The Keeper and The Dragons Ch. 07-08

Chapter 7

Emory, WA

Two teenaged acolytes ushered Niamh and Katherine into the Queen of the Sabina Coven's sun porch office as soon as they arrived.

Althea Hayden, the Queen, was a woman as hard as a hickory knot, tall and spare, with flinty brown eyes and a severe mouth. She had secured her iron-gray hair in a tight bun. As they entered, she sat in a rocking chair, poring over a document. She held up a hand, asking for a minute while she scribbled notations on the typewritten pages.

Niamh looked around curiously. The sun porch looked the same as she remembered—a polished heart-pine floor covered by a scatter of brightly colored throw rugs, created no doubt by one of the magically talented crafters on the north side of Emory. Two French doors and a bank of large, beveled glass windows looked out over the garden.

The last time she was here was when she was fifteen and had been called on the carpet for getting into a brawl with Katie. They had gotten into a furious argument that escalated into a hair-pulling fistfight to decide which one would be the first to kiss Lachlan. Ironically, that bitch Mandy beat them both to the punch. She quirked a slight grin at Katherine and received a faint twinkle of a grin, showing she remembered it as well. Then, her grin morphed into a quelling frown.

Althea finished her reading and crisply said, "Report."

Birdie Penrose, the queen of the McNeil Coven, entered the room and perched on a plain wooden rocking chair. Niamh nodded a polite greeting and focused on Althea as Katie filled her in on their efforts in Oldtown.

After she finished, Birdie cleared her throat. "Althea, do you want to explain why one of your brightest is on a mission in Oldtown, of all places? Our mission is here. And please don't take offense, Niamh Harpe, but your kind and ours have been at loggerheads for years. Althea, why the sudden change of heart? Dammit, you're going off on your own again. What are you up to?"

"What's changed is the predicted manna surge. From what the seers foretold, it's overdue. Emory is right in its path. For the first time in centuries, the Faery folk will move freely between Alfheim and Earth. Look at how much damage the two faeries Lachlan banished did. Our covens are a powder keg during the best of times. Selwyn Harpe has the same set of problems with the were-kin. That new Alpha of the Chelan pack is proving a real problem. He has convinced himself that he has a justified claim on Keeper House and the lands surrounding the Opari.

Now, there is the matter of the developing chaos in Oldtown. The power vacuum down there caused by that idiot boy going off on his own down there instead of consulting with us is playing right into the hands of the Sidhe. They have long desired a foothold in Oldtown. It's perfect for them. The place is lawless."

"Unfortunately," Katie said. "We have more bad news. Niamh, show them the amulet."

Niamh wordlessly opened her pack, took out the orb, and handed it to Althea.

The two older women eyed the artifact like it was a pit viper.

"Sweet Mother, bless us all," Birdie said. "Where did you find that thing?"

"We took it off the corpse of the were-hyena clan queen."

"You're telling us that a pack of Crocuta shifters could manipulate this artifact?" Birdie asked incredulously. "Do you know what this is?"

"I think it's a Daoine mind ripper. We were hoping you knew someone who could unravel the tangle of wards that protect it so we could find where it came from. Maybe even view what's on it to get to its purpose."

"Birdy, this is what I'm talking about. I suspected months ago that the Sidhe were that well involved down there. My suspicions were aroused when I heard tales of a new designer drug that could only come from the labs in Alfheim crossing over from Oldtown into Seattle. But then that damnable hag ambushed me. My stay in the hospital delayed any decent intelligence gathering. So, when Selwyn contacted me for an ally, I agreed. He is a snake, but a snake we know."

Niamh did an inner eye roll. Hello, pot meet kettle. She'd long thought a ceasefire between the two communities was overdue. Both sides had more than their fair share of "snakes." She watched Birdie for her reaction.

Birdie nodded. "Yes, allowing a Hag in our midst was an unforgivable blunder on both our parts. In our defense, we did not know that two faeries were loose in our community, pushing our buttons."

"Thank the Mother you lured the boy back here."

"I was a bit surprised I succeeded. I thought he'd hate all of us after you banished him when he returned from the Murk."

"What are you talking about?" Katherine's voice overrode the discussion. "What do you mean you banished him?"

