Shadows to Stars Chapters 10 and 11
Your mind spins from all the possibilities contained in the secrets Bodach shared with you. As you inhale the scent of rain and step onto the damp sidewalk, the old man steps out of the alley to join you.
Bodach tips his hat. "Did you put the pieces together?"
With a long inhale and a hard gulp, you offer your would-be paranormal mentor your summation. "The kind of Fae powerful enough to ward an entire island seem to live only in the Underworld, a place that's been cut off from our world. That “recruiting poster for t he Unseelie Army. You think its Unseelie gentry on that island, but it’s not possible that they’re actually there.”
With a rumble of assent and a rolling gesture with his hand, Bodach suggests you continue.
"But it may not be Fae at all, the strange mist and even weirder way Sauvie, itself, is behaving suggests someone more powerful than even the strongest Fae. Since you gave me pages about both Nuada and the Morrigna, perhaps specifically Badb Catha of the Morrigna, given her doom and gloom prophecy. But why, and are Fae and Badb working together?”
Bodach rubs a grisled hand along his snowy beard. "That's the million-dollar question, my friend. But you missed a certain slippery, shapeshifting something."
"Robin Goodfellow. But doesn't he point right back to the Unseelie Fae on Sauvie?”
"And yet he is not actually on Sauvie. Rather he's been in center city Portland long before any of this started. Seemingly waiting.”
You chew the inside of your cheek. "And he knows a little too much about what's happening there."
"Precisely. Which is why I need your help. My Order have sworn some particular oaths. Of these I cannot yet share with you, but recently people we are bound to protect are being killed. What few clues we can gather always lead to Sauvie Island. Our hands are full keeping that bloodline safe, which is where people like you come in."
You have the distinct feeling you are being recruited. "What could I possibly have to offer your mysterious order?"
"You're uniquely suited, really. You have the Sight, and clearly you have both curiously and nerve. I won't mince words with you, but we could use another set of eyes."
While you mull your reservations, you admit to yourself all this hidden knowledge has been fun. "Okay. I'm in. For now."
"Jolly good! Your first official assignment is to follow Selina and that phooka to Sauvie, but do not try to cross onto the island. You there only to observe the actions of that phooka. He's long been a wild card in this whole mystery. Stay out of sight, and when you can, return to the vault and give me your report."
The Phooka shifted form instantly, black scales unfurling over his massive body as he expanded into the shape of a jet-black dragon. Smoke curled from his nostrils, the heat distorting the surrounding air.
Two goblins and an elf woman sprinted toward them, swords drawn.
Charlotte shrieked, and almost dropped her knife.
Selina braced herself beside the teen, blade held chest-high, ready to strike at anything that got too close.
The Phooka inhaled sharply, then unleashed a jet of flame. The elf woman keened as fire consumed her, and she crumbled to ash. Both goblins hit the dirt, rolling away from the heat. One dove right, the other left, scrambling for an opening.
Selina lunged at the nearest goblin before he could regain his footing, driving her knife into his neck. His blood burned hot over her hands, and she yelped.
A sharp cry rang out. “Humans!”
Another answered. “Are they changed?”
Selina whirled. The Sidhe male had emerged from the house, flanked by two winged women. More goblins poured from the mist.
They were outnumbered.
“Phooka, flight is our only chance,” Selina barked.
Another burst of flame set a goblin alight. “Risky. Too many trees.”
“Riskier than this?”
Charlotte stood frozen, the Sidhe closing in on her.
Selina’s breath caught. “Char—”
A blur of movement. A haunting yowl split the silence.
Something feral slammed into the Sidhe, tearing out his throat in one savage motion.
The thing wore the shredded remains of a blue plaid shirt and tattered khakis. Its features were thick, but essentially human beneath wiry, dark brown hair that covered his face and arms. Slick Fae blood cascaded over his mouth and neck.
Selina barely had time to register it before the creature launched itself at the white-haired Fae, tackling her to the ground. Her wings fluttered, a frantic attempt to escape, but she was too slow. The monster bit deep into her shoulder, teeth sinking into flesh and tearing. Chewing.
The Phooka’s dragon form snapped into that of a wolf, his golden searched for an escape path.
The remaining Fae fled into the mist.
