Chapter 26

Ch. 26: Julian

A strange creature watches me from the bathroom mirror. It bears a passing resemblance to my reflection, but there are several glaring differences I can't ignore.

The eyes, for example, appear to have slit pupils like a cat's.

And yet the longer I stare, and the more the creature mimics my every move, the less I can deny that I am, indeed, looking at myself.

My eyes glow with amethyst fire, my skin has the glimmer of moonlight on snow, and my ears are pointier than usual. When I bare my teeth, my reflection displays sharp little fangs, and my fingernails have hardened into short claws.

"So... has this happened before?"

Behind my reflection, Ingrid watches with wide, curious eyes.

I heave a disconsolate sigh, and my bizarro self does the same.

"Sort of. Ever since Dane bit me, I've gone through... 'phases' like this. But it usually only happens around the full moon, and it's usually not this... noticeable."

As I speak, a sharp tooth catches my bottom lip and nicks the skin, drawing blood. My slit pupils expand as the coppery taste teases my tongue, and a shiver shoots up my spine; the more I learn about the Fae, the more I understand why encountering them might be a thing to fear.

"Wait up." Ingrid raises a hand. "Dane bit you? When?"

"After we were Mated," I say, turning away from the mirror to frown at her. "Well, after I came back from Faerie. About a year ago, anyway."

"Shit. But it didn't take, right? I mean... you're not a Wolf."

"Obviously, I'm not a Wolf." I roll my glowing purple eyes at her. "I'm just weird."

She bites her lip. "Can you turn it off?"

I shake my head. "No idea. Usually once my senses settle down, it fades on its own."

Ingrid wraps her arms around herself and frowns. "Well, can you 'settle down' before Dane gets back? Because I prefer my head attached to my body."

"It's not your fault," I say, a slight edge to my tone. "It was my idea to try the spell, and you're not my babysitter."

I push past her and return to the living room, where the ring of Faerie light has already faded to a memory. The candle still burns in the center of my 'circle,' though, and while I'd glossed over the finer details of the ritual to begin with, I figure it wouldn't hurt to end it properly, given its apparent effectiveness.

Picking up the little card of instructions from where I'd dropped it, I read the last few lines. Then, settling back into as much of a relaxed, meditative state as I can manage, I thank the elements and 'release' them, ending by extinguishing the candle and erasing my imaginary 'circle.'

When I finish, I do feel a sense of having completed something, and when I open my eyes, I find Ingrid's expression has shifted from alarm towards tentative relief.

"Looks like you were right," she says. "It's less noticeable already."

I shoot her a look as I get to my feet and go to check my appearance in the mirror. She's right, and this time I don't have any trouble recognizing myself.

I swipe a hand through my hair and release a shaky breath as my tension and anxiety dissipate. At the same time, a flicker of annoyance remains. I hadn't used my abilities directly, and changes in appearance aside, I'd call the experiment a success.

On the other hand...

"Don't get too comfortable just yet," I say, as I pull out my phone. "If what I saw is accurate—if Stephanie wasn't just out of her mind with terror—then she wasn't alone in the Shadowlands. I need to call Halloran, and I think we might need to mount a rescue."

⁎⁎⁎

"Absolutely not."

Dane had listened with surprising equanimity as I'd related my adventure with witchcraft—at least until the part where I proposed an expedition to the Shadowlands. To my great surprise, Halloran takes his side.

"I agree. It's far too dangerous."

Having answered my call, he'd declared that he'd come over immediately, desiring to hear my tale in person. Now he sits in our living room, along with Dane, Freya, Ingrid and myself, dressed in a pair of soft sweatpants and a checked flannel shirt. His comfortably mundane, very 'human' attire seems oddly ironic after my own little transformation.

"Did you miss the part where I said there were children there?" I ask. "Stephanie died trying to bring help for them. We can't do nothing."

Halloran draws a slow, careful breath before answering.

"If I understand, the impressions you receive convey the thoughts, feelings, and experiences of the person from whom they originate, correct?"

I nod.

"Well... it's possible that Stephanie's thoughts and feelings weren't... accurately reflective of reality. Did you see these children?"

"No, but Stephanie—"

"Was starving, dehydrated, terrified, and probably hallucinating." Halloran leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Listen to me, Julian: the Shadowlands are a nightmare. Even if Stephanie did see 'children,' the chances that they were actual human children is negligible. And remember—entering the Shadowlands is easy enough, if you know the location of a portal. The challenge lies in getting back, as Stephanie tragically discovered."

I look to Dane, hoping to appeal to his natural protective instinct, but his expression appears set.

"Halloran's right on this one, Julian. I'm all for taking action, but not for acting rashly."

I frown at him. "So if it was me in there, or Ingrid, you'd be content to just sit back and wait? We know where the skin-changer's keeping its victims now, and the skin-changer, at least, knows how to get in and out of the Shadowlands. That means we could, too."

Halloran shakes his head. "Theoretically. It's still a risk I'd rather not take, and I can't recommend anyone else take it, either. I suggest we wait instead. Let the skin-changer come to us."

"How? All we've done is wait. Stephanie knew the risk when she dove into that pool. She did it because she was determined to bring help. I can't just ignore that and go about my day."

Dane bunches his fingers in his hair and takes a breath, as if bracing himself for a long and fruitless struggle, but Freya speaks up first. She'd listened in silence so far, merely studying Halloran with a careful, calculating look, as if she couldn't quite figure him out.

"Why don't we ask someone with experience?" she asks. "Someone who's spent time in these 'Shadowlands' recently?"

