared at both me and Hector. "Well?" she asked. "I think it is time you practice. No one won a battle or stopped evil forces by sitting around mute." Her face cracked to reveal that playful smile which I was more accustomed to seeing.

The business with the leanan was disturbing enough – let alone Onora's behavior. It was a relief to finally see Onora calm down and return to her usual self.

"Well, let's get on with it!" Onora clapped her hands together.

With that, Hector transformed to his former state, his mane dripping wet. I cautiously approached, waiting for the tingling sensation that would creep through my brain the moment we made contact. Surprisingly, when I took my station on his back, I didn't feel awkward in the least bit. Maybe the whole creepy blood ritual of Onora's actually worked.

Hector's voice entered my mind. _Ready, your Highness?_

"I guess so," I said aloud, but then caught myself and concentrated harder to try and send the thought. I wasn't sure it worked until I heard what sounded like a faint echo of my own voice bounce back into my brain.

Within an hour we mastered basic maneuvers and turns around the Chapel, cantering and cutting across the stone floor with ease.

"Now." Onora stopped us mid-step and stood in front of the red-eyed steed. "Hector, if I let you outside, do you promise me you will behave?" She looked into the deep red rims of his pupils. "Hm?" She gazed further.

"He says, 'Of course.'" I smiled from above, glad that the tenseness between Onora and I had faded over the last hour that I worked with Hector.

Onora curtly nodded and replied, "Very well. Let's be off."

Out the door Onora flew in her peregrine form, Hector trotting closely behind as I held to his mane with my stiff fingers.

Over darkened hills and through nighttime's shadows we travelled, winding through Finias' village center, out of the protected perimeter of the fairy refuge I called home. We emerged in the high desert.

"Where are we heading to?" I quietly asked after an hour of travelling through the sagebrush and newly sprung grasses.

"How should I know? I'm not the one in training." Onora laughed and continued flying alongside.

While her response provided no relief, what made me feel better was the fact that Onora was in even better spirits.

Hector's smooth voice suddenly sounded in my mind. _Remember how I'm drawn to water? I've been so far away from it since I've been in Finias, I can feel it calling to me._ _Let's hope my desires don't get the best of me and the worst of you._

_What do you mean?_ I sent back at him. Trying to control my mind's tone was becoming easier the longer we were in contact.

Remember how I told you that my kind feed off of humans? We can do this because we carry victims on our backs—fast enough so they don't realize what's happening until it's too late. And then? We drown them.

I gasped aloud.

"So, he finally told you?" Onora cackled. "Now you know why I asked him if he could handle this!"

"Drowning people? Are you kidding me?" I didn't know if I should jump off right then and head home or transform first and just fly away.

"Be at ease, Morgan. If Hector travelled around killing people all of the time to survive, he would not have lasted this long. Very few Kelpies can remain in the wild away from Otherworld creatures – otherwise their instincts take control and some of us have to intervene. We can't have humans knowing we exist, right? Trust me; Hector hasn't killed a human in hundreds of years. Right, Hector?"

Hector whinnied, nodding his head and accidentally whipping me in the face with his drenched mane.

"It still doesn't make me feel any better," I muttered, wiping the water from my cheeks.

We reached the apex of a farmer's hill of young wheat, but as we came over the uppermost curve, Hector's ears went rigid and his nostrils slowly flared. He sniffed the cold air, his eyes open wide and searching the distant landscape. His head swiftly darted left and right, his body on high alert. Without warning, he broke into a full gallop, coursing down the hill and kicking up dirt in his wake. I held to his mane as tightly as I could, afraid I would slide off his back and bash my head on the hard ground.

Onora's rasping voice called from behind us, but I could not hear a word she said as Hector's thoughts of thirst invaded my mind.

I continued to instinctually hang on for my life. But then I saw it in the near distance.

A wide river slowly moved through the irrigated valley, snaking its way through newly sprouting crops.

Hector's plodding broke the hardening mud. Second after second, the river came closer.

_Stop, Hector! Stop!_ I begged him, tugging on his mane, my fingers slipping as even more water dripped down the black locks.

_What are you doing? Stop!_ The whipping wind thrashed at my wide eyes.

Only yards away from what I could only see as my watery grave, I gave him one final warning. _If you are not going to tell me, then I'll just have to do something!_

Still no response from the Otherworld creature.

This time I didn't even have to say the words. I only had to imagine what I could be. As the river churned beneath me, I could feel my massive wings spreading.

It wasn't until my crow form was soaring above the river that I spied Hector. His serpentine neck appeared from the water's surface for a moment before submerging to breathless depths.

Chapter Seventeen

It was early morning as Aidan rode into town with Uncle Quinn, staring out the window to avoid conversation with the mullet-haired man he wished he was not related to at the moment. From the corner of his eyes he could see his uncle's knuckles quivering as they held the equally jumpy steering wheel. Aidan was grateful that the drive into town only took ten minutes once they were off the dirt road and back onto asphalt.

Hung over the middle of Main Street was the town's name in crude, wrought iron letters, and a Winchester rifle that was touted as being "Big enough to kill Babe, Paul Bunyan's blue ox" hanging proudly below.

Quinn's meticulously maintained Chevy Silverado came to a lurching stop in the unlined parking lot of the town's only grocery store. It also served as a gas station, butcher, and candy shop. The town was fairly deserted, but considering it was late April and the area was too cold for any tourists, Aidan figured the silence was part of that country charm. He followed his uncle out of the truck and through the swinging glass doors, amazed at the existence of a sign which read, "Check and Cash Only."

"Not so friendly to that new-fangled, out-of-town plastic money, huh?" he joked to his uncle.

Quinn glared back. "Just get in here and try not to embarrass me in front of the Wiz."

_Wiz? Like someone taking a leak?_ Aidan knew he was in for more than he had expected when he woke up that morning, and Holly had talked him into joining his uncle on some errands.

Holly told him she had work to do out on the lake, and Quinn needed his help much more than she did. Aidan was certain she was avoiding talking to him about the previous day at the lake. Erin's warning also would not give him rest.

Inside, the store's shelves were lined with all of the basic essentials that a person could need, but the prices and lack of selection spoke to the isolation of Winchester. Quinn walked to the front counter, leaning against it with his knuckles down on the linoleum.

His gruff voice called to the empty building, "Wiz? Ya here?"

There was no answer, and Aidan continued fumbling with the rickety rack of cheap key chains poised near the register.

Quinn's fists lightly drummed on the countertop in annoyance as he muttered under his mustached breath, "He's gotta be here somewhere."

With a final ba-dum-dum tap of his knuckles, Quinn swung his gangly legs over the counter with such swiftness that Aidan just stood there with his mouth hanging open.

"But— " was about all he could get out before his uncle strode past the butcher-block island covered with half of an animal carcass and through a door that Aidan presumed went to the back stockroom.

_What the heck?_ Aidan thought as he stood with a shamrock keychain in his palm. _Am I supposed to wait out here or what?_

He had no idea what it was Uncle Quinn was doing in the back of the store, but he felt like he would rather keep from knowing all of Quinn's business, especially when it came to his friends. None of Quinn's friends ever came inside the cabin when they stopped by – at least since Aidan's family started visiting. He preferred keeping Quinn's acquaintances at such a distance anyway.

"Dang it, Keiran!" He heard his uncle's distinctive boom from the back of the store, accompanied by the crash of what sounded like bottles and cans hitting cement.

Aidan quickly put the keychain back on the rack when another crash resounded through the small grocery store. He picked up some mumbled cursing from another male voice, but he couldn't make out any of the words.

"Don't you dare!" He could recognize the slight tremble in his uncle's gravelly voice.

He did not need any more prodding and leapt over the counter and bounded with a crash into the stockroom. He stood up straight in a dimly lit storage room and office only to see his uncle and another man squared off like they were in an Old West shootout. But now they were both staring down Aidan – Quinn on the right and a short spindly man with a harelip on the left. Quinn's right hand was hidden by his body, but it seemed he was hiding something.

_A gun!_ Aidan's mind thought back to all of the pictures of his uncle at NRA rallies.

The other man, who must have been Keiran, glared at Aidan through his squinty eyes, his bald head shining in the glow of the overhead light.

"Well, what in tarnation do you want?" Keiran, despite his short stature, had fairly extensive muscle-tone. His white tanktop revealed that his arms were also covered with tattoo sleeves; the blues, purples, and greens created a busy quilt of identity up to his wrists.

"Nothing," Aidan muttered, finally able to catch his breath from all of the excitement and dashing about.

Now Aidan's eyes searched the man for a weapon of some sort, but Keiran was quick to notice the boy's intention. The skinhead quickly shoved something into his pants pocket, but not before Aidan caught a glimpse of something brown in Keiran's hands – like it was made out of a well-polished wood.

"Nothing? What the heck do they teach you in those Utah schools?" Keiran turned toward Aidan, his finger pointing in the air. "Bunch of dang liberals, if you ask me! 'Nothing.' What kind of answer is that?"

Aidan looked at Quinn in desperation, but his uncle casually sat his butt on the edge of a crummy two-drawer desk and watched their exchange.

"I, uhm, well... what I meant to say was..." Aidan stumbled to cover. "I just heard a lot of noise back here, and I thought I would see... if you needed some help." He was relieved with how quickly he recovered from that one. "Yeah, but it looks like everything's okay, so I'll just wait out front." He turned to leave when he felt boney fingers grip his shoulder.

"Not so fast, boy."

Aidan slowly turned around and was face-to-face with the middle-aged militia-man with the scarred lip. He turned to his uncle for help, "Quinn, I'm just gonna go wait... in the truck. If that's okay with you?"

Quinn gave no response but just folded his arms over his chest, no indication of a smile from under his red 'stache.

Keiran still had not removed his hand from Aidan's shoulder, the grip intensifying as Aidan stared at the man's graffiti-littered arms.

Definitely prison tats. Or at least that's what I think prison ones look like.

He saw clovers hidden amongst swirling confederate flags and words which Aidan did not have the mindset to focus on and read.

"Aidan, you're not going anywhere." Keiran gave a menacing smile and his breath reeked of old tobacco and coffee, but his bloodshot eyes were the worst. He had the gaze of a crazy man ready to go over the edge.

"But you can't keep me here!" Aidan shouted in disbelief.

"You've seen too much, boy. Right, Quinn?"

Quinn nodded in agreement and started picking at the dirt under his fingernails.

"But I didn't see anything!" Aidan insisted, his voice cracking as he tried to slide out of the wild man's grip.

"Sure you did," he whispered as he leaned closer to Aidan's face, his leather hand resuming its grip.

Aidan's brow began to sweat. "I swear! I swear I didn't!"

"I'm afraid that you won't be able to leave after seeing my face!" His spittle landed on Aidan's nose, and all Aidan could do was close his eyes and hope that everything ended sooner rather than later.

Silence and darkness were his only companions as he awaited his fate.

Then he felt its pressure against his temple and the click of a hammer being drawn back echo through the room.

This is it! The butcher's going to kill me! Crazy Nazi!

And then it happened.

His uncle's laughter broke across the small room followed swiftly by the chuckle of the man in front of his face. Keiran let go and nothing was against Aidan's head anymore. Aidan slowly opened his eyes and discreetly wiped the sweat off his forehead. What he did not need was any more embarrassment.

"We really had you going there, didn't we, kid?" Keiran howled with laughter, slapping a tire-iron against his dust-riddled jeans. Apparently that had been the "gun" that was against Aidan's head just seconds ago.

Aidan's eyes filled with angry tears as his eyes darted to his uncle who simply stood as he had before, trying to repress his laughter.

"Looks like I still have the touch, doesn't it, Quinn?" Keiran stood proudly, puffing out his chest.

"You sure do." More chuckling until Quinn straightened his arms, smoothed out his shirt, and regained his composure – kind of. "Aidan, this is the Grand Wizard. I just call him the Wiz – unless he pisses me off, and then I just call him Keiran-go-lightly Campbell. Wiz, this is my nephew I told you about."

"Well, Aid. If you're gonna start hangin' with the likes of us, we better start toughening you up a bit!"

Keiran slapped him on the shoulder – a little harder than Aidan thought necessary – and turned back to Quinn. "What do ya say about helpin' me with movin' some bodies today? As usual, you'll get a cut."

Quinn ran his hand up and down over his moustache, smoothing it out as he quickly thought over the proposition. "I guess that would be okay. Right, Aid?"

Aiden felt his uncle's squinting eyes jabbing at him for the answer he knew he had to give.

"Yeah. Whatever you say, Quinn," was all he could muster.

He had no idea what he was getting into and felt that today's work had to be some kind of initiation into Quinn's Aryan Brotherhood. Aidan followed the two men out of the office and down another back hallway, wishing that his parents were back already.

They came to a heavy door which had more security on it than the rest of the store. Keiran unlocked a black box at the end of a crossbar which stretched across the steel door. He found another key further down his massive ring of keys and unlocked a padlock that was inside the black steel box. Once unlocked, he swung the crossbar away from the door and proceeded to enter a code into the security pad which was mounted to the door. Aidan heard the click of the electronically controlled mechanism give way, and Keiran pulled the steel handle and pushed the door open.

Inside was cold and darkness.

Aidan listened for anything living – the whimper of a tortured soul, the rattling breath of a dying man – but he heard nothing but the ventilation system of the giant walk-in freezer.

What he could make out as his eyes adjusted to looking into the lightless room were forms dangling from the ceiling. _Ready to move bodies – should have figured they would be dead._

"Better get started," Keiran stepped into the freezer and turned on the lights, Quinn quickly following.

Aidan stepped in and gaped at the headless rib cages dangling from the massive hooks. He sighed relief when he saw the hooves protruding above the plastic wrap.

"You'll need to put those on." Keiran pointed to rubbery aprons and gloves dangling from coat hooks along the wall.

"Slide that one down the line, Quinn!" Keiran hoisted one carcass off the railing and carefully moved it onto a rolling rack in the center of the freezer.

Once two carcasses were loaded on the rack, Aidan helped roll them out to the butcher-block at the front of the store. During the rush inside, Aidan hadn't noticed that there was another table with a sink near the island where earlier he had spied the partly butchered carcass.

The men spent the afternoon discussing local rumors and laughing up old times. Quinn tried to teach Aidan how to dress an elk while Keiran expertly made work of his own. Aidan kept quiet and focused on the knife in his hand and the way his uncle told him to maneuver through the cold flesh.

"I used to hunt every type of game you can imagine – putting my name in for each draw that I could. Remember that, Keiran? We were kings of the whole friggin' forest!" Quinn laughed as he sat back on a folding chair, carefully monitoring Aidan's work between thoughts. "There's nothin' like it, and you have no clue what I'm talking about unless you've been there. It's a pain in the ass giving up something you love, Aid. Now I'm lucky to have a friend like the Wiz here who will let me come in and help out so I can still have a stock of game in the freezer. Plus, the company ain't bad either."

Aidan nodded and continued trimming fat from the cut he was working on. Before visiting Idaho, he never would have imagined butchering anything more than the routine gutting of bluegill or bass. It was tough work, but just the kind of thing that he liked.

As he carried bundles of white-papered meat to the car, Quinn and Keiran stood by the grimy glass doors of the store. Keiran leaned in close to Quinn to speak, but Aidan could still pick up bits of what he was whispering. "You gotta be here _tonight._ "

The insistence in his voice kept Aidan listening for more details. The men's conversation throughout the afternoon had been fairly light-hearted, but now Keiran's face was serious, his mouth drawn tight.

Aidan placed the last few bundles in the enormous white cooler in the back of Quinn's Silverado, taking a moment to listen.

Keiran looked over his shoulder at Aidan, scowled, and turned back to Quinn. Aidan couldn't hear a thing, but he saw Keiran's persistence in the way his shoulders arched and back stiffened.

More sharp whisperings and Keiran accusatorily pointed at Quinn's chest. Quinn's mouth went rigid, his eyes flaming in their little nests of wrinkles.

Suddenly Quinn burst out, shoving his way past Keiran, "Fine! I'll be here!" He gruffly stalked to the driver's side door and flung it open. "Get in the truck, Aid." His voice was raging cold, and Aidan hustled as he slammed the cooler's lid and hopped into the passenger-side.

Normally Quinn treated his truck like a baby, but as he slammed the truck into reverse, backed out, and put it back into gear, the truck was nothing but herky-jerky anger.

Quinn rolled down his window and shouted to Keiran, "I hope you know what the heck you're doing! You better be right about this!"

And they drove off, leaving Keiran standing at the front of his store, staring after the truck.

Chapter Eighteen

I rolled over in bed, the morning sunlight peeking through my bedroom's rounded portal window. The orb next to my bed glowed purple, the coin within barely visible in the royal haze. I failed to set the orb to wake me up in the morning with its normal flashes of light, but I was so tired from the evening's activities that it slipped my mind. Besides, I knew that I didn't have training sessions to get to that morning. Onora escorted me back home the night before, leaving Hector's Kelpie form in the river to regroup on his own.

As I covered my eyes with a pillow, attempting to black out the reminders of a new day, I thought back to the image of his long neck breaking the surface of the serene river and then going back under with one final snort.

Onora had touched me delicately on the arm and sighed. "I know how you must feel. But remember, Morgan, he is not just a man, and he is not a Sidhe, either. He is part Otherworld and part monster – that can only be denied at the risk of your own life."

"But isn't he the one who said that we control our own destiny?" I stood at the river's edge, shoulders shuddering at night's icy breath and the nearness of my shortened mortality.

"Destiny... self-control... animalistic instinct... all very different things." Onora sighed and put her arm around me.

I nodded, staring at the waters' depths, wondering where Hector swam and if he would come back to try and finish what he started. I actually wondered why I didn't see his intentions, but I read nothing coming from him until it was almost too late.

"All of us can hold back what is inside or work with it until we feel in sync with the forces at hand. But no, we cannot purge ourselves of the beast. We can only hope to tame it and become its master."

She guided me away from the river, slowly stepping back the way we came to the rural hills.

"You cannot blame Hector for what has transpired. Blame me? Yes. But Hector? He has instincts far stronger than many of the powers that you feel plague your life."

I knew Onora was partly right, but this was my life that Onora and Hector were risking! If I had not transformed when I did, my body could be floating lifeless in that river and I would be stuck in the Otherworld for eternity. I was taught like every other young Sidhe is from birth. Sidhe are of what some call the faery realm, but we are not immortal or mere spirits. Our lifecycles are longer and our antibodies are stronger than those of humans. The medicine we made from earthly materials blended with magic also helps heal and prolong our lives. But Ban Sidhe still bleed. Ban Sidhe still feel pain, loss, and death.

I knew all of this as I slipped out from under my covers and faced the day. Without my parents – wherever they were. I quickly showered and dressed in my grey cloak – requisite for the upcoming meeting with the Inner Ring. When Onora dropped me off the previous night, she promised that she would meet with the other High Sidhe and call an emergency session to address the complications of protecting the Northern Gateway.

For all I cared, I wished all of the drama would fly away from my life. I was so used to blending in the background, distant from all of the other Sidhe my age because of my personal tragedies. I wanted to go back to being "Just Morgan." But as I walked out of my room and into the great room, I knew that the life I once knew was gone forever – a reality I ignored ever since Mother disappeared.

"Ready for some breakfast?" Bridget chirped from over a low-glowing orange sphere near the kitchen table.

I trudged across the floor, my brain aching from the mental strength that the connection with Hector required. "Sure."

I plopped into my normal seat and stared at the plate in front of me. Our mother's wedding china with the miniature apricot blooms dancing along the edges. Mother always insisted that we use the china every day so we could really enjoy it and not just see it in a cupboard like so many others were prone to do.

Bridget bustled over with a tray of cranberry-orange scones and cheese-topped scrambled eggs. My sister always loved to be the homemaker—impressing us with her culinary skills—skills usually unused by Sidhe. It was so much easier to use magic to throw together a simple meal. But Father loved all things humans as well, which led him to believe that the Sidhe could and should exist in closer proximity to the human world.

I thought of his coin, the one he left for me as a token of a promise. But while his memory lingered, my father's promise seemed to be fading by the day.

Yet, it was comforting to see Bridget back to her normal self and not negatively impacted by her reaction to Hector. I remembered our conversation in the pasture before Bridget passed out. I remembered the fear that took over when I saw her lifeless form on the ground. If Onora had not shown up, I don't know what would have happened. Did my anger bring that storm or was that Hector?

I poked at the eggs with my fork, watching as Bridget went back to wash dishes. Bridget loved attempting tasks usually reserved for mortals, and once she mastered them, she would infuse magic with what she learned to make it better.

But what bothered me, as I shoved a forkful of egg into my mouth, was that my sister was heartless when it came to mortals' deaths. She was calloused and cold beneath her motherly exterior. How could she love doing things the human way, but not feel the need to protect them?

"You better hurry up so you don't keep them waiting!" Bridget encouraged in her cheery-morning voice.

I nodded, shoveled one last bite of egg in my mouth, grabbed a scone, and scurried out the door.

I walked up the stone pathway toward the enormous mound that rose from the surrounding forests. The Innocents, who wore the white, knee-length cloaks of childhood, chased each other in the grounds surrounding the Chapel where they were not allowed to enter. A few Underlings, wearing grey cloaks like me, whispered beneath the boughs of a nearby pine, pointing and laughing at those who passed. Elders in black stood observing the children's play while more members of the Inner Circle filtered into the Chapel, their burgundy cloaks twirling in the summer air. It was a kaleidoscope of forms, bustling about the Chapel whose doors remained closed.