Selina’s breath came in ragged gasps. This wild, humanlike figure was what the Fae were hunting. It had left those half-eaten bodies behind.
“Phooka, help her.”
Charlotte had drifted too far from them. She stood transfixed as the creature stalked her.
Sour bile coated the back of Selina’s throat. “Charlotte, run!”
She didn’t move.
The creature snarled, bloody drool stretching from its fangs. It sprang. Then stopped inches from Charlotte.
The Phooka’s hackles rose as he darted forward. He was nearly at Charlotte’s side when Selina flung out a hand. “Phooka, wait.”
The shapeshifter froze, his muscles coiled.
Selina crept forward, her ears buzzing. Up close, the creature’s face still retained faint traces of humanity despite the heavier bones and sharper teeth. The Unseelie had described the people on this island as changed.
A weight settled onto her shoulders as she pieced it together.
The fog.
As if in response, the mist coiled over her skin, its touch like thousands of tiny needles burrowing into her flesh.
Charlotte’s lip quivered. “Dad?”
A garbled, inhuman wail tore from the beast’s throat.
Charlotte’s name.
The Phooka growled, bound by their bargain to protect the girl. He advanced. Selina grabbed a fistful of his fur. “Phooka, wait. He’s not attacking.”
“Yet.”
Charlotte snapped out of her shock, stepping between them. “Don’t hurt him. We have to get him out of here. We can help him.”
Selina’s eyes misted. It was the longest shot, but if she could get Ellis to the Lodge, someone there might be able to reverse the transformation. If any hope remained for him, the Lodge was it.
Ellis Holloway groaned, pressing his chest to his knees. “Go.”
“No, Dad—”
“No control,” he choked. “Hunger never… ends.” His claws raked down his own face, leaving bloody trails.
The Phooka dove, clamped Charlotte’s hoodie in his teeth, and yanked her back. She screamed, thrashing in his grip.
Selina planted herself between them and Ellis, knife raised. “Sweetheart, I don’t think your dad can leave right now. It’s the mist. If we stay too long, we’ll be like him.” I have to convince Hieronymous to help me stop what’s happening here.
Ellis nodded furiously. He pointed at Selina.
Charlotte sobbed. “No, no, no. The Fae can help him! We had a deal. We have to get him off the island, so he goes back to normal.”
The Phooka’s voice softened, uncharacteristically gentle. “Oh, there’s no reversing the magic that changed him. This change is permanent. He’s no longer Ellis Holloway.” A low, mournful whine rumbled in his throat. “If Ellis leaves, he’ll kill hundreds of innocent people.”
Selina unconsciously angled her knife toward the Phooka, who spoke her own concerns about Ellis with an uncanny certainty. Through this whole journey, nothing had shocked him, not even Ellis Holloway’s present state.
Charlotte screamed, wrenching against him. “I love him! He’s all I have—”
Ellis let out a broken sound, biting into his own fist hard enough to draw blood. “Char. Go. Love y-”
The last word descended into an anguished shriek. Then something in his eyes flickered.
And died.
The human part of him, whatever was left, vanished.
Hunger took its place.
Ellis threw his head back and howled. Then he launched himself at Charlotte, gnashing his teeth.
The Phooka moved like lightning. He knocked Charlotte into Selina’s arms, shifted into his horse form, and kicked Ellis clean through the doorway.
“Dad!” Charlotte clawed toward him.
The Phooka turned his glowing golden eyes on Selina. “Get the knife away from her.”
Selina pried the blade from Charlotte’s shaking fingers and flung it into the bushes. The Phooka’s eyes brightened.
Charlotte’s sobs cut off. Her face went slack.
Selina had to abandon her own knife as the Phooka knelt, allowing her to climb onto his back. She reached for Charlotte, pulling the girl into place in front of her. “Phooka, get us the hell out of here.”
“For once,” he muttered, “we agree.”
He broke into a gallop, racing down the shattered road toward the bridge.
The sky in the east held the first blushes of dawn by the time the Phooka, in his human shape, and Selina guided the glamoured Charlotte to Selina’s minivan.
Selina’s throat felt tight. She’d failed again. She didn’t hold the Phooka to the letter of their bargain, and Ellis Holloway remained trapped on the island. Maybe she’d given up too fast and taking him to Hieronymous had been possible after all.
