The hounds raced ahead to drive the wolf back. Back toward the hunter who shouldered his rifle.
“NO!” Dana cried.
The shot rang through the mountains. The wolf somersaulted in the air.
Then fell to the ground, dead.
• • •
Dana woke, calling Jean’s name. Though her eyes were open, the last trails of her nightmare lingered in her mind. Weighed down with grief, she lay in the bed without moving. A tear trickled down her cheek. The only one she allowed herself. For today was the day of her destiny. The day she would succeed in restoring the portals or die in the attempt. She would do this for Faerie, for Ireland, and for Canada. But most of all, she would do this for Jean. It was an enormous task for one person, let alone a young woman, but she was ready to face it. Half-fairy, half-human, wind-walker, dream-speaker, she had the power to do it.
By the time Dana got out of bed, she had wrestled the last of her fears to the ground. Dressing quickly, she headed downstairs and into Gran Gowan’s kitchen.
Her aunt Yvonne greeted her. “Hey, sleepyhead!”
Dee was also there, popping up waffles from the toaster and whipping them onto the table like Frisbees.
“We’re better than you,” she sang, exultant. “Those who rise first are morally superior. It’s a universal law.”
“What are you doing here?” Dana demanded.
“We got in late last night,” said Yvonne. “As soon as we heard you were in Creemore for Halloween we knew something was up.”
Dee sat down to pour a river of maple syrup over her waffles before attacking them. In between bites, she burst into song.
But the night is Halloween, lady
The morn is Hallowday
Then win me, win me, an ye will
For weel I wat ye may.
“You promised to stay out of this,” Dana said accusingly.
“Like we keep our promises,” Deirdre mumbled, her mouth full.
“We considered behaving,” Yvonne admitted, “but it’s against our nature. You can’t leave us out,” she added quietly. “It wouldn’t be fair. Not after Vancouver.”
“And especially since we’re skipping a hot party to be here,” Dee put in.
Dana sat down at the table and helped herself to some breakfast. Her feelings were mixed. She loved being around her aunts, they would cheer up a corpse, but there was no question of leading them into danger.
“And you’re not to worry about our safety,” Yvonne said. “We’re old enough and ugly enough to look after ourselves.”
“Just accept the fact,” said Dee, reaching for more waffles. “We’re in this with you, whether you like it or not. We intend to shadow you all day. You’re not going anywhere without us.”
“That’s what you think,” Dana muttered, but she couldn’t help laughing all the same.
The dark cloud that hung over her brightened a little. She told them about some of the latest developments. Typically, they heard the good news and skipped the bad.
“Fairies in Canada!” Dee cried. “Hooray!”
“Our own great-granddaddy at the heart of it!” Yvonne said, amazed. “No wonder we’re crackers. And there’s Mom trying to blame it all on the Catholic side. Hah!”
“I’ve got to see that book,” Dee said. “I feel a doc about families coming on.”
Dana didn’t tell them about Jean. Even now, in the final hours, she protected his secret. No matter what happened, she would never betray him.
By lunchtime, Gabriel and Radhi had arrived from Toronto. After salads and quiche, the pumpkin pies were presented with fanfare and fresh cream.
“Dana was as much the baker as I,” Gran announced to the table.
“Her talents know no bounds,” said Dee knowingly.
Yvonne threw her a warning look.
“I’m glad we’re all together today,” said Gran, as she sat down at the head of the table. “Besides Halloween, we should also consider this a celebration of the new member of the family soon to join us.”
“The gang’s all here, the gang’s all here,” sang Dee.
“I’m so glad you’re into having kids,” Yvonne confided to Radhi. “Dee and I have decided to girl it out to the end. We do love being aunties, however,” she added, winking at Dana.
Dana sat between her father and stepmother, drinking in the warmth and security of her family circle. It was just like in the old stories, she reflected; when the warriors were fêted and pampered before going into battle. As it was then, so it was now. She felt strengthened by the feast.
“You are very quiet,” Radhi said.
“I’m just happy to be here,” she said softly.
