Shadows to Stars Chapters 3 and 4

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A fine spray of fog dampens your face as you emerge from the incense-heavy shop, a quiet certainty forming in your chest. Selina Leanabel might hold real power.

Blue-tinged smoke lingers in the alley, curling through the evening twilight as you slip between towering buildings.  Pangur Ban sits just beyond the haze, nearly fully cat-shaped now. At your approach, he swivels his head, and catches you in his viridian gaze.

You tell him what you sensed during your tarot reading and keep all else to yourself.

"Well done... for a mortal." 

His long tail swishes, a pale curl of smoke rising from its tip. "She may be just what I need to free myself from this unfortunate predicament, and flee far from the center of whatever seismic events are about to unfold.”

Careful not to thank the feline directly, incline your head, offering a smile instead. “And my reward?”

Pangur Ban poofs into a misty cloud only to re-appear at your feet. He circles your ankles in a lazy figure-eight.

"Oh, our bargain is only beginning. I must meet Selina and avail myself of her powers. Only then will I share my most secret knowledge with you.”  

He turns, tail high. “Go now. Follow the Romani woman. You will be invisible to the Fae for several more hours. I will find you when the time is right."

Selina loaded Charlotte’s belongings into her green Dodge Caravan, then slid behind the wheel. As they pulled out onto the road, she fished a necklace from the glove box and passed it to Charlotte.

Charlotte crinkled her nose. “What’s this?”

“Protection. It’s a talisman. Humor me and put it on.”

Charlotte turned it over in her fingers. “It looks like a stick with some metal wire wrapped around it.”

“It is.  Iron and rowan wood. It repels Fae magic so they can’t make you see what they want you to see.”

Charlotte reluctantly swept the pendant over her head. “A stick and scrap of wire is going to protect me.”

Selina started to reply, but the words stalled. The road ahead angled toward Sauvie Island, and a cold prickle raced along her arms, as if the air had thickened around her.

A whisper curled through her mind. Turn around. Go the other way. You have better places to be. You can come back later. You don’t want to go to the island.

It was her own voice.

Selina’s grip tightened around the wheel. Beside her, Charlotte rubbed the back of her neck and shifted in her seat. “You feel that too?”

One hand on the wheel, Selina slid the other over the rowan stick. Maybe she was as bad at crafting amulets as she was at making Fae bargains. If they worked, they shouldn’t be this affected.

Charlotte squirmed. “Just like before. Every time I tried, I made myself keep going.” She licked her lips, eyes wide. “It gets worse once we make the turn onto Wapato Bridge.”

Selina’s throat went dry. “Worse how?”

Charlotte paled. “Terror so bad I screamed until my throat was raw.”

Selina considered turning back. “We don’t have to do this.”

Charlotte inhaled sharply, then forced her shoulders down. “No. I want to try again. For my dad. You’re magic. Maybe we’ll get across this time.”

The light ahead turned red, forcing them to stop at the final intersection before the bridge. The longer they sat, the stronger the nebulous fear grew. Her foot eased off the gas, just slightly, as cold sweat misted her skin. 

The light turned green.

Charlotte whimpered, one hand clamped around the passenger door, the other clenching the armrest. Selina pressed the gas and eased forward.

The second they crossed the intersection, terror slammed into her. Her pulse hammered. Her lungs squeezed. The wheel slickened beneath her grip.

Turn around. Go back. Death lives here. You’re going to die! Desperate thoughts battered her, and, though she knew this was a ward, Selina was powerless to stop the terror.

Beside her, Charlotte let out a strangled mewl, gasping as if she couldn’t breathe.

Selina forced air into her lungs. “I’m going to floor it. Once we’re through, the feeling should stop. We’ll find your dad and get the hell out.”

Charlotte’s chest rose and fell in rapid bursts, but she nodded.

Selina jammed the gas pedal down.

Her chest caved inward, ribs squeezing tight as nausea twisted in her gut. Charlotte screamed. The same words that pounded through Selina’s skull babbled from her lips.

 Turn around. Get out. Now. Flee. It’s coming.

Charlotte’s hands shot out and wrenched the wheel. “I can’t! We have to stop!”