No. I didn’t fail. Not really. Ellis Holloway was lost to his metamorphosis before we arrived. The Ten of Swords in Charlotte’s reading proved that, and the hidden forces The Moon had revealed were Fae. Charlotte and I are the only ones who’ve experienced the island’s enchantment and return. She vowed, silently and fiercely, to rally others to intervene. This wasn’t over.
At the very least, the island’s wards would protect Charlotte from herself. Without Fae's help, the teen couldn’t return.
She had no family now, but Selina was stepping into that void. Maybe she was a poor substitute for Ellis, but Charlotte deserved even a makeshift family. Selina pulled the blissed-out teen into an embrace, a tear rolling down her cheek.
“What am I going to do with you now, sweet?”
The Phooka stepped gingerly around the iron-laden vehicle, watching them with an unreadable expression. “Simple. We leave her glamoured.” His voice carried no cruelty, only a matter-of-fact certainty. “The little foundling will never stop tilting at windmills trying to rescue her father, who, technically, no longer exists. Worse, she’d draw the wrong sort of attention trying.”
The shapeshifter tossed his dreadlocks back over his shoulder and focused on the teen. There was something almost sad about the way he looked at Charlotte.
Selina pushed her rising anger back down. That was why the Phooka had been able to leave Ellis behind despite his bargain with Selina. The poor man was no longer himself. A loophole. The Fae always found one.
“How do you know, for certain, Ellis’s transformation can’t be undone?” She straightened, her jaw tensed. “Maybe Hieronymous can send some of his people to bring him back. We don’t know if time out of the mist would reverse it.” She doubted it, but she wanted to see the Phooka’s reaction.
The Phooka pulled himself tall, and circled Selina. “Oh, there is no reversing that magic.”
“You seem to have known what we’d encounter back there. How?”
A wide, bright white grin spread across the Phooka’s face. “Things have started here that you cannot understand. Events must unfold as they are. I can’t have you or your ogre paramour interfering.”
A strange warmth rushed through Selina’s veins. She laughed, light-headed, and swayed slightly.
That little shit is glamouring me.
She clenched her jaw and forced her hand along the outside of the car. Most of the iron was covered by paint, but her fingers brushed against a tiny rust spot beneath a chipped section. It was enough. The cloying spell slowed, faltered.
The Phooka passed a hand in front of Charlotte’s slack-jawed face. “Now for you, a deeper enchantment.” He shimmered and shifted into his true form.
Selina staggered toward the teen, limbs sluggish. “You swore not to harm either of us.”
Another wave of giddiness crashed over her, pushing her back. She scrabbled for the rust spot again, gasping as the iron’s bite cut through the glamour.
The Phooka stroked the hair on the bottom of his chin. “I have completed every possible one of our contractual demands. My debt is paid, but I did not promise to never harm you.”
Stupid, Selina.
She had thought herself so clever when she had phrased their deal. Not once had she considered what the Phooka would do after the bargain was fulfilled. She should have specified that, for the length of her and Charlotte’s lives, he could not harm them.
Now, they were both at his whim.
The Phooka’s high donkey laugh grated. “Oh relax. All I did was glamour the girl, so she doesn’t recall our adventures. She thinks her father died years ago. And she always will.” His expression softened, almost tender, as he ran a palm along her forearm. As Selina opened her mouth to reply, he lifted a hand. “And Tír na Nova will create a trust fund that will ensure she is safe and taken care of for the foreseeable future.”
Selina angled her body away from the Phooka. Fae couldn’t lie, yet this sounded too good to be true. The Phooka was under no obligation to be kind or to aid the teen materially. His sudden benevolence baffled Selina.
The Phooka’s spreading grin regained its sinister edge. Selina sensed the situation for her was going pear-shaped fast. “Very kind of you.” Selina edged her way to the front of her car.
The wind rustled the long ruff of fur around the Phooka’s neck as he lifted a hand. The smile slid from his face and a hard glint filled his eyes. “No loose ends, Selina. You don’t need to know what’s coming next. This is a kindness, really. You won’t recall the horrors you saw tonight. Or that Sauvie Island’s new Fae residents are up to something Bond-villain big.”
Selina pounced, shoving him hard.
An oracular disorientation slammed into her, a vision unfurling in her mind’s eye.
