A Glimmering Girl (26 page)

“And I don’t think your light is going out either.”

“No. I wanted to talk to you alone. How old are you now, Braedon? You’re no longer the boy who couldn’t take the air below deck on the
Vengeance
.”

“Thirty-two, my lord.”

“Thirty-two and not married. No apple of your eye?”

“There is. But she’d never have me.”

“And why not? You’re good-looking enough. And you’re my heir now, all legal, agreed to in writing by the king. You’ll be the earl when I’m gone. No woman would mind being called countess, even if she had to put up with the likes of you. Good lord, you’d never beat a wife. Would you?”

“Of course not!”

“I didn’t think so. What about Wennie? You like the look of her, no denying it.”

“She’s… she’s wonderful, my lord. But…”

“But what?”

“She’s so young. She probably thinks I’m too old for her.”

“She probably thinks you’re a coward, wanting and not asking. That’s a terrible thing.”

It was good to see the old man’s humor return.
Old man.
Ross Bausiney was but a dozen or so years older than Braedon, but unending sorrow had brought him low.

Ross heaved a great sigh. “I hope my light
is
going out. I long for heaven, where my Igraine waits.” He took hold of Braedon’s arm. “Braedon.”

“Yes, Ross?”

“If you love her, go after her. Don’t waste…”

They were the last words Braedon heard his friend, mentor, and guardian say.

« Chapter 25 »
Mistcutter

21st Century. The island of Avalos

The world twisted. Lilith heard a whooshing noise and felt like she was going to vomit. Sound seemed to go in and out of phase, like the beginning of that “what condition” song from
The Big Lebowsky.

Then the world straightened out, and she was on a small island in the middle of a lake, standing before a sword lodged in marble.

Mistcutter
.

Without thinking she ran to it, grabbed the hilt with both hands, and pulled the sword from the stone.

She looked around, expecting to hear the chorus from the same song,
oh yeah!
But no choir of angels sang a fanfare, and somehow she knew—as lovely as this place was—this wasn’t heaven.

A tall, dark, and mysterious man was standing at the bridge, watching her, and she went to him. “Are you fae?”

“Igraine,” he said. “It gladdens my heart to see you again.”

“I’m not Igraine. My name is Lilith. The fae call me Lily.”

“Yes, of course.” He smiled.

“Are you wyrd or fae?”

“I am fallen.”

He glanced at the sword in her hand, and she instinctively took a step back to put some space between them. The weapon felt wonderful, as if it had been made for her alone—though of course that was ridiculous.

“I… I need it.” Maybe he’d let her go if she could just explain…

“I know,” he said. “I’ll take you—and the sword—back to the mundane realm as far as Igdrasil.”

“Oh, thank you!”

He clasped her free wrist. When had he moved so close to her? In his grip was power she hadn’t expected. “But when
Mistcutter
has served its purpose, you must return it. We can’t allow Sarumen to gain possession of this instrument.”

“Great gods, no.” The thought sent a shock of fear through her. But she couldn’t think about the Sarumens right now. She had to get back to Mudcastle with the sword. “Igdrasil is good. That works for me.” She could take the portal there to return to the fae cottage.

In the blink of an eye, she was standing beside the world tree, sword in hand and the man beside her.

“Of course.” Lilith acknowledged the magic, shrugging her shoulders. “
Come to Dumnos, a land of mist and rain.
And every other weirdness you can think of.”

The fallen man gave her an amused look. “When all is done, return here with
Mistcutter
and call my name: Velyn.”

Velyn.
The sound of it struck something inside, a warm, friendly—and familiar—note. “Who
are
you?” she said. “This seems crazy, but… have we met before?”

“In your first incarnation, we were
very
good friends.”

His smile was so dazzling she could have swooned, but for the word
incarnation
.

“But then you found love. True love. The kind of love that delights in the mere fact of the beloved’s existence. The kind that, once taken root, never dies.” He touched her cheek. “It
never dies.
Do you understand, Igraine?”

“I… don’t.” She wanted to protest that her name was not Igraine, but now she wasn’t sure.

“Not every soul has a bound mate, but soul mates do exist. When they find each other, all the heavens rejoice. And if the lovers are too soon parted, the blow is felt throughout existence as a crime against the mystic.”

“Cade is my soul mate.”

A statement, not a question. She felt the truth of it.

“In another incarnation called Ross of Tintagos.” Velyn nodded. “Your life was ended too soon, and his grief was so profound that Brother Sun and Sister Moon decreed you should both live again, to contain and express your unrequited love. Otherwise the realms as we know them would shatter.”

“Great gods.” But she saw a twinkle in his eye, a bit mischievous. “Now you’re teasing me.”

“Perhaps. A little. Maybe the truth is: the high gods granted you both another chance to get it right.”

“What do I have to do now?”

“Nothing you won’t naturally do, Igraine-Lilith-Lily. It’s Ross-Cade who must choose rightly this time.”

“Who
are
you?
What
are you?”

“I’m simply Velyn of the Fallen,” he said. “Forever bound to the earthly plane, the memory of heaven ever fresh in my heart.”

“You’ve been to heaven. You’ve seen the high gods?”

