Page 17 of The Water Witch (Fairwick Chronicles 2)

SIX

Soheila ran a hand over Brock’s broad forehead and short-cropped hair. His face might have been handsome if not for the many scars and craters in his skin. Looking at him, I realized how little I knew about him. He was a Norse demigod, a blacksmith to the gods who had once forged their weapons and crafted jewels for their human conquests. More recently, he and his brother Ike ran a gardening shop, Valhalla, outside of town, and he did odd jobs and handyman work for me. Although he wasn’t particularly talkative, I’d found his presence in the house comforting when I was working and had grown to greatly appreciate his quiet, patient manner.

Soheila held her hands above him. “His life spark has left his body, but I feel it flickering not far away. It was torn away by the storm. It might be coaxed back, but it’s not something I can do alone. We need to call his brother Ike.”

“Shouldn’t we call an ambulance?” I asked as Liz got out her cell phone.

“If he’s taken to the hospital, he’ll be declared dead. They might even…” She held up a finger indicating that her call toBrock’s brother had gone through and turned abruptly away from me as she spoke into the phone. Diana murmured something about blankets and ran across the street toward her house. I stood around feeling useless while Liz talked on the phone to someone in a language that sounded like it could be Old Norse. I decided the least I could do for Brock was pick up his tools. He’d want them if…

My vision swam as I bent over to pick up his hammer. What if they weren’t able to bring back Brock’s spirit? Would he truly be dead? It seemed impossible. I wasn’t sure how old Brock was, but I knew he’d come to Fairwick in the mid-nineteenth century. He’d been sweet on the romance novelist Dahlia LaMotte when she’d lived in Honeysuckle House in the first half of the twentieth century, but Dahlia’s obsession with the incubus had kept them apart. I’d seen him once or twice out with Dory Browne, the Realtor who’d sold me Honeysuckle House, but didn’t know if they were dating. Maybe I should call Dory, but I also didn’t know what the protocol might be for interspecies dating. Dory was a Welsh brownie and Brock was a Norse demigod. I knew that some of the groups in the Fairwick community were clannish and didn’t mix well with others—succubi weren’t supposed to date witches, Soheila had told me, and I’d learned recently that gnomes had an age-old feud with satyrs. Vampires pretty much kept to themselves. It was a lot for a newcomer to follow and I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. I’d learned last fall that I was surrounded by supernatural creatures, but I still knew little about them—or about my own powers. I hadn’t even known that I wasn’t supposed to use a spell in Faerie. The fact was, I kept blundering into situations I knew nothing about and making things worse. That was why Liz and Diana had exchanged that look when I asked if I would be able to keep the door open. They weren’t sure I could.

I circled the house and collected a handful of nails, Brock’s hammer, and the iPod I’d given him for his birthday last month. The iPod was still playing. I tucked one of the buds into my ear expecting…I don’t know…Viking sea shanties? But instead I heard the reedy voice of Bjork rasping out her rendition of “Pagan Poetry.” It sort of made sense, I thought, my eyes filling with tears. I tucked the iPod in my jeans’ pocket, thinking I’d give it to Ike.

When I came around the house I saw that Ike and others had arrived along with a woman with long ash-blond hair. She knelt beside Brock, the skirt of her long green dress spread out on the grass. Her hair was draped around her face, and she held her hand to Brock’s chest. Ike, flanked by two men who looked like they could have been Ike and Brock’s cousins, stood holding an umbrella over her. Liz, Diana, and Soheila gathered on the other side. The scene looked like a Pre-Raphaelite painting depicting an episode out of the Norse eddas—Death of a VikingorA Hero’s Journey to Valhalla. All it needed was a ship and a funeral pyre.

As I approached the group, the blond woman lifted her head and shook her long hair back from her face, revealing strikingly beautiful features. At the sight of her, I heard bells and felt slightly woozy—invariably my reaction when in the presence of Fiona Eldritch, the Fairy Queen.

“I believe he’s journeying in Niflheim,” Fiona declared.

“The Shadow Land” popped out of my mouth. Fiona looked up and pinned me with two razor-sharp green eyes. She rose to her feet, the folds of her green dress rippling like sea water, and then I was the one looking up. Fiona could make herself seem taller when she wanted to.

“Ah, Cailleach McFay. Are you the one who brought the storm back from Faerie?”

“I asked Callie to herd the undines back, Lady,” Liz interjectedon my behalf. “And it was an undine who raised the storm.”

Fiona’s eyes swiveled toward Liz. As glad as I was to have the force of her gaze off me, I could hardly let Liz take the blame for me.

“I’m afraid I made the storm stronger by using a spell,” I admitted.

“You fool! You didn’t know not to use a spell in Faerie?” Fiona roared, growing even taller as she turned once again on Liz. “Has no one taught this doorkeeper how to use her power?”

My attempt to spare Liz blame for my behavior had backfired. I didn’t seem to be able to do anything right today. When Fiona had finished berating Liz, she turned back to me.

“It’s unfortunate you’ve been trained so poorly,” she said, managing to encompass both Liz and me in her icy green glare. “But still you should have known better than to attempt a spell when you didn’t know its consequences. It’s your fault this has happened to Brock.”

“Your Majesty,” Liz said urgently, “I don’t think we should blame Callie…”

“No,” I interrupted, “Fiona’s right. Itismy fault.” I turned to Ike and his two companions. “Tell me what I can do to help him.”

Ike shook his head. “I don’t hold you accountable, Cailleach McFay,” he said formally, “nor do I know if you can bring my brother back from Niflheim. The Norns, who are here on other business, may be able to bring him back…” His eyes flicked toward Liz. “For that I believe we need to call a spell circle.”

“A spell circle,” Diana echoed, her face pale. “We haven’t had one for…”

“For too long,” Liz said grimly. “I’ve been too lax. It’s time we marshaled our powers.”

“Can I join the circle?” I asked, desperate to find any way to help Brock.

Fiona snorted. “That would be like lighting a match in a gunpowder factory. You have no control, no—”

“But she does have the essential spark,” Liz broke in, surprising all of us, apparently herself most of all, by interrupting the intimidating Fiona. She swallowed and went on. “Callie might be woefully untrained, but she has power. I’m sure of it. I will take it upon myself to train her. We need her—to help Brock and also to keep the Grove from closing the door.”

Fiona’s green eyes widened at Liz’s last words and her skin seemed to stretch tighter over the fine bones of her face. I had never seen Fiona display any emotion but anger so it took me a moment to recognize her expression.Fear.

“May the Goddess Danu help us ifshe’sour best hope of keeping the door open,” she spit out, glaring at me. “But I will leave it to your questionable judgment. I will make preparations for the likely possibility that you fail, in which case I must set my affairs in order and decide in which world to stay forever.”

She turned on her heel, the folds of her dress snapping like a sail in the wind. I heard bells chiming again, but now they sounded as if they tolled for a funeral.

“I’ve always wondered,” I said when Fiona had disappeared around the corner of my house, “why she’s here at all. I mean, if she’s Queen of the Fairies, why isn’t she in Faerie?”

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