The day itself had been dreary since morning, with a steely gray sky and fits of cold rain. Dana suspected that Crowley was working his ill will with the elements; but as the afternoon waned, other forces came into play. A warm southerly wind blew in to sweep the clouds away.
Outside on the streets, in the last hour before dark, the smallest children set out for their Halloween trick-or-treats. Dana thought of how the night was celebrated in Ireland. Oíche Shamhna. The beginning of the Celtic new year. First there would be potatoes and colcannon for supper, followed by apples and nuts and a barmbrack cake with a gold ring inside. Once the night grew dark, there would be bonfires on the streets and fireworks. In the Faerie world, it was a bigger festival still, one of the special feast days when the two worlds collided and mingled in full. There would be feasting and frolic, and sorties into the Earthworld to cause mischief and mayhem. It was a time of great power when anything could happen, for good or ill.
As twilight drew near, Dana went to her room to change. She had brought the clothes the Sasquatch gave her: the deerskin shirt and leggings embroidered with white quills and blue beads, the cedar bark apron that fell to her knees, and the high moccasin boots. The short cape of black feathers felt reassuring around her shoulders. Under his wings shalt thou trust. The staff of peeled pine felt like a weapon. She braided her hair in a single plait down her back, as the Bigfoot females had done. Finally, she took the white feather from the soul-bird in the North and attached it to her braid.
A quick knock on the door. Her aunts barged into her room without waiting for permission.
“Whoa, I love it!” said Dee. “Seriously shamanic.”
Yvonne eyed the clothes thoughtfully.
“How about costumes for us?” she asked her niece.
“Yeah, come on, do some magic,” said Dee, more directly. “We want to be fairies. Not little pixie things. The gorgeous naughty kind.”
To the same tune she sang at breakfast, she added more lines.
Just at the mirk and midnight hour
The fairy folk will ride.
Dana frowned. She was about to tell them she wasn’t playing a game, when she stopped. Behind their irrepressible humor, she sensed something else. Her aunts were using jokes to ease the tension. They were determined to stay by her as long as they could. If they had magical garb, it might give them an edge, bring them closer to her. She was touched by their loyalty.
As for working a spell on them, it wouldn’t be difficult. The quest had given her confidence in her gifts and abilities. Fairy glamour was a simple matter.
“Any particular colors?”
“You have to ask?” said Dee, dressed in black, as usual.
“Fire and brimstone for me!” was Yvonne’s request.
In the blink of an eye—and a spray of starry dust—the two were transformed. Dee wore a body suit of midnight satin, filigreed with silver. Yvonne got a flouncy dress that changed colors as she moved, shimmering from rose to orange to crimson and back again.
“I’m wearing a Tequila Sunrise!” she cried.
“This is fairy glamour,” Dana warned them. “A simple spell, really. And it isn’t real. You could be wearing tatty old rags. Or nothing at all.”
The two aunts raised their eyebrows.
“Who cares? We’re gorgeous!” cried Dee, twirling in front of the mirror. “But what’s at the back?”
She twisted her neck to see. Yvonne did the same. Both gasped as they caught sight of the leaf-thin, pale-veined wings that fluttered from their shoulders.
“Are they truly ours?” Yvonne asked breathlessly. “Can we—?”
“Not in public,” Dana warned, “and only till the stroke of twelve.”
“When we turn into pumpkins,” Dee said, nodding.
With squeals of delight, they attempted liftoff. Their wings were like another pair of limbs, but they had difficulty coordinating movement along with direction. Bumping in midair, they were soon tangled up. As they landed on the floor with a thump, their screeches of laughter bordered on hysteria.
Gran Gowan shouted up the stairs. “What’s all the racket up there?”
Snorting and hooting, the aunts disentangled themselves and smoothed out their new clothes.
Dana was holding her stomach from laughing so hard.
“Come on, we’re dressed to kill,” Dee announced. “Let’s blow this pop stand.”