The Caravan tilted. Selina shrieked and slammed the brakes. The second the car touched back down, she jerked the wheel, jammed the gas, and rocketed back the way they came. 

As soon as they cleared the bridge, the terror evaporated like a cloud of smoke. Neither of them spoke.

Selina felt like she couldn’t breathe until they reached home. They climbed out of the car in silence, then hurried inside like they were being chased.

The moment the door shut, Charlotte clamped her palms over her face, slid to the floor, and wept. “My dad’s dead, isn’t he?”

Selina dropped beside her and looped an arm over her shoulder. “We don’t know that. Not for sure.” 

Charlotte leaned into her. “You felt it too. I thought it was just me having a breakdown. I really wanted to find out none of this was real.”

Selina’s mouth was dry. “I’ve never experienced an enchantment that powerful.” She had spent her whole life surrounded by Fae magic, but nothing she had ever encountered carried the raw force that had just repelled them.

Charlotte wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “I don’t believe in magic.” She let out a half laugh. “But these past two days, I’ve experienced things I can’t explain. So tell me what power keeps me from going home.”

Selina sat back on her heels. “I’m not completely sure. But I know some people who might be able to help us. We’re going to figure this out. Keep trying. But not tonight.”

She rose and held out a hand. “Let’s get you settled in the spare room. I’ll make some hot chocolate and warm up some leftovers while you take a hot shower.”

Charlotte blinked up at her. “I can stay here tonight?”

Selina offered a small smile. “Of course you can. We’re in this together now.” It was true, whether or not she liked it. And the strangest thing? It felt good to be helping Charlotte.

Selina’s younger self had desperately wanted someone to take her by the hand and guide her through the bullying, the fear, and the terrifying manifestation of her prophetic power. 

Nothing could change her past, but today Selina could give to Charlotte what she never had. 

She glanced at the clock. In a couple of hours, she was due for her bartending shift at Fògradh Lodge. A date with Hieronymous always followed.

She hoped the ogre had answers about the spell on Sauvie Island. Maybe he could also solve the question that had gnawed at her since they fled the bridge.

Fae wards did more than keep people out. They rewrote memories. A properly crafted ward ensured that no one even thought about returning. Its victims told themselves that leaving had been logical, made up plausible stories justifying their avoidance. Or they forgot entirely.

Charlotte remembered. 

Either the girl also had magical powers that had not yet manifested, or her bond with her father was strong enough to defy enchantment.

Selina had a hunch they’d find out soon enough.

Once Charlotte was asleep, Selina slipped out to her minivan and headed to Forest Park, where the entrance to Fògradh Lodge lay. 

Her romance with the Lodge’s ogre proprietor was another of her potentially disastrous Fae-related mistakes. Hieronymous, though, was the exception to every rule about Fae lovers, or so she told herself. He’d been her sole support on the heels of her prophetic awakening when her oracular gifts still raged out of control. So she’d ignored the internal warnings and fell headlong in love with an ogre. 

A byproduct of the relationship was her continued interaction with the Folk, a mixed blessing. With her Sight, they would have sought her out anyway, offering bargains for glimpses of the future. But bartending at the Lodge gave her something rare; a vantage point. The Fae were chatty among their own, and overhearing their talk kept her one step ahead of them most of the time.

Which was what made the magic cloaking Sauvie Island so deeply troubling. Something this big should have leaked at the Lodge. It hadn’t. That meant either an entirely new faction of Fae had emerged… or something very different was at work there. The Lodge was her best chance for information.

Forest Park sat within Portland’s city limits, but at over eight square miles, it felt far more remote. Fògradh Lodge lay deep within, roughly a half-hour hike to the Witch’s Castle, a ruined stone structure mortals dismissed as a relic of local history.

The people of Portland didn’t know a sprawling bar, concert venue, and lodge sat beneath the park. How could they? The entrance was hidden from human sight and required blood from the magical races for entry.

Selina pulled into Forest Park, locked up her Caravan, and glanced around, ensuring no park staff were lurking. With one final glance over her shoulder, she wrapped a long black cloak around her shoulders and hurried to the Macleay Trail entrance. Thoughts of Hieronymous’s silky fur warmed her.