I carefully stepped up to the Chapel and opened the door, unsure of how the rest of my clan would react to an unworthy entering the sacred halls. But none of them seemed to notice me, so caught up were they in their own business. Quietly I closed the door behind me, the light of the outdoors dimming to the interior walls.

The inside of the Chapel was entirely different from the exterior. From the outside, it appeared to be a mound of earth, much like those that our kind live within, but five times as large. However, once inside, the interior shed its concealing magic and revealed that the Chapel was a massive clearing in a grove of tightly knit trees.

_It must be more spells,_ I supposed as I walked into the brightly lit meeting hall, the trees which created the walls impossibly close to one another.

Above, the ceiling was a complex layering of green mosaics, the mid-morning light shining through the leaves' thin layers. Orbs which lit the room on my previous visit glowed dimly in the corners, waiting to serve their purpose in the darkening evening hours. But now it was day, and the Chapel had a cheeriness it previously lacked. Now the various flags of tradition which adorned the walls were visible, their rainbow of colors circling the room.

A silver Ellylon buzzed by my head as I walked past the foyer and into the circle of cushions, my eyes searching for Onora or another friendly face. A group of three Sidhe men in black robes sat in their places, chuckling over jokes I couldn't pick up on. One of them was Burke, and he looked up and smiled warmly at me as I shuffled by. I tried to remain unnoticed.

Even though he was not around much anymore, every once in a while when I went into the village center to pick up any necessary goods, Burke would appear out of nowhere and steal a quick conversation with me. The truth was that I always liked Burke and his carefree demeanor. He was the closest thing I could get to having Father back. When I was younger, Burke would come to the mound to visit Father, and he would bring some kind of amazingly enchanted object as a gift for me. Humming acorns that would sing when held up to my ears. Fizzy raspberries that deliciously popped once they hit your tongue. My favorite, dancing leaves that unceasingly spun up, through, and over in the air for hours until the enchantment ended.

I missed Burke and his visits, the stories he would tell about Father growing up, and the happiness that came with his presence.

I gave him a quick smile in return and continued walking through the Chapel. I glanced around, searching for Onora. I needed someone I knew near me in this sea of adults. It wasn't that those who walked by me or stood conversing in corners were foreign to me – in fact, I had grown up around all of the Sidhe in the Chapel. It was the reason I was there that was getting to me. Besides, these were the same Sidhe who whispered about my inadequacies every chance they could. No matter how much I tried, I could never get past the whispering giggles whenever I went into the village. Not even now.

Around the central orb, I saw the three High Sidhe – Muirna, Grania, and Tallulah – but a fourth burgundy-hooded Sidhe completed the circle, its back toward me.

_Better just go ask Muirna where Onora is._ I lightly stepped across the stone floor, dodging cushions as I made my way toward the center of the room.

"I knew it was a bad idea from the beginning," Muirna's pursed mouth let fly, the wrinkles accentuated with each word formed, and her eyes squinting at the other three.

The hooded figure whispered, but I couldn't make out what was said.

Suddenly, Tallulah caught sight of me and gave the rest of the group a concerned glance. I knew they were talking about me when they suddenly hushed themselves.

The hooded figure abruptly turned around, the face beneath the cloak glaring from its depths.

"Seems there was a little excitement last night," Branna's crisp voice accused.

I cast my eyes down out of respect and reverence to my older sister and the higher position she held. "Sorry if I embarrassed you," I mumbled, staring down at my clasped hands, waiting for her to respond.

"A Kelpie?" Branna laughed. "No one told me that was involved in the plan. Good thing you made it out alive. I suppose."

I still did not look up at her. I would let Branna have her fun for now. The rest of the High Sidhe stood there just watching. Decorum required that I simply listen and nod. No matter how much I wanted to tell her exactly what I thought about her.

"Hello? Morgan?" My sister's hands waved to get my attention. "Are we having a conversation or are you just going to continue to ignore me?"

I slowly lifted my gaze to stare my sister in the face. Normally there was protocol for such interactions, and my submissive demeanor would be expected of any underling who had not finished her first keen. But now that my sister was chastising me for doing as was expected, I didn't know how to react.

Branna glared down at me, shaking her head in disapproval. "Are you speechless or just brainless?" More laughing from Branna who was obviously enjoying herself. "How is it possible we come from the same—"

Suddenly her voice caught in her throat. I looked up to see Branna's face red with anger, her mouth opening but no words escaping her lips.

"I think you've had enough fun at your sister's expense, Branna." Muirna held her index finger in the air, continuing to silence her junior with the swish of her hand. "Reverence to superiors is one thing; disrespect to the inexperienced is another. Mind your manners."

Branna stepped back, no longer needing Muirna's spell to keep her silence. She bowed her head, pulling the burgundy cloak up over her head.

"Now, Morgan," Muirna said. "What your sister was getting at is that when you come to Chapel, you respect the High Sidhe by listening _and_ speaking. You are part of our circle now— no matter how much your sister thought you should have been forced to wait until after your keen."

"Yes, Mistress Muirna," I muttered, suddenly aware of the numerous gazes fixed on our tight circle.

"Well, I suppose we need to start the meeting," Muirna addressed the other High Sidhe. She nodded her sharp jaw and suddenly the central orb swirled alive in contorting yellow mists. The meeting room was filled with the shuffling and scurrying of feet – conversations hushed and saved for later – as the rest of the Sidhe found their places in the concentric circles surrounding the orb.

I turned to find my own place when I felt a firm grip on my bicep.

"No. You stay with us for now." Branna turned me around to face one section of the crowd.

I smiled nervously as those who I had known my whole life sat around me, awaiting the Sidhe in the center to begin the meeting. Still, I could not see Onora in the crowd. I searched the walls, the familiar faces, but could not find my mentor anywhere. Then I found it. Onora's empty cushion was two rows back between a silver-haired man and a young red-headed woman.

The empty pit in my stomach grew larger. If only Onora were here to let me know everything would be okay.

"We are here," Muirna began, "as a matter of emergency. We apologize for disrupting your morning, but as many of you know, Baltane quickly approaches. It is a time of reunion, but also a time of responsibility that we undertake. As our distant relations emerge from the Otherworld for their semi-annual foray into the human realm, we must remember that it is our duty to maintain order while allowing some frivolity. Traditions must be kept, but precautions must be in our minds."

Branna and I stood close to one another – the closest contact we had with each other in years.

"As many of you know," Muirna continued, "a Kelpie is in our midst, but he is a welcome visitor. Onora is with him outside, awaiting our decision as to what role he will play in the problems at hand."

Relief swept over me. At least Onora was nearby.

"Which brings me to the next issue on this morning's agenda: The Northern Gateway has been compromised."

A few Sidhe whispered in confusion – apparently the problem with the Gateway was news to them.

Others shouted in accusation, "The Chain of Constance!"

"Yes! The Chain must be afoot!"

Tallulah, the hump-backed Transfigurine, held up her hand to silence the clan. Her calloused voice resounded through the hall, "Enough! No more talk of archaic groups which have long-since ceased their activities. The Chain of Constance has been broken for over a century! Upsetting yourselves will do nothing to remedy the situation!"

Muirna bowed her head in thanks to her old friend. "Onora had a vision two nights ago, and we have confirmed her suspicions. A Leanan is in the area, and the egg is missing from the Lake of Green Ice."

More murmurs from the crowd erupted that could not be silenced by simple swishes of a hand.

Nathan, a middle-aged Sidhe, rose from his cushion in the third row. He shouted to the High Sidhe and the crowd. "How did a Leanan make it through the Gateway? In over three-thousand years there has never been a breach in any of the gateways!" His face was red with fury, but Burke, who sat next to him, tugged at the hem of his robe, urging him to sit back down.

Reluctantly, Nathan sat down once more, but still waited for a response, his face visibly upset.

Branna spoke up, releasing her tight grip on me. "A good question. One which we have been trying to answer. We have also been looking for a way to fix the problem."

"Onora came up with our solution only one day ago and called upon the services of Hector, a Kelpie with whom most of you are familiar." As Muirna spoke, the rustling of fabric and plodding of hooves could be heard coming through the open doors.

The crowd turned to gaze as Onora led Hector through the foyer and to the edge of the outermost circle, stopping him with the slight lift of her liver-spotted hand. A few older Sidhe even audibly gasped at the sight. This was no ordinary visit. I never heard of a Kelpie visiting the Chapel. Usually only Sidhe are allowed inside its sacred walls.

Muirna explained, "Hector will be working with one of us to try and seal the Northern Gateway." Whispers and glances circulated around the room, as the rest of the Sidhe searched for who it could possibly be. My stomach went icy again. I swallowed hard, waiting for what I knew was coming. "That someone is Morgan." Muirna swished her hand, showing me off like a prize animal. All eyes were now trained on me, and my cheeks burned. I tried to keep my head held high, but my body stiffened and shook slightly as I tried to control my embarrassment.

Burke was the one who stood this time to speak, shifting attention away from me and toward him. "If I may comment?" he asked.

Muirna raised her head in answer, staring down her nose at my former foster-father who stood in his piecemealed robe.

Burke bowed his head out of respect. "Thank you, Muirna." He looked about the room. "Thank you, members of the Inner Ring who are in attendance at this meeting. Most of you know how Delvin is like a brother to me. Not _was_ – is.

"We grew up together, worked side-by-side, and raised our children as if we were family. When he left, I made a vow to watch over his daughters as if they were my own." He turned his eyes toward Branna and me at the center of the room. "I have not done such a good job with that as of late, and I should not have let that happen, even if it meant upsetting you, Branna. You are old enough to watch out for yourself, but Morgan?" He looked at Branna with a silent plea in his tearing eyes. "Please let me have a say in this business that Morgan is being forced into."

Branna's body visibly stiffened, and I knew that beneath her serene demeanor she was overflowing with rage. I imagined all the words Branna probably wanted to spew at Burke.

Instead of Branna speaking up, a quiet voice in the shadows at the back of the Chapel responded, "I give our consent." Bridget stepped forward and took her seat in the back row.

Branna's eyes went wide, but her mouth stayed shut.

"Thank you," he replied. He turned back to Hector, his eyes narrowing. "What I want to know, before we discuss any type of plan, is how do we know we can trust this beast?"

The crowd erupted in more frantic whisperings. Some were appalled, others in agreement with Burke's question.

Suddenly there was a deafening rumble which filled the Chapel, and the crowd's faces went aghast as frothing water formed at the top of the horse's head.

Of course, I had seen this before. I could enjoy the beauty of the swirling streams that poured from Hector's mane. But the rest of the crowd shrunk back in horror.

Now the waves covered his entire body and just as quickly began to recede, revealing Hector's human form.

Everyone was silent except for Onora who broke out in enthusiastic applause and shouted, "Magnificent! Simply wonderful!"

Hector gave a sly smile and tucked a strand of his shiny black hair behind his ear. Black-suited and strikingly handsome, Hector casually greeted the crowd. "Thank you for allowing me to enter your sacred halls. Their splendor is a thing of legends and truly this Chapel lives up to its praises." His red eyes glanced about the crowd as he flashed his brilliant smile.

_What a charmer. No wonder Kelpie can lure anyone in._ I even felt the pull myself despite my fear from the night before. I shook myself out of the daze. I recalled the seconds of my ride when I felt complete fear and barely escaped Hector's innate urge to kill me.

Hector stood with his hands in his pockets, his shiny European shoes shuffling on the stone floor. "I'm afraid that my... outburst?" he delicately spoke the word. "My... shifting last night. Well, it has simply been misunderstood, and I meant no harm to her Highness." He slowly bowed at me, and the Sidhe turned to gaze, whispering.

I shifted uncomfortably, twisting and twirling the strand of hair I held between my fingertips and waited for Hector to move on with his thoughts. But, unfortunately, no one said a word. They all continued staring at me, and Hector looked up at me while he continued to bow.

Branna nudged me with her elbow.

_What am I supposed to say?_ I panicked.

Everyone stared, waiting for me to respond.

I swallowed hard and let go of the hair I played with out of habit. "I. . . well... I'm not anyone's Highness."

More murmurs of confusion in the crowd.

I looked around, puzzled. _What do they_ want _me to say? I'm not some queen. I'm not the one from the prophecy. I'm just Morgan. Just Morgan. That's all I want to be._

Branna suddenly coughed to divert the group's attention and spoke with authority, "What Morgan means to say is that she is flattered by the Kelpie's assumptions, but that the Inner Ring has not determined if the prophecy has been fulfilled." Branna stiffly smiled at the group, apparently done with her explanation.

Hector stepped through the outer circle and stopped. "I don not need anyone to tell me when _She_ has made _Her_ appearance known. I can see Her with my own eyes, no matter how blind with blood the rest of you assume I am."

Burke held up his hand. "Wait a second. This is too much. I don't doubt that Morgan is talented – far more gifted for her age than many of us in this room. But the Inner Ring is the voice of the Sidhe, Kelpie."

"My name is Hector!" His red eyes went so wide that a thin rim of white could be seen on the outermost edges. "I would appreciate if you called me such. You speak of my race as though it were a bitter taste on your tongue! Consider yourself fortunate that I am more peace-loving than my brothers and sisters. If one of them were in my place, your body would already be floating face down in the nearest puddle."

"I will not be threatened!" Burke reached into his robe, but Onora spoke her sibilant words before he even had a chance.

Burke's arms hung stiffly at his sides, unable to move them a hair. He sat down, dejected and defeated by Onora's spell-weaving.

"Go on, Hector," Onora whispered.

Hector smoothed his suit jacket and composed himself. "As I was saying, I have simply been misunderstood. Morgan is a magnificent rider and our link was smooth and strong. We were practicing our connection, hoping to be ready to seek out the egg's location within a day. And then I saw the water, sparkling in the moonlight." His eyes were misty and stared off in gentle wonder.

He sighed and smiled. "Have you ever seen how it sings when it glistens?" He looked about at the Sidhe. "It's entrancing. When I saw the river and Morgan was on my back, I thought that we should give it a try, but I knew that if I gave her the choice she would flatly decline. After all, I told her my story. I told her of my kind and our... history." Hector winked at the crowd—still charming them.

"So," he stepped forward, his shoes clicking on the flagstones, "I took control and carried her toward the river, wanting to see if she could ride when I was in my more serpentine form." He stopped walking and stood outside of the innermost circle, right in front of me and Branna. "I suppose I chose poorly, and I am sorry, your Highness."

Now he took a knee and bowed his head like a man waiting to be knighted.

I stared, my mouth agape. Despite knowing Hector's ability to draw in victims more easily than other predators, I knew in my heart that he was sincere in his apology. I could see past his charm and into his heart, and what I saw made me step forward and touch him delicately on his head.

Hector raised his head, a smile breaking on his face, which was streaked with bloody tears.

Now I knew what I needed to say. It didn't matter what the High Sidhe or the rest of the clan thought of me or whether or not they believed in me. What I saw in front of me was someone who only knew me for a single day and he believed in me more than those who were supposed to love me unconditionally.

"All is forgiven," I replied.

I helped Hector to his feet and brought him to the center of the room, placing him on my left side while Branna stood on the other.

"Very well!" Onora shouted from the back of the Chapel. "So it is done! The girl will ride again, keen the Tanner boy, and seal the gate! Shall she do it?"

The entire congregation shifted and knelt on their cushions. They shouted as one voice, "Carrion Crow, ride on!"

Chapter Nineteen

After Aidan and Quinn arrived back at the house the previous day, Aidan spent the rest of his day trying to hook up the webcam his dad gave to him before he drove off with his mom. Luckily, Quinn only required Aidan to help stow the meat in the ancient chest freezer in the detached garage. After that, Quinn was gone at his promised meeting with Keiran, and Aidan didn't hear or see his brother, sister, or Holly for the rest of the day. He figured they must have gone out for dinner and taken a full day to connect with one another. It was just as well – he appreciated the chance to play some online games and check his email.

The webcam was a cinch to install and soon he was video chatting with DJ, whom he hadn't spoken to since he left Utah.

DJ's pudgy face filled up the screen, the familiar mole on his cheek bobbing as he spoke. Aidan could not help but stare at his friend's mole as usual, and DJ called him on it. They knew each other so well. They first talked about all the latest rumors around the neighborhood, which obviously led to the biggest gossip – Aidan's sudden move from home.

DJ couldn't believe that the Tanners were moving so suddenly and begged Aidan to visit for the summer. DJ promised he could bunk at his house. It calmed Aidan to realize that there were people who still missed him and wanted him back – it was reassuring and a relief that maybe this could work out in the end.

After staying up late, one ear open and listening for Quinn to come back home, Aidan settled onto the hard futon. After the incident outside of Keiran's shop, Aidan tried to imagine overhearing what the two men were discussing at their meeting. Keiran was insistent that Quinn had to be there – no matter how much Quinn protested. He never heard Quinn come back in the house, and it disappointed Aidan to be unable to learn anything.

Now, as Aidan sat on the edge of his bed and tied his shoes, he looked forward to whatever the new day would bring. It was already ten o'clock, but he had not set an alarm clock when he finally shut down the computer and went to bed at two that morning.

As Aidan stepped out of the office and into the hall, his hopes for a home-cooked breakfast wafted out the window as he failed to detect any telltale breakfast scents to which he had become accustomed. The house was equally quiet and deserted.

He walked into the empty kitchen.

"Hello?"

He spied a note at the center of the kitchen table. It was from Aunt Holly and indicated that Fallon and Kaylee were out again with Uncle Quinn. She was out on the lake working on her plants. He shrugged and threw the note in the trash.

After he finished a bowl of soggy cereal, Aidan headed out toward the lake to see if he could catch Aunt Holly and be able to spend the day speeding out on the water. He flung his sweatshirt over his shoulder and hustled out the door.

The crisp spring air bit at his face, but the sting on his arms reminded him of early season soccer games when the weather was unpredictably cool. He leisurely walked his normal path to the dock, taking deep breaths of air as he strode.

Next bend and I'll be there.

Suddenly he heard Aunt Holly's voice, but before he broke out in a run, he caught sight of her standing at the dock, talking to a black bird.

He couldn't believe it!

Maybe she's just on her cell?

He darted behind a tree and listened.

"I already told you once to stay away! I don't know how much more patience I can have with you. Trust me, if I could have things _my way_ , you would no longer be a thorn in my side."

Aidan slowly peeked around the tree and saw Holly pointing at the crow, which was perched on a fallen log just feet away.

_No freakin' way! She can't be talking to that bird._ But he couldn't deny what he saw before him. She was lecturing a bird. _She's gone nuts! Absolutely crazy!_

"Stay away from Aidan or else I _will_ make sure your absence is permanent." Holly stormed off, taking another path from the dock which directly led to the greenhouse.

Aidan waited until he was sure Aunt Holly was long gone, and he walked to the dock. To his surprise, the bird was in the same place as before. He walked toward it, and it didn't even move.

"What the heck was she doing out here?" Aidan looked around at the lake, the surrounding forest, and then back at the bird that still perched nearby. "Was it you?"

The bird tilted its head at him and hopped down onto the ground. Aidan took a step back.

"She really is a weirdo, isn't she? Maybe that Erin chick was right about Holly." Aidan came to the realization that he was, in fact, also talking to the bird. The crow at the gas station, the one in the woods, and the one he captured. And now another one?

It ruffled its feathers, the hidden iridescent blues and greens shimmering in the morning light. He could have sworn it was just his tired eyes, but Aidan thought the bird's feathers were growing and fluffing out more than before. With each shake of the bird's head and tail feathers, it seemed to enlarge.

Then the black bird trembled, shuddering and convulsing on the ground. It bulged and writhed, doubling – tripling, quadrupling in size – and suddenly the bird was no more. In an instant a girl stood in the bird's place, her long black hair curtaining pale cheeks bedecked with freckles.

"Wha— what the heck?" Aidan stumbled backward, his eyes remaining fixed on the figure before him, and he landed with a hard thud on the ground. He scurried back as fast as he could, keeping his eyes trained on the wonder before him, until his back hit against a tree trunk.

The delicate girl in grey robes crouched down to the ground, staring at the dirt upon which she stood. "I'm sorry," she said in a wispy voice. Before he could even respond to the shape-shifter before him, she lifted her head to reveal eyes filled with blood, a trickle of red rolling down her cheeks. Her lips were drawn tight and echoed sadness. She stared at him with her solid red gaze. Her thin lips opened and a sibilant voice spoke as though possessed, "Aidan Tanner, such is the first keen of your impending death. Upon the third keen you will meet your end."

He felt a heavy weight in his chest; the woods around him seemed to swirl and pulsate, closing in on him as he lay huddled on the ground staring at what he was sure was a beautiful demon visiting him.

"Why me?" he cried at the girl, but she merely stood at her full height, winds swirling her grey cloak around her lithe frame.

Her closed eyes and blood-streaked face pointed to the heavens.

"What are you?" Aidan screamed at the lashing winds, begging for an answer from the porcelain girl.

Suddenly the ground swelled and shook, and Aidan grabbed the nearest tree, hanging on for his life. The girl, still staring at the sky, opened her mouth and let out a shriek so discordant that Aidan released his grip on the tree and covered his ears with both hands, his body in fetal position. His ears were bleeding in pain as he rocked on the ground, the high-pitched scream piercing the air.

Then just as suddenly as it had started, the screaming halted, the rumbling stopped, and the wind stood still like the eye of a storm. Aidan opened his eyes, still covering his ears. The girl was gone – not a stitch of her remained in the clearing.

But as he finally gathered himself and stood to examine his surroundings and see if there was any evidence to substantiate what had just occurred, he heard her voice echo through the trees, "You will die."

