Just as silently, we entered the portal one by one, following the Queen, and the world ripped into a million pieces as we went singing through space and time.

We ended up, not in Tangleroot Park, but in a portal two streets over, in the backyard of what looked like an abandoned house. But on closer inspection, I realized the house was inhabited.

“Who lives here?” I pointed to the faint light that emanated from the windows.

Aeval smiled faintly. “We have our spies and guards. This is a safe house, should there ever come need of it.”

I didn’t press. Her tone told me that wasn’t an option. But I memorized the address—24132 Westerwood Lane—in case we ever needed it.

I glanced over at Delilah, who was examining the yard. There were overgrown ferns and towering firs everywhere, and the lot must have been a good half acre in size—unusual in the city. But we followed Aeval and her guards, setting off for the park on foot. The sidewalks were icy, but one of the guards offered his arm to me and I gratefully accepted, too tired to see straight.

We reached the park within a few minutes and led Aeval to where the portal had been. As we neared the place, Delilah and I looked in vain for any sign of Chase, but he was nowhere in sight. The energy still hung thick in the air, and I could catch glimpses of it here and there—sparkling like a shadow that was there one moment, then gone the next.

Aeval silently approached the place where the portal had been. She held out her hands and closed her eyes, her fingers divining the energy. I could see her aura—the more tired I got, the better my Sight was for such things—and she looked lit up like a Yule tree on steroids.

Wearily, I saw a bench a few yards away and trudged over, sitting down, not caring if the snow was freezing my ass off. Delilah joined me, though she brushed the snow off her side of the bench first.

We said nothing—there was nothing left to say until Aeval was done and had figured out whatever she could. But Delilah took my hand and I curled my fingers around hers. I knew she was hurting. Even though she and Chase were just friends now, they would always care for one another. And I cared, too.

“I never thought to sense this again, not here, not in this day and age.” Aeval was suddenly in front of us, staring down at us with a horrified look on her face. Holy hell. Not good. Not good for a Fae Queen to be afraid—that could only mean trouble on the horizon.

“What is it?” I asked, my voice barely audible in the dark of the night.

“Several things, all from the Elder Fae. First, a dark energy—one I do not recognize except that it’s female, and hungry. Second, Stollen Kom Lightly.” She said the name so abruptly that at first I didn’t understand her. But then it registered, and I slowly raised my gaze to hers.

“The Bog Eater.”

She nodded.

The Bog Eater . . . I closed my eyes. “No . . . he can’t still be alive after all these years. I thought he was killed by one of the gods.”

“So it was rumored, but apparently the gossip mill was wrong in this case. Come, we must discuss this before taking any action. There is much to be lost if we aren’t careful, including your detective’s life.”

Aeval motioned for us to stand, and we began to walk back toward the safehouse, to the portal leading to the barrow.

“Stollen Kom Lightly was thought long lost in the haunts of time. Legend goes he was killed by Lugh the Long Handed, but apparently that was only a rumor, probably started by Lugh’s followers.”

I began to tune out a little. I knew where she was going with this and really didn’t want to follow it through to the logical conclusion. Wishing Smoky were here, or Trillian, I pulled closer to Delilah and she wrapped her arm around my waist.

“Who is the Bog Eater?” Delilah asked. “I don’t recognize the name.”

Aeval glanced at the sky. “Cold tonight, and colder still tomorrow. A bad time for grim tales, but perhaps there is no right time.” After another pause, she said, “There was once a goblin who was so terribly vicious that he was noticed by Jac-O HorseTail. Jac-O was known as the scourge of the Western Wastelands before the Great Divide.”

The Fae Queen inhaled deeply, slowly letting out her breath in a white stream. “Jac-O HorseTail was the son of one of the Long-Cutter Gray Sisters—the webweavers who spin out confusion and hatred into the world. The three hags are not members of the Hags of Fate, but they are from the Elemental world, and it’s thought they have some relation to Fae.”