Fae were notoriously self-serving and fickle, yet Hieronymous was different. He had left the Seelie Court long before the Veil sealed, long before travel between realms became impossible. Distance from the gentry had shaped him into a Fae who truly cared about both humans and his own kind.

A dilapidated two-story stone wall sat beside the trail. Selina ascended the single flight of steps and fished a vial from beneath her cloak, a delicate container of pale pink crystal filled with silvery liquid. Hieronymous’s blood. She smiled, letting a single drop fall onto the stone before the archway. The moment it touched, the air shimmered, and a glowing blue door appeared.

The second it materialized, two hulking figures emerged, axes in hand.

River trolls.

Stringy black hair dangled over their massive shoulders as they jostled each other to be the one to confront her. River trolls weren’t the smartest of the Folk, but they were fiercely loyal, and terrifyingly strong.

The larger one stooped, bringing his grotesque face level with hers. “Welcome to Fògradh Lodge. Me Brax. Must give weapons.” He extended a massive, grime-covered hand, something blue smeared across his knuckles.

Selina smiled, and stepped to the side. “I don’t carry weapons.”

His brother, Glawd, fanned his face. “Smell bad. Like human.”

Selina bristled. I smell bad? The stench rolling off them, rot, sweat, and something fishy, was enough to make her eyes water. She held up the vial. “But I do have Fae blood, Glawd. Came from your boss.”

Shock flickered through their beady eyes, and the trolls’ expressions crumpled into despair. “She kill boss. Now we no have jobs.”

Selina slipped past their blubbering spectacle without another word. Some version of this ridiculous exchange happened every time she visited. By tomorrow, they’d either forget completely or see Hieronymous and remember they weren’t actually unemployed.

Descending the staircase, she felt the familiar shift in the atmosphere. The rush of voices, the clink of tankards, and the lively strains of rustic music grew louder. Even as she rehearsed the questions she’d ask Hieronymous, her mind kept circling back to the mystery on Sauvie Island; The strange skyscraper in the forest, Fae where they shouldn’t be, and what happened to the roughly thousand full-time residents?

Despite her dark musings, a small smile curled her lips as she stepped into Fògradh Lodge. The first time she’d come here, she’d feared it would be a dismal place, suffocating underground. She’d been wrong.

Massive trees formed the support pillars, thick branches arching high above like a canopy in an eternal autumn woodland. Golden leaves carpeted the ceiling, glowing lanterns nestled among them like fireflies. At the back, a long bar stretched nearly the length of the room, its stools occupied by every manner of Folk. To the Fae trapped in this world, this place was a comforting glimpse of home.

Selina scanned the room and spotted Hieronymous at his favorite table. His sharp, ivory tusks gleamed in the warm lamplight, as did the glossy horns curling over the top of his shaggy head. He wore a deep purple velvet brocade vest, the rich color accentuating the silky brown fur covering his arms and hands.

At the sight of her, he dismissed the Fae at his table with a nod, then swept her into his arms so forcefully her feet couldn’t touch the floor. Selina tilted her chin up, her lips parting as his mouth found hers. The kiss was warm, slow, lingering in a way that left her momentarily breathless.

With a satisfied rumble, Hieronymous set her down in a plush chair and signaled the bartender. “Honey mead, my love?”

 She nodded, and the satyr tending the bar quickly dispatched a sprite to fulfill the order. The moment Selina touched the thick ceramic mug, Hieronymous leaned back, studying her with a knowing smirk. “Something is clearly dominating your thoughts. Please elaborate.”

Selina told him everything.

When he didn’t respond, she let the silence stretch before finally saying, “It felt like Fae magic, but that’s impossible. To maintain a ward of that magnitude over such a large area…”

Hieronymous exhaled through his nose. “Yes. It certainly sounds that way.”

Selina narrowed her eyes. “That’s it?”

The ogre steepled his fingers. “Likely an enclave of gentry who don’t wish to be mere subjects of the two new Courts in this world, Dawn and Dusk. They may simply desire their own fiefdom.” He lifted a brow. “Still, a situation you should avoid. Whoever set those wards isn’t playing by the old rules of the Underworld Courts.”

“That’s your theory? Gentry? Maybe in the Underworld they could create a ward that strong, but here? It makes no sense.”