Along the path he rushed, pushing limbs out of his way as he scurried back to the cabin. He rushed inside the house, full of terror and confusion. Holly, who was sitting on the couch reading one of her romance novels, looked up at the panting and pale Aidan.

She hurriedly set the book aside and rushed up to him. "What's the matter, Aid?"

He shook his head over and over, barely believing what had happened, his ears still ringing. He hardly heard the words she spoke as his mind was still caught in a fog.

"Aidan!" Holly shook his shoulders, trying to wake him from his trance. "Aidan!"

His eyes finally fixed on his aunt's eyes. "It's nothing," he muttered, pushing her away from him, and bounded down to his room, slamming the door behind him.

She followed right behind, swinging the door open and not allowing him to escape as he so desperately wanted.

She'll just think I'm insane. Who would even believe any of it?

"What's going on, Aid?" her eyes pled with him.

"It's nothing," he diverted his eyes, trying to keep out the memory of the shaking, the noise, and the girl with the bloody eyes.

_Could it be coincidence?_ He saw the bird on the way to Winchester, he saw it in the forest on that day he lost it with his dad, and he caught the bird in his trap. Now he knew with certainty that this was not chance and that it was all connected. In fact, a part of him knew it was that way all along. But for the bird to shift and become a person? For all of the rest to happen just minutes ago in the forest? _That was all crazy hallucinations!_

Holly sat next to him on the futon, putting her arm around his shoulders. "Tell me, Aid. Please." She said it so calmly, so reassuringly – just like the way his mom would have said it if she were there.

"You'll just think I'm being crazy." He turned his head away from her and stared blankly at the computer desk.

"Can you at least give me a chance to have an opinion? You'll never know until you tell me what's wrong." She patted his back and waited.

He figured he had nothing else to lose. If anyone in the family would come close to understanding, it would be Holly or no one.

"I was in the woods and came across a black bird." He did not tell her about the fact that he was out there spying on her; he knew that wouldn't go over very well.

"A crow?" Holly asked.

"Yeah, something like that." Aidan shuffled his feet, worried that she may put things together and realize that he had been in the woods when she was by the dock. "So, I saw this bird and it suddenly... well... it kind of changed."

Gosh, I feel so stupid.

Holly brushed his red bangs out of his eyes and asked, "Changed? What do you mean by _changed_?"

"It... well... I think there was an earthquake or something, and then the bird was just gone and a girl was there instead."

Holly's eyes narrowed. "A _girl_? And?"  
"And she knew my name! I've never met her before, and she knew my name!"

"Are you sure that's what you saw? I mean, you slept in kind of late today and maybe you just need to get some more rest—"

He couldn't believe that _now_ she was going to let this go. "Holly! Are you going to believe me or not? You're the one who wanted to know!"

"I know, I know," she said soothingly. "I just don't want you to be so upset. It isn't good for the soul."

He shoved her arm off of him and stood up, too angry to just sit there and take her motherly bull. "But the girl said I'm going to die! Do you get that? She said I will _die_!"

Holly sat in thought, silent and composed.

"Well?" Aidan waited for her to start laughing at him. He waited for her to call him crazy or overly imaginative.

But neither one of those happened.

"This isn't good," she said more to herself than to him.

"Yeah! That's what I was thinking!" his voice trembled.

"What color were her eyes?" she asked.

"Red – they were freakin' bloody eyes!" He paced the floor, running his hand through his hair. He could not believe that this was even happening. He was sure that at any moment he would wake up from the very futon on which Holly sat.

Holly stood and walked to Aidan, staring at him with all seriousness in her eyes. "Then you better come with me. I didn't think things would go this far, but there may be a way to keep this from happening."

"You _knew_ about this?" He looked at her with accusation in his eyes.

"I had my suspicions. What I need to know, Aidan, is if you trust me." She held out her hand to him, and Aidan just stared at it.

Erin warned him about Holly not being what she seemed, but he had never expected to see a crow-girl and be told that he was going to die. But he knew he really had no other choice. Aidan would like to believe that the shape-shifter was just his imagination, but in his heart he knew that all of it was true. And if everything that happened was true, he was willing to do whatever it took to keep safe. Even if that meant trusting Holly completely.

He put his hand in hers, and Holly pulled him from the room, out of the cabin, and into the woods.

They were at the foot of the mountain in minutes, out of breath from dashing along trails. Holly looked around as if she was scouting for spies, held her pointer finger to her lips, and motioned for Aidan to go around the bend of the mountainside. He proceeded with Holly close behind, and as he went around the corner he came face-to-face with a dead-end to the trail – a wall of rock. Holly brushed past him and held her ear to the wall.

"What are you—" he began, but she held her index finger out at him to shush him, glaring at him with her cat-like eyes.

She rapped three times on the rock in three different places and the ground began to tremble.

"Step back," she whispered in his ear.

Rocks shifted, stones turned, and what was once an impenetrable wall turned into a swirl of molten rock.

"After you." Holly smiled and pointed Aidan to the burning circle on the wall.

"But how do I go through that?" he asked.

"Trust me, Aidan." She gestured toward the vortex of lava.

"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered as he stepped to the shifting orange rock. He put his hand up to the wall and rather than feeling heat as he expected, the wall was cool. "What the heck," he said as he stepped into the wall with his eyes closed.

_I made it_ , he thought. _I didn't die._

Inside it was dark as night, and Aidan stopped in his tracks. "Now how am I supposed to see where to go?"

"Here," said Holly from behind. She handed him a stone from over his shoulder, but it wasn't an ordinary rock. It was crystal in size and shape, but glowed like a flare in the night.

The tunnel was sloping downward and as Aidan continued walking, the air became more damp and cool.

"How far are we going?"

"Just a bit farther." He could feel her right behind him and heard the jingling of her bracelets echoing off the walls.

Bend after bend they took, going deeper into the heart of the mountain, until the passage opened into a wide room with a single closed door at one end.

"This it?" He moved the light around the room, pointing it at the walls to see if he missed anything.

"Yep, this is it." She swiftly dodged around Aidan, snatching the light from his hands and moving to the door with delicate steps.

The door had no handle and no hinges in sight. Holly swirled her finger over the door too quickly for Aidan to tell what pattern she made as it moved. Slowly the metal door swung in, and they both stepped through the musty-smelling doorway.

Inside, the stone room was full of a warm candlelight. But there were no candles. Aidan looked about for the source and saw it in the corner of the room – a swirling orange orb like something one would see in a movie.

"Is that magic?" he asked, indicating the orb in the corner.

"Something like that," Holly smiled as she closed the door behind them.

Opposite from the light source was a cot with a heavy patchwork quilt and a trunk at the foot of the bed. In the center of the ceiling, a circular grate was mounted – it appeared to be some kind of ventilation tube.

Holly opened a curtain on one wall which concealed a toilet and pedestal sink.

"What _is_ this place?" Aidan continued staring about, numerous questions running through his head.

"It's a sanctuary of sorts, Aidan. It isn't much, but I think it will serve our purpose." She rushed to a cabinet and opened the doors, revealing shelves of pantry items, dishware, board games, and bottled water. "Everything you need to be safe for three days. I think that's how long we'll need to keep you in here."

It was as if she did the calculations in her head.

"Three days? How do you know three days?" He didn't know how Aunt Holly knew everything she did, but obviously she had powers that he previously believed to only be found in fantasy books and Hollywood movies.

"Well, first Keen would be for today, so tomorrow would be the second, and the day after that would be the third and final call of your death." She said it so matter-of-factly that it made Aidan's hair stand on end.

"And if I stay in here I'll be safe?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"You're not sure?"

She shrugged. "Nothing can be one-hundred percent. But you have everything you need, and I'll come back to check on you periodically. There are card games to keep you occupied between visits. This," she guided him to the orb, "is a sunlight sphere. It contains as much energy as a solar flare and will serve every purpose of light, warmth, and cooking that you will need. Just merely think of what you want it to do, and it will do it. One word of warning; don't try to heat it up too much or it may explode. And we wouldn't want that." She smiled and scurried about the room, fluffing the pillow on a single rocking chair, straightening the quilt, adjusting the hang of the bathroom curtain. He had to admit that it was strange seeing her act to normal in an obviously screwed up situation.

Aidan sat down on the bed, leaned forward, and rested his head in his hands. "I just don't understand." His voice welled on the edge of tears.

"Aw, Aid. Everything will be fine if you just do what I tell you to do."

"But what is happening? What is this Keen thing? What was that girl in the forest? Why do you know about all of this? Are you going to even bother telling me or is this just another thing I just have to blindly obey?"

"Very well, I guess I can let you know a little bit about the Sidhe."

"Sidhe?"

"Yes, the one you saw in the woods is more commonly known as a Ban Sidhe."

"Ban Sidhe? Like the howling old women on Scooby-Doo?"

"Kind of, but not exactly. They're part of the Sidhe realm—faery-type beings allowed to live on earth but in hidden communities. The Ban Sidhe you met is a young one, and if I'm not mistaken, you are her first kill."

"Kill? She'll kill me?"

"More or less."

"Why? What did I ever do to her? How could that happen?"

"It's the way it works, I'm afraid. Your family comes from an ancient Irish line that has been under the watchful eye of the Sidhe for centuries. Because of this connection, you have been targeted as part of their ritual – the blossoming of a new Sidhe into adulthood."

"A ritual? I'm like some kind of sick sacrifice?"

Holly nodded, her face grim.

"And they can't get in here, right?"

"Not as long as I have a say in it."

Aidan thought it over. "Then I guess I'm stuck here?"

"For now. But it will all be over soon, and they'll just have to find another sacrifice."

"And where do they get another one?"

"Someone else in the bloodline."  
"Like a family member?"

"Possibly."

"So my sister or brother, Uncle Quinn, or my parents could be next?"

"Again, possibly, but not likely."

"How do you know they won't just take Kaylee or Fallon?"

"Well, Aidan, honestly, they could."

Aidan jumped up, "Well, then I guess I'm not staying in here, then!"

"I don't think so!" She stepped in front of him, her hand pressed against his chest and holding him back. "You're staying in here because it's the only way to delay the ceremony so I can figure out what to do with the rest of your family. I have some power, but I don't know how much I can halt the Sidhe forces. They are an extremely powerful group and should not be underestimated."

"You expect me to just sit here, play cards, and wait to hope that my family is okay?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I expect. For now."

"What about my mom and dad? They aren't even in the state!"

"They'll be fine. I can have Quinn keep them safe."

"But Quinn's with that crazy Keiran guy!"

"Don't worry about all that – it's beyond your understanding."

"What's beyond my understanding is how my life can go from crap to worse in just a few days," Aidan sighed and lay down on the cot, covering his eyes with his arm.

"I'll be back this evening, and I'll have more for you then. In the meantime, I need to keep you safe and figure out what to do next."

Aidan heard the door slide shut, a vacuum seal bringing relative silence to his chamber, and a few minutes later he heard the familiar rumble of the upper stone wall opening and closing as Holly left the mountain.

He stared about him, not sure what else to do but start rummaging around the cupboards to find something for lunch.

Chapter Twenty

I swept into the Chapel, smoothly shifting from crow form to human, stepping along the stone floor with easy transition.

Muirna was the first to rush up to me, her eyes wide and searching for answers. "Well?" she asked.

"I did it. It's done." My face was blank. I didn't know how to feel anymore. I knew it was my duty to keen Aidan's death, but now that I completed the first call, I felt empty inside. It was as though a part of me died the moment my bloody-tears shed and my soul screamed to the uppermost clouds.

"Done is a bit of an overstatement, young Sidhe," Muirna sneered. "One complete, two more to be done. Then we shall see what you are really made of."

"I guess," I mumbled, walking to the third ring of seats.

The rest of the clan waited patiently for my return, and they now watched with anticipation as I took my place at the gold cushion I accepted just days ago. I held the spot as a Transfigurine in training, but there was no golden head scarf to accompany my cloak yet.

Muirna was back at the center, having raised the massive orb to the ceiling so she could stand in the eye of the clan. "Sisters and brothers," her voice rang through the hall with serpentine smoothness. "Our young colleague has completed the first keen!"

The crowd surged with whispers of approval.

"As we all know, Beltane fast approaches," she continued. "Soon the gate will be fully open, but there will be no one to maintain order. The old guard will eternally rest with our relations in the Otherworld and their replacements must be put in place. Many have volunteered to do this themselves, and it is true that we will need all of your assistance. However—"

More murmuring interrupted.

"I knew it was the Chain. Always meddlin'," grumbled Hazel, an old seer who sat behind me.

Muirna held up her wrinkled hand and raised her voice, "However!" Her voice echoed off the walls and the clan was silent once more. "As I was saying... However, young Morgan was selected by the Kelpie. While many of us may go to assist, it is the Kelpie who has an obvious advantage in reaching the gate to the Otherworld. It is for this reason that we must support the young Sidhe in completing her keen so that she in turn can ride with the Kelpie if needed."

I looked over at Burke who was only a few seats away. He turned his head slightly toward me and nodded his approval, his mousey-brown hair bobbing slightly. It was just what I needed. Burke spoke with the same wisdom as Father, and I trusted his judgment.

"Training with Hector shall not be disturbed. The boy's second keen shall take place tomorrow. Morgan, you may be excused."

I stood to leave, bowed to my elders, and shuffled to the door. Before leaving the Chapel, I heard Muirna's next item of business. "As for the Leanan. Any word?"

I closed the door. I had too much to worry about as-is, let alone join in on another search party.

I reached the field outside my family's mound and saw the familiar man in black waiting for me in the center. Hector smiled and quickly approached, spanning the distance in seconds with his massive stride. He swept me up in an enormous hug, and I could swear that my bones were going to break.

"So glad you're back and safe!" His voice sounded genuine to as he carefully set me down on the ground and helped re-straighten my robe.

"What else would you expect?" I tried to feign a cheerful expression, as though everything was part of a normal day in the life of a Sidhe.

True, the keening was fairly normal, except for the confrontation with Holly shortly before. But Aidan's aunt was a crackpot—a woman who talked to birds. She couldn't be much of a threat.

But then there was the never-ending meeting after each keen and the implications of the Northern Gateway being breached. Beyond that, there was some crazy creature on the loose, and I was working with a Kelpie. Things were definitely far from normal.

He smiled down at me. "Just think. Soon you will enter your middle stage and live as a full-grown Sidhe for over nine-hundred years! Do you understand how miraculous that is?"

_This guy seems seriously delusional,_ I thought.

"Ummm, Hector?" I laughed. For once I knew something that he didn't about Otherworld creatures. "Ban Sidhe only go through middle stages for two hundred years, not nine-hundred. Sorry to disappoint you."

"Okay, miss First-Non-Trained-Transfigurine-in-Five-Centuries, or do you prefer that I call you your Highness once again?" He stared at me, completely serious.

"I already told you that all of the prophecy stuff is a bunch of garbage. We've heard it for so long that it's getting old. I mean, supposedly there's a Thousand-Year Sidhe ruling right now, but have I ever seen her? No. Have I heard stories about her? Yes, but they're completely fanciful legends."

"And you suppose that Her Highness would show Herself to you at all times? You think that She would be _here_ all of the time?" Hector laughed. "I forget how young you are sometimes, and naïve. I've met Her. I've spoken with Her. Who do you think sent me here in the first place?" His eyes narrowed, searching my face.

I looked around uneasily, not quite sure how to respond. I had always believed the legends to be that – simply stories with sprinklings of truth blended in to keep children believing in something greater than that which they saw and heard themselves.

"The Queen of the Sidhe cannot reside here – you know that. So, why would you ever see Her? She has enough to do in shepherding the world's spirits to the Otherworld, and that's quite the task. And I'm afraid it will be your task very shortly."

I stared right into his red eyes and coldly responded, "Then if she is real like you say she is, why are my mother and father still gone? If she watches over us, then why hasn't she found them and brought them back?"

Hector's expression softened. "I don't know everything that She does. Maybe She has Her reasons for letting bad things happen in the world. And honestly, Morgan, haven't you ever asked yourself if your parents _chose_ to go away?"

I couldn't believe he said it, even when the words came out and stung my heart. Sure, I'd thought about Mother going away on her own free will. She had been acting strangely right before disappearing and was not the same cheerful person she had always been. But Father? No way. There was no way he would have abandoned us with no immediate family to look after us. He had promised me that so many times after Mother went missing.

I shook my head, the tears coming to my eyes, my nose suddenly running. "No," was all I said. I didn't owe Hector any explanation. I wasn't required to share my innermost thoughts and feelings with this insensitive beast. It was only my job to work with him to fix what was going wrong. That was it.

"I'm sorry. Obviously I've upset you." He sounded genuine. "My animalistic side often does that. I speak before thinking. You must think I'm an absolute dolt." He ran his hand through his slick hair in frustration. "I just want you to believe in the possibility that you are _She_. You don't understand the power of belief."

"No, there you're wrong." I wiped the tears off my cheeks and stolidly walked up to face him, staring up at his chiseled jaw and bloody eyes. "I do understand faith. That's why you're going to change forms, we're going to practice until the sun goes down, and you're going to take me to the Otherworld to search for my parents."

Hector smiled wide. "I like the way you think!" he laughed. The ground shook, and I took a step back, watching in awe as the floodwaters came from the top of his head, and he was quickly transformed into the water stallion.

For hours we rode through the sagebrush and navigated rocky bluffs. We kept our distance from the waters, focusing on keeping our connection solid and clear. Decisions were made in tandem, our minds melding and bodies forming fluid motions in sync.

"If only we could fly," I laughed. The dry desert air flew through my hair and whipped at my robe as we galloped across the landscape.

_Perhaps we could if you tried,_ Hector's voice flowed through my mind. _Remember, you're a Transfigurine._

It was tempting to think of wrapping my arms about his neck, and my legs stretching to wrap around his belly. Could it be possible to then extend wings from my back and give us the power of flight? Then the memory of Tallulah's deformity came back.

Sometimes chances are worth it and other times they are not.

"I think I'm ready to try it now," I said.

Flying? Then we shall try it!

"No. Water." Hector's frame trembled as he slowed from a gallop, but still I persisted. "Come on! There's a small river not far from here – not even deep enough for you to get up to your flanks. We can just try it out and see what happens. If anything weird happens, I'll just fly away like last time."

Hector came to a stop. His mind was a flurry of thoughts thrown at my brain, _Hunger... ford the waves... capture..._

"You can do it, Hector. I believe in you as much as you believe that I can be some Queen of the Sidhe." I patted his wet mane, water sparkling on my hand as I drew it away.

I knew that it was now or never. I wasn't sure that nothing bad would happen, but it would have to come to this at some point. Would it be better to just delay and wait until the day we _had_ to go under water? If we couldn't master a stream now, then what would happen at a lake?

_Very well_ , he finally responded.

I guided him to a stream that glided through a small patch of honey locusts. We came to the edge, and everything was just fine... except for Hector's skin which kept twitching as if he was an ordinary horse trying to get rid of annoying flies. I patted his fore flank. "You'll be just fine. Take one step in."

His head shook, his mane whipping around in the air, nearly tossing me from his back.

_No! No!_ His insistency hit my brain like a ball peen hammer.

"Hector!" I shouted. "Step in the water! Now!"

I had enough of the delays, the excuses, and most of all, the fear. I wanted it to be now or never. Either I would die right here, never becoming some mystical being, or I would continue on my journey and see what would happen with my life.

His head stopped thrashing, but I could still hear the heavy breath from his flaring nostrils. I closed my eyes and grabbed hold of his mane, ready to follow him into the water, even if it meant to my death.

His hoofs clicked against a rock near the water's edge. Then a slight splosh as the other hoof submerged. Then another and another until we were in the middle of the trickling stream. I opened up my eyes, looking around me. Hector was still in horse form, I was still on his back, and the water was rushing by.

"We did it, Hector!" I patted the side of his neck. "Do you feel anything?"

No hunger or thirst! It is as though I cannot even recognize you are there. I mean, I know you are there and I can feel your weight, but my body is not reacting. It is as though you have been grafted onto me!

"Well, ready to try something a bit harder?"

Absolutely.

I guided him down the stream, Hector's hooves sending spray high into the air as we trotted toward the stream's destination. In minutes we were there. My secret safe place. And now I was sharing it with someone who wasn't even a Ban Sidhe.

"Down there," I instructed. I pointed to where the water fell through the stone opening and into a dimly lit pool in the cavern. "That's where we'll know."

I dismounted, stood on the bank, and waited for Hector to shift back. There was no way he would fit through the slim opening in his full horse form. He stood, transformed at the lip of the cavern, staring down into the darkness. His face was uncertain. He couldn't soar into it in bird form like I could so easily accomplish.

He turned to me. "What do you suggest?"  
"Let me try." I nudged him aside and squatted to look through the hole.

I didn't have the stone table here, so I'd have to rely on what little training Tallulah gave me. My mind cleared as I closed my eyes, and then the chemistry began.

I lowered myself into the hole, my hands clinging to the edge of dry rock.

"What are you doing?" Hector shouted from above, barely audible over the rushing water right next to my head.

I simply ignored him. I only had a few seconds before I figured I would lose my grip and fall.

_Serpentine. Serpent. Serpentine. Snake with claws._ The image came clear in my mind—the head and claws of a lizard, but the body of a snake. _Serpentine. Lizard's feet._ I saw the image of a body stretching to the floor of the cave. Spindly legs formed.

My fingertips slightly slipped as my mind focused on the image. The image faltered as I regained my grip on the rock, but I closed my eyes tighter. Concentrating on the form. Finally, I saw the creature complete in my mind. In the next instant my body was cold and tight. I opened my eyes to see my snake body stretching the distance between the opening and the floor.

