Heart Ward

Chapter Two

Six hours in the Comfort Motel outside Albany had been anything but. The drive out of Manhattan had sucked, hitting accident after accident and having to evade more than one oblivious driver switching lanes without checking their mirrors. Still, six hours of crappy sleep were better than no sleep at all. The coffee in the lobby at 7:30am wasn't any better than my room had been, but at least it burned the haze from my eyes.

I settled my tab and hit the road again. GPS had Vala's at two hours from Albany – I made it there in an hour thirty, listening to a Nu Jazz playlist my friend Amber had made in an attempt to lure me to the darker side of techno.

I sped along the dirt track that led to Vala's, a nearly invisible pass through the woods, but slowed down as I neared the house. The Druid would kill me if I tore through her gravel parking area.

I parked near the fountain next to some beat to hell pickup truck and yanked my helmet off my head. Trying to delay the inevitable, I cracked my neck a couple of times. I generally tried to avoid kids as much as possible. Boys were loud, and they asked too many questions. Girls...Well, they just tended to remind me of my sister. Teens weren't any better. Farrah would have been nineteen this year, still a teen herself.

"You going to just stand there all day, or you gonna come over here and give me a hug?" The warm rich voice poured over me like honey.

"Vala, sweetheart," I walked up the stairs to the house and wrapped her ample frame in my arms. "It's good to see you."

"So, Bran sent you, did he?" Her eyes twinkled, as if there was a secret buried behind the chocolate velvet orbs.

"Were you expecting someone else?"

She laughed, a deep throaty sound. "Not at all, dear boy. Just enjoy watching life unfold, that is all. Like I said, it's good to see you."

"So, I hear Frederika Alvarsson's gotten herself into some trouble, and her daughter needs sanctuary?"

"Oh, it goes much, much deeper than that. Siri's got something special in her, still not sure how it's all going to work out, but I think she might be just the thing you all have been looking for."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see, soon enough. In fact, why don't you go and see if you can round her and her friend up, while I finish making breakfast. Can't send you two off without a proper meal." She looked me up and down. "Aren't they feeding you, boy? You've lost weight since the last time you were here. Not that it doesn't suit you, but still."

"It's hard to eat well when you're running missions seven days a week. And no one could ever feed me as well as you do."

I'd known Vala for years, ever since I'd joined the Light Guard and started running missions in Midgard, out on the surface of the Earth above Aeden. Officially, Vala was sworn to remain neutral in fae matters, lending her seer capabilities as a Druid to both Light and Dark. In reality, she had a soft spot for the Light, since our side protected nature, just like the Druids. Myself, I loved her cooking and her warm hugs. If I was honest with myself, she was the closest I had had to a mom since my father had taken me below to live with our people in Aeden.

Vala was like family. Anytime I could find a reason to stop in, I did. Still, that glitter in her eyes put me on alert. She was hiding something from me, something she'd seen, or heard. But what?

"You said the girl has a friend with her. Are they in danger, too?"

"Rowan? No, he'll be fine, he's in no danger at all. Sweet faeling. He's the one who thought to bring Siri here. That's his truck behind you."

"Okay." Whatever Vala's secret was, she wasn't going to spill anytime soon. I sighed, and resigned myself to playing the Druid's game. "So, out back, you said?"

"Yes, last I checked, Rowan was waiting for Siri to come back from her morning run in the woods. She's an earth fae, like you. I think the forest helps her feel more at ease." She ushered me into the house and shooed me down the hall. "Now get, I'll call you in when food's on."

I walked through the old colonial house, trailing my hand absently along the gleaming wooden tables, smiling at the cacophony of Native American hand drums mixed in with Celtic knot work and massive crystals perched precariously on ledges. I pushed through the back door and stopped. Two teens were sparring on the lawn. Not kids at all, faelings of Choosing age. I caught the door just before it was about to slam shut, instinct making me dull the noise.

The boy wasn't bad. Rough movements, but clearly some training. He needed more work, for sure, but he'd be able to hold his own in a bar fight.

Too bad he was fighting a professional.

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