In the city, Fae clogged the skies, diving for the ground toward a hapless, glamoured crowd below. One brown haired woman, unglamoured and wearing one of Selina’s rowan and iron-wire pendants, was screaming a name, but the triumphant cheers of the descending Fae drowned it out.
Selina staggered back, trying to distance herself from the Phooka. And the vision clamped down, crashing against the Phooka’s erasing glamour, pushing it back.
Selina reeled, mind spinning. The Fae never stole so many people at once. Controlling them would require extensive magical effort. Even in the Underworld.
The skyscraper. That gigantic building alone in the woods from her previous vision. For themselves, Fae would never build such a structure. Maybe it was housing for the hundreds of abductees. But for what larger purpose?
The vision intensified. The brown-haired woman whirled around and flung her hand out to a tall man with long silver hair. “Nuada”, she wailed.
Selina yelped. Nuada was a god. And the gods had abandoned humanity long ago.
The vision shuddered as the Phooka’s glamour clawed at her mind, but it wasn’t strong enough to erase it completely. One last image flared.
Nuada’s face drained of color. “Harper!” he shouted as a black wolf with glowing yellow eyes sprinted toward her. To harm or help, his motive was unclear.
Selina staggered and bent at the waist, breath ragged. Even in the future, the shapeshifter was in the middle of the Fae’s plot. Her instincts had been correct; the Phooka knew.
The girl’s face etched itself in Selina’s mind, that same prophetic power that cursed her with visions screamed Harper was the fulcrum on which the brewing conflict she’d stumbled into would turn. The urge to protect both Charlotte and Harper simmered in her chest alongside rage at the destruction the wicked Fae planned some time in the future. The vision ended and its protections against the glamour faded.
“I’ll stop you,” she spat, voice thick with fury.
The Phooka’s smug expression faltered. For a fraction of a second, his ears laid back, his pupils dilated. Then, just as quickly, his grin returned.
His voice dropped to a growl. “Pesky witch. What did you see?”
Selina’s body trembled under the pressure of his spell, but she forced herself tall. Defiant. “I’d never tell you, fairy.”
His expression darkened as he lifted his hand. The shapeshifter’s eyes flared. “Won’t matter anyway, gypsy.” His voice was calm, final. “You understand nothing, but I really can’t have you changing the course of coming events. Please understand it’s for the best, and I will let no harm come to Charlotte.”
Selina’s body convulsed as the glamour struck, stronger than before. It was not the same gentle embrace.
It was an obliteration. Her thoughts, her will, her very sense of self buckled under the weight of it. “I have my own magical blood,” she hissed, voice strangled. “Glamour will only work on me for so long. I’ll eventually remember. I’ll—”
“You’ll forget.” The Phooka’s tone was almost pitying.
“And when you start to recall…” Something flickered across his face for an instant. Regret? Sadness? “I’ll be there to renew it.”
No. I can’t forget. I won’t. I’ll stop this. Find this Harper woman… for Charlotte.
Selina succumbed to bliss.
Somewhere, in the depths of her subconscious, an echo of rage and fear struggled to surface.
Ridiculous. Life was perfect, and she was deliriously happy.
She slid down against the bumper of her car and slept.
***
A blaring car horn jolted Selina awake. A middle-aged man hung out his sedan’s window. “You all right, miss?”
Selina stretched and offered a good-natured wave. “Leg cramp. All good.”
Satisfied, the Good Samaritan tipped his chin and drove away.
She rubbed her temples, a jittery unease permeated her core. The warm light of dawn brightened. How did I get here?
A Fae prank. She must have had a bit of Hieronymous’s special brew after her shift at Fògradh Lodge last night.
She heaved her body up and found her keys still in the ignition. As she started the car, a mild anxiety crept over her. Something was missing. Something important she really should recall.
One idea boiled up from the haze. Selina needed to keep a much closer eye on the Fae. The conviction rang true, yet the reason refused to form. The thought slithered around the edges of her mind. Then slipped away like the mist in the morning sun.
The end.
___
From your spot behind the parked car, Selina's exchange with Robin Goodfellow looked bad. Like a battle of magical will, but you dared not intervene. Bodach’s warnings surfaced: the phooka may be evil. But then again, hadn’t he been kind to the girl? That kindness complicates everything.