"Quickly, Hector!" I hissed through reptilian teeth.

At first his face was that of horror, but who could blame him for seeing a young girl transform into a mutated creature? He had always been the one changing shape and surprising others – not the other way around. But next he was quite amused, even impressed as he grabbed hold of my neck. His weight was unbearable, but I gripped with all my strength to see that he made it safely inside. I gritted my teeth and kept the image of my lizard form centered in my mind.

Hector slid down as quickly as he could and landed with a thud on the cave floor.

In seconds, I let go of the rock, my body morphing from slithering green into the porcelain of my natural skin and the grey of my robes. Down to proper size and shape I shrunk until I was back to normal. Now in Sidhe form, I stood over Hector, a smile stretched across my face.

"Okay, now I _truly_ believe!" he chuckled as I helped him to his feet.

"I can't even believe I did it!" My blushing cheeks showed hidden pride.

"I think there are many more great things to come from you, your Highness." His eyes turned to the pool of water. "You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be!"

Again, the rushing waters, the transforming, but now he was his other form. His prehistoric body flopped into the water – fins, tail, and brontosaurus neck. He circled the small pool and then his head emerged, snorting water out of his nostrils.

"Still ready?" But his eyes were no longer red at all – they were green. A peaceable sea green.

I nodded and stepped to the water's edge, the plesiosaur's head towering above me. I grabbed hold of his slick neck, and down he dove.
Chapter Twenty-One

On the cot, Aidan huddled with the quilt wrapped tightly around his frame, and a bowl of canned chili keeping his hands warm as he took one bite after another. The room had cooled quite a bit since sundown. The light from the ventilation pipe was absent, and he could feel the cool air penetrating the stone walls.

"I'll probably freeze to death," he kept saying to himself as he struggled to stay warm. He had tried the swirling orb, but he was afraid to heat it up too much – Holly told him it could explode, and he definitely did not want to risk that.

For now, the orb merely took the edge off the icy cold, and Aidan was reminded of the time his dad took him tent camping in the snow. He loved the ice fishing in the morning and the jokes at the campfire, but sleeping in the winter night and hearing the crunch of snow from animals scurrying about outside the tent that creeped him out.

Now he would do anything to hear one of his dad's lame jokes. He wondered how his dad was faring in Utah, packing up his family's life, unaware of the otherworldly problems creeping into the Tanner family.

He set his bowl of finished chili in the bathroom sink and shuffled to the cabinet, the tattered quilt still wrapped around his shoulders and trailing behind him on the stone floor. Rummaging around, he finally found what he was looking for – a checker board complete with the red and black plastic disks.

He laid the board out on the floor, taking his time to perfectly place the checkers in their designated spots. He imagined his dad sitting across from him, pretending to not know how to play the game at which he was really a master.

Minutes passed, Aidan playing both sides of the board. "King me," his voice whispered, the vapor from his warm breath billowing for a second and then dissipating.

As he reached to place the red checker on top of the other, another hand intervened out of nowhere and placed it for him. A voice sang, "Kinged."

His eyes shot up to see her standing there in the room, her red hair gleaming in the faint glow of the dying orb.

"How did you—" he turned to look at the door, but it was closed, and he knew he would have heard the rumble of the exterior door if she would have come from that direction anyway.

"I have my ways," Erin smiled and sat across from him on the other side of the board. "Mind if I play?"

Aidan shrugged and didn't reply. He just let her make a move and then he mechanically moved his own pieces. His mind was filled with unanswered questions.

It was hard enough to believe that there was a group of magical creatures who wanted to sacrifice him – that went against all of his logic and knowledge. Then to think that this woman, Erin, could manifest out of the air defied all sanity.

But he'd not believed that mountain walls could move and open up with the touch of a hand, and he'd seen that happen.

"You know that this place is a prison, right?" She held a black checker between her long fingernails, bouncing it along to capture two of his checkers.

"Maybe it once was, but I'm safe in here." He didn't know what Erin was. For all he knew, she could be one of those Sidhe that Holly warned him about. Had she somehow broken through the defenses and was here to finish him off? That thought didn't leave his mind.

"What did she tell you? Someone is trying to kill you and that she will protect you?"

Aidan moved one of his checkers and sighed. "What else should I believe?"  
"Well, you could start by _not_ doing whatever it is that she tells you to do. That would be a great start." She moved one forward, right across from the one he just moved.

"And if I don't do what she tells me, then what happens to me? What happens to my family?" He took his turn without lookup at her.

"Destiny. That's what happens." She moved another black checker diagonally from Aidan's, setting him up for the kill. "So do you do what she tells you, or do what you feel is right?"

He stared at the board and thought of the paths that lay before him. One, he could stay in this room as Holly told him, and she could take care of everything else. Two, he could beg her to let him out, which she probably wouldn't, and three, he could try to fight against what appeared to be magical forces. "It seems I don't have much of a choice, really."

Erin stood and walked to the orb. "I think this cold is chilling your mind. Let me turn this up a bit."

The swirls of the orb burned orange, heat emanating across the room and warming Aidan. The room actually warmed to the point where he no longer shivered, and he could actually remove the quilt.

"Now, Aidan," she sat back across from him, awaiting his move on the board. "Not all things are determined in life, but you have a very important decision to make here. Holly has entranced you, and you must break that spell. You must see past the visage she has placed in your mind. If you don't, life as you know it will never be the same, regardless of whether or not you live or die."

He looked down at his hands, unsure of what she meant and especially untrusting of the woman who had obviously entranced his own father. "Maybe you're the siren here," he shot at her.

Erin just looked at him with kindness in her eyes. She didn't even flinch, didn't even become angry. "I assure you, I'm no siren. I'm many things, but siren I am not. If you decide to stop following Holly, I will come back and help you escape, but not until you decide that it's what you want. Until then, you will be on your own." She stood and pointed at the checker pieces, still in line for the kill. "But you'll have to decide tonight. In fact, here she comes."

Erin's form began to fade, like an apparition departing from a dream. All the particles which made up her form shrank, disappeared, or flew to a center point which would have held her heart. And then she was gone and a grain of light floated mid-air, but her voice echoed in the chamber. "Decide for yourself, Aidan Tanner."

The speck of light floated upward through the ventilation grate until Aidan could no longer see the beam of its light.

He stared back at the black and red squares, hearing the faint rumbling of the rock wall above. A minute later, the heavy door slid open and Holly trounced in, her bracelets jingling, and her face full of warmth.

"How has your day been, Aid?" She waited for him to answer, but when he didn't she kept on. "Well, mine was busy. You cannot believe how hard it is to juggle five things at once. Be grateful that you're just a kid so you don't have to worry about things."

"I worry about plenty," he muttered, too low for her to hear.

She hefted a reusable shopping bag onto the trunk by the cot and started unloading sodas, candy bars, bags of chips – all of the things Aidan normally indulged in, but he couldn't get Erin's words out of his mind.

Seems she's placating me to keep me quiet.

"You playin' some chess?" Holly asked over her shoulder, still unloading junk food.

"Checkers, actually. Where are Fallon and Kaylee?" He continued to stare blankly at the board, listening intently to the tone in her voice – maybe she would give up some information in the subtleties of her words.

"Oh, yeah." She said it like the status of his siblings had totally slipped her mind. "They're with Quinn and Keiran. No problem there."

"I thought Quinn was protecting my mom and dad?" Aidan asked, hoping to not sound too accusatory.

"Yeah, but when he heard what was happening, he just came home to help keep your brother and sister safe." She turned around, grinned at Aidan, and tossed him a bag of cheesy puffs. He caught them before they hit the checker board.

"And my mom and dad? What's being done about them?" he pressed further.

"Well I gave them a call and they're just fine. I called the local chapter of... well, folks like me... and they said they'd look after your mom and dad."

"So you called two chapters?" Aidan asked for clarification, sure he'd caught her in some kind of flub.

"Oh, well, yes. Of course I called two chapters. One in New Mexico and one in Utah. Now," she moved the rocking chair next to Aidan and offered it to him, "why don't you eat up so that you can get your little mind off of them for a while. If you sit here thinking about it too much, you'll just make yourself sick."

He didn't bother correcting her this time. He knew his grandparents lived in Arizona and not New Mexico. Apparently Holly wasn't as smart as she liked people to believe – or at least whatever plan she had laid out wasn't as airtight as she believed.

"You can sit there. I'm fine on the ground." He indicated the rocking chair she offered to him.

She reluctantly sat down, "Well, I guess sitting for a minute won't harm anything. But I do have to be back soon." Her mind seemed to wander and then she looked back at Aidan. "To help with your brother and sister."

Another fake smile. He was getting used to spotting those.

"Okay, whatever you need to do is fine with me." He pinched the sides of the orange bag, popping it open, the processed fake cheese wafting in his nostrils. He loved the smell of a fresh bag.

Holly rocked the chair forward and looked down at the checkerboard on the floor. "So, are you like those chess masters who play both sides of the board, or what?" she teased.

"You could say that," Aidan muttered between bites of air-puffed sin, his fingertips turning orange with each piece he finished.

"Seems it wouldn't work too well for checkers," she remarked, leaning back and sighing.

"Well, I don't have anyone else to play with."

"True." She glanced about the room and an uncomfortable silence followed.

"Well." She stood from the chair and grabbed her green-cloth bag. "I should be going."

"Already?"

"It's almost bedtime for you, anyway. Besides, you need your rest. Tomorrow will be a busy, busy day. Enjoy the snacks, and I'll see you in the morning."

She twiddled her fingers in a playful wave goodbye as she went out the door, sealing it behind her, and the rumbling from further up the mountain's interior followed shortly after.

Aidan popped another cheese puff into his mouth, chomping loudly in the otherwise silent room. He picked up his red checker and jumped the black disc.

"Game on, Holly."

Chapter Twenty-Two

Branna was back at the Chapel as usual. She left the mound before I woke up and took all of her Inker tools with her for the day.

It was the middle of breakfast when Onora rushed into our home, not even bothering to knock on the door or announce her impending arrival. The ancient seer hobbled into the room, ignoring Bridget who tried to offer her a cup of tea. Something was wrong.

Onora came within inches of my ear. "The boy is in danger," she frantically whispered. "The Leanan is after him, and he's being kept inside of a mountain that is protected by some powerful magic. You _must_ perform the second Keen today. Before it's too late. If he falls under her control, there will be no way to ensure the safety of the Northern Gateway. The boy is our objective."

I nodded, aware that I had a duty to fulfill. Quietly I asked, "Is Hector ready?"

Onora stepped back and looked at me as though I said something crazy. "Hector is needed for other things. The keening is _your_ responsibility and not his."

"Well," I searched for how to explain myself, but decided to just come out and say it. "Hector and I were hoping to get more practice in the water, and there are several lakes where Aidan is right now."

Onora sighed and sat down on a chair. "That would be most unwise. For you to travel on horseback would take half of a day, even with his supernatural speed. But should you fly, you can make it in hours. Hector will travel north after you once he's finished up with the Ring. Besides, you won't come back here till all of this is over. There is a place I have arranged for us to stay, and I will accompany you there. Hector will join us tomorrow, and then we can have all of this nasty business come to an end."

We stood there looking at each other. Our task's weight hung over our heads.

"So, do you think we'll be able to fix everything with the Gateway?" I asked. "I don't even know what we are supposed to do once we're there." I finished my last spoonful of oatmeal and carried the bowl to the sink.

"You will know what to do when the time comes. Such things are not in stone. I trust in your success as much as I believed that you would successfully transform during your Incantation, and I know it with more certainty than when I believed that you and Hector would be able to connect. Go pack what you'll need, and I'll wait for you out here."

I rushed to my room, grabbing the carpetbag which Father gave me. It belonged to his mother and she had carried it over from the mother land to the New World. I started shoving changes of clothing inside, trying to keep myself from thinking about family. I threw in an extra cloak, just in case, and soon I was finished.

As I sat on my bed taking one last inventory of my room, I watched the coin floating on my nightstand.

I grabbed a long strip of leather on which I usually strung an old talisman. I took off its normal charm and reached into the orb, gingerly taking hold of the coin. Effortlessly I wrapped and tied the leather around the coin, finished it off and made sure my knot was secure, and then tied the ends of the leather strap behind my neck. I tucked the coin under my cloak and the neck of my blouse, letting its cold surface rest on my sternum.

I bound out of the door with my bag in hand and a part of Father next to my heart.

The flight north was a nasty cold trip; Onora flew higher in the air than me, her peregrine wings gliding in the uppermost winds as I followed shortly behind her in crow form. I preferred a lower altitude where I could leisurely flap and soar. It was also a bit warmer than the ungodly heights which Onora took in her flight.

She used her skills before we left and shrunk our bags down to the size of matchboxes. My satchel was tied to my left foot, and while the drag took a little getting used to, I managed with both the conditions and the difficulty of flight.

"There!" Onora yelled, her voice thundering over the blustering winds. She bent her wings and pointed her body to a slight opening in the rocks below. Its appearance was obscured by scrub which clung desperately to the mountainside.

I knew the area. On the other side of the slight rocky hill was the lake where I confronted Holly about who or what she really was. Holly told me to stay away and never come back, but for me, that wasn't an option.

_I should have stayed,_ I berated myself for leaving Aidan after the first Keen and not remaining to make sure everything else would be okay. But he wouldn't have listened to me anyway. In his mind, I was some kind of freak creature, or just thought to be a hallucination.

That's what I would have thought if I were in his place.

Toward the caves we soared, heads down against the rain which began to pelt our wings.

"Careful, Morgan!" Onora shrieked. Her body quickly folded into a dive. Then she was gone from sight.

I arrived in the cave shortly thereafter, unable to keep up with the falcon's speed. Onora already lit an orb she stowed in her satchel, heating up the dank cave which must have once been occupied by a bear. It was much too large for other creatures that I imagined would have sought shelter in the rocks.

Onora hunched over her own black sack, rummaging and jangling about in search.

Having transformed on the way in through the doorway and untied my bundle, I walked up to the orb and thawed my frigid hands over its glow.

"Have any hot cider in there?" I teased.

Onora's eyes twinkled as she turned to look at me. "Be careful for what you ask! I'm not so talented a cook!"

I settled on the ground, staring at the miniature version of my carpetbag. I tried to think of the words which could reverse such a spell, but I didn't know what to say to undo what Onora had done.

"A little help?" I asked. I held up the bag between my two little fingers as though I was holding a dirty rag.

Onora cackled. She beat her arthritic hand against her thigh, trying to hold back her hacking laughter.

When she was finally done with her temporary amusement at my expense, she pushed up her sleeves and whispered two words under her breath, too low for me to hear. The bag instantly grew in size until it reached its full form. The embroidered fabric, which was a design of flying Sidhe, was able to tell its story once more.

"Thanks," I said. I took off my soaking cloak and slung it over a large rock near the orb, carefully smoothing out its creases to ensure it dried completely.

I opened my bag and pulled out the extra cloak. But as I heard the crackling thunder outside the cave, I knew that keeping dry outside would be a near impossibility. I swung the dry, grey wool cape over my shoulders, fastening the hooks right over my collarbones, the hood down and resting on my shoulder blades.

"Here." Onora held a vial over her shoulder, not even turning to look at me as she continued searching the bag with her other hand. "Drink this and you'll feel a lot better. But we don't have time for dilly-dallying, eh? Time for a second Keen before the daylight is gone for good."

I grasped the vial filled with dark green liquid. It appeared thick and almost chunky – far from appetizing after a long, cold flight. I opened the stopper and took a whiff at the viscous liquid, but rather than the moldy smell I expected to assault my nostrils, it smelled of fresh herbs like oregano and tarragon.

"The whole thing?" I eyed the vial with suspicion.

"Yes," Onora replied. She pulled blankets from her black bag and flung them over her shoulder.

I downed the mixture, one slimy gulp after another, and felt my core warm before the last swallow was even complete. I handed the vial back.

"Now you are ready to go." Onora stood from her bag and turned, one arm pointing to the door while the other one actually shepherded me out by my back.

"Can't I wait just a—"

"No-no. No time to wait. You must go now. If you are not back in two hours, I will come find you."

I was already at the doorway of the cave, staring out at the rainclouds which released their drops faster than on our way into the cave.

"But can't I just—" I thought of a warm cup of tea, but Onora pushed me through the arch of the entrance.

"When you get back! No time to waste!"

Onora was right. After all, whenever Onora gave me advice, she was usually correct.

_Better now than never._ My kind needed me. And if it was better for Aidan to die than be under the power of a Leanan, then I knew I could find a way to deliver his second call to death.

I flung my body off the edge of the overhang. I plummeted for one second before a flash, and I was crow once again, soaring above the tips of pine boughs.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The early afternoon light was barely visible through the storm clouds. A few rays in the distant west slanted through and lighted the landscape below. I flew over the rippling waves of Winchester Lake, breathing in the fresh air as the rain lessened and now pattered on my wings. The dock and cabin where Aidan lived with his uncle welcomed me, but I flew exactly as Onora told me during our flight to Winchester from Finias. Over the first ridge behind the Tanner house and on the other side would be a clearing at the end of a mountain path.

Sure enough, I found the clearing. If Onora's information continued to be correct, there would be a vent cover on the mountain. But for me, finding the cover seemed impossible. I beat my wings, climbing up the side of the mountain, my eyes trained on the crags below.

Was the covering above or below the tree line? Either way, I doubted I would be able to locate the opening at all.

"Trust your instincts," Onora told me. "You will find him because you have keened him once already. Follow that pull inside of you that is a part of all Ban Sidhe."

I circled once as I reached the top of the peak, and spiraled back down. If only the top of the vent were not camouflaged to blend in with the terrain.

_Think, Morgan. Think,_ I kept telling myself as I flew my course.

Over and over again, I swept over the mountainside, eyes trained for any faint flickering of movement or light. With the rain pattering, it was difficult to keep focused.

And then I saw it, a glint of silver in the landscape below. The flume's metal cover spun like a silver mushroom in the fury. I alighted next to my entry point. The slats in the little dome were much smaller than I had earlier supposed. My Transfiguring skill would also be tested with the length of pipe that would lead me to Aidan.

I knew what form I would use before I even arrived at the vent. In my head I saw it, as I did with my other successful transformations.

My crow wings shrank; my body went down, down, down, until I was nose-to-nose with dirt. But really I didn't even have a nose anymore. I stretched my wings, but found that now they were stiff and light rather than the bendable bird wings I was accustomed to.

Watching the cover twirl round over and over again, I found myself counting the rhythm. I hoped I could time my entry into the pipe. But its spins were inconsistent, the carrying winds making it impossible to simply count to a sustained beat.

_Trust your instinct. That's what she told me_ , I thought.

My moth form leapt into the air, fluttered slightly and then rushed through the whirling slats. I timed the entry just right and found myself undamaged by the movement of the vent. I was in.

I scurried down as far as I could, my body resisting the pull of the air as it filtered from the room below to the outside world.

It was hard enough to just keep my body in white moth form, travelling down a tube that would crush and kill me if I changed back into Sidhe form too soon. This idea was never too far from my immediate thoughts.

I travelled at least twenty feet and was beginning to see the glimmer of light ahead, but the air's push was getting to be too much for my folded frame and tiny furry legs to handle.

_It's got to happen now!_ I told myself, opening my wings and flying down the rest of the shaft with every ounce of strength I had left.

And then just as suddenly, I squeezed through the bars of the grate and flitted in the light of Aidan's prison.

I tried to remain unnoticed as I scoped the room, wanting to be absolutely certain that Holly wasn't lurking in one of the corners. But I found no sign of her. Aidan was lying on his bed and thumbing through the pictures held in the plastic sleeves of his wallet.

I hovered halfway to the floor.

I better be in regular form before I say a word to Aidan.

I knew it would be better if he hit me with his wallet when I was almost his size than if I was still moth.

My body stretched out, a sense of relief flowing through my frame. Changing from Sidhe to crow came naturally as though it was just another side to my personality. However, transfiguring into something unequal to the mass of my bird-form was more draining. A crow and moth were definitely vastly different masses.

Aidan carelessly glanced up from his wallet and looked at me. He went back to staring at a picture.

It was not quite the reaction I had anticipated from him. I expected anger or fear, but not complacency.

"What do you want?" he asked, annoyance in his voice more than anything.

_Yep, definitely not the reaction I expected at all_ , I thought.

I pulled the hood up over my head, trying to disguise the blush in my freckled cheeks. But I wouldn't let him get the best of me, either. I stood straight, arms held solidly at my sides.

"Aidan Tanner, I am here for the second keen of your impending death."

We stared at each other for a few awkward seconds.

"Ahem." I felt I needed to repeat myself because he didn't seem to understand or hear what I said. "Aidan Tanner, I am here—"

"I heard what you said the first time, Bird Brain." He turned over on the cot, his back to me, and stared at the wall.

Bird Brain? Did he really just call me Bird Brain?

I had no idea what to do next. His understanding was not necessary for the Keen to be successful, but I always pictured this moment being much more terrifying for Aidan than the first Keen. To my disappointment, it was having the exact opposite effect.

"Why don't you just get it over with and leave?" he gruffly replied to my silence.

"I—I can do that. But– but I thought you would want to know and see. I thought you would care about—"

"Well, guess what? I don't care. You're either going to sacrifice me or I'm going to die in here. I figure that either way, it doesn't really matter. So, if you don't mind, the sooner this is all over, the better." He put the pillow over his head, blocking out the light and my dumbfounded look.

