Page 45 of Crown of Tides and Fury

“Why do ye ask?”

If the old goat wanted all the DeNoy dead, he wouldn’t suggest using one, as the monster had suggested. And if there was no other way into this “hell,” there was no use telling him about the twins who had been taken.

“I cannae say why. But I need to know.”

“An escort.”

“An escort?”

“A Fae escort. Or one of those minions ye spoke about. Much like Muirsglen, ye must be invited, or escorted to find the place.”

“So, any Fae can escort me there?”

He shrugged. “None will wish to do so. Would ye willingly step foot in the Hell of Man, considering ye may not be allowed out again?”

“This is what they risk?”

“This is what they would risk…if any were foolish enough to go.”

17

Promises To Keep

The Grandfather went inside, still shaking from the news that one day, Muirsglen would be razed to the ground. If Wickham hadn’t been careful to keep his emotional distance from the witch clan, he would have been devastated on their behalf. But he couldn’t afford that kind of distraction.

And when it was all over? If they prevailed over Orion? He had to be capable of walking away. His marriage depended upon it.

He and Ivy had been through enough, had sacrificed enough. They’d been separated for sixty years, started over, and when life was humming along the way they’d always dreamed, seventy-nine Highlanders had brought it all to a standstill. And after the Highlanders, the Grandfather stole a year of his life for training.

Finally, at the end of that training, when his obligation was fulfilled, Orion crashed into their lives.

One way or another, this would be the last interruption…

* * *

Wickham and Kitchwere provided a meal of goose meat, blackberries, and sour plums. Fruit was a delicacy in those times, so they showed due appreciation to the twin-wives and ate in peace out by the road.

It was a good hour later when the ancient one came back outside to finish their conversation. He moved a little slower, leaned on his cane a bit harder, and when he settled on his bench beneath the rowan tree, the clouds had bunched together to block out the afternoon sun. A reflection of the man’s changed mood.

From inside his many layers of clothes, he pulled out a book with dozens of loose pages peeking out the edges. He set it on his knee and rested a proprietary hand upon it.

Wickham nodded to it. “Please tell me that contains the instructions for sealing Orion back inside his hell.”

“We tricked him. Told him that the woman he wanted most was waiting for him. He went willingly. Then we contained him, using the powers of witch and Fae, and sealed him with the signing of The Covenant. The breaking of that contract broke the seal. Just as we were warned. But we were young and full of ourselves, sure we could prevent it if we simply kept watch over the seven.”

“And the king would protect only the eighth? Hardly an even bargain.”

“Aye. But he also had the Fae to contend with, which turned out to be a daunting task. I…didnae mind.” Something like melancholy washed over the old face, making him look younger, vulnerable. And in a blink, it was gone.

Wickham assumed it was a trick, something to stir pity in him, but it wouldn’t work. “So containing him again will require the same? As ye used all the powers of the Muir clan to create the tunnel?”

“Aye. But ye’ll need the Fae as well. The Fae King will have to rally them all. Even now, his people believe he is a myth.”

“So, without the Fae King…”

“Impossible.”

Wickham schooled his features. “Ye believe he still lives? Even in…my time?”

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