Althea gave Katherine a sharp look, then softened. "The old man had Anna take him into the Murk and leave him with the Vísdómur. We were present when he returned. It was obvious he was too far too dangerous to keep around. Lachlan Quinn is a moordr. Don't be foolish, girl. He was lost to you when those Troll Women got their claws into him. There was no way the covens could allow that abomination in our midst. He'd still be gone if we didn't need him. Now, we must find ways to keep him leashed. He is an unparalleled weapon for our use and with Mother's grace, I mean to wield it. You two are going to be his handlers."

Niamh grew still and quiet as rage blossomed in her stomach. She clenched her teeth to keep from shifting and wreaking havoc. All this time, the sisters believed Lachlan had just up and left. Abandoned them. She had argued against that belief with no success. It didn't seem like him, but the sisters were all too devastated to listen to reason. She glanced at Katherine and could see with a glance that she shared her rage. She dug her fingers in Katherine's arm and when Katherine turned angry eyes to hers. Niamh gave a minute shake of her head. This wasn't the time or place to reveal any emotion.

"Enough with history," she said. "Let's get back to the matter at hand. Who can help us with this?"

"Take it down to Elisabeth Van Horn," sighed Birdy.

"Who is she? Is she a member of your coven?"

"No, she belongs to the Seattle Van Horns. She's a bit... well, she's strange. She's genius-level smart with a bag of PhDs but quirky. Try to get to her without her sisters present. They will interfere."

"Okay, she's smart, but why her?"

"Her gift, that's why. She's a harmonizer and the best there is with wards and hexes."

"Okay, so what can we expect to find?" Niamh knew her mouth was running away from her, but she was tired of these two women's secretiveness. She was supposed to be an equal here. She was determined to get to some understanding of what was going on.

Althea raised a quelling hand before Birdy could snap a reply. "Good question, Niamh. Most spells are temporary matrices of magical energy bound by the will and the wyrd. They are tools we can use to shape reality. There are also permanent spells—wards and hexes. They are bundles of magical spells in a powerful, complicated knot. When tripped, they unleash all the magical energy all at once—sometimes small, like a ward being tripped, sometimes massive, like when a hex explodes. Hexes and wards have a complicated topography. While many can bind them, very few can unravel and disarm them. One careless move can release all the energy catastrophically."

Niamh shivered when she remembered how Katherine's witch-fire had melted the cobblestones in the Shambles.

Althea continued, "Harmonizers are pattern masters. A good one can use her talent to craft the interior of a house in a pattern so pleasing you never want to leave or weave a matrix of magic that will kill or maim you years later if you violate its restrictions. Elisabeth is the best our generation has ever seen."

"Get down there and find out what's going on. I've been having premonitions ever since I got out of the hospital. Something terrible is happening in Oldtown that will affect us all."

Chapter 8

Emory, WA

The next morning, Quinn dropped the girls off at their school and drove to Althea's. He needed to ask Althea for help. Security had to be set up for the girls while he was in Oldtown. He ground his teeth at the thought of being indebted to this witch, but he had no choice.

Althea lived in a big Victorian house overlooking the Stillaguamish River. The property was more an estate than a house, with over a half mile of ornate wrought-iron fence enclosing a garden and orchard.

The grounds brought back memories. He'd worked there during the summer of his fifteenth year. It had been a memorable summer, in turns exciting and exasperating. That was the summer Althea began training the four sisters in first circle spell-craft. They had tried to practice their new spells on him, but by then, he had his glyphs, so their efforts had no effect. Drove them crazy trying to figure out why. His smug superiority didn't last long, however. They took revenge by flirting one moment and loftily ignoring him the next. They treated him like he was dirt beneath their feet. That was also the summer he got his first kisses, in turns from Mandy, then when she lost interest from Katie and Niamh as well when she was fostering with Anna the Hedge Witch. By summer's end, Katie, Mandy and Niamh had twisted him into so many knots that he hardly knew which way was up.

Two big-eyed teenage apprentice guardians answered the door and nervously ushered him through the house. The shortest smiled at him and bobbed her head.

"Miss Lark, is that you?"

"Yes, Master Lan," the blond-haired girl said shyly.

"Miss Lark, remember the rule," Quinn said with a gentle smile. "I'm no one's master. Call me Lan. Are you doing well? Are you happy here?"

