Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 151630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 758(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 758(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Matilda frowns, deepening the wrinkles and crevasses of her face. “You make light of her. Or you don’t understand her.”
“She says you’re the path to eternity,” the king explains. “Mallt-y-nos, you need to understand I consider this young woman a daughter, and if you harm her, I will find a way to make your slice of hell even worse.”
The crone’s brow rises. “How little you know, Your Highness. But your ignorance is none of my concern. If you will allow my hounds to assure themselves yr un sanctaidd is safe, I think you will find they will calm and we can have a talk.”
“What do you want, Shy?” the king asks. “We can back off and let you handle this or we can fight here and now. I’m perfectly happy to do that. I think I can handle some hellhounds.”
“No, it’s fine.” For some reason I don’t think they’re here to hurt me. And I would love to know why she thinks I’m some sort of gateway to eternity. I’m just the chick who tries to get dead folk to walk into the light.
“We’ll be right here,” Neil promises as he moves to the steps again. “And I assure you I will change if I need to. Jeans be damned.”
The queen is the last to join them, and then I am surrounded by three hellhounds.
It’s not my first time around dogs. My family kept several along with cats. It is the stupidest thing, but I’m kind of following my instincts here. I put a hand out to the largest, palm down, to allow him to catch my scent. Or take my hand off with those insanely sharp choppers of his.
I hear the queen’s deep intake of breath as I offer my hand.
The hound takes a sniff and then makes a huffing sound, and I find myself surrounded by bouncy, happy hellhounds. They change utterly from snarling death machines to puppies who want attention. I find myself on my ass, laughing and trying to not let them lick my mouth.
“Hey, guys, you are very sweet,” I say as they start to settle down.
“I told you they would be fine once they knew she was all right,” Matilda says, walking toward me.
The Drowning Woman stays where she is.
Matilda moves in front of me and bows formally. “Un sanctaidd, my king wishes to meet with you. If you will allow me and my hounds to escort you to the Faery plane, we can be on our way.”
“Whoa,” the king says. “She’s not going anywhere.”
“You should listen to him,” Neil adds. “Your sacred one is kind of spoken for, and you will have one pissed-off elemental following you. He’s getting good with weather, so think about it.”
“I fear not the Green God,” Matilda replies. “Of course he is welcome to join his goddess. The fact that Rhys Donovan-Quinn has selected one of ours as his goddess gives all the kings hope. We are entering a new age. The stars have aligned, and we will either be destroyed utterly or we shall make this age one of peace and prosperity.”
“I wouldn’t think a death crone would care about peace and prosperity,” the king notes.
“Because for all of that death magic clinging to you, Your Highness, you do not understand death at all. You may deal it. May feel yourself mired in it. But you do not know death at all if you think it only darkness.”
“I’ve been to the Hell plane,” the queen admits. “It was a fearsome thing.”
“That is the Hell plane, a place created by and for very specific people. Annwn is our underworld. You only call it Hell because you have no imagination, Your Grace. And I also happen to know Shahidi is planning a trip to Faery along with the rest of you. Tell me, how are you planning to get through the wizard’s guards?” Matilda asks, summing up one of our problems.
I manage to get to the steps, sitting down. The hellhounds come with me. One on the step above me. One at my feet below. One beside me, his big head resting on my lap.
The queen sits with me and gives me a grin. “This is the fun part. I made friends with some black dogs once. Such sweeties. They get a bad rep. I mean, sure, throughout human history they’ve been death omens, but if you get past that they make excellent pets.” She looks at Matilda. “Will they let me pet them or try to bite my hand off?”
The mysterious crone—isn’t there always one—smiles slightly. “As you explained, you are the high priest’s goddess. They are Fae creatures. They had one mission, and it is done. I think you’ll find them to be happy for some affection. They are canines, after all. Despite the magic they carry, they also harbor the deep instincts. For love. Companionship. Like all dogs, they are as open as they’ve been taught to be. You’ll find my master takes care of his own.”