• • •
The sun was setting below the horizon. A dusky light suffused the air. Along the main road, fires burned in steel barrels to provide heat and light. The streets of Creemore were crowded with witches, goblins, vampires, fairies, princesses, and warriors, all trooping from house to house to collect their due. Jack-o’-lanterns flickered with orange light on every porch. Paper skeletons dangled in the windows. Shrieks and howls rang through the night. There were plenty of adults in costume too. The first full moon on Halloween in fifty years was due to rise. Everyone felt the magic.
But they also felt something else. There was an edge to the night that shivered in the air like a chill. People glanced over their shoulders. Some frowned anxiously. Those with children held on to them tightly.
Only Dana knew what the others sensed: not all the creatures who moved through the crowd were in fancy dress. She could see them slithering in the shadows, peering around corners, hurrying through the streets. Some were knurled and grotesque, toothed and clawed; others had tails and leathery wings, distorted bodies and baneful eyes. They had been called to this place to increase the darkness, to join the battle. And all were moving in the same direction. Toward the cemetery.
Dana knew it was time to go. It was already twilight. But she needed to escape her aunts. Where was her grandmother? A simple distraction and she could slip away. At last Gran Gowan arrived with Gabe and Aradhana, bearing cups of hot chocolate. They admired the costumes of Dana and her aunts.
“You’ve really outdone yourselves, guys,” Gabriel said to his sisters. “How did you construct those wings? They’re fantastic.”
“It’s a whole pulley-system thing,” Dee said. “You know, special effects. Film stuff.”
Aradhana looked from the aunts to Dana, but said nothing.
“We’ll stop here,” Gran commanded. “This is a good spot. Now, there’s something special on the way, Dana. A real surprise. Wait till you see him.”
In the midst of her family, Dana felt the pain of regret. She would have to leave them soon, not knowing if she would return. Though she had considered writing them a letter, she couldn’t think of a way to explain the situation or to make things easier. Sipping her hot chocolate and listening to their banter, she wished for a moment that she could forget the whole thing. Oh, to be an ordinary girl enjoying Halloween with the rest of them! Then an image of Jean flashed through her mind and the little fantasy died. Because of her, he was out there in the night, lost to humanity. She had to do what she could to bring him back.
A church bell tolled, as if for a funeral.
“Is it him?” said Dee, craning to see down the road.
“Ssh!” said Gran. “Don’t ruin it for Dana!”
The main street was lined with people waiting expectantly. A hush of suspense fell over the crowd. Now a sound broke the night.
Hooves striking the road at a gallop!
He came from the north, charging down to the south, a tall dark rider on a great black horse. Children screamed. Adults cheered. Everyone applauded. For the horseman carried his head in the crook of his arm!
“He’s the local carpenter,” Gran was saying to Aradhana. “He’s also the King of Creemore at Oktoberfest.”
Remembering the real Headless Horseman she had seen in the East, Dana joined the applause. But she was already inching away from the others. Here at last was the diversion she was waiting for. Like everyone else, her aunts were enthralled by the spectacle. But now as the rider approached them, Dana felt suddenly ill. A chill knifed through her. She almost fainted. As the horseman paused on the road nearby, her legs buckled under her.
The dark horse reared up, eyes white and maddened. The cheers of the crowd swelled.
Weak and dizzy, Dana could hardly move. It was as if she had been seized in an iron grip. That’s when she knew. The rider was no Creemore man. This was the real thing, an ally of her enemy: the Dullahan!
Everyone’s eyes were on the horseman. They had all been mesmerized. It was only when Dana staggered against her aunt’s wing that Yvonne turned around. Her reaction was instant. Catching Dana in mid-fall, she quickly poked her sister. Between the two of them, they supported their niece and moved her back from the crowd.
The Dullahan’s horse reared again, letting out a high-pitched screech.
“We must get away,” Dana gasped.
“I can see that,” Yvonne said, grimly.
“Home!” said Dee.
“No!” Dana said, struggling to stand up. Away from to the horseman, she was beginning to recover, but she still felt weak. She leaned on her aunts. “The cemetery. I must get there. Others will help.”