Lark looked nothing like the pinch-faced pre-adolescent slave girl who had propositioned him outside an Oldtown tavern two years ago. Quinn had removed her slave torc and escorted her out of Oldtown and up to Althea.

"Oh, yes," she said with a huge smile. "It is wonderful here. No one goes hungry, and there are no beatings. I go to school and everything."

"That's fantastic, Miss Lark. I am glad you're settling in." Quinn said gruffly. The worship shining out of the girl's eyes made him acutely uncomfortable.

The two escorted him to the back of the house. Lark darted off to announce him, returned and opened a door with a formal smile.

"Thank you for the escort, ladies," Quinn bowed to them both in turn and grinned when they blushed. He took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and strode through the back door and onto the big sun porch.

Quinn hadn't seen Althea in ten years. He was shocked at how much she'd aged. He noticed with surprise that she sat in a white oak rocking chair that was one of his youthful creations. She was still enormously powerful. Not a single hint of her magic leaked from her impeccable shields.

The glassed-in porch overlooked a huge English Garden filled with a riot of perennials. Quinn smiled, remembering the gardener, Mr. Tanaka, patiently showing him the proper way to prune the apple trees that bordered the estate. The man was a genius landscape crafter. Brilliant in other ways as well, he was the man his foster father had picked to teach him the disciplined mindset of the stoics. Fifteen-year-old Quinn picked up the pruning dos and don'ts much more easily than he learned about forbearance and detachment.

Quinn ruefully thought that old Marcus Aurelius' thoughts on anger would be useful in the next sixty minutes.

Quinn caught a hint of sandalwood scented magic.

Oh, hell no. Fuck me.

Katherine Keenan and Niamh Harpe sat off to the left. They nodded a silent greeting. Katie wore a silky-looking blouse that matched her sea-glass green eyes and skintight blue jeans tucked into some fancy cowboy boots. She had her rich rancher's trophy wife persona look down pat—except that the inflexible power of her gaze showed she was nobody's arm candy.

Niamh, on the other hand, had her blond hair in a ponytail and was dressed like a biker in black leathers and a sleeveless blue lacy top with knee-high black boots. No doubt steel toed. Niamh might look like a biker's bitch, but pity the poor bastard who treated her like one.              

Neither one of them was anybody to mess with unless you had a death wish. For the past three months, he avoided dealing with either of them. Quinn's eyes widened at his next thought—must be some serious shit going on if Katie and Niamh were partnering. The Kin and the Covens didn't do cooperation.

Birdie Penrose sat perched on the edge of a chair on Althea's right. Birdie was a forty something, skinny-slender with big wire-rim glasses perched on a beak of a nose. At first glance, she appeared vague and disinterested. That is until you looked closer. Her blue-gray eyes were piercing, sharp with intelligence. Birdie was the Queen of the McNeil Coven.

"Mistress," Quinn nodded politely to Althea, "I'm glad to see you've recovered."

The witch gestured to a white wicker patio chair. "Sit down, boy, and bide awhile. I recall you used to like my lemonade. There is a carafe on the sideboard. Pour yourself a glass. I'd serve you, but since the attack, I can't get around all that well."

Althea had been laid low by a renegade blood witch a couple of months ago and was still recovering.

Quinn quietly did as she requested. After he had poured a glass, he sat and took a sip. It tasted like he remembered: deliciously sweet-tart. He leaned back and regarded her. His mind went back to the last time they'd met.

ten years ago

When Lachlan Quinn walked out of the Opari wilderness, he instantly spotted two witch-crafters standing beside a dusty pickup that was parked in the driveway of Anna the Hedge Witch's log cabin.

At first, he wondered if the witches were waiting for him. Then scoffed to himself. He had been down in the Murk for a long time. Years. Nobody could have known when he would return, besides who would care about his comings and goings? He was a nobody in the eyes of everybody except himself.

The witches chatted, seemingly relaxed.

Not a threat.

Maybe.

He called up the Other, and they shifted into partial-combat mode. Quinn shuddered at the sudden influx of new data from the environment. Now he could hear both of their hearts beating slow and steady. He cast his enhanced combat senses to check out the surrounding environment once more, just to be sure.