Halloran looks at her and frowns. "You mean Rhiannon?"

She nods.

"I'd love the chance to speak with her," Halloran says, "but I'm afraid she's proven rather... elusive, thus far."

"Isn't there some way to contact her?" I ask. "I mean, if it's possible to contact the Fae across fucking realms, it must be possible to let Rhiannon know we want to talk."

Halloran shakes his head. "Even among humans, it can be difficult to get a hold of someone if they're actively avoiding you."

I huff. "Tell that to my ex. Even when he was the last person in the world I wanted to see, he still had a way of finding me when he wanted something, and I'm as Fae as Rhiannon, apparently."

Halloran regards me thoughtfully. "And if what you've told me is true, then you weren't fully mature, in Fae terms, when those incidents occurred. If the same thing were to happen again, would you find it difficult to avoid an unwanted visitor?"

I glance at Dane. "Aside from the fact that circumstances are completely different now, no, I guess I wouldn't."

Halloran nods. "As for your little...transformation, I believe that has more to do with you being leannan sidhe than merely Fae. The leannan sidhe are predatory creatures. Dangerous, as many lovely things are."

I shiver, as much from the memory of my altered appearance as at the creepy, indirect compliment. It was easy to forget, as he didn't look the part, but Halloran was still my grand-uncle, after all.

Freya straightens in her seat. "Wait a minute. What about the Call?"

I shake my head. "The what?"

"It's custom for a new Alpha to issue a 'call' of challenge. It's a sort of open invitation for any opposition to come forward, make themselves known, and settle differences—peacefully or otherwise. When Dane takes this territory, he'll perform the Call, and if Rhiannon hears it, she'll understand what it means."

"How is that different from me going out in the forest and yelling her name?" I ask.

Dane clears his throat. "There's a particular Call that hasn't been used in a while. Not since the end of the Conflict, anyway."

"It's aimed specifically at Fae," Freya says. "Basically translates as 'get off my land, or come and get me.' If Rhiannon's got some kinda Fae PTSD, maybe it'll trigger her and work like a summons, in a way."

I hold up my hand. "Let me get this straight. Putting aside the ethics of deliberately taking advantage of my grandmother's traumatic memories, you remember that she's... What was it?" I glance at Halloran. "The most famous Wolf Slayer in Fae history?"

"Among the most famous of the Wolf War, at least," he agrees.

Turning back to Dane, I say, "How is that better and less dangerous than rescuing children from the Shadowlands?"

Dane runs a hand over his ropy hair. "Because it's a situation we control. We have the 'home team' advantage."

I frown at him. "You mean because you're the one taking the risk." Before he can argue, I shake my head. "Fine. We'll do it your way. But I'm coming with you. If Rhiannon shows up, I want to be there."

"I'd like to be there as well," Halloran says.

I see a protest forming on Dane's lips, and speak before he can give voice to it.

"What better way to start off your rule as alpha here than with the blessings of the Fae?"

His expression darkens, but whatever argument he was about to make goes unsaid. It's not a particularly satisfying triumph, but I can tell that I've won—for now.

⁎⁎⁎

The full moon is only three days away, but those three days pass with torturous slowness. The images and emotions from my visions linger like the memory of a nightmare, and I have trouble sleeping. Stephanie's sense of urgency sticks with me the strongest, like a bad case of heartburn that refuses to let me rest.

Dane does his best to reassure me, but the urge to act is strong. More than once I catch myself imagining a bunch of scared kids huddled together in the Shadowlands and I'm halfway out the door before I remember 'the Plan.'

To make matters worse, my 'Fae phase,' as Dane calls it, comes and goes as the full moon draws near, though it's most prominent at night.

I hear whispers and music in the wind, taste strange secrets in the air, and feel a thrill in my blood as the first stars appear in the darkened sky. It's exhilarating, and I'm eager to explore this side of myself; I just wish I could do it without looking like a freak.

Forty-eight hours before the ritual is supposed to commence, Dane and Freya head off for the final stage of preparation. Apparently, Dane has to stay in Wolf form from then until the land bond is complete, and Freya will watch over him.

Ingrid's dissatisfaction with this arrangement is like a third presence in the home. Her irritated grumbles and huffs become so frequent, I'm tempted to remind her that according to Wolf tradition, as the Alpha's mate Freya's role should be mine. If anyone has something to complain about, it's me.

Finally, the designated hour draws near, and Ingrid and I wait outside until the gleam of approaching headlights and the crunch of gravel beneath tires herald Halloran's arrival. Then the three of us set out for the highest place around—a rocky promontory known as Whistler's Ridge, where, with the full moon riding high overhead, Dane will complete the ritual, issue the Challenge, and take his place as Alpha Ascendant.

It's a long hike, and Ingrid opts to Shift to Wolf-form, leaving Halloran and I to walk alone. She runs ahead and then circles back continuously, effectively doubling the distance for herself as she burns off excitement and steam. As we approach the base of the ridge, I hear a distant bark—Freya or Dane, as they complete the final circuit of Dane's territory—and then another bark much closer at hand.

At first, I think Ingrid is simply answering the others, letting them know we've nearly arrived, but as the barks continue and gain a more ferocious tone, a tingle of unease prickles along my nerves.

I stop and glance at Halloran as he stops to listen as well.

Abruptly, the barking cuts off with a sharp yelp of pain. A stab of alarm sends adrenaline zipping through my veins, I share a quick, wide-eyed look with Halloran, and then we both break into a sprint as we run towards the sound.