Witching Fire: A Wild Hunt Novel, Book 16 Read online

  “Curikan, Black Dog of the Hanging Hills, do you claim this girl as your daughter?”

  Okay, this was getting weird. I was beginning to feel like I was being marked. The next thing you’d know, they’d be challenging Kipa to a pissing match.

  “I do swear by the flame and the sword, and declare Raven BoneTalker to be my daughter,” Curikan said. He spoke more softly than Dougal but as they stood there, side by side, I began to see the resemblance.

  “Very well then, lineage is set on the paternal side. Phasmoria, Queen of the Bean Sidhe, do you claim this girl as your daughter?”

  Phasmoria fidgeted and I could tell she was getting impatient. “Of course she’s my daughter. She came out of my womb, she rested inside me for months and then clawed her way out to make her way in the world, like one of my children should.”

  “Lineage is claimed on the maternal side,” the Banra-Sheagh said, ignoring my mother’s irritation. “Phasmoria, Dougal has asked that you give up claim on the girl, so she may take up the mantle of Chatelaine of the House of Dougal. Her grandfather wishes her to move to Scotland and take her place in the life of the Highland Crags Black Dogs Clan.”

  “You have to be joking!” My mother wasn’t laughing. Her eyes grew darker and her voice was quickly edging up to Bean Sidhe level.

  I started to gasp but the Banra-Sheagh turned back to me. “Raven BoneTalker, think carefully before you speak. This offer would mitigate your crimes in the Court of the Banra-Sheagh.”

  Unable to keep my tongue, I burst out with, “What the hell did I do? You say I’m accused of crimes. Well, what crimes have I committed?”

  The Queen stared me down, looking absolutely unimpressed with my outburst. “Hold your tongue, girl. Very well, we’ll leap to that portion of this trial. Tryx, read aloud the list of accusations against Raven BoneTalker.”

  A guard who looked almost exactly like the one who had talked to me stepped forward and held out a scroll, unrolling it, then raising her head after she spent a moment reading it.

  “This list comprises the list of crimes against the bone witch, Raven BoneTalker, are these: One, the accused has befriended numerous human and Fae, and has not taken care to secret herself or her life in any way. Two, the accused has chosen to immerse herself in human society, therefore casting herself into the Exosan encampment. Three, the accused is entertaining a dalliance with one of the gods. Four, and most damning, the accused remains friends with Ember Kearney, a tralaeth who has openly admitted to murdering Blackthorn, one of the Ancient Ante-Fae. She is keeping company with the enemy.

  “Let it be known that should Raven BoneTalker not break off any communications with the modern world and return to the bosom of her family, taking her rightful place as Chatelaine of the Clan of the Highland Crags, she will be forever cast out of the world of our people, and forever be considered pariah to our world. None of the Ante-Fae will speak to her, nor accept her presence in their midst. None of the Ante-Fae will lift a hand to help her, even should her very life be in danger.”

  I swayed, trying to take in everything, but the next moment, my mother stood by my side. She placed her hand on my shoulder and I straightened, grateful for her presence. I had no clue what to say, but my mother didn’t suffer from the same problem.

  “I will never willingly give up claim on my daughter. She will always be the daughter of the Bean Sidhe, who I might add are all Ante-Fae, and we all consort with the gods. The Morrígan is my goddess, and Cerridwen and Arawn are my daughter’s gods, and they alone may decree what she is allowed to do.” Phasmoria’s voice echoed through the chamber loud and clear, leaving no mistake as to how she felt about the matter.

  My father glanced at me, and I stared back at him. He was always the one who taught me to care about humans and to care about the people around me. Now, he was willing to stand here and listen to this garbage?

  I had to speak. “Da, how can you hold your tongue? You’re the one who taught me how to care about others, regardless of their heritage. You are the most tender-hearted man I’ve met and I always respected you for that!” I ignored the guard, ignored the Queen, and stomped my way over to Curikan.