His time in the Murk had taught him to leave nothing to chance. The pain of hundreds of woundings and deaths had burned heedlessness out of him. The Vísdómur, the three ancient troll females who trained him, thought that only pain could make his body remember the lessons.

And Lachlan Quinn had learned his lessons very well.

Things looked peaceful enough, except for the two small hobs that had dogged his footsteps ever since he'd left the borderlands called the Murk. The two were now peering at him from the base of an old growth cedar tree. Quinn finger-signaled a greeting to them and smiled as they squeaked in terror and disappeared. Like the other denizens of the Opari, they were aware of the alpha predator he had become.

The witches spotted him. Their heartbeats increased. The Other, the being that shared his brain, snarled and released the cocktail of alien hormones that prepared his body for full combat. It left nothing to chance. The combat symbiote that the trolls had buried in his arm was also alerted—it it stirred in his arm. This mundane world made it uncomfortable.

"Stand down," Quinn whispered. "They can't hurt us. Let's see what they want."

He recognized them. A senior Sabina Coven guardian named Elspeth McKinley and Althea Hayden, the Coven Queen herself.

Elspeth was a plump forty something woman She bright had copper red hair and bright green eyes that now eyed him with curiosity.

The other was Althea Hayden. She was an ageless woman with bone white hair done up in a complicated braid. She looked classically sophisticated, at least to his unsophisticated eyes. Always perfectly put together, she could be one of those retired movie stars you sort of recognized who must have been beautiful back in the day. Except for the eyes. Hard brown eyes so dark they almost appeared black sat atop a thin-lipped judgmental mouth. Unlike Elspeth, whose magic coiled around her aura like a deadly cinnamon scented serpent, Althea's impeccable shields allowed not a hint of what he knew was her vast magic to leak. He could see the tattooed stars of a thirteenth circle adept on her palms.

Quinn thought, as he always did, of Cruella De Ville—except Cruella was probably nicer.

Althea's cold eyes tracked him as he approached.

"I see you've changed a bit, boy."

Quinn nodded. He well knew he'd changed from the trusting kid who allowed himself to be led into Opari's Murk.

Physically, he was bigger, six foot four with two hundred twenty-five pounds of solid muscle mass.

If his outward appearance was different, it was nothing compared to his insides. His time with the Troll women had hollowed him out—carved away his youth. Now, as he walked toward them, he was aware of his surroundings in a way that no mortal human could even conceive of. He had already figured out several ways to end the two witches despite the enormous power they could bring to bear.

Quinn ignored her comment. He'd had a lot of practice ignoring slanting cuts from the witches.

"What do you want, Mistress?"

His joy at being back home slipped away. He had figured he just needed to settle down and put away the monster he'd become and get back to work with Gus and Saria at old man Finn's woodworking shop. He would earn some money and call Katie and maybe see if she'd like to go to a movie. Quinn had buried the fear that he'd changed so much that he wasn't fit to be around normal people. The years in the Murk had been truly horrific.

Althea's attitude quickly disabused him of that hope.

"I don't want you around here. I don't want you around my girls. You are eighteen years old tomorrow. Any obligations the old man had toward raising you are over. You need to leave. Now."

Quinn gave her a considering look.

Both witches blanched and stepped back quickly. Shields hardened, and they raised their magic.

He smiled coldly.

"Your spell-craft will have no effect on me, so settle down. I mean you no harm. Why should I listen to you? This is my home."

"The old man has gone off somewhere," said Elspeth. She continued to eye him as if he were an interesting type of bug she spotted in her garden.

Althea interrupted. "When the old man took you in, the Seers warned you would bring dangerous, unknown elements into our midst. We voted to send you away. But the old man overruled us."

"How could I be a danger to you?" Quinn asked curiously. "I've never hurt a one of you."

"Because," Althea said coldly, "the damnable troll women have their own agenda. It's obvious to anyone who can scree that they have turned you into a life-taker, a moordr. I see there is a darkness in you—an abomination. You will bring nothing but evil if you stay. If you're honest, you know it yourself. You readied yourself to kill as soon as you saw us standing here. If you have any feelings for my girls, you will leave. If you stay, you bring them nothing but harm."

Young Lachlan stood silently, considering her words, then his shoulders slumped. He walked away.

And so it was that Lachlan Quinn once again lost his home and family.