Shadowspell

Because of my unimpeded view, I was able to see clear down to the moat that surrounded Avalon, crossed by the bridge that led to the Western Gate. From up high, the moat looked as picturesque as anything else, despite its muddy brown color. However, a few weeks ago, my Aunt Grace had thrown me into that moat, and I’d discovered it was inhabited by Water Witches—nasty, malevolent monsters. I’d never be able to look at the moat again without remembering the feeling of being grabbed and dragged under. I don’t think Aunt Grace was actually trying to kill me when she threw me in. She’d hatched some kind of crazy scheme to use my powers to assassinate Titania, the Queen of the Seelie Court, and when her plans were foiled, she threw me in the water as a diversion while she fled into Faerie.

My dad had great taste in restaurants. The food was fantastic. The conversation … not so much. I knew my parents had loved each other once, but that was a long time ago. Although Dad understood why my mom had kept me secret from him, he couldn’t seem to forgive her for it. And Mom couldn’t forgive Dad for any number of things, not least of which was her enforced sobriety. At this point, they couldn’t agree that the sky was blue, much less agree on anything important, like the current topic of debate.

Mom wanted me to go to school like a normal girl in the fall. Dad decreed that school was too great a security risk, and that I should be homeschooled. Neither one of them seemed to care what I thought—they didn’t even bother to ask—but I knew that, in the end, my dad’s word would be law. He was my legal guardian, after all. Not that Mom had any intention of conceding the point.

I tuned them both out, trying to enjoy the meal, the weather, and the view. I kept finding my eyes drawn to the moat, and to the bridge that spanned it, despite the unpleasant memories it dredged up. I kept forcing myself to look away, but my gaze always seemed to return.

I was once again staring at the moat when I caught sight of someone running away from the gatehouse at a frantic sprint. It was a Fae man, dressed in a green tunic and tights like an extra in a Robin Hood movie. Even from this distance, I could see the terror on the guy’s face, and the blood that streaked his forehead. The sight made me gasp, and others around me must have followed my gaze, because a low murmur started up among the diners on the balcony.

The Fae was about a third of the way across the bridge, still running headlong, knocking slower pedestrians out of his way, when I finally saw just why he was running. A tall door in the gatehouse flew open, and a nightmare figure burst through.

He was dressed entirely in black, his face hidden under a grotesque black mask with a leering, fanged mouth and wickedly sharp antlers. His whole body was covered in shiny black armor peppered with vicious spikes. He rode an enormous black horse, also covered with plates of armor. Maybe it was some kind of optical illusion, but I could have sworn I saw the occasional glow of flames bursting from the horse’s nostrils.

All around me, chairs were scraping back as people leapt to their feet, and the murmur had risen to a loud buzz of alarm. The horseman drew a gleaming sword from a scabbard draped over his back, and the buzz got even louder.

“Oh no,” I thought I heard my father say, although it was hard to hear him over the steadily rising voices of the other diners.

Behind the man in black, several more riders emerged from the door—which I belatedly realized must be the entrance to Faerie—each dressed in a slightly toned-down version of their leader’s attire. They fanned out into a V and galloped across the bridge behind him. There were several cars on the bridge, but the Fae riders didn’t seem to care, their horses dodging around them at supernatural speed, or just leaping over them as if they were toys, as brakes squealed and horns blared.

“The Wild Hunt!” someone shouted.

“The Erlking…” someone else said, voice cold with dread.

I was on my feet, clinging to the balcony rail without remembering having stood up. I was aware of my dad calling to me, but I was too riveted by what I was seeing to answer.

The leader of the horsemen was steadily gaining on the fleeing Fae. Everywhere, people leapt out of his way, and there was no sign that the border patrol was making even a token attempt to stop him or the rest of the riders. The man in black pulled even with the Fae. He rose up high in his stirrups, easily keeping his balance despite his horse’s breakneck speed. Someone screamed as the sword flashed in the sun and began to swing down at the Fae man.

I didn’t see what happened next, because my mom came at me from behind and slapped her hand over my eyes. But the screams and gasps around me gave me a pretty good idea without having to see with my own two eyes.

Mom turned me around so my back was to the railing. Dad threw a handful of cash on our table, then grabbed both my mom’s and my arms and began dragging us away.

“We have to go,” he said urgently, and I can’t tell you how terrifying it was to see the fear in his eyes. As far as I could tell, my dad wasn’t afraid of anything, and if he was, he was a master at not letting it show. What did it mean that I could see the fear in him now?

People from inside the dining room were pushing their way out onto the balcony to see what was going on. My dad shoved his way through the gathering crowd, using magic of some sort to knock people out of our path. I might have objected to the rough handling, but remembering that black rider with his sword raised made me want to run and hide.

*   *   *

My dad made about a million phone calls as he frog-marched me back to the safe house. Mom walked at my side, her arm around my shoulders. Her face was deathly pale, and her eyes a little too wide.