“The highest heaven,” he said. “The highest god. But enough! Now”—He gripped the side of her head and pressed his thumb hard against her temple—“when your task is accomplished, return
Mistcutter
to me. Come to Igdrasil and call my name. Even at this moment the Sarumen have found the abomination. I have no words for the darkness to come if they also gain possession of the Sword of Mist and Rain.”

“I think I understand you,” Lilith said. “But why not just destroy it?”

“That would be worse.
Mistcutter
is the embodiment of an idea. It can’t be destroyed. In truth, what is sacred isn’t the sword itself but the concept of it. Destroy the sword and the idea would scatter with the winds and grow in every place a particle landed.”

“The idea?”

“The idea that a human can ignore the will of the gods.”

“Yikes.”

“Better to know where the sword is, to keep it safe.”

“I agree.” It was exactly how Lilith felt about the Oracle’s ring, locked away safely in Lydia Pengrith’s antique secretary.

“Good.” Velyn nodded, and she wasn’t altogether sure he hadn’t just read her thoughts.

“I’ll bring it back,” she said. “
Mistcutter
.” She stepped into the portal, careful not to speak at all.

Mudcastle’s front door was ajar, and the sight gave Lilith a bad feeling. She crossed over the threshold,
Mistcutter
raised—and found Jenna Sarumen inside, the mirror in her arms.

“Jenna! What are you doing here? How…”

Startled, Jenna dropped the abomination—and then she sprouted wings. 

“Hey!” Boadicea cried out.

“This belongs with Quinn.” Jenna reached down and grabbed the mirror’s corner, her gaze fixed on Lilith. “I finally found it, and I’m taking it to him.” Her wings were amazing, metallic-looking, silver and gun-metal green. They made Lilith think of dragons.

“Quinn?” The name meant something. Something dark.

“Did you think your insipid wyrd could possibly kill someone so magnificent?” Jenna said.

My wyrd?
Yes, Igraine had been a wyrding woman; Lilith felt the reality of it. She stepped forward, and a beam of sunlight caught and illuminated
Mistcutter
in her hand.

“No.” Jenna darted backward, up to the ceiling, glancing from the sword to Lilith. “No, that’s not possible…” She tilted her head. “You’re the one?”

“My wyrd, you said.” Could Jenna possibly know of Lilith’s connection to Igraine?

“You tried to murder Quinn.” Jenna’s face contorted in a disgusted smirk. “But he did kill you.”

Quinn…
the name sent a shiver of fear through Lilith. She couldn’t place it, but she knew he had been dangerous to Igraine.
To me.

She lunged for the mirror, and Jenna—her eyes on
Mistcutter
—dropped it.

Jenna uttered an animalistic growl, but she didn’t try to challenge Lilith, her eye wary and steady on the sword. “I hate you!” she said. “You get
everything!”
She wrapped her wings around her body like a cocoon and popped out.

“Sun and moon,” Lilith said. “That raised more questions than it answered.”

“Did you get it?” Boadicea called out behind her. “Do you have it?”

“Yes. And yes.”

“Really?”

“Really.” 

Boadicea was silent for two seconds. Then, “Get me out! Get me out! Quick, before something else happens!”

“Hello! Hello! I’m here!” Morning Glory popped in.

Oh, no.

“Mother.” Lilith tried to sound as serious as humanly—or faely—possible. “Stay calm, and keep out of the way.”

She raised the sword over her head and faced the mirror—and saw Cissa and Goldy reflected in it, standing behind her in the doorway.

“Lily girl!” Goldy said. “What
are
you doing?”

“She’s setting me free, if you want to know,” Boadicea said from her prison. “Everybody shut up and let the girl work!”

“Be quiet, everyone,” Lilith said. “I have to say the words first.”

“What words?” Boadicea said. “I never knew of any words.”

“I don’t know,” Lilith said. “But words want to come out of my mouth.” A final time she raised the sword over her head. Holding the hilt with both hands, she chanted:

“By the dark mist he found you.
By the dark mist he bound you.
Servant of desire, enemy of delight.

By Mistcutter I see you.
By Mistcutter I free you.
All will be well, all will be right.”

There was nothing left to do but bring it. Lilith closed her eyes and swung the sword down hard upon the mirror. The world spun around her, and the sound of shattering seemed to go on forever…

“Boadicea.” The goblin Max was on the floor, rocking a frazzled female goblin in his arms.

“Lilith.” Cade’s voice, like home.

She opened her eyes. She was in Cade’s arms. Everything was going to be all right.

“Thank Sun and Moon you’re safe.” He lifted her up and pressed her to his chest. Cade’s mother Beverly and his father Dandelion were there too, standing in the doorway.

“Did you see?” Lilith said.

“We all came in together.” Cade nodded and kissed her forehead. “I ran into Max and Mom and Dandelion just outside the door. My god, you were magnificent.”

“I kind of was, yeah?”

“Now do Max.” Boadicea gestured toward her brother, her eyes wild. “Just… I don’t know… stab him in the heart.”

“What?” Lilith said. “Are you insane?”

“No way!” Goldy stepped between Lilith and the goblin with unexpected bravery.

“No.” Max said matter-of-factly, as though turning down a piece of cake or an invitation to a party, not a request to run him through with a mystical sword.