  But he merely stared at the floor. “I’m sorry, my child, but…the past month has taught me other ways. I never understood why my family—my father—was like he is. Now I do, and I have to say, I misunderstood my father’s messages all these years. It’s vital to keep the heritage alive, to keep to tradition.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My father was throwing away everything he had believed in. I whirled to face Dougal. “You did this! What did you say to him? What did you do to turn him into a clone of you? You’re nothing but a monster.”

  My grandfather’s eyes flashed. Without warning, he reached out and slapped me hard across the cheek. “How dare you speak to me like that!”

  “Don’t you dare hit my daughter,” Phasmoria shouted, storming over.

  With her beside me, I felt brave enough to respond, my cheek stinging. “I’ll speak to you any way I like. My father is—was—one of the kindest men I’ve ever known and I looked up to him. I respected him. And you go and do this? What did you use to threaten him? Because the Curikan I know and love would never willingly turn his back on his beliefs.”

  “Raven, stop, please—little bird.” For a moment, the father I remember shone through the cool demeanor, and then the light in his eyes faded and his face hardened again. “Raven, respect your grandfather. Apologize.”

  I turned back to my mother. “What’s wrong with him?” I pleaded. I couldn’t bear to see my father acting like this.

  Phasmoria motioned to Kipa. “Watch her for me. Dougal, Curikan—we need to talk. Now.” She turned to the Banra-Sheagh. “I demand a recess.”

  The Queen paused, looking like she was about to say no, but then my mother glowered at her and the Banra-Sheagh let out a sigh. “Very well. Be quick about it.”

  My mother led Curikan and Dougal off toward the corner.

  I turned to Kipa, feeling lost and afraid. He held out his arms and I slid into his embrace, resting my head on his shoulder as he gently rubbed my back.

  “What’s going on?” I whispered.

  “I’m not sure, but I don’t like any of it. Don’t worry, love. You’ll be fine. I’ll make certain of it, and so will your mother. We won’t let anything happen to you. I promise you that.” He glanced up, over my head, scowling as he stared at the Banra-Sheagh.

  A few moments later, Phasmoria and the men returned. She turned to the Banra-Sheagh. “I claim the right to speak to my daughter. You cannot refuse me.”

  The Banra-Sheagh looked like a storm was brewing. “Very well.”

  Phasmoria motioned to me and to Kipa and we followed her out of sight of the throne.

  “What’s going on?” I burst out, but she shushed me.

  “Your grandfather has finally got what he wants—he’s got his hooks in your father. He’s been out to lure your father back into the fold ever since Curikan ran away from the family hundreds of years ago. It’s not a magical spell, not a charm, but apparently, Dougal convinced the Banra-Sheagh that Curikan should be punished for leading you into an Exosan lifestyle. When he heard about Blackthorn’s death, it proved the final catalyst, especially since word got around that you work with Herne and Ember.”

  I stared at her. “You mean that this was all a plot to drag my father back to the family clan? Why involve me?”

  “Because Dougal wants you, too. As far as I can see, he stirred the pot with the Banra-Sheagh, and then once that was set, he convinced Curikan that the one way to keep you from being labeled pariah was for him to knuckle under. He dangled you like a carrot. Your father’s trying to prevent you from being cast out of our people. They don’t dare cast me out, or any of the Bean Sidhe, given we’re under the Morrígan’s direct orders, but your father’s now afraid you’ll become a casualty in this scheme that he believes the Banra-Sheagh thought up.” Phasmoria leaned against
a wall. “His concerns are understandable, if misguided.”

  “I won’t do it! My friends are all Exosan—”

  “Yes, well, apparently the Banra-Sheagh took what Dougal said and ran with it. She’s planning to banish every Ante-Fae who identifies as such from ever being part of our culture again. This is the point in history where the Exosan become a separate division of the Ante-Fae race. I imagine, though I’m not sure, that she’ll declare the Exosan to be enemies of the crown. Even if we get you out of here, you’ll be considered pariah, and they’ll be in worse trouble if they communicate with you. I doubt if there will be a war, but the old guard are committed to keeping tradition alive, even when those traditions are to our detriment.” Phasmoria glanced over her shoulder.