They hurried down the street, behind the crowds, with Dana still supported by her aunts. But the horseman shadowed their movements on the road.
“Shortcut to the graveyard,” Dee suggested to Yvonne. “Remember?”
“You read my mind,” her sister answered.
Dana was steadier now and they broke into a run. With the echo of hooves behind them, they raced down Mill Street and onto Edward. It was only when they reached Collingwood, not far from the cemetery, that they dared turn around.
Their throats gorged with terror.
Head back on his shoulders, the parade abandoned, the Dullahan was gaining on them fast.
Linking arms with Dana, the aunts took to the air. But they hadn’t enough practice. Before they could go beyond his reach, the horseman bore down on them.
With quick sharp blows, he knocked the aunts to the ground. Then he grabbed hold of Dana, pulling her onto his horse. She kicked wildly to fend him off, but his grip was like iron. The horse sped down the street, away from Dee and Yvonne.
Though they had cried out in pain as they struck the pavement, the aunts scrambled to their feet. With sheer will and resolve, they steadied their wings and took to the air again. Now they flew after the horseman like harpies.
Distracted by Dana’s struggling, the Dullahan was caught off guard by the rear attack. Dee landed a swift kick in midair that sent his head rolling. Yvonne reached out for Dana and plucked her from the horse.
“Shortcut nearby!” Yvonne hissed to Dana as they fled.
Half-running, half-flying, the three ducked down the narrow lane that led directly to the graveyard. But when they came out at the other end, their hearts sank.
There in front of the cemetery gates stood horse and rider. The Dullahan’s eyes blazed as he watched the road.
“There’s no other way in,” Dee said with a little moan as she fought to catch her breath.
The three huddled in the shadows.
“We’ll have to fight our way past him,” Dana told them. She was already rubbing her hands to make a fireball.
Shouts rang out from the street. Two lithe figures raced into sight. With shining swords drawn, they charged at the Dullahan.
“Hey, it’s the Fair Folk,” Dee said, with approval, “arriving like the cavalry.”
“Class act,” Yvonne agreed. “They’re off my hit list.”
The horseman charged away without stopping to fight.
Dana and her aunts raced across the road.
“Didn’t expect to see you two again,” said Dee with a grin.
“Not that we’re not glad,” Yvonne added.
Findabhair grinned back. “Let’s just say the royal bollocking was effective. Tough talk can work sometimes. You’re both looking gorgeous, I might add.”
“Fairy glamour,” Yvonne said airily.
“Admiration’s mutual,” was Dee’s comment.
Both Findabhair and Finvarra were dressed in black with silver chain mail, helmets, and swords. Both glittered like stars in the night.
Neither Finvarra nor Dana had spoken. They stared at each other. Blood called to blood, as they acknowledged their kinship. In the formal manner of Faerie courteisie, Finvarra bowed to her.
“Greetings, Light-Bearer’s Daughter. We are well met. Late is the hour that I come to thee, yet I would place my sword at thy command if thou wilt receive it.”
Dana bowed her head in turn. She had spent enough time in Faerie to know the protocol.
“I am more than honored to be served by a High King. Let it always be the time of your own choosing, Sire.”
“No more a High King,” Finvarra said with a wry shake of his head, “but a mortal who is prepared to die in your cause.”
“Once a king in Faerie,” Dana said quietly, “always a king.”
“We must go,” said Findabhair, looking around.
“To Magh Croí Mor,” Finvarra said, nodding. “The Plain of the Great Heart.”
As they stepped through the iron gates of the graveyard, Dee sang under her breath.
Gloomy gloomy was the night
And eerie was the way …
“Would you stop with the Tam Lin already,” Yvonne hissed.
“I love that song. Besides, it’s very appropriate. Music heightens the atmosphere in an action scene.”
“This is not a movie!”
Seconds later, the two stopped dead in their tracks.
The cemetery was gone.
In the twilight of the Eve of All Hallows, in the crossing of time and the collision of worlds, Magh Croí Mor, the Plain of the Great Heart, had descended upon the site. An immense level plain of moonlit grass, it was surrounded on all sides by primeval forest. A bluish mist whispered over the ground. Yet it wasn’t the plain itself that shocked them, but the sight of the great megalith that brooded there.
