I tried to sort out what my grandfather’s goal was. “But what’s his endgame? Why have me come over, since I’m not one of the Black Dogs?”
“To keep your father there. Curikan misses you, sweetie. Curikan was about ready to come home and your grandfather was frantic about it. He’s convinced that if he can bring out your father’s harsher nature, he will be the strong son that Dougal wanted him to be. You see, your uncles are dolts. They’re the perfect temperament to lead the clan, but they don’t have two brain cells to rub together to their names. So…”
I began to understand. “So, if Dougal can make Curikan more like them, then that—combined with his brains—would make for a powerful leader. But I still don’t understand why he needs to strengthen the clan.”
“Because there are other Black Dog families that are as old as Dougal’s. Rivals, if you will, and they don’t get along. Dougal is worried that in the future, his clan will die out or fade into a ragtag group. He’s looking for power, Raven. And he sees your father as the one son who can build that power.” Phasmoria picked up a slice of the pizza and bit into it. “Mmm, good. Dougal realized that you were the key to getting Curikan to stay. But when you refused to knuckle under, he decided that the only other way was to get Curikan to let you go. So he manipulated the Queen into making you a pariah. I think they had the plan worked out before you ever got there—what to do if you refused, that is.”
So I had been a pawn. A carrot to dangle in front of my father’s face, and then when that didn’t work, he unceremoniously ripped my father and me apart. “Fucking bastard,” I muttered.
“I have to agree,” Kipa said. “That’s a low trick, and somebody should take him to task.”
I was almost afraid to ask the next question, but I had to know. “So, what did my father say to you about everything?”
Phasmoria gave me a gentle smile. “He knows what Dougal is up to, now. And he’s heartsore about what happened. He’s turning in his formal resignation from the clan and returning here in a week. Curikan is coming home, and he’s asked me to speak on his behalf with you. He’s asking for forgiveness, for not standing up for you in front of the Banra-Sheagh and your grandfather.”
That was all I needed to hear. My father still loved me and he hadn’t been part of the trickery. I burst into tears, relieved and yet saddened that this had happened. And all the while, in the back of my mind, I knew that things would never be quite the same, and that I—and any of the Ante-Fae who supported me—would still be excommunicated from our people, and that might last forever.
Chapter Fourteen
After that, I was useless for the rest of the evening. All the conflicting emotions, along with the scare about the aztrophyllia, raced through me. I needed to relax, and as much of a release as sex had been, I wasn’t feeling relaxed.
I finished my pizza, adding in a fourth slice, then brought over my handpan and stand and set it up. “Do you mind if I play for a bit?” If anything could relax me, it was the haunting notes of Laralea—my handpan’s name. The music from the complex, UFO-shaped instrument resonated on an ancient level, sending me into a soft trance. I often worked magic with Laralea, but some days, I played her for fun or for joy or—like tonight—to relax.
“Please do,” Kipa said. “I love it when you play.”
My mother stared at it. “I don’t think I’ve heard you play. Please, go ahead.”
As they finished eating, I set to a pattern, closing my eyes and thinking of the mountains around here, the volcanoes and the massive forests and then the ancient groves over on the Olympic Peninsula. I played their music—the music of the watchful ones, the music of the sentinels of the earth who held sway over the land, whose deep roots burrowed so far into the ground that they had become entwined with the stones and fossils found below. I played the solitude of the forest, and then the wild cresting waves of the Pacific as she swept ashore, crashing in foamy white breakers, hauling driftwood logs to the beaches to toss them around like she was playing pick-up sticks.
And after I played the ocean’s strength, I began to play magic, welling it up to surround me, feeling it thread into every note, in every echoing sound the reverberated out of the metal shell. The magic grew, surrounding me as it swelled and spilled out of the notes—and then, I opened my eyes to find the living room was alive with dancing lights, in shades of pink and yellow, blue and green, and they darted around like dragonflies, crackling with the energy I had woven.
“Beautiful,” my mother whispered. “I’ve never heard anything so beautiful before. I had no idea you were musical.”
“I found this instrument when she was first being made—it wasn’t that long ago, actually, what…twenty years or so? And I fell in love with her. I realized I could make magic with her. And so, we began the journey together, with me figuring out how to weave the music into magic. Mostly, I use her for trance work, but there are times she’s helped me sort out spells.” I rubbed my hand over the metal. “I never play her when I’m wearing rings, because it could damage her.”
“You would fit so well within my society,” Kipa said. “In my homeland, music is prized. Bards hold magical battles by singing their spells. I can see you in the deep forests of the north, by one of the thousands of lakes, playing your music and weaving your charms.”
“Well, maybe I’ll bring her when we go to Kalevala tomorrow.”
“What’s this?” Phasmoria asked, perking up.
“We’re headed to my homeland tomorrow so I can introduce Raven to Väinämöinen, one of the Force Majeure. She needs to know how to perform a powerful spell because of—well, you tell her,” Kipa said.
I told my mother about what we had found out about the aztrophyllia that was attached to Lenny and how it had attacked me. “If I don’t dislodge it and protect him, he’ll die.”
“And if you do dislodge it, it may come for you. Have you thought about what to do in that case?” My mother didn’t seem entirely overjoyed about the idea.
“I need some powerful wards for the house to prevent it from gaining entrance. Best-case scenario would be to prevent it from ever entering the physical realm again. So maybe Väinämöinen can help me learn how to do that, as well.” That might be stretching good will a bit, but if you didn’t ask, you never got an answer.
“We should get to bed early,” Kipa said. “The journey to Kalevala requires going through a portal to Finland, and then through a portal there, which is actually in Mielikki’s Arrow.”
“Which portal will we be taking?” I asked.
“The one in the park next to Herne’s house. I let him know we were going, and he’s alerted Orla, the portal keeper, so she’ll be waiting for us. She’ll set the coordinates.” Kipa yawned and stretched. “I want to sleep tonight.”
Phasmoria frowned. “Well, if you’re going to Kalevala, I’m coming along.” She stood, picking up our plates. “I’ll put the pizza away and make sure Raj is fed. You two go on to bed.”