His eyes widened. “I’ve heard of your kind but never had the opportunity to meet with any of you.” He glanced at Kipa. “You’re running with a dangerous crowd, my man.”
I wondered if Dek knew Kipa was a god, but there was no reason to think he didn’t. And it was true, the Ante-Fae were known to be dangerous.
“I can handle it,” Kipa said. “How about a drink?”
Dek glanced at me. “Would you care for a brandy?”
Brandy sounded like a good idea. “I would welcome a drink. It’s cold out there.” While he was pouring brandy into three very ornate goblets, I asked, “Who lives in the other cottage?”
“My daughter and her husband and my grandchildren. My wife was killed several years ago,” he said, his expression stoic. But beneath it, I could hear the edge of pain.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Hilde was killed by a hunter. He mistook her for game when she was in bear form,” Kipa said, his voice soft.
I winced. That was one danger all shifters faced, no matter where they lived. It was a hazard almost unique to their species—shifters always ran the risk of being killed by non-shifters. Most shifters could tell when someone was one of their kind, even if it was a different variant of animal form. But humans, Fae, and Elves weren’t quite so clear sighted when it came to the subtleties that went into discerning shifter from animal.
Dek turned around. “Yes, and that hunter paid blood money to me, and has done his best to make up for the mistake…but all the I’m sorrys in the world won’t bring back my wife. Anyway, yes, my daughter and her family live next door.” He let a soft breath whistle between his teeth. “Tell me, Raven, what are your skills and strengths?”
That was one of the more formal ways in Annwn of asking what you did for a living.
“I’m a bone witch. I’m pledged to Arawn and Cerridwen. I live over through the portals, and I read fortunes, clear spirits out of houses, and other odds and ends like that.” I accepted the crystal goblet. The warm scent of strong brandy rose to tickle my nostrils.
“Then a toast, to long years and many of them for all of us,” Dek said, raising his glass.
Kipa and I followed suit, then I took a sip of the brandy. It was like fiery silk trickling down my throat. Smooth, yet with a punch that clouded my senses. This wasn’t any generic brandy, that was for sure.
“This is good,” I said, my voice cracking from the alcohol. “What is it?”
“It’s a special blend that I get from an Elf I know who makes it. Knocks your socks off, doesn’t it?” Dek said, settling into one of the chairs near the fireplace. “So, old man, I don’t often get to see you. What brings you to my doorstep today?”
Kipa swirled the spirit in his glass. “I’m sorry it’s been so long. I’ve been embroiled in quite the mess back home. But that’s for another time. We need to know about a particular entity, and whether it’s a Crypto, or an astral creature, or what. You’re the expert on the subject, so I figured, go to the best, first. And Raven needs to ask your advice on gargoyles.”
“And so they all come to my door for answers,” Dek said, grunting. “All right, suppose you describe this creature to me?”
I described what Raj had told me about the astral entity, and told Dek what had happened.
“So, a bat-like creature with a pitchfork tail and horns? And it probably used its tail to try to strangle you? That sounds like a barrel of laughs,” he said, standing and heading for a bookcase that spanned half a wall on the other side of the room. He searched through row after row of books, and then finally pulled out a thick volume with a black leather cover. He carried it over to the table and motioned for us to join him.
“It’s easier to skim through the pages here,” he said, lighting the table lamp—an oil lamp that gave off a surprising amount of light. Kipa and I joined him, sitting opposite.
Dek handed me a notebook and a pen. “Can you sketch what the creature looked like?”
I stared at the paper and pen. “You didn’t get these over here.” The notebook was a college-ruled theme composition book and the pen was a gel-ink pen, common on Earth but not in Annwn.
“No, actually. A friend of mine returned from over on your side of the portal with a massive stash of goodies, and these were a gift. He knows how much I enjoy drawing, so he outfitted me with notebooks of all kinds, these wonderful ink pens, some colored pencils and paints—basically enough to last me for several years of sketching and writing.” Dek beamed. “I envy your easy access to these sorts of things, but I don’t envy what he tells me of the crowds in your lands, and of the pollution.”
“Well, you’re right to not envy that,” I said, taking up the pen. I began to sketch out what Raj had described. “Mind you, my gargoyle saw it, not me—so this is based on what he saw.”
“You have a gargoyle living with you?” Dek asked. “You get more and more interesting with every minute.”
I glanced up at him. “Yes, and I wanted to ask some questions about gargoyles, if you happen to have any answers.”
“Has he ever attacked you?” Dek asked.
I paused in my drawing. “No, never. I love him dearly and he loves me.”
“Then you have an unusual gargoyle. They can be highly volatile and dangerous, Raven. I’m surprised he hasn’t broken bones or scratched you bad enough for stitches.” He motioned to the paper. “Finish the drawing, please.”
I went back to my work, but in my heart, I was worried. What he said about gargoyles didn’t mesh with Raj at all. I needed to know more—and I needed to know sooner rather than later.
Chapter Twelve
When I finished, I handed the notebook back to Dek. He stared at it for a moment, then snapped his fingers and began thumbing through the massive book.
“What’s the name of that book?” I asked. “Have you ever heard of Beltan’s Bestiary?”
He glanced over at me. “Beltan was an impatient man and when he copied the texts from my book, he skipped a lot of them. I never understood why he didn’t want all the information. As you can see, this volume has twice what he ended up with.”
I stiffened. “You knew Beltan? He wrote the definitive guide on Cryptos—”
“I’m sorry to burst your bubble, my dear, but Beltan was nothing more than a copycat. And a bad one at that. I’ve seen what he published in your world and it’s a poor imitation of what I have here. I’m the one who researched and gathered this information over the centuries. When he accidentally came through a portal, I happened to be the first person he ran into.”
“How did he end up with your grimoire?” I asked.
“He landed through a portal in this wood and I saved his ass. I brought him home and he stayed with us for a bit. Not only did he steal my work, but he tried to seduce my wife, the asshole. Before he made moves on her, though, he happened to see me working on the compendium and asked if he could have a copy. I told him he’d have to copy it, but sure. He did, but he grew impatient and skipped vast numbers of entries. And then he laid hands on my Hilde and she beat him senseless and told me to get rid of him. I escorted him back to the portal. I didn’t give him permission to claim the work as his own, but he did anyway. Since he did so outside of Annwn, there’s not much I can do,” Dek said. “I do begrudge that he made a fortune off of my work and didn’t even think to give me credit.”