“Probably an unusually pernicious glamour.”  He flashed her his most winning smile. “Even humans with magical power are susceptible to glamours. Hardly a danger.”

Selina tilted her head. He wasn’t taking this seriously. Being obtuse wasn’t unusual for the Fae, but tonight, the trait brought a flush of anger. “What I felt in my bones was no simple glamour, it was a wall of power.  No Fae would use a spell like that for philanthropic reasons. This is bad. There are humans living on that island that are in danger. Charlotte’s father is missing. The girl is terrified and alone. If this is some attempt by some stranded Seelie or Unseelie to create a new homeland, it may be to your advantage to relocate them somewhere uninhabited. We all know what happens when the gentry form Courts.”

She carefully avoided outright asking for his help. Despite their relationship, bargains were too tempting for him. Much of his business income came from trading in information. Too often the unsavory kind.

Hieronymous curled his claws around her fingers, his touch as gentle as a spring breeze. “Aside from you, I avoid entanglements in the affairs of mortals.”

Selina pulled back. “Helping this girl is my affair. She’s young, alone, and scared.”

A stony expression settled over his features. “As much as I love you, this is not my fight. Besides, if something big were really happening, a patron would certainly have told me.” 

He lifted his glass, rolling the mead inside. “My position here is delicate. I keep the peace between the light and dark Courts and solitaries. Until it affects that peace, I dare not stir up trouble. Whoever is behind this has caused no strife for the Lodge.”

Whoever is behind this. His choice of words was telling. If Hieronymous was certain the Fae trapped in this world were capable of such power and were responsible, he’d have mentioned a specific faction. But he said whoever. He was fully aware of the threat level. His inaction would condemn Charlotte to facing this threat alone.

The electric jolt of anger shot her upright and sharpened her tongue. “Oh. I see. If it doesn’t affect your business interests, ignorance is bliss. Noted.”

The ogre’s fur bristled. “I read today of the tragic famine unfolding in your country of Ethiopia. Tell me, love of mine, how are you personally intervening in that?”

Under the table, Selina’s fingernails bit into her palm. By human standards, Hieronymous was the most morally upright Fae she’d ever met. Which added a deeper sting to his refusal. “Spare me the whataboutism. You don’t want to help because this only impacts humans - Charlotte, whomever is trapped there while epic magic unfolds, and me. Not Fae.”

The low rumble of his growl was audible even over the music and noise of the bar. When he spoke, he enunciated every syllable in a measured tone. “I think our mutual experience should lead you to an alternate conclusion. You demand understanding from me, should I not expect the same deference in return?”

Selina opened her mouth to press him, but he flashed his fangs in a warning grin. She snapped her lips shut.

His expression softened, and he tilted her chin with one finger. “Please, my love. Do not get involved with magic you don’t understand.”

That was all she would get out of him. She’d also hoped to explore the fact that Charlotte remembered her attempts to cross into the island.  The wards should prevent that, and Selina wanted to implore Hieronymous to test the girl for magical abilities.  She dared not bring that up now.

She met the ogre’s eyes and pressed her lips into a line as she slid from her chair. “Better start my shift.”

For Charlotte’s sake there was no time to ruminate over her disagreement with her lover. With a determined set to her jaw, she wrapped an apron around her waist and let her gaze drift over the crowd. Someone had to know what was happening on that island.

And like humans, Fae had one thing in common.

They always talked to the bartender.

***

A low rumble bubbled from Pangur Ban's chest as he drops beside you at the corner table you’ve claimed inside Fògradh Lodge.  

"Once again, my human friend, you've proven useful. We know exactly where Selina is. I am so close to my goal.”

His quivering tail matches the anticipation in his eyes.  “If you still want pieces of the Malleus Tenebrarum Sidhe, I have a task for you. One that may reveal how much Portland’s Fae know about what’s happening on Sauvie Island.”

You blink, confused.

He continues, “While I approach the witch for a reading, you’ll slip through the pub. Ssearch for anything unusual.  I’d focus on the reading room.”

You chew your bottom lip, drawing back.  “Unusual” among the Fae seems like a meaningless concept. 

The cat waved a paw.

“Most of the Fae living in this world are solitaries, moderately powerful at best. Look for powerful Fae who shouldn’t be here, eavesdrop, that kind of thing.”

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