  “Then I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. If I give in to my grandfather, I’ll live the rest of my life under his fist, cooped up in a massive house in Scotland, and I’ll lose you. How on earth did my father think this would encourage me to—”

  “He thought it would keep you safe. Your father’s sweet but he can be very short-sighted.” She straightened. “Raven, this is up to you. I’ll stand behind you, regardless of your choice. If you want me to set you free so you can become the Chatelaine, I will.”

  Kipa turned me around. “Choose what you feel is best in your heart. We’ll have to part if you choose to return to your family clan. I doubt your grandfather considers the gods a good choice for a paramour.”

  “Dougal has a strange hatred for the gods,” Phasmoria said. “He feels they’re worthless.”

  “I don’t have to think about it,” I said, my heart dropping. I wasn’t willing to give up my mother, my life, my love, or my friends. I loved Curikan and I was proud of being Ante-Fae, but I wasn’t going to turn my back on everything my father had taught me because my grandfather was pissed off. “I choose you, Mother. I choose to stay with Kipa. I choose my friends. I choose everything and everyone I love…except…I guess, my father.” I turned to Phasmoria. “What will you do? You’re Exosan, too.”

  “As I said, she doesn’t dare mess with the Bean Sidhe, given we could bring the Morrígan down on her ass and regardless what the Queen thinks, there’s nothing she can do that will prevail over my black-hearted winged goddess.”

  I dug in my heels. “I’m not giving up Trinity and Vixen and everyone I know, even if they can never talk to me again. Ember killed Blackthorn because he was going to torture her—he was a vile, wretched creep.” I was young and part of the world, and I saw no problem with intermingling with other races and spirits.

  “Are you sure? There may be no turning back,” Phasmoria said.

  I thought for a moment. “I’m sure.”

  “Very well, let’s return. You’ll have to tell the Banra-Sheagh, and be prepared for her to blow up and sound like she’s going to rip you apart.”

  We returned to the others and slowly took our place in front of the throne.

  I stood at attention, staring up at the Banra-Sheagh.

  “Well?” came her imperious question.

  “You leave me no choice.” I turned to my father and Dougal. “Neither do you. I have no choice but to exile myself from our people. I choose my mother. I choose my friends. I choose my lover. I choose everything that is now my life, because I’m loyal to all of them. If the rest of the Ante-Fae can never speak to me again, then so be it. I choose to remain Exosan, and I formally disavow my father, my grandfather, and my heritage.”

  As I spoke, the Queen grew very quiet, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see my grandfather fuming. The next moment, my father let out a cry, but my grandfather grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.

  “She made her choice,” Dougal said. He turned to me. “Raven BoneTalker, daughter of Phasmoria, you are no longer a member of the Clan of the Highland Crags Black Dogs. You are no longer my granddaughter.” He gave my father a hard shake that made me want to smack him a good one.

  My father turned to me and, with tear-stained eyes, whispered, “Raven BoneTalker, you are no longer my daughter. Our bonds are forever broken. You will return to me the money I paid for your house.”

  Phasmoria, hands on hips, faced my grandfather and my father. “This is your fault—this is your doing. I hope you lie awake at night tortured by it. Because you both deserve every heartbreak in the world this brings.”

  I met my father’s eyes one last time, then turned away, feeling oddly free. So much had gone south, but I had made my choice. And now, I had to find a new way to reinvent my history.

  Chapter Six

  After that, the rest of the meeting became a blur. My father tried to say something but my grandfather jerked him back. My mother hustled me back in front of the Queen, who stood, then turned her back to me. One by one, all the guards did the same, and finally, my grandfather and then my father.

  “Hear me, Banra-Sheagh, and the Court of the Ante-Fae,” my mother said, her voice reverberating against the walls.

  Slowly, the Queen turned around again. “Speak, Phasmoria, Queen of the Bean Sidhe.”

  “I am proud of my heritage. But I claim my daughter’s side and as of this moment, I renounce my ties to the Ante-Fae. I will make certain that the Morrígan hears of what happened this day. I turn my back on you, the Banra-Sheagh, and your entire court. You have no power over me or my daughter.”