Stone upon stone it stood, a massive dolmen, two colossal standing stones with a giant capstone overhead. Stark and silent, it arched against the sky, dwarfing the muted shapes and shadows around it. Though fashioned of granite, it gleamed with a dark metallic sheen that reinforced the impression that it was a gigantic gateway.
“It looks so near,” Dana said softly. “A quick run across the field.”
“Before this night is done,” Finvarra said gravely, “this space will be a battlefield. Come. We must join our friends before we are joined by our enemies.”
They hurried into the ancient woods that bordered the plain. When they arrived at the rath of the Creemore fairies, Dana found it utterly changed. No longer a secluded clearing, it was the stronghold of an army.
Stretching away into the distance, crowding the great forest, were tents and leafy shelters on the ground and in the trees. Stores of arms were piled in gleaming heaps of swords, spears, shields, and axes. A great assembly had gathered there, with more troops arriving every minute. Heralds rushed from tent to tent. Parleys were called and meetings held, as the various leaders debated the battle plan.
• • •
Findabhair let out a cry when she spotted Gwen outside a pavilion. The cousins ran to greet each other with tearful hugs.
“I was so afraid you were dead!” Findabhair said. “I only heard the good news a short while ago.”
“I’m over the moon you’ve come,” Gwen cried. “What do you think of the fairies? Here all the time and we never knew!”
“Finvarra did,” said her cousin. “Of course they all disappeared over a century ago and he had completely forgotten about them. Why is it that fairies are always going missing and no one seems to notice?”
“They’re not like us,” Gwen sighed.
“Tell me about it,” said Findabhair, her eyebrows raised. Then she added warmly, “And I was glad to hear Dara and the others are well too. I only wish they could be here.”
Gwen agreed heartily. “We could do with the Company of Seven right now.”
• • •
Even as the cousins chatted, another reunion was taking place. The fairies of Clan Creemore were clustered around Finvarra, kissing his hand and murmuring their affection. As more of the troops caught sight of him, they swelled the throng. The last time all of them had been in Faerie, he was their High King.
Daisy Greenleaf threw her arms around him.
“Sire, your people are overjoyed to see you again!”
As the warmth of their welcome touched Finvarra’s heart, the bitter years of his exile fell away like withered leaves.
“I am no longer your king, dear hearts,” he told them gently. “No longer immortal.”
“Whatever you be, our regard for you will never lessen,” said Daisy. “We got the story from Gwen,” she added with a grin. “It’s a good one. Losing all for love—of that we approve!”
Finvarra let out a laugh. “Ever the romantic, dear Daisy. Are you still with that mad Midsummer Moon?”
“He’s called ‘Stanley Moon’ now. Some of the others have changed their names too. In keeping with the new land. And, yes, we’re still a couple. He still makes me laugh.”
Finvarra grinned. “That’s two millennia now? And your own troop as well, I see. Well done. You’ve kept the fairy faith.”
Daisy shook her head. “I share the captaincy with Alf Branch, the one you knew as Craoibhín Ruadh. We got voted in. It’s called democracy.”
• • •
Hovering on the sidelines, Yvonne and Dee were drinking in the scene with wide-eyed enchantment. It was as if every fantasy they had ever read had come to life around them! At the same time, they felt a little awkward and out of place.
Till the clans of British Columbia arrived.
The B.C. fairies were huge, the same height as the great trees in which they dwelled – the giant red cedar, Douglas fir, and western hemlock. Beside them strode their furry neighbors, the Sasquatch Nation. All shyness cast aside, the Bigfoot were armed to the teeth and fearsome.
“Hey, it’s our heroes!” Dee said suddenly.
There in the troop from the West were the two young men who had come to their aid in Vancouver. No longer clad in T-shirts and denim, they wore hide leggings and forest-green cloaks. Swords fell at their sides, quivers of arrows hung at their backs, and they carried tall bows slung over their shoulders. At first they appeared gigantic, but as they entered the camp, they diminished to human size.