I sat down in the rocking chair which was awkwardly left in the center of the room.

After a few minutes, Aidan slowly turned and peeked from under his pillow. "You still here?" he asked.

I nodded, my eyes barely visible under the shadow from my hood. Maybe I looked a little more frightening now. Mysterious harbinger of death. Yeah, right.

"Well, now what are you doing?" he asked. He completely uncovered his face and propped himself up on an elbow.

"Waiting for you to care about something," I replied, but I pushed back my hood and readied myself to get his keen over and done with.

"Hm. Funny. Last time I tried to care about my own life you seemed to not care much about that. You still freaked out and did your..." he searched for the word, "thing?"

Another silence as I looked away from Aidan's gaze.

"Hey!" He fully sat up, his eyes wide. He leaned toward me. "Since when do you have green eyes?"

I blushed and turned my head aside, concealing the way the corners of my mouth tried to turn upward.

"I've always had green eyes unless I'm doing _my thing_ , as you call it," I said.

Aidan smiled wide, his freckled cheeks mirroring my own.

We both looked at each other uncomfortably. The petite Sidhe in heavy robes and the human boy all lanky and fiery haired. We were quite the pair.

"So... tomorrow I'll die?" he quietly asked.

I sadly nodded.

"And nothing I do can change that?"

"Doubtful," I answered. "Sorry."

He ran a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp in frustration. "What are my chances of surviving?"

"Millions to one you won't be around in two days."

Aidan nodded, seeming to run the numbers through his head. He suddenly stood up. "Well, then let's get this over with now."

I stared up at him. I couldn't believe that he was welcoming his Keen with open arms. For so long I struggled with helping to bring the end to a young man's life. I had mentally prepared for this moment. I could handle someone who was resistant at not wanting life to end, but he just stood there. Accepting it.

"If I can't stop it, whatever-your-name-is, then I might as well make your life a little bit easier on my way out. Right?"

Where did the fight in him run off to? He sounded defeated, ready for slaughter.

"This isn't right," I whispered.

"Dang right it isn't right!" he shouted, his eyes filling with tears. "But what else are we going to do? You have your job to do, and meanwhile my family is at risk the longer that I live!"

My eyes crinkled in confusion. "They're hostage?"

"No, they're being protected from _your_ kind."

I shook her head, trying to clear it. What he said didn't make any sense. "That can't be. What are you talking about?"

"Holly told me all about your ritual. She told me that if it wasn't me that was killed by your group, that it would then be someone from my family. So you might as well get this over with so I can at least die knowing that they're safe."

"Holly told you _that_?" I couldn't believe it – the way she twisted what was happening.

"Yes, she told me all about your plan." He was seething, almost ready to burst.

"Well, she's a liar," I replied, matter-of-factly. "Plain and simple. A liar."

"Oh really? Because it seems that you _are_ hunting me down. Why else would you be in here? Three calls and I'm dead, right? Well, get the second one done already!" He threw his arm in the air for emphasis. "Kill me!"

I openly laughed, covering my mouth to try and muffle the sound. Aidan's rage flared even further.

"You think this is funny?" he asked, his voice rising.

"Well, kind of," I said. I smoothed out my cloak, sitting up straight to appear a bit more in control of myself. I really didn't mean to insult him.

"Great. Just great," he mumbled, ruffling his hair with one hand.

"Aidan," I delicately began, "the Sidhe are not killing you. We are actually a protector of sorts."

"Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that?" he asked.

"No, but it's the truth. Our clan has protected your ancestors for millennia, followed them across the seas when they migrated, and even settled in wastelands when they spread to unknown wilderness. My kind has sacrificed for your family for generations!"

"Then if that's the case, are you telling me that there's no ceremony?" he asked.

"Well," I hesitated, "not exactly."

"So there is! And you're just trying to sweet talk me!" He paced the room much like he did after the argument with his father in the woods.

I worried that he would lash out. But if I knew him as well as I thought I did, he would pummel the stone walls before he would even think of laying a hand on me.

"Why would I sweet talk _you_?" I asked.

"`Cause... 'cause..." he struggled for something else to hurl at me. "You're just using me. Yeah, that's right! You're using me as part of some freaky ritual! You going to drink my blood?"

I stood up and laughed. "Yes, I'm going to drink your blood and put your head on a stake. Why don't you try thinking with your head instead of your ego?"

He stepped toward me, his chest at my chin level. "I'm just going off everything I've been told – by Holly, by Erin, and by you. And don't lecture me about my ego. You're the one in here with all of the power."

I stared up at him, coldness in my green eyes. How could he sit there and insult me? "Then I guess there are some things you should know about me." I shoved his chest away. "I'm Morgan, from a long line of proud Sidhe."

Aidan stumbled backward, but regained his footing.

I went at him with my finger pointed at his chest. "I'm sixteen human years old."

One tap on his chest.

"I'll live for at least another few hundred years, watching your kind fade away one after another."

Another jab at his chest.

"Ow," he quietly whined putting a hand on the spot I poked.

But I didn't stop there. He wasn't going to push me around like everyone else. "I've already lost my mother and father, and I don't know if I'll ever see them again. My sisters think I'm worthless. But above all, I always tell the truth." My voice blasted his face, "And I don't need some whiny boy telling me what I am, what I'll do, and what I know!"

Aidan backed up one last step and fell back on the cot, looking up.

"Understand?" I shouted, my voice shaking.

I felt invigorated. I felt great. It was like I released everything that was bottled up.

He cowered back, delicately thinking of what to say. "Yeah. Got it, Morgan. Got it. Calm down. Sheesh." He sat up on the cot as I walked back across the room.

I muttered under my steamy breath, "Now I know why Father said I should just stay away from boys and not even talk to them until I'm at least ninety."

"Ninety?" Aidan asked. "Seriously? You'll be a shriveled up prune!" He tried to stifle a laugh, but I heard it anyway.

"Don't be an ignoramus. Sidhe at ninety look like humans in their mid-twenties."

"Whatever you say," Aidan said. "Sounds like some lonely decades for you."

"Well, I don't think you should really be worrying about me right now," I replied.

Aidan slid his wallet into his back pocket and sat up on the cot. "Well, Morgan. What _should_ I be worrying about?"

"To be honest?" I waited for his response, wanting to make sure he wasn't just going to throw another sarcastic remark at me again. But when he nodded, I continued. "The woman you call your aunt? She is far from normal. I can tell you that much from the few times I've met her. And if she's the one who has you here, then I'm sure she can't be trusted."

"I was already starting to figure part of that out on my own. But what am I supposed to do?" He looked utterly crushed.

I looked at him sympathetically. "I don't know. But if you can get out of here, do it."

"Why can't you get me out of here? Aren't you some kind of faery thing? Don't you have powers?"

I snorted. "I'm new to magic, Aidan. I could barely even make it down that vent without killing myself. If I could have come through the front door, I would have. If I could have appeared by magic in this room, I would have. No," I sighed, "you'll have to figure that one out yourself."

"Then is there anything else you can tell me?"

I shook my head. "I'm afraid I've told you everything I can. Aidan," I walked up and took his hand in mine before I could second-guess what I was doing, "I'll be there when you go. And when it does, I'll make sure you don't suffer. I'll make sure you arrive to the Otherworld. But that's all I can offer."

His eyes warmly looked up into mine. In another setting the whole scene would have been romantic, but his impending death blurred all chance of anything else.

"I guess you need to do your part." He swallowed hard and pulled his hand from mine. "Then I'll see you tomorrow, Bird Brain?"

I stifled a laugh. I nodded, took three steps back, and lowered my head. When I raised my gaze again, my eyes were solid red, my face vacant of any childlike smile.

My voice took on the tone of wind whistling on a dark night. "Aidan Tanner, such is the second Keen of your impending death. Upon the third Keen you will meet your end."

The mountain rumbled. The room shook, and for a moment it was as though the roof would collapse.

Aidan covered his ears, but it didn't help. My head rose to the orb in the center of the room and my mouth opened, issuing a wail full of horror.

I knew what was happening. I could feel it all like he did. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end again, the pain in his ears forced him to his knees as his hands still covered the sides of his head.

And then I was gone. Back up the pipe and into the receding storm, emerging as a moth and swiftly mutating into my more comfortable crow form. Into the air I flew, leaving behind my final echo in the chamber below, "You will die."

Chapter Twenty-Four

After Morgan left and her echoing warning faded, he heard the familiar voice of Erin, whispering in the walls of his confined space. It was actually half an hour since Morgan's exit, but in that time, he just sat on the stone floor, staring at the spot from which she departed.

When he looked up, he saw what he knew he would see – the auburn-haired woman standing over him. He was starting to get tired of visitors and wished he could spend the rest of the afternoon in quiet isolation. They only served as reminders of his upcoming death.

"What now?" he glared up at her, not wanting to deal with whatever she was going to say to him.

"Wow, what a warm welcome for the person who is going to free you from this... place. Did you make your choice?" She circled the room, picking at the decorations, inspecting with her eyes and hands as she went.

He nodded and stood up, brushing the dust from his pant legs. "Ready as I'll ever be after the visit from that Banshee."

Erin stopped in her roaming and turned her head toward him, her hand still resting on the cabinet door. "What did you say? Sidhe?"

"Yeah, a young one around my age. Morgan was her name. I figured that with everything you seem to know, that you would have already be familiar with her."

Erin didn't respond to what Aidan said, but just asked, "What did she want from you?"

"She's keening my death," he said it so calmly, so smoothly. But he knew that if all of this was going to come true, there wasn't much he could do about it. All he could do is make the most out of the time he had left.

"A keen? Is that what she said?"

Her face was sincerely concerned – the most he had seen since meeting the mysterious woman in person.

"Yeah – three calls, red eyes, deafening scream. You know about this type of stuff?"

Erin shook herself awake from her daze. "I never believed that you would—" She was lost in her own mind, staring into space.

"Die? You never thought that a human being would die someday?" His sarcasm bled through. "Well, I have news for you, lady. Humans are mortal. We have expiration dates and apparently mine is tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" she asked him. "No, I refuse to let that happen." She stalked about the room as though looking for something.

Arms outstretched, she guided the orb to the floor and whispered an incantation, its color fading to grey.

"Well, according to that girl, it's going to be tomorrow."

"Not if I can help it." A tear fell down her cheek, and she swiftly brushed it away. "That explains a lot about Quinn." She didn't look up from her work but kept running her hands just inches from the surface of the sphere.

"What about Quinn?" Aidan's curiosity was peaked since he had not heard from his uncle since the day at Keiran's shop. Holly told him that Quinn was with his siblings, but something in his gut told him that Erin knew more.

Her eyes narrowed, her mind obviously processing. "Nothing of importance right now. What's imperative is what _you_ are going to do. Quinn can take care of himself – I hope."

"What do you mean you hope? Is something wrong?" Aidan was irritated that Erin was pushing everything aside and dropping hints without explaining a thing.

"He's... a little tied up. I'm sure he'll be here soon enough." She smiled, but not a stitch of it comforted Aidan.

While Aidan definitely felt that he did not need his uncle around for his own benefit, he did, however, wish he could see first-hand that everything was okay. If what Erin told him was correct, then Quinn was busy with something and would be back, but that clearly contradicted what Holly told him before.

"Now," she turned to Aidan, her face serious, "I cannot just pick you up and take you out of here. There is a magic on this place that prohibits what I can do. However," her arms reached into the orb, buried up to her elbows in the grey haze, "this may help."

She fumbled more in the orb, pulling with all her might on something in the sphere. Suddenly, as though whatever she played tug-of-war with let go, she flew backward and with her emerged a silver, double-sided axe, its handle speckled with emeralds that glistened in the dim grey light.

"Whoa!" Aidan's eyes went wide as he rushed across the room to help Erin to her feet.

Once standing, Erin held the jewel-encrusted axe out to him, but he hesitated to take hold of the mighty weapon. This was too familiar. And the next second he knew what it was – the bloodied green axe from his nightmares. The one that accompanied the female scream in Uncle Quinn's cabin.

Only death can come from that.

"Take it," she urged, pushing the axe toward him, but he shrunk back.

All of this coming together was more than he could handle. Ban Sidhe? He unwillingly accepted the idea, but he still realized the truth of the fabled creature because it was better than believing he was going insane. Safe-room in the middle of the mountain? His mind could justify that it was a holdover from the Cold War era. But the glowing green axe from his dreams? No—his nightmares facing him head-on was over the top.

"I can't." He shook his head.

"Aberdeen's Axe. It's yours. You are meant to have it."

"What do you mean that I'm supposed to have it? I've never even heard of it before."

She bowed her head and spoke solemnly, "It was your grandfather's."

"What the heck are you talking about?" His eyes crinkled.

"Your grandfather. My father. He left this for you."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Aidan took a step back. "You have me mistaken for someone else."

"No, I'm not mistaken. Your grandfather was Aberdeen, and he left this for you before he passed."

"No, my grandpas are Charles and Harold. Besides that, my grandparents are still alive!" Aidan shook his head in frustration and went to the cupboard for another bag of cheesy puffs. With an exaggerated flourish he ripped open the bag and shoved a fistful in his mouth, smearing orange on his cheeks in the process. He turned back to Erin, his eyes full of angry tears. "And if this was from your father, then that means you're claiming to be my mother!"

He gave her a clear look of disgust, the snarl at the edge of his upper lip twitching at the thought of the woman trying to brazenly lie to him. There must be a reason for her wanting him to take the axe – part of some backdoor plan she was arranging. He wouldn't be a part of it. Not now. Not ever.

Erin turned her head to the side, her face softened in the faint glow of the grey orb. "But I am, Aidan."

He crumpled the snack bag in his fist, his lips drawn tight as he glared at Erin. "No. My mom is in Arizona right now, taking care of my grandfather. You are just some crazy lady who had an affair with my dad! And now you won't leave me alone, and you're just stalking me!" He walked forward and shoved the jeweled axe handle at her chest. "I don't want to be a part of your insane plan any longer!"

"But Aid—"

"No!" he cut her off. "I've had enough of all these hallucinations and stupid claims by people I've barely met!"

Delicately she pled, "I know it seems strange and confusing. But I will tell you one truth. I did have a relationship with your father, but it was months before he met your mother. Once he was married, we hardly saw each other."

"What? I saw the two of you at that restaurant!" Aidan's chest thumped wildly with the memory of what he knew from the banks of his mind.

"You saw me having a meal with him, yes. But the rest of what you saw was all in your head, Aidan. It was all something you constructed from a flashing image."

"I know what I saw when he held your hand across the table!" he retorted, his face burning red.

"I was consoling him, Aid!"

"Yeah, right," he mumbled.

"It's true! I hadn't seen him in fifteen years – not since the day I bundled you up and handed you over. He was married at that point – to the woman you know as your mother – and they agreed to raise you as their own."

"Right, and I suppose that you're some kind of royalty too, and I'm a prince?" Sarcasm leeched through his cracking voice.

"I know it all seems much too fantastical, but what I'm telling you is the truth, and you deserve to know it! No, you're not a prince, but I'm the Queen of another place apart from here. It's a place where those who pass-on go to rest. I'm the Queen of the Sidhe, Aidan."

Aidan rolled his eyes. "Okay. Fine. Let's play your little game. Then if you're the Queen of the Sidhe, like you claim, then can't you just step in and stop this whole Keen and keep me from dying?"

"It's not like that." She still held the axe in front of her. "Traditions must be kept. Even I can't intervene with that. Your conception was meant for this moment. This purpose. What can I tell you to make you believe that I am your mother?"

"Nothing," he looked at her with coldness in his eyes that she had not seen before. "Even if it were true, I'd never admit it. If you were my mother, you were never there for me. You just left me to be someone else's problem. So either way, I don't really care. You'll never be my mother, even if my dad were to say so."

Erin sighed and set the axe down, propping it against the nearby wall, its jewels sparkling in the dim light. "I know I can't make you love me, and I know I can't make up for the years I was gone. But maybe I can show you something that will at least convince you to get out of this place." She walked back to the orb, touching the surface with her fingertips, massaging it with delicate swirls. "Look," she nodded toward the shifting mists.

Aidan hesitated, his arms crossed resolutely across his chest.

"Come on, please. If you still want to stay here and not follow what I say, I will leave and you'll never see me again."

He grumbled and walked over to the floating sphere, looking at it to placate the insane woman. In its swirls he started to see shapes, and as they moved, the picture became clear as though he was watching television in its surface.

In the scene he could see a much younger version of his dad, sitting in a restaurant, talking and holding hands with a red haired woman. Not just any woman – it was clearly Erin, but she looked the same as she did now. His dad paid the bill and they walked out, arm in arm, obviously drunk on love. It made Aidan queasy to see his dad falling all over another woman. Especially one who, up until now, he believed his father had an affair.

"I met your father when I was supervising the keening of his grandfather's death. I needed a human to help me bear a half-Sidhe child; a child who could fulfill an important role in the future of the Sidhe. But your father and I fell in love quickly. Three months later we were inseparable."

The scene flashed forward to his dad's old apartment – the one he saw in his parents' photo album except it was totally devoid of any sign of Mom's existence.

So maybe it is before they were married. It doesn't prove anything. Besides, this whole thing I am watching could be some magic trick she is putting together to fool me.

The man and woman collapsed on a bed, their arms entwined. Aidan diverted his eyes, not wanting to see his dad making out with any woman. He peeked back and the scene moved on.

His father was sitting on the couch, a piece of paper in his hand. He read it over and over again like he could not believe the words written on the page. Tears fell down his cheeks and onto the paper. He took the framed picture of Erin and him and threw it against the wall, the glass shattering on impact.

"That was when I left him. I was pregnant, but I didn't tell him. I knew it would make it harder for him to move on. I had ignored my other responsibilities long enough. I was selfish by being with him. Our relationship was not about me and him, it was now only about you, Aidan."

The scene shifted to one which was more familiar.

He knew the church from his parents' wedding album. The colors from each picture taken and preserved, every memory of flipping through the images engrained in his mind.

How could she know all of that?

Was Erin somehow tapping into his memories of looking at his parents' old pictures and recreating scenes based on that knowledge?

He gazed on at the scene before him, framed in grey mists.

A woman sat in the back row of the chapel, her brimmed hat shielding much of her face, her belly swollen in obvious pregnancy. He knew it was Erin before he saw her face. Sure enough, the angle changed, and he saw her face hidden beneath the oversized brim. Her high cheekbones, her lightly freckled nose.

In the aisle, his grandpa and mom walked slowly by the woman with the red hair, neither one even glancing at her once. Dad stood at the front of the chapel, his eyes full of joyful tears as he watched his bride-to-be make her way toward him.

Flash again, and it was the reception – another scene he knew from pictures and the wedding video. But now he saw Erin, with her hand on her belly, motion with her head at his dad. She walked out of a back entrance, and a minute later, her father excused himself and quickly followed.

Flash another time, and the two argued in a back hallway, Erin crying and pointing at her stomach again and again. His dad wiped the sweat from his forehead and kept looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was overhearing their conversation. He reached for his wallet and opened it, trying to throw every piece of money at Erin, but she stared down at it in disgust. She shoved him away from her and ran out of the building. His dad looked defeated.

"I knew he would move on, I just didn't know it would happen so quickly. I wanted him to know about you, that was all. I knew I would need someone to watch over you, and that time was quickly approaching."

Flash. The outside of his parents' first house. Erin walked up to the door and knocked three times, a bundle of grey wool blankets in her arms. She looked about her nervously, her foot tapping as she waited for someone to answer. Then there Mom was, opening the door, and his childhood puppy, Manny, raced out onto the grass. His mom ran out after the puppy, grabbing it by the scruff of the neck and hauling him back inside. She invited the woman to come in, but she refused. There were words between the two women, and Erin kept looking over her shoulder. His mom looked angry, then worried, and finally she reached out and took the bundle from the woman's arms. Erin appeared to be pleading, then thankful, and finally she turned and ran down the walkway. His mom stood in the threshold, the child in her arms, a look of disbelief on her face.

Then everything went back to grey swirling clouds.

"Now do you believe me?" her eyes revealed the pain she held inside each memory she showed to Aidan.

The timing Erin showed him all made sense. He never understood why he had pictures of Manny as a puppy with his mom who never looked pregnant, and then on the next page a picture of himself with the pup just a few weeks later. He began to wonder if his parents' wedding date was also flubbed in order to keep him from guessing. "You're really my mom?"

Erin let out a relieved sigh, "Yes."

"And the woman who loved me is not related to me by blood at all?"

"I'm afraid not."

Aidan took a minute to let it all sink in. He and his mother had always been closest. His father always kept him at a distance. But his mom? She was his biggest fan, his number one support, and now to find out that she did all of that for a child that was a result of her husband's one night stand?

"Your mother is a special woman. I knew that your father would never take you in. But your mother? She accepted my story. She accepted you. She figured that if you were half his, you were also half hers. She couldn't turn you away the moment she saw your shock of red hair. 'Just like my dad,' she commented. She thought it was meant to be."

He looked up at Erin. "So why did you leave me?"

"It's not as complicated and dramatic as you would imagine. I'm a Sidhe. I live between this world and the next. I travel between the two – part of the duty I took on centuries ago. I met your father during Samhain – one of the few days of the year where I'm off duty, so to speak – and one thing led to another... as you saw," she explained.

She stepped over to the axe and picked it up again.

"I couldn't keep you – a half-mortal – in the world of the Sidhe. So the only chance I had was to give you over to the mortal world."

"So why come back into my life now?"