She paused as we crossed the street, skirting a car slowly edging along the icy path. The driver slammed on the brakes and jumped out to gawk at us, but Aeval waved her hand and whispered “Heed us not,” and he just as quickly slipped back into his car and drove on.

When we were standing by the portal leading back to Talamh Lonrach Oll, I stopped her. “How is this portal guarded? What if some kid comes up and decides to explore the pretty sparkles?”

She laughed then. “You see this because it is of your heritage—Fae magic. But mortals do not see the portal, nor will they sense it unless they are gifted with the Sight like your detective. And even if they sense it, they cannot pass without the activation words. Yes,” she added with an impish grin that suddenly made her look all too young and playful, “we password-protect our portals.”

Aeval whispered the keyword (taking pains to keep it out of earshot), the portal opened, and we slipped back through to the barrow palace. She led us back into the throne room and bade us sit, while calling for cups of hot cider.

“As I was saying, Jac-O HorseTail was the son of one of the Long-Cutter Gray Sisters, and he was a loner. Even in the darker realms of the Unseelie, there are outcasts and misfits. He was a vicious and evil creature, but he was lonely. The goblin befriended him—perhaps he anticipated a reward, or perhaps he truly found a friendship with the creature. Either way, Jac-O’s mother was so grateful that she did what many mothers do. She gave the goblin a gift. She changed him, made him far more powerful than he could have ever hoped to become as a regular goblin. And so Stollen Kom Lightly was born—the Bog Eater.”

“He’s considered one of the Elder Fae, isn’t he?” I was running through my memory, trying to dredge up what I’d been taught about him.

“Yes. And his first act was to kill and eat Jac-O HorseTail. That, of course, did not sit well with Jac-O’s mother or her sisters, and so they laid a curse on him to wander through bog and marsh, ever hungry, never able to sufficiently fill his belly. They could not kill him—Jac-O’s mother had made him almost invincible—but they could curse him with a miserable existence.”

Delilah cleared her throat. “I vaguely remember mention of that story in childhood but didn’t remember the names.”

“The Bog Eater will forever starve, no matter how much he eats. He’s always hungry, and he hates all who are happy and filled with life. It was thought Lugh the Long Handed killed him in battle before the Great Divide, but apparently we were wrong. The energy I sensed through that portal was dark and boggy, and the smell of peat rang thick. I know the Bog Eater is in there, somewhere. But behind him stands an even stronger shadow—the female energy I sensed. And that shadow—that is where your detective has gone. I do not think the shadow is for good, but I cannot tell for sure.” She fell silent.

I didn’t want to ask the question but had to. I especially didn’t want to ask it with Delilah around. “Do you think Chase is still alive, considering that the Bog Eater is hiding there?”

Delilah cringed, but Aeval didn’t pay any attention.

“Your detective has gone into the shadow behind the Bog Eater. Whether he is alive, I do not know. But the Bog Eater did not gobble him up—that I can tell. Chase’s signature still trails, so my best guess is that yes, he is alive.”

Delilah breathed a sigh of relief at the same time I did, although I didn’t want to think about what might be happening to him. That would be too much to deal with, so I focused on the next order of business.

“How can we get in there to save him?” The thought of getting past the Bog Eater—an Elder Fae—was terrifying, but if Menolly could deal with the Maiden of Karask, we could cope with the Bog Eater.

Aeval crooked her head to the side, a faint smile on her face. “I can rip open their portal, but I will not go in with you. I’ve better things to do with my time. But you should go soon—tomorrow at the latest.”

Leaning back, I closed my eyes. This was all too much. To come home to the news about Hyto and now—this? I wanted to scream.

“Tomorrow then? Day or night?”

“Day. I am no vampire; I can walk abroad during the daylight hours. The two of you—no more—be here by noonsong, and bring your weapons. You will need them. Remember: The full-blooded Fae love silver. A silver blade will be of use, but not as much as cold steel.” She looked at me. “Or iron. You know of what I speak.”

And with that, she dismissed us.

We headed out to the cart, and Delilah took the reins, guiding the horse back to the parking lot. She tucked me in the passenger seat of the Lexus and I dozed all the way home, unable to even verbalize my thoughts.