Dee and Yvonne wasted no time in running to greet them.
“We are met again, fair maiden,” said the one who liked Dee. His dark eyes flashed as he bowed to kiss her hand.
Yvonne snorted. “Maiden?”
But now his companion bowed to her and kissed her hand also.
“I am Andariel. He is Tomariel, my brother. There is surely joy in battle when it brings such beauties to our side.”
“Za za zoom,” said Dee.
“Are you kin to us?” asked Tomariel, glancing at their wings with surprise.
“Nope. Just queens for a day,” Yvonne said ruefully.
“Pumpkins the rest of the time,” Dee said with a little sigh.
The two fairy-men looked baffled.
“Fully human and fully alive,” Yvonne confessed.
They expected their heroes to be disappointed, but the brothers exchanged grins of delight.
“It has been long since we made merry with mortal women,” said Andariel.
“We used to have great sport and play,” his brother agreed.
“We’re into sport,” said Dee, brightening.
“And play,” Yvonne added.
As her aunts dallied with their admirers, Dana was also being reunited with someone she knew. She had recognized the beat of the big skin drums long before Trew marched into sight, leading a battalion of trolls. How different they looked now that she knew they were allies! Where they had appeared alien and horrifying in the dark tunnels, here they seemed simply big and pastywhite; friendly soldiers tramping to join her cause.
Trew was dismissing his troops when she joined him.
“Build yourselves hootchies, boys,” he commanded. “Use good strong branches and braid them with plenty of leaves, in case it rains. I’ll go get the chocolate.”
The pale faces of the trolls lit up and they let out a cheer. All were kitted out in TTC uniforms with great axes and spears gripped in each hand. Trew himself was uncharacteristically somber in the gray jacket of an inspector, but he wore his peaked cap at a jaunty angle and still sported his shades.
“You’re the King of the Trolls!” Dana said. “And you didn’t even tell me!”
“Means nothin’ in the subways,” he said with a laugh. “Half the time they don’t remember. But as long as they get plenty of chocolate, they’ll do what I say. Who’s the quartermaster round here? The one who provides the grub?”
“Daisy Greenleaf is the one you want,” she said, pointing out the Creemore captain.
“See you in a tick,” Trew said, tipping his cap, “after I get these boys settled.”
The ground trembled underfoot as a corps of giants arrived, led by Fingal.
“There you be, little one!” he roared happily. Reaching down, he scooped Dana into his palm. “Where’s the boyfriend?”
The big smile died on his face when she told him.
“Oh, that’s bad,” he boomed, scratching his bald head with concern. “But we’ll get him back for ye, hen. Just see if we don’t!”
As more and more troops and clans arrived, the ache in Dana’s heart increased to anguish. Despite the hilarity and excitement, she couldn’t ignore the truth. Many of these would die before the night was through.
For as surely as forces gathered to defend the Land of Dreams, so too another army was massing. On the far side of the plain, a gloom hung over the ragged treetops. A sickly vapor seeped from the ground. Through the air came strange cries and moans, shrieks and growls. The wind carried a foul stench in its wake. There on the opposite side of Magh Croí Mor were the allies of her enemy, those who stood with him against life and light.
In the center of the plain was the prize to be won: the great portal. It stood alone and shining at the heart of the battlefield.
• • •
Dana was called to the pavilion where the leaders were holding their Council of War. Dee and Yvonne followed her in. There was a long table spread with a feast, but the food was untouched and the goblets of wine remained full. Everyone was standing, their faces stern and grave. Gwen and Laurel were there beside Finvarra and Findabhair.
Daisy Greenleaf told Dana the battle plan.
“There is no need for complicated stratagems or tactics. The plan is simple. The army is here for one purpose only: to hold back the tide while you go forward to reach the portal. Step by step, inch by inch, you must make your way toward it, even if that means climbing over us, injured or dead. You are the key. Only you can open the door. You must not be distracted by what happens around you. We have come this day to defend our dreams. We gladly offer our lives for the sake of the cause. And even as we play our part, so must you.”