"I've kept an eye on you your whole life – always at a distance. When I came to see your father and had dinner with him, I was getting my yearly update on your growth. He told me he didn't want me coming around anymore. He didn't see what it was worth. I told him that everything would be better if he would let me meet you, but he refused.

"After that visit, I was tempted to do as he asked – leave you alone and never let you know me. But I had to see you one last time. I had to make sure everything was okay. That was when I came up to Winchester and saw you with _her_. That thing." Erin's disgust at the very mention of Holly was apparent on her sneering face. "I tried to warn you about her but also keep my promise to your father. It didn't work. You still went near her. You still were in danger. And now look – you're up to your eyeballs in trouble."

"In all fairness, I was starting to figure out what a psycho she was before I was locked in here, but then that girl visited me and told me I was going to die. I didn't have anyone else to turn to," said Aidan.

"This is why you must take this." She held out the axe once again, and this time Aidan looked at it differently than he did the first time she offered it. "My father was Aberdeen, one of the strongest Transfigurines the Sidhe had ever seen. That was rare for a male Sidhe. Usually the most skilled Transfigurines are female. His axe? Well, it was one of his other skills. It was forged for him by an ancient race of elves from the old world. It was a present for some favor he did for them. In it are runes and magic deeper than the oceans. In the right hands, it can overpower even the darkest of magic."

She held it out to him once more. This time he took hold of it with both hands.

If I'm going to die tomorrow, I might as well go out swinging.

"Good," Erin genuinely smiled for the first time since she arrived in the stone chamber.

"Now, how do I get out of here?"

"I thought you'd never ask. I'll be going out the way I came in." She walked to the door and pointed at it. "But you will be able to wield that axe and get through this door and out the rock wall at the top of the tunnel."

"With this?" he indicated the weapon in his hands. "You're absolutely sure this will get me out?"

"Yes. It's also the only weapon that will kill the Leanan."

"The what?"

"Holly."

"You telling me I have to kill my aunt?"

Erin stared at him, her eyes serious, "She's a killer, Aidan. She's not human. She's a monster. I don't know how she was let loose, and I don't know what she's trying to accomplish. But what I do know is that she can seduce any man and suck him dry of his very life. Your Uncle Quinn has been under her spell since the day he met her. He doesn't have cancer, Aidan. She's using his life-force to make herself stronger. Soon she'll be done with him and finish him off."

He stared down at the axe in his hands. "Unless I stop her myself?"

Erin nodded.

"So how do I stop her?"

"How do you think?"

His mind went to the numerous zombie and vampire movies in which he regularly indulged. "Chop off her head."

"Absolutely."

Aidan nodded, unsure he would be able to do what Erin said he must. He stared at the door in front of him, his mind thinking of his family on the outside. He couldn't trust they were safe as Holly told him. If she really was the thing that Erin said she was, his family was in extreme danger. The sooner he escaped the mountain, the better.

"One more thing, Aid."

He turned back to the woman who he now felt for certain was his biological mother.

"I'll be out there with you tonight. You can't go for her in the night or else you will surely lose. She has impeccable senses, but they are heightened at night. You ever heard of vampires?"

"Yeah?"

"Myth. But the Leanan? It's the closest thing to a vampire that actually exists. I'll keep you safe for the night, but I have to return to the Otherworld. There are rumblings of an early escape and overthrow. I must be there to help maintain order."

She turned to leave, her form beginning to fade just as before. "And remember," she whispered in the fading frame, "I have loved you since the first moment I saw you."

And she was gone, her light floating up and out of the vent – into the night.

Aidan turned back to the wall, raised the axe above his head and to the side. He aimed for the center, not quite sure where to strike his first of what he thought would be several blows. He swung it like his hardest baseball swing, readying his body for the impact.

Wham! The axe hit home, a miniscule dent left in the center of the door. He bent forward and looked at the dent.

"Is that it?" He held the axe up again, ready to strike, when he felt his hands turn warm. He looked at the axe and it glowed green. "Maybe this time it will make a difference."

He swung with full strength, hit the same mark, and sure enough, the dent cracked and splintered outward, the door becoming a mosaic of its former self. Then the door crumbled and fell into a heap.

"Success!" he shouted as he clambered over the pile and ran up the tunnel.

The axe showed him the way, and after a few minutes he was at the dead end. This time he did not even hesitate as he swung and hit the wall. The wall trembled and then suddenly blasted outward, Aidan covering his face with his arms to avoid the flying debris.

When the dust settled, he climbed over the rubble and into the darkening evening. The sun barely peaked over the western mountains, and he knew he did not have much time. Down the trail he ran, not sure where he was running in order to hide from Holly, but he knew that the sooner he was off the trail leading to the mountain, the better.

I'll bet she heard that blast. If she didn't, I'm crazy.

Fifty feet in front of him down the path stood Erin, waving her arms desperately to get him to hurry.

"She knows something happened! Quickly! I must get you out of here! Hold on to my shoulders, and don't let go!"

He did as instructed, keeping one hand on her shoulder, the other holding onto the axe. Her frame began to shudder and then she bolted into the air. It wasn't until they were hundreds of feet above the ground that he realized that his mom was no longer in human form. He found himself straddling an enormous winged lion who gained height with each beat of wings.

"Rest, Aidan. Rest," she told him as she continued flying. "I'll take you to a safe haven, and then tomorrow you'll begin the real journey."

Chapter Twenty-Five

I flew back to the cave to meet Onora, wings beating quickly in the nighttime air. The full moon guided my through the darkness and back to the cave. Onora lay on a blanket next to the orb, her eyes closed, her breathing heavy.

_She sure is a piece of work,_ I laughed as I allowed myself to change back to Sidhe form.

Onora left a blanket out for me, and in the center of it was some flatbread and huckleberries.

_Onora always thinks of everything_ , I thought.

I sat in the warmth of the orb, munching carefully on the meager meal. When I finished, I dimmed the orb so it would maintain heat but allow me to fall asleep.

Not knowing what was going to happen the next day was starting to dig at me. I knew the final Keen would take place then and that Aidan would die, but I wished I could know how he would die. Maybe there was a way I could intervene and keep that from happening. But I didn't even know if it would happen right after the Keen or hours later.

_He's not as bad as I thought he was. Even a little likeable,_ I justified as I settled onto the blanket, still able to feel the cold, hard ground.

What will happen if I don't do it at all? Will he keep living? What would happen to me?

I thought of Mother and Father, and whether or not they could truly be found in the Otherworld like I so desperately hoped. If only my plan would work and I could use Hector to make it through the breached Gateway. The timing had to be perfect for it to work. But as I stared at my sleeping mentor I began to doubt if it would do any good.

Slowly I drifted off – lost in thoughts of pine trees and soaring over mountain lakes.

I woke in the middle of the early morning hours, the room completely dark and bitterly cold. My blanket was pulled tight, and I reached out to touch the orb which I was certain would be in the center of the room.

_How would that go out?_ I wondered.

My mind, half-awake sent me searching with unseeing eyes – the cave was so dark I could not make out a shape. The doorway to the cave was illumined by the moonlight which left its glow on the landscape beyond the hole.

I stood to go to the cave entrance when a corpselike hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the ground.

"Silence," Onora whispered in my ear. She pulled me close and wrapped another blanket around both of us, not saying another word.

Quietly we sat in the cave, not making a noise. But my heart fell into my stomach the moment I heard the rustling of gravel and dirt just outside the door.

_Something is out there, walking around,_ I frantically thought.

Onora's breath was on my ear, whispering, "Leeeaaanaaan."

I could feel Onora's bones shaking, her breathing barely audible, but I kept my eyes trained on the entrance, ready at any moment to transform and flee.

And then I saw her as she stood in the entrance, her blonde hair stained dark on the ends.

Blood.

The Leanan's eyes darted around the cave's interior, a demonic smile on her lips revealing rows of shark-like teeth. She took a step toward the cave, but suddenly stopped, her smile replaced by a terrifying scowl.

"I know you're in there, Sidhe," her voice slithered off the walls, her forked tongue testing the air. "Come out, come out! Come out and play in the moonlight!" She howled with laughter, her eyes still searching the darkness.

For a moment, I swore my blood stopped circulating as the Leanan looked right in my direction.

_Can she see me?_ I wondered in fear.

I turned to look at Onora, not knowing what to do and ready to respond to the Leanan's icy voice, when Onora clamped a hand over my mouth, the whites of her eyes boring into mine. Telling me no.

"Very well, my little Sidhe. You may stay in here until morning, but if I find you here tomorrow, nothing will be left of you except your bones and entrails. I've been more than patient with you, little one."

The Leanan looked about the cave's darkness, but it appeared that she could not actually see us huddled at the back of the cave. Her voice spoke to the dank walls.

"Oh, and one more thing. Aidan will not die... yet. I have plans for him. So, I suppose your services are not needed at this time.

"Be ready for tomorrow. Tomorrow is the coming of a new era for the Otherworld. Nothing will stop us now. Not even you, little Sidhe. A new day will dawn."

With a whoosh she was gone, the cave entrance full of moonlight and a distant patchwork of stars.

Onora slowly eased her grip on my face. "You _are_ the one connected to the Leanan!"

I nodded as Onora stood up to stoke the orb to life once more.

"She is gone now. You can speak. How do you know the Leanan?"

"Holly," my weak voice said the name out loud. "Aidan's aunt. The first time she spoke to me I thought she was just crazy. The second time, I knew she was something more, but I thought she was just a human who could see through the Sidhe veil. Why didn't she come in?"

"I enchanted the doorway. I didn't know for sure that it would keep her out. I've never come that close to her kind before. I've only seen their horrid aftermath."

Onora waved her arm through the chilly air. The once-black sphere glowed to life, its pulsating orange bringing life back to my limbs. I rubbed my goose-bumped arms.

"Why wasn't she like that before? She never looked like that – day or night."

"Leanan are like sirens, but more deceitful and deadly. She has the perfect camouflage. Monster she is deep down, but she also possesses the ability to have complete control over her form. Werewolves are driven by the cycle of the moon, but the Leanan merely has evil in its heart. She decides her form every time—she decides when to strike."

"Why is she keeping Aidan locked up?" I asked. I thought of the hidden space in the mountain, the setup with everything required to survive away from the rest of the world. The supplies, the planning. Holly was keeping him alive for something. The thought curdled my stomach. "No, wait – Aidan!" I shouted and rushed to the doorway, sure I could get to his prison in no-time and rescue him, but when I hit the opening, my body bounced off it and back into the cave.

"Morgan, you cannot save him! It is not your place," Onora said. She continued casually warming her hands.

"But if she has him in there and she plans on using him for something, I have to try and get him out of there!" I felt I owed him something before he died the next day. He could at least not die at the hands or teeth of the Leanan.

"Holly has more plans than just devouring Aidan. Were you not paying attention?"

"Yes. Something about a new era, but if Aidan's part of that plan, shouldn't we free him so that her plan is ruined?"

"I like the way you think, but the best thing we can do is wait until morning and then try to find the Kelpie egg. I am certain this Holly has something to do with its disappearance."

"Then all the more reason to get Aidan! He knows her better than anyone else around here!"

Onora shuffled around, rearranging the displaced blankets. "You may have a point there, but it will have to wait until morning. The Leanan is much easier to defeat in the daylight. Besides, Hector will not arrive until morning. You will need his help if you are to fight back the demons and souls of the Otherworld."

"But I can't just sit here and go to sleep. I can't just do nothing."

"I'm afraid you'll have to." Onora lay back on her blanket, closing her eyes and lowering her hand so the orb burned a lower light.

I sat near the opening to the cave, staring out at the tops of the pine trees as they swayed under moonlight. Somehow I had to save Aidan. There had to be a way.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sunlight woke Aidan from his slumber in a downy-soft bed. He found rather quickly that he was, indeed, in an extremely feathery bed. He looked around to find twigs, feathers, and debris making up the nest in which he lay. He carefully sat up, not sure how stable the nest was or where it was located. It sure didn't smell like bird droppings, and there were not any eggs inside the six-foot wide nest. He peered up over the edge just to wish that he had not been so curious.

He was looking over the edge of a cliff that plummeted straight down into a frothing river.

"What the—"

No sooner had he said the words than a golden eagle came swooping toward him, its sharp talons outstretched. Aidan quickly grabbed the silver axe which was still by his side. He held it, ready to strike if needed. However, the gigantic eagle smoothly ripped him from the safety of the nest, holding an arm in each enormous claw; the axe barely clung in Aidan's hand.

Aidan looked at the ground beneath him, the churning river, and the rocks – the many ways he could die.

"But she said there would be a third Keen! That's what she promised!"

He closed his eyes as the eagle soared, but their flight slowed, and Aidan felt the rush of descent. The eagle dropped him suddenly, Aidan's body tumbling on impact. He was left at the top of a mesa, and he could do nothing but curse as the eagle flew off the way it had come.

Aidan stood, axe in hand, readying himself for anything as he continued to struggle to fully awaken. Normally such circumstances would have roused Aidan from the drowsiest of moods, but he just couldn't shake the slumber from his head. He turned around, eyeing the mesa with his clearing vision – at least that seemed to be coming back to him. And then she came into view. Erin stood yards away, her golden cloak flying in the wind.

"Sleep well?" She smiled and came to him, enveloping him in a motherly hug.

Her arms felt familiar and comforting, but his memory of the mother who raised him led him to delicately push her off of him.

"Yeah, I slept well. Too well." He shook his head to try to clear it, but his head seemed stuck at seventy-five percent clarity. Just when he thought he was clear, his peripheral vision would go hazy. Erin looked at him oddly, waiting for him to collect himself, and he remembered that she asked him about his sleep the night before. Sure, he had expected not to sleep well after the incidents with Holly, Morgan, and Erin, but the last thing he remembered before going to sleep was clinging to the back of a winged lion. His eyes went wide. "You were a freakin' flying lion."

Erin smiled and shrugged. "Just one of the many forms I take when I so choose."

It sounded reasonable enough compared with everything else he had been through in the last week. But then there was that blasted eagle. "And leaving me in a nest? What the heck was that all about?"

Erin crossed her arms, the hood of her cloak sparkling in the morning sun. "The Leanan found out you were missing and went on the hunt for you. I would hate to think what she would have done to you if she found you, so I found an old friend from the region, and she let me keep you safe in her eyrie."

"Well, besides all of that creepy shift-changing and waking up feeling like the prey of a pterodactyl, I slept like a baby."

"No surprise, since you're half Sidhe." She rustled his hair with her hand. "You've probably always found yourself more comfortable in nature than anywhere else. It's in your blood."

Aidan considered it for a moment, and now it all made sense. He knew that it was his outings into the wilderness which had made him feel most at home and at ease with himself. It seemed plausible that if this Sidhe was his real mother, that he would have some kind of genetic defect. "So if I'm half-Sidhe, does that mean that I'll live as long as the other Sidhe?" he asked.

"Considering you're being keened, sadly, I don't think a long life is in your future. But I've never known a half-Sidhe until there was you, so it's all untried territory. Can a Sidhe keen the death of another Sidhe? I've been thinking about that all night."

"So now what?" Aidan hefted the axe so the base of the head was in one hand and the end of the handle in the other. He felt like a warrior from a different time and place – like the ones he always played in his videogames. But this was real, and this was his life. That is what kept nagging in the back of his mind ever since the night before.

"Time for you to go slay the beast," Erin smiled. "And save your half-siblings from an untimely end."

Once again she morphed into the winged lion, Aidan onboard, and they flew toward Winchester Lake, ready to face whatever came next.

The lake was serene. Not even a single fisherman floated its calm waters. Aidan found this strange considering that every other time he went on the water with his aunt, the lake was occupied by at least one angler.

Erin swept low over the waters, her paw brushing the surface as they approached the cabin tucked away in the pine trees ahead.

He saw the familiar green truck parked at the side of the house, but Quinn's Silverado was nowhere in sight as they landed softly on the dirt. He dismounted and stared into his mom's cat eyes. She purred deeply and brushed her furry cheek against his.

"Does that mean good luck?" he smiled and patted her golden fur.

"No." Her voice growled, still sounding like her but with a touch of a beast. "There is no such thing as luck, but my spirit travels with you and hopes to see you again."

"So it really means goodbye?" He looked into the depths of her topaz eyes, now wishing that this new mother would stay with him and see him through to the end of his journey.

"I've stayed here much too long and must return to the Northern Gateway. Maybe I can delay movement from the inside of the Otherworld until everything is put back in order."

"Then instead of luck, go with hope." He patted her head this time, ruffling the hair between her ears.

She nuzzled close to him, purring so he could feel it deep in his chest. There was something primeval that it awakened within him, filling him with a sense of surety. And then she took off with one enormous leap and was gone.

He looked to the skies to catch a trace of Erin, but he could not even see a wisp of her in the blue sky. His mind went back to the task at hand – the cabin, his brother and sister, and the axe in his hand. The scene was becoming vaguely familiar, like some kind of past life peeking through for a moment.

He walked up the worn steps of the porch, but instead of going in through the kitchen entrance as usual, he circled around the house, knowing where he needed to enter if things were to go according to his dreams. For they were no longer nightmares to Aidan, but dreams which he could accomplish and lives he could save.

The front door was locked, as he knew it would, so he took one swing with his axe and the door splintered for a moment. The ground shook, rattling the very planks on which Aidan stood, and then with a massive crack and boom, the door imploded, leaving sawdust swimming in the sunlight. Aidan stepped over the mess and into the family room, but instead of the axe being bloodied and buried in the door's remains, it was still in his grasp, faintly glowing green.

He looked about the room for the dog he was sure would be there waiting for him, but he found none.

Then, from the back of the cabin, he heard her distinct cry. Now he knew with certainty that it was Kaylee's voice calling from the back hallway that led to his borrowed room.

Slowly he stepped down the dark hall, listening for someone lurking and waiting to attack, but he sensed none as he approached the closed door. He turned the knob and the door swung inward. No matter how much his mind tried to figure out Holly's next move, what he saw inside of the room was far from anything he had imagined.

Fallon and Kaylee were wrapped up in vines, dangling head-down from the ceiling, their arms, body, everything but their heads wrapped up in the constricting greenery.

"Aidan!" Kaylee shrieked, her face red with the blood that gathered in her cheeks. He was surprised she had not passed out; it appeared that Fallon already had.

He looked around the corners of the room, making sure nothing was hiding and waiting to attack. Rushing up to Kaylee, axe in hand, he took one swoop at the topmost vine that met the ceiling. In one sweeping motion he grabbed hold of the vines closest to Kaylee's head and held them up so her head would not bash to the floor as the cocoon lost its connection to the ceiling. He laid her encased body on the ground and repeated the same technique on Fallon's prone body.

He checked his brother's breathing, found it fairly shallow, but hoped that once his blood was no longer rushing to his head that it would help him breathe normally.

Kaylee squirmed on the ground, trying to loose the vines which inhibited her movement.

"Hold still!" Aidan held the axe over his head.

"Are you crazy?" Kaylee yelled. "You'll hack through these and into me, you moron!"

She was right – he knew that. He set the axe down and looked about the room, searching for something to use, but the office scissors wouldn't work, nor would the letter opener in the top drawer.

His pocketknife! How could he forget?

He snatched his trusty weapon from his pocket and began sawing away at the squirming vines. One after another he cut away the vines, the task seemingly never-ending.

"Where is she?" he asked Kaylee as he broke through the final vine, setting her free.

Kaylee looked up at the doorway behind Aidan.

"Right here!" Her voice chilled his spine, and as he turned to get a glimpse of Holly, golden haired and just as beautiful as ever, the door slammed shut and locked.

Aidan leapt and grabbed at the handle, but it was of no use. She trapped him. Again.

How could I not see this coming?

Kaylee fumbled with cutting Fallon loose of his binds, but the vines in which he was entwined seemed tighter – either that or Fallon's extra twinkies were finally causing problems.

Aidan ran to the window and tried to break it with the glowing axe, but when the axe head bounced back from the glass without leaving a hint of a mark, it was obvious there was some kind of enchantment over the window. Maybe even over the whole room.

Who knows how strong this spell really is?

He could hear the hum of Holly's boat start up outside, and he knew where she was heading. If only he could get there first and stop her! He tried the axe against the door, but just as he thought, it bounced back at him.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Someone knocked on the door to the room.

"Aid! You in there?"

It was Uncle Quinn. There to finish them off and do Holly's bidding?

"Yeah, Quinn. But I swear, if you come in here, I'll chop your head clean-off!"

"Don't be a half-brained fool, boy! Open this door!"

"I would if I could, but your darling demon-wife locked us in here!" he shouted at the wood, now hefting his axe, ready to swing if necessary. Even if it was his uncle, he was willing to slay him if it meant saving Fallon and Kaylee.

This time it was Keiran who spoke from the other side of the door. "Stand back, then!"

Aidan wasn't sure if he could take on both of them at once. If they were under her control, then they may do anything it took to restrain the Tanner kids. But if the skinheads were coming in, he figured he'd better step back and get ready for the onslaught.

"Ligim!" Keiran shouted and the door shook. "Ligim!" This time, the door did nothing, but Aidan heard the turn of the handle and the door swung inward.

He held his axe at the ready, "Come on and get me, then! Let's do this now!" He swung the axe in front of him, trying to show that he meant business.

Quinn and Keiran looked at each other, confused expressions on their faces, and then they broke out into laughter. Not maniacal laughter. No, they were actually laughing like someone just told the best bar joke they'd heard in a while.

Quinn stepped through the doorway first, holding his hand up to Aidan, "Hold on, Aid. Looks like you need a little bit of help with technique and form."