  And with that, she slid her arm through mine and—with Kipa behind us—led us out of the throne room. As soon as we were in the outer chamber, my mother motioned for us to lean close to her. “Close your eyes, Raven,” she said.

  Kipa seemed to know what she was doing, because he wrapped his arms around both of us. My mother closed her eyes and the next thing I knew, we were on the astral, though I wasn’t sure what realm we were in. Another shift, and I opened my eyes, and we were home, in front of my front door. I took a look around, realized where we were, and burst into tears.

  * * *

  As we entered the house, I saw to my surprise that Ember and Herne and Angel were still there, along with Vixen, Apollo, and Trinity. Raj was asleep, curled up beside Angel. When I stepped into the living room he woke, jerking his head so fast he almost headbutted her, and then he bounded off the sofa, racing over to me.

  I fell to my knees, opening my arms so that he landed smack in the center, almost knocking me over. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and planted several kisses on his head. “Raven’s home. Don’t worry—Raven’s home and she’s safe.” I knew he had been scared—I could feel the energy rolling off of him.

  “Raj was so worried,” Raj whispered, low enough so the others couldn’t hear him. Of everyone who was there, only Kipa, my mother, Ember, and Angel knew he could talk. “Raj thought those bad people took Raven away from him.”

  “It’s okay. Raven’s okay,” I said, wishing I was telling the truth. To be honest, I had no clue what being excommunicated from the Ante-Fae community would mean. I did know that Vixen and Apollo—any of the Ante-Fae, for that matter—were walking on thin ice if they continued to communicate with me, and I owed them the knowledge. They had to make an informed decision.

  My mother paced, a scowl lining her face. Kipa looked angry too, and I knew that I was buzzing with nerves as bad as a beehive.

  “What happened?” Ember said, a worried look on your face. “And don’t tell us nothing—it’s apparent from all three of you that something big went down.”

  “Oh, it went down all right,” I said. I dropped into the rocking chair. “This concerns all of you, in a way. Ember, first, you should know the Banra-Sheagh is pissed at you for killing Blackthorn.”

  “Don’t tell me there’s a bounty on my head,” Ember said, groaning.

  “No, but you’re considered persona non grata among the non-Exosan Ante-Fae.” I grimly turned to Vixen, Apollo, and Trinity. “And you three…the Banra-Sheagh has declared me pariah. Any of the Ante-Fae who communicate with me are subject to losing their status, too. I’ve been kicked out of the Ant
e-Fae community.” My heart dropped as I added, “I’ll understand if you decide you can’t talk to me anymore. I truly do.” I bit my lip, hanging my head.

  “What she’s not telling you is that she was kicked out because she refused to stop being Ember’s friend—because Ember killed Blackthorn in self-defense. And she refused to return to Scotland and live with her grandfather and father.” Kipa’s eyes narrowed. “I wanted to wipe that smug look off the bitch’s face.”

  Ember gasped, stiffening. “Is this true? You were kicked out because of your association with me?”

  I gave her a shrug. “Yeah. I think I’m being used as the scapegoat to remind the Exosan where their true allegiances are expected to fall. The Queen is feeling threatened by the Exosan’s forays into the human communities. Anyway, my father and grandfather have disowned me. I won’t be able to come to the Burlesque A Go-Go anymore, or I’ll put all of your customers in danger,” I said to Vixen.

  Shaking my head, I sat down. “It’s hard to take in. I still feel like this is a nightmare. I can accept my grandfather cutting ties with me, that doesn’t surprise me. But my father…” I looked up at my mother, stricken. I loved my father and he had always championed me. “I feel like he kicked the world out from under me.”

  Phasmoria muttered something under her breath and sat down next to me. “I think your grandfather must be holding something over his head.”

  I leaned into her shoulder. “Thank you for standing by me.”

  “You’re my daughter. Of course I stand by your side. I couldn’t be there while you were growing up, but I never once abandoned you in my heart.” She wrapped her arm around me. “I believe you’re right, however. The Banra-Sheagh is terrified of the Ante-Fae growing too close to the human world, and so she is making an example of you to show the Exosan where their allegiances should lie. That’s a dangerous game, though, since it can all too easily backfire.”