Was the shapeshifter’s promise to glamour Selina to bury her vision another kindness or something far more sinister? Just when one of the phooka’s actions places him on one side of a moral divide, he does something to put him on the other.
You hurry back to the vault on Burnside.
As he promised, Bodach was waiting. The man perched on a tall chair hunched over an open book one hand curled around a steaming cup of tea. You tell him everything.
He sets the mug down slowly. Tea slides down the porcelain like sweat.
“And Robin Goodfellow?”
"He absolutely knows something huge is brewing, and may even know whether gods or Fae are the drivers. I'd assume if he were part of whoever is messing with Sauvie, he'd not need Selina and Charlotte’s quest to alert him that events were in motion.”
Licking your lips, more pieces slide into place. “He knew already Fae were plotting, taking over Sauvie. Something ‘Bond-villain’ big, to quote the phooka. If he were behind the changes on Sauvie, wouldn’t he have stayed? Or killed Selina and Charlotte outright?”
“Hm. True. And if he were acting on behalf of the Fae Courts, he’d have had no reason to bring them to the island in the first place. Too risky.”
A pause.
“But he did warn her not to interfere with what’s coming.”
You nod. “You were right, he’s a wildcard.”
Bodach’s voice drops. “With known allegiance to the Unseelie King of Air and Darkness.”
You shiver.
“My young student,” he says, rising, “this phooka is now your ongoing assignment. But for now, I have Order business that cannot wait.”
He dons his coat in one practiced sweep, grabs his hat, and steps to the threshold.
“Whatever’s gathering on that island it isn’t just Fae. And it isn’t going to wait for us to catch up.”
With a wink, he’s gone leaving you alone in the elaborate room, heart pounding, with one thought you can’t shake:
Whatever’s coming… it’s already here.
***
Is this the end or just the beginning?
Hi, {$name}!
You made it.
You’ve walked through a tear in the Veil, faced down secrets, shapeshifters, and smokewrapped bargains, and come out the other side.
Wiser? Maybe.
Entertained? I hope so.
You’ve probably guessed by now: Shadows to Stars is a prequel novella that opens the door to an Urban Fantasy series that’s what you’d get if American Gods stopped being polite and actually burned things down.
Only this time, it’s drenched in Celtic myth.
What if the legends of Celtic myth continued into the present day?
When the Tuatha dé Danann, the Celtic gods, arrived in Ireland, they fought two great battles; the First and Second Battles of Moytura. The first war was against the ancient inhabitants of Ireland, the Fir Bolg, and the second was against the wicked Fomorians.
The ancient Celts had a bit of an obsession with things occurring in threes. Triple goddesses, three worlds, and it's always the third prince who makes the right choice. He kisses the withered hag and wins the beautiful bride.
There’s a third battle.
It didn’t happen in the past.
It’s happening now.
This series is that story.
And yes—you’ve already glimpsed Harper O’Neill.
You saw her in Selina’s vision. You felt the pulse of something bigger building on Sauvie Island.
Now it’s time to step onto the battlefield.
Her life was hardly the stuff of fairy tales… until the fairy tales came to kill her.
Harper O'Neill’s life has been unraveling ever since the unsolved murder of her father shattered her childhood more than a decade ago.
Every time she sleeps, the same night terror plays out.
An imposing man wearing an antlered mask.
A woman’s dark laughter.
Creatures with jet-black eyes, dripping wet.
Her mother screaming while ten-year-old Harper hides in the shadows.
She convinced herself the dreams weren’t real.
Then rumors start to spread, about the Dark Boys. Strange black-haired teens have been seen around Portland, always soaked to the bone even in dry weather. People are vanishing, including Harper’s best friend. While searching for him, Harper stumbles into a mass abduction by the same black-eyed creatures from her nightmares.
And they whisper her name.
That night, magic erupts from her chest.
Now Harper is being hunted. Not only by the Dark Boys, but by every Fae minion of the Celtic goddess Badb Catha. The goddess is raising an army to save the world from humanity’s destruction, and Harper is the key to her victory.
The fate of humanity depends on one young woman’s ability to survive a rising war of gods and monsters. Does Harper have what it takes to stop Badb's genocide, or will her own inner demons destroy her first?
The Last Battle of Moytura has begun.
It started on Sauvie Island.
It ends with Harper O’Neill.