“Who are your parents?” Medea asked, even more curious about him now.
Blaise shook his head at her. “Don’t go there. It’s a dark place of pain we don’t want to visit, as it will send him to a level of pissed off he won’t return from for quite some time. We just say that he was spawned from the fount of evil and leave it at that.”
“So you two didn’t have the same mother?” Brogan asked.
Blaise shook his head. “They were only the same lethal species.”
“Can we change the subject?” The bark in Falcyn’s tone added veracity to Blaise’s words.
Medea held her hands up in surrender. Obviously, he had about as much love for his parents as Urian did for Stryker. And speaking of … she really needed to get home and help her family. “Can we not teleport to the portal?”
Brogan shook her head. “I wouldn’t advise it. Those powers tend to attract unwanted attention in this realm. The less magick used that they’re unfamiliar with, the safer you’ll be.”
Awesome. Just flipping awesome.
Suddenly, another streak rushed past Medea’s face.
“Case in point,” Brogan said quietly. “There’s enough trouble with things such as that attacking us. Last thing we need is to be adding to it.”
“What causes that to happen?” Medea watched it ricochet off and explode behind Urian.
Brogan touched the wall. When she did so, it began to glimmer with a faint green glow that allowed them to see deep into the darkness. Oddly enough, it appeared more like a shimmering night sky than an underground cavern. Truly, it was magical and breathtaking. Like something from a dream.
“Well, it depends. Some of those lights are sparks left over from the creation of magical items in the forges. They dance about until they extinguish on their own. Others are certain spells that never weaken. Some actually grow stronger. When they can’t be contained in their own worlds or environments, they’re naturally drawn here.”
Medea frowned at that. “Why?”
“It’s what this was set up for.” Brogan gestured to the walls around them. “Myrkheim. It’s a magnet realm for that magick to protect the other worlds.”
Her scowl deepened. “You use that word as if it makes sense to my Apollite ears.”
Smiling, Brogan glanced to Blaise. “By your coloring, my lady, I assumed you to be a Ljósálfr like Blaise.”
Blaise choked on the word. “Actually my mother was Adoni. So you’d be wrong with your assumption, Lady Brogan. The bitch what birthed me was definitely a member of the dökkálfar. The black fey,” he explained for Medea. “The ljósálfar are those who follow the light and practice magick that only benefits others. Adoni are selfish and practice the dark arts. Hence their dökkálfar moniker, or the dark fey, as they’re more commonly called.” He glanced over his shoulder toward Medea. “‘Myrkheim’ means ‘dark ward,’ which is why it was given to this world.”
Ah, now she understood the distinctions. Medea narrowed her gaze on Brogan. “Which side are you on?”
“I’m what’s called a myrkálfr. Shadow fey. I draw my powers from both the light and dark as needed.”
“In other words, she hasn’t declared a side.” Falcyn narrowed his gaze on her. “No one trusts them as a result. And they’re weaker in their powers because they haven’t committed to one cause or the other.”
“That’s one theory.” Brogan lifted her chin. “But I like to keep my options open. You never know when you’re going to need light or dark powers. The world’s a tenuous place.”
“And I prefer not to judge others.” Blaise offered her his arm.
Medea didn’t comment. “I always thought the light and dark fey thing had to do with their coloring.”
Brogan tucked her hand into the crook of Blaise’s elbow. Medea didn’t miss the way Brogan’s features softened ever so slightly toward him as he placed his hand over hers. “A lot of people mistakenly do, but it has nothing to do with our features or coloring. Most of the Adoni are very fair, and almost all of them are dark in their powers. The designations are more religious in nature and thereby are choices we take voluntarily.”
And by the way Falcyn’s eyes narrowed on that intimate touch, Medea had a feeling he didn’t miss their burgeoning affection either. More than that, he didn’t appear to approve of the way Blaise was doting on his new friend.
At all.
“You okay?” she asked him.
Falcyn turned that glower to her with an unnerving ferocity. She half expected him to breathe fire out his nostrils. If she didn’t know better, she might think him jealous.
“Down, boy. I didn’t do it.”
He arched a brow at her. “What?”
“What, what. Whatever it is that caused that look of hate in your eyes. I didn’t do it. So breathe in, relax, and blink.”
Baffled, Falcyn glanced to Urian. “She always this flippant?”
“Yeah. You have no measurable sense of humor. She has no measurable sense of fear. Bad combo if you ask me. But semi-amusing for the rest of us.”
“Brogan…”
Slowing, Falcyn paused at the musical whisper that echoed off the walls around them.
Brogan froze.
“What is that?” Blaise breathed.
“A haunt. Ignore it. It’s merely another joy that comes with living here.”
“Brogan…” it repeated.
Medea shivered as a chill went down her spine. It was like someone walking over her grave. The singing voice was so creepy in its tone, and at the same time, strangely beckoning. “What are these things?”
“Cousins to púcas, they live in the darkness and lure the unwary to their deaths. I told you that I’m a Deathseer, so they call to me whenever I’m near. To claim one of my ilk is a bonus for them.”
“Medea! Come to me and see what I have for you! You want to visit the past! Come. Come see what I have! You’ll like it, I promise!”
“Ignore it.” Brogan raised her voice louder to cover their tones. “It’s only trying to get you to walk off the edge and plummet to your death.”
“Falcyn … don’t you want to see Hadyn again?”
He patted his ear. “Is there a way to get rid of it?”
“They fear hellhounds … light.”
Urian grimaced as he cringed from a piercing cry. “But apparently not dragons or Daimons.”
“Or Deathseers,” Blaise added.
“Anyone have Aeron’s number?” Falcyn asked, thinking of the Celtic war god who traveled with a Cŵn Annwn. They’d get a twofer with him and Kaziel—actually a threefer since Aeron had once been cursed to be a púca.
More whispers began to echo and sing with the first voice, adding to the volume and making the lure harder to ignore.
Their combined voices became deafening to Falcyn’s sensitive ears. Blaise stumbled and went down.
Urian cursed at the sound.
Her features pale, Brogan turned to Medea. “What should we do?”
“Is there a way to kill a haunt?”
“Not that I know.”
The men were now on their knees with their hands over their ears, in utter agony.
“Me-dee-ah!” They continued to try and call for her, too.
But that singsongy tone gave her an idea.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and started singing her favorite Adam Ezra Group song at the top of her lungs to drown them out. “She puts a light to the candles ’round the room like a shrine.…”
Oddly enough, it seemed to be working. At least Falcyn had a bit of a reprieve.
Hesitating as their eyes met and she saw his deep gratitude, Medea began to sing louder. “She says, ‘If it don’t come in vinyl then it ain’t music divine … she calls me her lost and found!”
Falcyn blinked as he heard Medea’s angelic voice over the pain of the haunts’ cruelty. Like a heavenly choir, it overrode their agony and drove it from him. More than that, she wrapped her arms around his head as if to protect him from them while she continued to sing in the most incredible voice he’d ever heard from anyone.