Keiran was still bent over in the hallway, trying to recover from laughing.

"Stay back!" Aidan swung again, barely missing the top of Quinn's head that ducked just in time. "I swear, I will kill you where you stand!"

"Easy, Aid! Easy!" Quinn crouched low, his hand held out and over his head to stave off any attacks. "We're not on Holly's side. In fact, we just barely got out of a heap of mess she left for us back at Keiran's shop."

Fallon and Kaylee huddled behind Aidan, the last of Fallon's binding cut and left withering on the ground.

"She had us locked in the freezer since last night," Keiran explained, clearly embarrassed that a woman got the best of them.

"How do I know I can trust either one of you? You're both a couple of white supremacist whackos!" Aidan's grip tightened on the axe handle.

Quinn looked sideways at him. "White what? What in the heck are you talkin' about?"

"Look around, Uncle Quinn!" Aidan swung the axe around the room for emphasis. "It's not that hard to figure out with all of your pictures and awards in here, plus all of your secret meetings!"

Quinn chuckled. "So, I guess my cover worked!" He slapped his knee and looked up at his nephew. "Aidan, I know this may sound crazy to you, but we're on the same side. I was blind of Holly for quite a while, but when she came to the shop last night, I knew she was far from the person I thought I married. Heck, she's not even human!" He took one shuffled step forward, his eyes pleading. "Please put down the axe so we can talk, okay?"

"No, you just stay right there and we'll talk." Aidan tightened his grip on the axe, sure that with everything that happening recently that anyone could betray him at this point.

"Fine, fine." He ran his hand over his leathery face, visibly frustrated. "Aid," he sighed, "I hate to say this, but... I know that you're half Sidhe."

Aidan's face dropped, and if he hadn't been so full of adrenaline, he would have also lowered the axe. "What?"

"I know who your real mom is, and I heard your Keen last night." He said it so matter-of-factly-–like it was normal to admit such things in an already bizarre situation.

Aidan heard his brother and sister muttering from behind him. "What is he talking about?" "Not our brother?"

"How do you know?" His interest peaked, Aidan slightly lowered the axe.

"Your mom visited me when she was pregnant. She gave me some powers in exchange for a promise that I would keep watch over you. See, she knew your dad would never forgive her, so she needed a backup plan. Me? I'm your backup plan. The whole brotherhood thing? It's all an elaborate cover for what I'm really doing up here."

"Which is?"

"A second safeguard to protect the Northern Gateway into the Otherworld. You could call us a reserve unit, living near the gateway in case of a breech. It looks like we've been called into active duty."

"So, why aren't you out there stopping Holly? Why are you here instead of fighting your _precious_ battle?"

"`Cause I made the mistake of fallin' for Holly, and while I know the truth of what she is, it's like she's sunk her nails into me, and I can't be freed. Aidan, I don't think I can kill her. I take one look at her, and it's like she grabs hold of my very soul. We can hold her off and make your way clear, but you must go take care of Holly before it's too late. I don't think I have the strength to do it myself."

Aidan looked back and forth between his siblings and the men blocking his only exit. He really had no choice but to trust them. Sighing, he lowered the emerald axe. "Fine, but one of you better stay with them."

Keiran stepped into the room and offered himself. "It would be my honor to help protect the O'Briens."

"Looks like you're with me, Quinn." Aidan slapped his uncle on the shoulder as he made his way to the door.

_Heading out to my death. I can do this,_ he thought it out, willing himself to believe every word. And yet he did.

Aidan stopped and turned back to the room – Kaylee trembling with tearing eyes, the fear still rattling her tiny frame, and Fallon, holding Dwayne close to his face, wordless as he stroked the rat's pink body.

He ran up to his brother and sister, pulling them in close and stamping the moment into his memory. "I love you both. Don't ever forget that. No matter how big of a jerk I've been, please remember it."

He playfully pinched Kaylee's arm like they used to when they slept next to each other on camping trips. "Keep Mom sane for me, okay?"

Kaylee nodded and wiped tears off her cheeks.

"What's going on, Aid?" Fallon's little voice blubbered. The experience was too much for both siblings, but Fallon was the only one who could pull himself together enough to even verbalize a response.

"Saving the world, Fallon." Aidan smiled and ruffled Fallon's hair for what he knew would be the last time. "See ya, Fal. Go fishing and camping with Dad for me."

As Aidan dashed out of the office he took one look back to see Fallon's bravery and Kaylee's compassion staring back at him.

Quinn guided Aidan through the hallway, not saying a word about Aidan's final work to his siblings.

The two headed out the main door, past the wreckage and toward the lake.

Aidan wiped his face with his shirt sleeve and focused. He turned and asked Quinn, "How are we supposed to get out there when she took the boat?"

"This way. I have another boat."

They raced down the shore to another wooden dock that Aidan never recalled seeing before. A rowboat was tied up with a loose knot, and Quinn jumped in. "Well, come on! I'll row and you tote that weapon!"

"A freakin' row boat? But your condition—" he began to protest, but Quinn sat in the middle of the boat, an oar in each hand.

"I said, get in! We don't have time to bicker about who's going to do what!"

Aidan shrugged, untied the boat, and jumped into the bow, unsure that they would be able to make it all the way out to the point Holly had showed him just days ago.

Every twitch from Quinn's body seemed to disappear as he heaved the oars back and forth, speeding the tiny boat across the water with inhuman speed. Ahead they saw Holly's silver outboard boat bobbing lazily on the surface, right where Aidan knew it would be.

"This is where she had me help with those plants of hers. I knew there was something odd with this whole setup."

Quinn stopped rowing and brought the boat to a standstill. "We better not get too close – no telling what she may do once she realizes what we're up to."

They watched the lapping waves for any sign of the golden-haired vixen. Not a bird flew overhead as Quinn and Aidan sat waiting in silence. The lack of animal chatter was ominous and chilled Aidan.

Suddenly the water began to roil a few yards beyond the rowboat. As the wakes intensified, her head slowly emerged, a wicked grin of shark-like teeth. In her hands she held a massive, pulsating green blob, or what looked like an eggsac of sorts. The casing was gelatinous and transparent like seaglass. Inside of it, something wriggled and swished in the amniotic fluid.

"Hand it over!" Aidan shouted to Holly, his axe at the ready.

Her mouth opened, issuing forth a laugh that filled all vacancy of sound. "And what makes you think I would give you something I have so carefully concealed and protected?"

"Hand it over or else I'll come in after you!"

"With what? That little play-toy in your hands? Really, I think I'll be on the winning end of that battle."

She walked across the water's surface and placed the egg in her own boat. When she looked back over at Aidan, gone was the bohemian angel that had attracted him since they met. She was replaced by a salacious demon with razor teeth. Into the air she leapt like a springing jaguar, flying above the rowboat.

"Go, Aidan, go!" Quinn bellowed as he stared up at Holly, oar in his hands like a weapon.

Aidan leapt from the rowboat, axe in hand, unsure if he would be able to swim fast enough to the boat and retrieve the egg.

But when his body didn't hit the water and he looked around, he found himself dangling from the mouth of a prehistoric nightmare. It held the back of his shirt in its front teeth as they headed straight for the boat.

Aidan looked behind the long-necked monster as best as he could. His spirit was lifted as he recognized Morgan sitting on its back, shrieking with delight at the spray of lake water that doused her face. She beamed at him, holding onto the monster's neck like she was on an amusement park ride.

In an instant he was dangling over the silver boat, right above the green egg.

"Grab it, Aidan!" Morgan yelled from the back of the creature.

He looked behind Morgan and the beast, noticing for the first time that the rowboat was smashed to pieces. He had not even heard the sound of its destruction because of the noise created by the monster's raucous swimming. Now, Quinn desperately grabbed hold of a piece of driftwood as Holly stood on the water's surface, her elongated fingernails poised for the kill.

In an instant, Aidan seized the slimy egg and tucked it under one arm. "No!" he shouted across the waves, his tone begging urgently for Quinn's life.

Holly's head jerked away from Quinn, and her breath hissed as she saw Aidan cradling her prize possession. Apparently she had missed the three-ton creature swim past her – she was so caught up in her desire for Quinn's blood.

Now she skimmed across the surface toward them like an ice-skater, but Quinn lifted his arm and an arc of bursting light flew at Holly's back. Upon contact it sent her flipping, her fall like a stone skipping across the surface.

"Get out of here now!" Quinn's voice boomed. "To the Northern Gateway!"

Morgan ushered the beast on across the waters, for Holly then stopped bouncing across the surface, regained her footing, and chased after them.

"He's right. We better get out of here!" Morgan yelled from behind.

"We can't leave Quinn there to die!" Aidan shouted as he clutched the egg, his axe held tightly in his other hand.

"If we go, she'll find a way to follow us. I think Quinn is the least of her worries right now! And the end of the lake is the next problem for us!"

Sure enough, ahead of them was the shoreline. If they tried to cut a circle, Holly would surely meet them, and then what?

Aidan's mind raced with what to do, but nothing seemed to make sense. If they couldn't take to the air, they were doomed.

Unexpectedly, the beast flung Aidan onto its back and landed him right behind Morgan.

"Hold on! I have an idea!" Morgan shouted back to him.

She wrapped her arms around the serpentine neck and closed her eyes.

_Not the time to meditate!_ Aidan's mind panicked.

The next instant, her legs transformed into black claws which grabbed hold of Aidan's axe-wielding arm, lifting him off the prehistoric wonder. The eggsac wriggled in Aidan's arm, but he kept hold of it for dear life.

Above him, Morgan had shifted into an enormous crow, and her other claw reached for the dinosaur's front flipper. In the same moment, the lake-creature transformed into a man in a black cloak. The man, whose arm was encased in Morgan's claw, smiled casually over at Aidan.

"Nice to finally meet you, Aidan! I've heard so much about you!" The man laughed as they soared away from Winchester Lake, Holly shrieking in anger below.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The winds over Lake Pend Oreille swirled, clouds billowing and tossing tree limbs in circles about the lake. The surface boiled and stirred waves ten feet high.

I struggled against the storm, desperately clinging onto my two passengers. Their arms were probably be numb from the long ride in my tight grip.

I gently set them onto the shore, shifting back to my Sidhe self and resting from the draining transformation. "You sure this is it?" I struggled to catch my breath as I stared at Aidan who rubbed his arm to gain back circulation.

"Positive. Like I told you, she brought me here, but not out onto the water. This must be the place where she stole it from."

"It looks like it from all the activity about," agreed Hector who stared into the dark waters.

"If this is it," I said, "then Holly will be here soon. She won't give up so easily when she's close to loosing the souls of the Otherworld. Your next move, Aid?"

He looked from the emerald axe illuminated in one hand to the green egg in the other. "Simple." He threw the axe aside, handle clattering on the rocky shore. He held up the green mass. "We take this back to where it came from."

"But if she never took you out there, how are we going to know where it goes? Let's just wait for Onora and the rest of the Sidhe to catch up. I'm sure they can take it from here."

"If we wait, we'll be dead before they get here," Aidan insisted. "The longer we stand here arguing, the closer Holly gets."

"I must agree with the boy," Hector muttered.

"Then give me the egg," I held out my hands. "It's the only way. I can ride Hector onto the lake and search for the Gateway myself." _And maybe still through the Gateway to find my parents,_ I hoped.

Aidan stared off into the storm across the lake, his red hair blustering about. But his face was serene. "You'll never find it, but I know I can. I can feel it."

"What do you mean, you can feel it? Don't be foolish, Aidan," I begged.

"It's like I'm being pulled out there and into the eye of the storm. I can feel it tugging at my chest."

"Aidan?" I saw his trancelike gaze and waved my hand in front of his eyes, but it had no impact on his focus. "Aidan!" I reached for his shoulder, but before I could even touch him, he bolted for the waves.

I turned to Hector, desperate for help, but he shrugged and darted after Aidan who dove into the choppy water.

Helplessly, I stood there, watching Hector leap into the air, transform mid-flight, and dive in true waterhorse form into the churning lake. So much for our secret plan to go to the Otherworld.

Seconds were like minutes as I watched the surface of the lake. Surely Hector would drag Aidan down to his death, unable to control his beastly instincts.

After all, I had practice with Hector. Hours of perfection it had taken to create the bond, and now Aidan was in the waters with one of its most dangerous predators. I wanted to go in after them, but I didn't believe I could maintain another form in the storm. I had no other choice but to hope and wait for the other Sidhe.

I paced the shoreline, unsure what to do. They'd both been under much too long. I watched the tossing waves and saw what I feared would happen.

From the bubbling depths emerged long-passed souls floating away and into the clouds. Then came the other creatures I only heard of in bedtime stories. The Red-Man with his trademark cap danced to the shore, ready to play pranks at humankind's expense. The Fenoderee, naked but completely covered with dark hair, lumbered up the shore, swinging their massive fists and sending dirt and stones flying in all directions.

"It's beginning," I breathed in horror, looking to the skies for any sign of the rest of my clan.

But they were nowhere, and Otherworld creatures slowly rose to the Humanworld, ready to take over. The trees came alive around me, their limbs shaking in resurrection.

"Dryads," I whispered, watching the behemoth tree spirits come to life. I heard about them before, but never witnessed their existence. "The guard must have passed already." I searched the waters for any sign of the old marcuck, protector of the gateway, and Hector's sister. Still, nothing.

"Indeed they have," a slithering voice came from behind me.

Turning, I saw Holly lurking in the forest, coming right toward me, fangs and nails extended. Her body hunched forward like a stalking cat. But before I could do anything except turn around, Holly was on me, an arm wrapped around my neck, teeth poised to rip out my throat. I felt her stinking breath on my skin.

"Let me go!" I screamed. I writhed against the steely strength of the Leanan.

"Oh, my little Sidhe!" she screeched, her forked tongue tickling the inside of my ear.

She held me so tight that I could not gain my bearings. I could not focus enough to shift shapes to save myself from the clutches of the panting beast. I searched the bobbing waves for any sign of Aidan or Hector, but only saw the continued emergence of souls and demons coming to the surface.

"What do you want?" I tried to control my voice. I didn't want Holly to hear the fear hiding beneath.

"I want you to stay out of my business, but you don't seem to care. So, I'm taking matters into my own hands to make sure the end of the Humanworld comes to pass." Her elongated fingernail slid down my cheek, grazing the surface, and left a trail of searing pain in its wake. "You _will_ keen him now, and he will die. He will not take that egg back, and it will not hatch."

She held my throat with her claws.

"Do it!" she shrieked, but I kept my lips shut tight, tears pouring down my face as I stared at the wind-tossed waves.

In the distance, the flash of an enormous beast leapt into the air. It was Hector, his slick neck arching with power, a desperate Aidan clinging for dear life. They dove again and I searched the surface for them to reemerge. Holly also saw it and for an instant, she eased her grip.

In that moment, I shoved off her, leaping into the air and shifting. I desperately swatted my wings to avoid Holly's clawing arms. She lunged like she did at Winchester, her fingernails nicking my talon, sending a ripple of pain up my leg.

_At least it's not my wings,_ I thought as I flew higher in the air to avoid the earthbound Sidhe.

Now Holly had her eyes fixed on the waters, and I knew the look. She was searching for Aidan, and she knew exactly where he was going. There wouldn't be time for Aidan to place the egg, even if he survived Hector's carnivorous urges.

Holly stepped onto the water, ready to race across the surface, but then I heard caws and shrieks fill the air. I turned to look, and they flew like angels. The Sidhe clan in bird-forms, their bodies one-hundred times normal size, men riding on their backs between massive wings.

The sky darkened by the flapping of enormous crows, birds of prey, and songbirds who came to help.

Onora swept by and paused to wink at me as she plummeted toward Holly, Quinn poised between her wings with his spear ready to launch. Twenty more flashed by. I reeled and twirled in their flurry.

But I joined the melee, racing toward the shore where Quinn and Keiran already dismounted. They faced Holly who had two giants, who had emerged from the lake, helping her try to fend off the army of Sidhe and humans.

I transformed as my feet hit the shore, tucking and tumbling with the force of movement. I sprang to my feet, in defensive stance, waiting for some kind of onslaught from the thrashing hordes. When none came, I looked around to see my sisters protecting from both sides. Their chants and shouts plummeted spells at green demons which sprang at them with sharp claws and fangs.

I looked out at the waters, beings still emerging from the surface. Hector and Aidan were nowhere in sight.

"I have to go after them!" I shouted to Branna and Bridget over the clashing and bursting of spells.

Branna looked at me from over her shoulder, continuing to pelt ten demons with a volley of sparks. The demons flipped backward, sending flurries of dirt and sand flying. "Don't you dare!" she yelled to me. "You give his final Keen right now or else all is lost and you will be banished from the Sidhe!" A bulky creature with a single horn protruding from its snout charged the group. Branna swirled her arm like a windmill and sent a sticky web from her hand which crashed into and enveloped the bristly beast.

"This has gone far enough!" Bridget joined in, her arms swirling and blasting at a massive group of more horned beasts which pawed the ground at the perimeter of the circle.

"If he's not dead already, he will be soon enough! I can't let him do this alone!" I burst through the line, jumping and somersaulting over the perimeter of creatures that surrounded my sisters. In mid-air I shifted, mind working to desperately hold onto the mold.

In a flash I transformed. My lower body stretched into one massive fish tail. Gills opened on the sides of my throat. I dove into the water and quickly swam through the choppy water, dodging beings which reached for the surface.

I focused toward the activity's epicenter, sure that the waterhorse nest would be nearby. I wove around a sunken ship, and around a rock bend. Hector circled around the nest in prehistoric form, gnashing at circling demons. Their red eyes glowed and their pale skin was like that of a corpse. They reached with greedy hands, sending volleys of red sparks at Hector and Aidan. Luckily Hector was fast enough to dodge the attacks, but Aidan frantically swam, clutching the green sac in his hands.

Closer he moved to a three-pronged coral which apparently would hold the egg. One of the demon's sparks hit Aidan's back leg, paralyzing his foot.

I kicked my fin and swam closer in hopes of helping fend off the attacking creatures.

But from above I heard Branna's voice as clear as though she stood right next to me. It bounded through the water, muffling all other sounds. "Aidan Tanner, as proxy for Sidhe Morgan, such is the third and final keen of your impending death. You shall meet your end."

Shrilly, my sister's voice called out in the skies above water.

_I can't believe she keened him!_ I thought. For a moment I wanted to burst from the lake and confront her, but I remembered Aidan who was still reaching for the nest.

I kicked as fast as I could, my body struggling to stay in aquatic form as I swam to help Aidan. A few faint bubbles escaped Aidan's lips as he placed the egg in the coral fingers of the nest.

"You will die," echoed through the frothing underwater currents.

Aidan turned toward me.

Our eyes met for an instant as one final bubble left his smiling blue lips. His hand waved at me in slow-motion, but then his hand went limp, his eyes were vacant. Red hair swayed in the current, a halo around his pale skin. His head bobbled and sagged.

No, Aidan. Hang on!

I made one last tail flick and held his limp form in my arms, his green eyes like cataracts. Void of any spark.

Upward I rushed. If only I could make it to the surface. I raced for life-giving oxygen as my body began transforming back under the stress. I could save him. Maybe it wouldn't be too late.

Finally we broke the surface, and I held his head out of the water, watching his chest for any movement.

But he was still.

"No!" I screamed, water trailing down my arms as I beat my fist on his chest. "Aidan, no! You can't die! You can't leave me like everyone does!" Slowly I beat his chest, sobbing against his water-soaked hair.

I felt Hector beneath me, his slimy back lifting us from the water as I held Aidan with all my strength. Hector turned back, his head hovering over me as I held Aidan's frigid body close.

"It's over Morgan. It's done," his calm voice reassured me. "There's nothing you could have done."

Still I beat again at Aidan's chest, hoping for one gasp of air to be released. I bent close, my lips on his, breathing desperately into his unresponsive mouth.

In the Sidhe-tales I knew, he would have opened his eyes, the gold flecks sparkling in his green irises once again. He would have kissed me back, grateful for the girl who saved his life.

But this wasn't a Sidhe-tale.

It was the result of who I was, a Ban Sidhe.

How did I think his death would come about? Did I really think that I would watch his spirit float off and send me a fond farewell? Would it be poetic?

It was none of those things. None of those at all as I stared down at his lifeless flesh in my arms, rusty hair clinging to his skull like a grotesque mask.

As Hector swam to the shore, my tears fell.

_How can someone be taken, just like that?_ I demanded to know.

But I did not only cry for the loss of the boy I barely knew who noticed my green eyes and called me "Bird Brain." I also mourned for my parents who I would never see again.

While the sobs burned my insides, I knew I would survive. I would make sense out of all of this. Aidan's death would not go unnoticed like the disappearances of my mother and father.

No, things would be different.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

As Hector kept Aidan's body protected on the shore, I ran to help my sisters push the rest of the Otherworld beings back. My powers ran much more smoothly now, spells coming to my mind that no one ever taught me in training. Fluidly I maneuvered in battle, spinning and twisting in my heavy water-soaked hood.

I scanned the landscape.

The winds were dying, and the waves receded as spirits flew back to the waters. It was as though someone pulled the bathtub plug, and all the dirty water swirled down the drain.

Further down the beach, a lone figure lay crumpled and bloodied, a green glow next to its side. I knew the tattered jeans and shock of red hair.

"You got this?" I shouted to my sisters who nodded in unified response.

_Nice to see things a bit back to normal._ I hadn't seen my sisters work in tandem since before my parents went missing.

I dashed across the shore leaping over a fallen log, pushing aside low-hanging branches from scrub trees. Holly was nowhere in sight, and hadn't been since I emerged from the lake with Aidan.