By the time we reached home, I’d caught a little bit of a second wind, but it wouldn’t last long. The three-story Victorian had never seemed so welcoming, and I wearily pulled myself up the porch steps. Once we were inside, we found everybody still up, waiting to hear what had happened. We ran down the gist of what had happened at Talamh Lonrach Oll, and then, before anybody could say a word, I raised my hand for silence.

“Somebody call Menolly at the bar and fill her in. I need to go to bed.” I stood up, all too aware of the aching in my body that cried out for peace and relief from the chill.

Smoky stood. “She’s correct. We were hard pressed in the Northlands. Iris, you need your rest also. We can discuss this over breakfast.” He swept me into his arms, and—followed by Trillian—carried me up the stairs.

I leaned against him; the scent of cool wind and snow clung to his shirt, and his ankle-length silver hair reached around to caress my arm. We stopped in Morio’s room first—he had been set up in my study, in a hospital bed. Although he was allowed to sit up and even walk a bit, my youkai-kitsune needed every ounce of energy he could conserve in order to heal.

His topaz eyes flashed with a smile as the three of us entered the room. Trillian checked to make sure Morio had plenty of water and snacks, and Smoky deposited me in the chair next to the hospital bed. I leaned against the mattress and reached out to take Morio’s hand.

He had dark hair, long enough to trail down his back, and he was of Japanese descent, lean and wiry, strong as a demon—which, in essence, he was. In his fox form, he could dart rings around Delilah, and in his demonic form, he towered over everyone, eight feet of fighting machine.

Now he just looked a little tired, but the color was returning to his cheeks and he seemed in good spirits.

“Are you feeling better, my love?” I leaned over and kissed his lips.

“Only a few weeks till I’m allowed back on my feet. I’m still tired, but I can tell my health is returning.” He brushed back my hair and trailed his hand down my cheek. “I’m so glad you’re home safe. They told me you made it back but that you were immediately called out. How’s Iris? Did she accomplish her mission?”

“She did. I’ll let Smoky tell you about our trip. Meanwhile, I just want to rest and sleep.”

Trillian took my hand, guiding me up. He turned to Smoky. “Camille’s weary. We can take away her fatigue.” The corners of his lips turned up in a faint smile.

Smoky frowned. He was possessive—all dragons were—but he’d learned to share. I seldom went to bed without at least two of my husbands with me.

“I’ll be in after I tell Morio what happened. Don’t start without me.” He kissed me deeply, his tongue flashing in and out of my mouth as tendrils of his hair slowly caressed my shoulders, stirring me even through my exhaustion. I leaned down and gave Morio a goodnight kiss, and he returned it.

“I promise you,” he whispered, “Menolly and I kept apart during your absence.”

“I’m not worried,” I whispered back.

I allowed Trillian to guide me back to the bedroom. As tired as I was, I knew that sex would rejuvenate me and help me sleep. I enjoyed the thrill of my husbands’ hands trailing down my sides, of their bodies filling me full in every way. I realized Trillian was right. I needed sex, I needed to release all the tension that had built up, but my energy was so low that I could do little in the way of initiating anything.

Trillian shut the door behind us, turning to me. “My Camille,” he whispered, and began to undress me, one piece of clothing at a time. I held out my arms and closed my eyes, almost shy.

“Make me forget,” I said softly. “Make me forget everything except your touch and smell and taste.”

With a crafty laugh, Trillian reached for me.

Chapter 5

Trillian stood in back of me, wrapping one arm around my waist, and with the other he ran his hand along my skin, fingers long and narrow, making me shiver. I let out a long breath and leaned my head back against his chest, drifting at the feel of his touch.

I could sense him—I could sense all my men, thanks to the Soul Symbiont ritual. We’d bound ourselves into a quartet, forever and always, beyond time, beyond death. But Trillian was my alpha; he’d been the first man I’d ever truly loved—not the first one I’d fucked, but the first one I’d loved. Magnets we were, from the very beginning, and we’d defied family and custom to be together.