Weighed down by the thought of what lay ahead, Dana couldn’t speak. She simply bowed her head to show her agreement.
“Wait a minute,” said Yvonne. “You mean you guys can be harmed? What about your magic? Your immortality?”
Alf Branch waved in the direction of the enemy forces.
“They’re immortal, too, and they’ve got their own magics. Truth is, we can maim and kill each other … and we will.”
Both aunts paled. They were just beginning to realize the true nature of the situation. This was no adventure fantasy or exciting daydream. This was real and dangerous. If the fairies could be hurt or killed, then horrible things could happen to them also. Each faced the stark fact that they might die that night.
They looked at their niece with sudden regret.
“We should have stopped you from coming,” said Yvonne.
“We were being selfish,” Dee agreed. “Chasing the fun as usual and hang the consequences.”
“You couldn’t’ve stopped me, even if you tried,” Dana said quietly. “This is my destiny. But you shouldn’t be here. You’ve got to leave now. Both of you. Before the battle starts.”
There were murmurs of agreement around the table.
Yvonne reacted first, speaking directly to her niece. “You think we’re going to desert you like two big cowards? Not a chance.”
“We’re the fairy’s godmothers,” Dee declared to the assembly. “We stick by her. And don’t try whisking us away. We’ve got wings till midnight. We’ll come back.” She surveyed her silken body suit with a grimace. “I just wish I had my boots.”
In the blink of an eye they were there on her feet: her heavy black boots with the steel plates on the toes. The ones that made her feel safe when she walked home late at night, and had done her proud against Crowley in Vancouver. Scuffed and battered, they were an interesting contrast to the shimmering fabric of her fairy clothes.
“I like it,” she said, turning her heels to admire the look.
“Be careful what you wish for,” Gwen said quickly. “Everything is awry around the fairies. Reality is fluid. Anything can happen.”
The aunts stiffened as they clamped down on all the wishes that suddenly clamored into their heads.
“Johnny Depp begone,” Yvonne muttered.
“You are not warriors,” Alf Branch spoke up. “Nor have you any powers or abilities.”
“Hey, we fought the Headless Horseman,” Dee argued.
“And Crowley before that,” Yvonne pointed out. Then she added in a firm tone, “Look, we don’t have powers or abilities, but we’ve got courage. Not the fearless kind—we’re both afraid, very afraid—but the kind that feels the fear and does it anyway. No matter what you say, we won’t abandon our niece.”
Findabhair smiled with approval at the two aunts. So too did Gwen and Laurel.
“The Companions of Faerie are mortal,” Laurel spoke up suddenly. “And we have no special abilities. If they choose to stay, I say let them.”
“I’d be proud to fight by their side,” Gwen agreed. She turned to the fairy leaders. “Humans have always rescued Fairyland. It’s our mission. Our duty. And it’s our battle too. All our hopes and dreams are linked to Faerie. This very day, across the ocean, four Companions will add their strength to ours. I only wish that they were here. Together, a Company of Seven can wield great power. Still, if we—”
“Excuse me,” Yvonne interrupted, putting up her hand. “Sorry to butt in but, while I realize we don’t know a lot about this stuff, I can sure count. It seems to me there are seven of us already. Seven mortals, I mean. Am I right or am I right?”
A shiver ran through the company as the head count was made.
Dana. Gwen. Laurel. Findabhair. Finvarra. Yvonne. Deirdre.
Seven.
Finvarra’s voice rose with excitement. “She will not cross the plain alone. Six of us will make a queen’s guard and the seventh herself to march at the center: the Light who is the key to the portal.”
Gwen’s voice rang out with new authority. The leader of the first Company of Seven, she spoke the words to bless their fellowship.
“Seven were the days of Genesis. Seven are the pillars of life. Seven will be the fires of the Apocalypse. No better number can ride the storm. As a Company of Seven we will forge our destiny.”
It was at that moment that Gaelyn Tree-Top entered the tent with a face like thunder.
“It has begun.”