I stood over him. Quinn's breathing was labored, his stomach heaving in pain from four evenly spaced scratches that ran across his torso, his face, and his calf. It looked like he was in a fight with a wildcat.

In his right hand he clutched Aidan's axe, the head of it riddled with a tar-like substance that slowly dripped like molasses.

"Can you hear me?" I spoke right next to his ear.

His eyes fluttered opened—the same green of Aidan's. Even the gold flecks. The wrinkles around his eyes contorted, showing each shot of pain as it echoed through his body.

"What happened to you?" I looked over his body again, bruises already forming on his limbs and around the deeply gouged scratches.

"Holly," he whispered. It was as though he called a long-lost lover, but I knew he was saying she was the one who attacked.

"Holly did this to you?" I asked to keep him talking.

He nodded through the pain, his teeth clenched.

"Where is she?" I looked around, worried that the Leanan would suddenly reemerge, biding her time for the perfect attack.

"Gone," he said. His shaking arm pointed into the woods. "But I gave her a nasty bite." He smiled but then coughed, spitting up blood that trickled down the side of his mouth.

"How did you manage to do that?" I asked, surprised. I remembered Holly standing in the doorway to the cave, her fingernails over six inches long and her razor teeth protruding. I could still feel the cold touch of her hand earlier, before the other Sidhe arrived.

"I'm a sly dog," he said and then heaved coughs.

"I'm sure you are." I patted his shoulder, not quite sure what to do. I hoped to calm him, but wasn't successful so far.

A peregrine falcon landed on a nearby branch.

"Onora, what should I do?" I stared at the speckled-chest falcon. My mind wandered through the files of my life.

The bird screeched and looked at me sideways.

"Let me guess. It's something I have to do on my own," I said. Onora didn't answer, but simply watched.

I pulled Quinn's shoulders and head closer onto my lap like Bridget did so many times when I was sick. I wrapped my arms around his chest and bent so my lips were inches from his ear.

His life was shrinking, and I couldn't bear to live with two humans dying in my arms in one day. I held my arms out to the sides of Quinn's heaving chest, wrists pointed to the sky. Then I began singing "The Song of Healing." A song that was passed down for generations, but I never used on my own.

On the spring breeze, my voice danced. It lilted and called to my ancestors, willing the Sidhe power to heal.

Hush. Now, Sorrow, dry your eyes

Mother sees your broken heart.

Hold and cease to cry or sigh

Keep your mem'ries never far.

Silence. Now, Hurt, fly away

Over mounds of Finias.

Though fresh wounds bring fear and pain,

Still shall tears and bleeding ebb.

Peace. Now, Death's Mark, wait a while

End your tolling melody.

Beat life's rhythm—fate requires

One more day for child and me.

Over the lapping waves it tumbled, rhymes circling, weaving, and spinning. Until the final refrain and then my arms embraced Quinn. A single tear fell and landed on his dirt-smeared cheek.

I looked down with hope, unsure if the song was enough for the battered man. Was my heart-felt reverie enough to heal his wounds?

I held him tighter, beginning the song again in a low whisper. But before I could finish the first line, the shallowest scrape began to meld back together. My healing seemed to be working throughout his body.

I gripped him in my arms, not wanting to let go for fear of losing him and the mending power. His wounds were not fully healed, but they were far from life threatening.

He struggled to sit up, and turned to look at me, his smile complete this time.

"We did it, Onora! We did it!" I shrieked to the falcon who still sat watching nearby. I carefully laid Quinn aside and jumped to my feet, laughing and turning a circle.

We saved him. He is alright!

I spun once more and stopped suddenly. My eyes fixed on the ancient Sidhe who limped toward me down the beach, a smile on her weathered face. "You are wrong, Morgan. _You_ did it!"

When I turned back to where the peregrine perched, it took one leap into the air and soared up over the lake.

_Just a bird._ _I did it myself, without Onora watching over or helping with the spell-song._

I raced to her, arms outstretched, ready for one final embrace before I collapsed for good.

Onora stopped me short, her hand held out for me to stop. "I _really_ mean you did it, but I think you better look at them arms before you hug me."

I looked down at my usually pale forearms and saw them distinctly streaked in red.

" _Pale arms bathed in Keeper's blood_ ," Onora quoted.

No matter how much I had tried to escape the prophecy, it seemed that all of it came true. Somehow.

"But I—" My voice stuttered for the first time in the past two days. "But— I didn't finish the keen!"

"Prophecies have a funny way of comin' true now, don't they, your Highness?" Onora replied. And then she held me close.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The special session of the Inner Ring began after the dead were buried. Several Sidhe were lost or injured during what would come to be known as the Siege of the Northern Gateway, but most tried to focus on the number of lives that were saved once order was restored.

Branna, Bridget, and I all sat in the center of the massive circle, our peers and superiors surrounding as we sat in our proper places.

I caught a glimpse of Burke's smile and hearty thumbs up further back in the crowd. My racing heart calmed when I saw him supporting me.

Muirna presided over the meeting as usual, her spindly frame bringing the session to a start with the clap of her boney hands. "So begins the special conference and discipline meeting of the Sidhe you see behind me. But before we commence our trial, a few bits of news.

"Aberdeen's Axe has been restored to its rightful owner – an ancestor who we are assured will take special care of such a revered object. The Leanan's headless body was discovered in the forest near Quinn Tanner – one of the O'Brien clan. After questioning the Keeper about the incidents of the Siege of the Northern Gateway, it has been discovered that as uncle to the owner of our beloved weapon, he wielded the weapon in Aidan Tanner's stead and beheaded the Leanan with a single blow. Mr. Tanner is recovering nicely and should be back to his duties as human liaison between our worlds."

The Sidhe audience anxiously whispered.

"The Axe of Aberdeen..."

"Usually only works for blood-worthy..."

"Never heard of..."

"What does this mean?"

Muirna clapped her hands, bringing them to silence again. "Now, in regard to what we have gathered here to decide. Once I present evidence – evidence which some of you may already be familiar – all will be called upon to vote on one of three possible remedies for the charges against the accused.

"First," she unfolded a piece of parchment she kept hidden beneath her robe and read with an air of authority. "Branna – noted scholar, Inker, and senior member of the High Sidhe. Charges include: treason, leading an assault without Council approval, and keening the death of a non-ward."

Murmurs flitted around the room. Whisperings of surprise and agreement. Muirna clapped her hands again, bringing silence to the room.

"Second, Bridget – noted Nurturer, skilled in potions and herbology. Charges include: treason and conspiracy to overthrow Clan protocol."

Even louder murmurings, even a few shouts of "Innocent!" filled the Chapel. I felt my face flush. To hear sprinklings of support for my sisters made me feel there was hope we wouldn't be cast out of the clan.

Again, Muirna clapped her hands.

"Finally, Morgan – noted Transfigurine, weaver of spell-songs, and tamer of beasts. Charges include," she took a deep breath.

I also took a deep breath. I waited for the words she would say about me. The titles ascribed to my name and the charges weighed against me.

Muirna continued, "Disobeying direct orders from her superiors, use of magical charms without proper training, Transfiguring in the presence of humans, and failure to complete her first Keen." She folded the parchment neatly.

This time no one spoke a word. The Chapel was silent.

"How do you answer these charges?"

Branna held her chin high. "Guilty."

Bridget smiled sweetly as usual. I think she even curtsied. "Guilty."

I hesitated, unwilling to accept guilt for something that was so necessary when I did it. I did what I had to do. It was only natural, given the situation. How could my sisters just sit there and take the charges as read?

"I just—"

Bridget nudged me with an elbow.

"But—" I began, but another sharp elbow cut me short. I sighed and bent my head. "Guilty," I said.

"Well," Muirna continued, "on to the remedies. One, complete banishment of the three Sidhe as per Sidhe Rule Six, Subsection Four."

Hisses escaped the crowd.

"Two!" Muirna shouted above the voices of displeasure. "Two! Stripping of all titles and condemned to live at the Charcoal Crags for the rest of their days."

A few more hisses and rumblings from the crowd, but most heads turned to Onora who stood at the back of the Chapel, her arms folded, suppressing a chuckle.

"You'd be welcome!" she shouted over the crowd of turned heads.

The crowd erupted in laughter. The elder Sidhe in the front row shook their heads, disgusted with Onora's brazenness.

Muirna desperately clapped her hands together. "Three! Three!" she shouted as the laughter died down. "Three! Morgan must continue her training until reaching her status as High Sidhe, and then she may join her sisters in their reign as Thousand-Year Sidhe!"

Barely had the words escaped Muirna's wrinkled lips when the crowd's deafening roar of approval shook the hall.

My mouth dropped open. I looked at my sisters, but they were just as surprised. For once even Branna was speechless. It was unprecedented – three Sidhe taking charge of the role as Queen of the Sidhe.

I wondered how it could be possible; there had always been one queen—not three.

Muirna clapped one more time. The crowd hushed to excited whisperings as my sisters and I sat back in our usual row in the center of the room.

"That is," Muirna attempted to explain, "if Morgan even wants to become one of the goddesses."

Everyone's eyes were fixed on me. My hair dangled in front of my face like it always did when I was embarrassed or deep in thought. I tucked my hair behind my ears and looked at the crowd and took a deep breath. A smile twinkled at the edges of my lips.

Chapter Thirty

At the outskirts of Winchester, the clear sky opened over a modestly-kept cemetery. The wrought-iron fence, which seems as if it had seen better times, surrounded sparsely-grassed plots; its posts leaned and rose randomly. The intricate runs of spiraling black iron were splattered with rusty splotches of century's medals or desperately hugged by native vines. Final resting places of the dead were marked with wind-worn crosses, and gravestones speckled the hallowed ground.

An unearthed plot waited silently under a leafless maple while a small crowd huddled near the dark pit.

I perched in the maple and could see the entire procession as it arrived—all tear-streaked faces or far-off looks.

A hearse backed up to the cemetery gate where six men waited, heads bent in two lines of varying hues. Fallon stood next to his dad, Dwayne, peeking in and out of the suit jacket his family bought just for this occasion. The young boy kept looking over at his father who blankly stared at the frosty grass. Fallon kept his hands clasped behind his back like the rest of the men around him.

Quinn, who stood across from Fallon, winced whenever he tried to readjust his stance. It was not just the uncomfortable black suit and tie that made him so uneasy; he was still healing from wounds received from the Leanan, Holly, and was lucky he escaped that encounter with his life. I helped bring him back from near-death, but I Quinn was resilient. After all, he single-handedly overcame the power Holly held over his heart and even beheaded her with Aberdeen's Axe.

Quinn no longer suffered from the shaking which had plagued him since he first met Holly. No longer did his body fight with itself for control, now that he was freed.

Next to Quinn, a silver-haired man, who I assumed was one of the grandfathers, reverently stood with his hands crossed in front of him. Another middle-aged man stood next to grandpa. He could be another one of Aidan's uncles. But I recognized the man who hid his bald head under a black knit beanie. Keiran, who helped at the Siege of the Northern Gateway, stood next to Aidan's dad.

Quinn told me how he explained Aidan's death to his parents with a handful of lies. While Quinn wanted to tell his brother that his son died for a purpose, his duty as Keeper would not allow honesty. So, Aidan went swimming and drowned. The branches that entangled him left scratches over his pale body. That's the story they were given.

Quinn also had a strong talk with Kaylee and Fallon, guaranteeing their silence with magic's help. Keiran helped arrange the funeral, easing the Tanner family's pain.

Silently the back door of the hearse swung open to reveal the end of his wooden coffin.

I wanted to fly away, but I had to see through to the final moments. I told him I would be there, and I had to at least say goodbye to his physical form.

The men pulled the brown box from the car, fluidly hefting it up on their shoulders. Fallon struggled to hold his side up over his head. Slowly they walked across the uneven ground, black shoes and work-boots stepping in time with one another, the box floating next to their heads toward the waiting crowd.

Aidan's mom dabbed her cheeks with a handkerchief, and Kaylee folded her arms as though she could squeeze her chest tight enough to keep out the pain. Other grey-haired family members were sprinkled among the waiting crowd, and a group of four young men stood together – awkwardly fidgeting with their jackets.

_Must be his friends from school,_ I thought. I continued to survey the group and place them in my mind.

The box made its way through the crowd and was carefully lowered onto the frame which would eventually lower the coffin.

I hadn't known what to expect when I arrived at the cemetery that chilly May morning, the wind biting at my face like the coldness which tugged at my chest. I never attended a human funeral before. But still I remained in the bare boughs, watching intently. If closure was needed, this was the closest I would come to moving on. Sidhe traditions had nothing to offer for mourning the dead.

The pallbearers stood back with the crowd, watching as Quinn stepped forward to officiate. His gruff voice carried over the cemetery, praying words to the blue skies.

"Give Aidan's body safe rest in Thy hallowed ground. May his soul find peace in Thy arms. We ask Thee for comfort in our time of need."

Quinn's voice faded and cracked, his sniffling nose twitching to stave off tears.

I swooped down from my perch and alighted at the top of a nearby crucifix, listening intently.

Quinn muttered a few more words, followed by an "Amen" which echoed through the crowd.

Aidan's school friends unpinned white roses from their lapels and lay them on top of the coffin. Their faces were a variety of stolid looks, tear-streaked cheeks, and uncomfortable smiles. Voices whispered as they said goodbye to their childhood friend whose life was taken too soon.

For an hour I waited as the crowd said their goodbyes and embraced one another over the loss. The crowd dispersed slowly, Aidan's father the last one to depart. As he walked past the coffin, he placed one hand on the corner and muttered, "I should have been here." And then he shuffled out of the cemetery, joining the rest of his family in the idling minivan.

I hopped off the gravestone and toward the coffin.

I felt a presence over my shoulder, slinking from behind a gray obelisk. A marmalade cat stalked toward me, its head low to the ground. I hopped forward, but still it followed. Ever so slowly, I turned to the predator that now trailed me.

The minivan exited the tiny dirt parking lot as the cat stalked.

I poised to leap in flight, but then the cat stopped its walking and simply sat down. I paused, head cocked as I stared at the unusual cat. It was interrupting my moment to say goodbye to the boy whose death I helped call forth.

"Don't worry. He's on the other side," the cat spoke with a female voice.

My eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Who are you?" I asked.

"The one whose place you'll be taking very soon," the cat said, pausing to lick her paw.

"You are Sidhe, then?"

The cat smiled. "Of course. What other cat would be able to talk?"

I considered the striped cat. "If I'm supposed to take your place, as you say, then I suppose it wouldn't hurt for you to tell me your name?"

"I guess not." The cat snickered and flicked its tail. "I'm Aidan's birth mother, Erin."

I staggered backward before catching myself.

I knew there was something odd about the way Aidan was able to overcome Holly's powers and succeed in placing the Kelpie egg in its nest. Now it was making sense. It would also explain how Aidan was able to escape the mountain in the first place.

"So, you're Queen of the Sidhe?" I asked, unbelieving it could be Her.

"Yes," she replied. "And when you accept your duty, I'll step aside so you may take my place as Queen." The cat paced, its golden eyes trained on me. "When you're ready, of course."

"And if I'm never ready?" I defiantly asked.

The cat circled and jumped on top of a gravestone and turned back. "You will be, Morgan. You will be."

"And Aidan?" I still desperately hoped for him.

"He's fine," she casually replied.

"How do you know?"

But as soon as the question escaped my mouth, the cat leapt into the air, its form twisting and expanding until it was replaced by an enormous winged lioness. Two strokes of its feathered wings and the lion soared above the reaching arms of the hemlock forest, its face turning back one last time.

"I just know," she growled through the air, and then she was gone.

I turned back to the coffin, and it was as though I could see through the wood and view Aidan's mask-like face. I still remembered the look on his face when I pulled him from the water.

"That's not him," I whispered, staring at the cold box that was laden with an arrangement of white funeral flowers. "Not him," I reminded myself. The words dug into my chest, leaving no rest.

I soared from the cemetery, wings beating the air and swatting away the guilt which plagued me night and day.

As I circled the skies, slowly making my way south to Finias, I couldn't keep from thinking about Aidan.

How can humans do this? Year in and year out, how can they keep building relationships just to see someone ripped away? Why even bother?

When will the feeling subside? When will the pain bury itself inside me like the husk of that Aidan lies in the cold ground?

If something is buried, can one move on? Or does it just mask the loss that can never be replaced?

Chapter Thirty-One

One week later, and we were still cleaning up the mess from the breach at the Otherworld gate. My sisters were busy with their new roles as goddesses and Queens of the Otherworld. When we said goodbye at Finias, we knew we would only see each other in passing until I decided to join them for good in the Otherworld.

But I had business to take care of before I could join them.

There were so many unanswered questions about my life, my powers, and my parents. I couldn't rest until I found answers. Then, and only then, could I fulfill the role I avoided for so long.

I stayed away from Pend Oreille, even though my sisters told me over and over that it would be best if I just faced my fears. But I couldn't bring myself to go back to that place. Not after everything that happened there. Not after I felt Aidan's life fade in my arms.

I knew if I walked those shores there would be an empty sorrow inside me that would resurface and never let me go.

So for that week I kept rounding up souls and creatures, meeting my sisters outside of the cave where Onora and I stayed that stormy night not so long ago. There I handed over the misplaced Otherworldians, and my sisters escorted them back through the depths of the lake back where they belonged.

But I couldn't go near the waters' edge and reopen that wound.

As Bridget flew off with the most recent group of vagabonds, Branna stayed behind to have a word with me. Branna – my sister who had always doubted me, and made me feel like I meant nothing to her. But she helped me the moment I couldn't do what was expected. In the back of my mind I always knew Branna cared about me at some level, but ever since Mother and Father left, she was cold to me. I couldn't look past her harsh words to see that she dealt with their disappearance by distancing herself from everyone else.

Her hand rested on my shoulder. "Morgan, your choice about when you join us is yours to make. I respect that, but I think it would be best for your well-being to come with us to the Gateway."

I shook my head.

I couldn't believe she was asking me to do this... again. "I just can't do it," I said. I looked up into her dark eyes once more. "I hope you understand."

Branna's expression became more serene. "Father would want you to face that fear so you could move on," she said.

Yes, she played the guilt card.

I glared at her, but the coin around my neck kept me from saying something I would regret.

"It's time to move on," she pressed further.

I stared at Branna. She took my place and risked her own status in the Inner Ring to make sure my job was fulfilled. Didn't I owe her something? Couldn't I at least trust her?  
Reluctantly, I agreed.

As we flew toward Lake Pend Oreille, I saw the shore was no longer dirtied with blood. The air was fresh with pine. I saw the very spot where Aidan's body laid until his uncle snatched his limp form into a bear hug. The drum beat loudly in my chest again.

I was reliving Aidan's death again. I struggled to keep my tear-blurred eyes clear. But the moment was broken by Branna's voice.

"Ready?" she asked over her shoulder as we approached the water's surface, her body transforming instantly into Sidhe.

No longer did my sisters and I struggle to Transfigure in order to traverse various elements. We could keep our Sidhe forms and manipulate minor details to adapt to our surroundings. That was the gift of our newly anointed statuses.

My sisters had plenty of practice going between the human world and Otherworld. They assured me that the crossover was simple once I made it through the expanse of water on both sides of the Northern Gateway.

We plunged into the water in our Sidhe forms, our make-shift gills doing the work for us as we made our way to the stone archway that marked the crossing point between worlds. I searched for the young kelpie who now swam the lake's depths, protecting the Northern Gateway with its marcuck partner.

The green-flippered kelpie emerged from around a corner, its disproportioned body, limbs, and head twisting and spinning like a child at play. Beyond the creature, I spied its old nest. The three-pronged orange coral still stood where we left it.

But now a black-cloaked figure stood beside the archway, his hand holding a glowing green axe. My heart jumped and then sank.

The Inner Ring told me Aidan's axe went to an O'brien relative, and he was half-Sidhe. It made sense that the new marcuck was a relation. But still my heart deceived me, and now it ached as I stared at the protector of the gate—guide of the dead.

His gaze met mine from under his black hood, and then he pushed it back to reveal a red mop of hair which danced in the current.

His freckled cheeks beamed, and his familiar green eyes smiled just for me.

"Hey, Bird Brain," he said and smiled, his arms open to welcome my broken soul. I rushed to him and Aidan's cold embrace held me tight under the waves of Lake Pend Oreille. It was then that I knew I would heal.

Despite the unanswered questions which riddled my life, I found solace in the hope of a higher purpose. I had time on my side to find the answers I needed. Until I found out what happened to my parents, I would continue searching.

In the end, I would make it. Aidan would make it. Just not the way any of us imagined.

Acknowledgements

Special thanks to my husband and daughter for their extreme amounts of patience as I spent hours writing, editing, or simply needing think-time.

To the Chix – Anna, Anne, Becca, Bonnie, and Pam – I could not have persevered through my writing lulls or smoothly edited without your insight, laughter, and great company.

To my family, friends, and students for believing in my writing.

To the state of Idaho for lending me the backdrop on which I weave.

About the Author

Christy Thomas lives in Meridian, Idaho with her husband, daughter, and one crazy labradoodle, Mr. Darcy. She teaches high school language arts and writes fiction. Christy loves camping in the various landscapes of Idaho which help serve as inspiration for her novels.

She has written several novels and has two more in the works. She is the author of Sidhe's Call, the first in the Keening Trilogy.

Connect with Christy online:

Blog: https://ampletimetowrite.wordpress.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Christy-G-Thomas/159517344125778

