and nibbled a corner of my cookie, the sugar content doing much to banish the remnants of my nightmare. Tonight’s dream was a repeat of those I have had in the past. It is always the same, being chased by angry villagers and hounds, the stabbing thorns, the pain and blindness. This had never happened to me, though there had been a few close calls in Salem some years back. Shaking my head, I closed my eyes and let myself slide back into my memories.

Chapter Two

I remember, through a haze of ages, that I left the Holy Isle as soon as I was grown enough to do so, no longer wishing to be controlled. I never achieved the rank of High Priestess, even though the potential was there. I longed more for travel and adventure. Of course because it was forbidden, I cloaked myself in magics and traveled first to my mother’s court. I remember walking those halls, I remember seeing her then and thinking if there was ever a more regal and glorious creature, I had never laid eyes on them. I presented myself to her, at court, as Lady Regina Mayhue. As I bowed to her, her eyes flashed bright emerald, a flash that only I could see and I knew then and there she recognized me. She welcomed me to court, and I went to mingle with the rest of the fawning crowd. Not long after my introduction, the Queen claimed a headache and said she needed air, that she was going to go for a walk in her gardens. “Lady Mayhue, will you attend me?” she asked, though stated as a question I had no doubt it was a demand. I crossed to her and held out my hand to help her off the throne, her strong arm immediately twined in mine as she steered me, quite forcibly I might add, out of the room.

We walked in silence for some time, taking hallways that were ill lit and very lightly traveled. Eventually we came to her private gardens. The sight that met my eyes, eyes that could see beneath the glamors placed here, were amazed and full of wonder. The colors and textures here nearly smote my eye. There were trees and plants, animals and rocks that belonged no where on Earth. I was sure at that moment that there things were gathered from Underhill and brought here, to be hidden for the Queen’s pleasure and kept safe from reality by her powerful magic. Smoothing her voluminous skirts, she seated herself on one of the many benches, this one woven from a living tree. Patting the seat beside her, she gestured for me to sit. Mustering what grace that had passed from her to me, I mimicked her actions and took my seat.

For long moments she merely studied my visage, as if checking for flaws or committing it to memory. “Your are a lovely young woman.” she eventually said, her voice soft for the moment. I blushed at the compliment. “Thank you mother.” I hadn’t actually meant to say that, and felt the instant it left my lips that it was exactly the wrong thing to say. She drew back as if scalded “Mother? I am the mother of all of England yet claimed by no one of the Blood.” I was dumbstruck, this was not at all how I thought this meeting would go. In my fantasies, she welcomed me with open arms, made it known I was her daughter and we lived happily ever after; the Queen and her Princess. I could tell by the look in her eye that this was THE most unlikely outcome. Clearing her throat she put a finger to her lips. With a complicated gesture, she cast a spell, too complex for me to follow. In the blink of an eye, however, though my true sight still beheld the wonder of the gardens, I could see that had made them look overly normal and, as I watched, another pair of figures, us once again, walked further down the path; arm and arm.

“Now we may talk, no one will see or hear anything in these gardens but what I wish them to.” I still was at a loss for words, my mother, the one being in the world I had hoped would love me, seemed set on denying me....at best. She had dropped the glamor about herself, letting her true face shine through. Yes, there was truly a resemblance, a great one, between her and I. We had the same golden skin, the same summer leaf hair, the same eyes with the cat slits for pupils. She too had arching antennae that swept back over her head however, even in this form, she possessed magnificent wings and I had no doubt could carry her in flight. Looking me over again, she asked “Where are your wings child?” I cast my eyes down to my lap and answered in a very chagrined voice “I only have wings when I become the wolf.” Again, her entire body gave the impression of leaning away from me. “And so, Robert’s blood does run wild in your veins.” I merely nodded my head, ashamedly. Using her long fingers, she lifted my head to stare into my eyes “There is something of him in your eyes as well and in your bone structure.” I sought to drop my eyes again, but she held my chin tightly “No child of mine should ever act with shame. Your parentage was not your fault nor the fact you were born so far on the wrong side of the sheets that I can not claim you as my own, no matter how much I would like that.” It was then that she smiled at me and for a moment, I felt all the maternal love that I had missed these many years; it was as if I was suddenly bathed in summer sunlight. I returned her smile with one of my own, the first I had truly felt or meant most of my life. Her face clouded over quite suddenly. “You remind me too much of your father, and I can’t abide thinking of him and his betrayal.” She turned her head then, suddenly very interested in a crimson blossom that grew close to our bench. Speaking into the air or to the flower, she said “You can not stay here at court or even in England, but there may be a way you could be of use to me, should you decide that I am worthy of even that much interest.” Taking her hand, I slid to my knee in front of her “Even if I would not serve you as my mother, I would without a doubt serve you as my Queen.” Still fingering the blossom, she looked down on me, kneeling there in obeisance, a grave smile on her full mouth. “There is a new man at court, a Sir Walter Raliegh, who has been to the New World and is planning a trip back; I think you should go with him, as my eyes and ears. There, no one will know of your heritage and therefore, can not fault you for it.” My eyes welled up with tears at the thought, but because she requested this as my Queen, there was no way, in either the mortal or Fae world that I could resist. And so, on the next trade winds, I was stowed aboard a great square rigged sailing ship, in the guise of a court page, to travel to the new world with the great Raliegh, and here I have remained ever since.

The promise of the impending dawn brought me out of my musings. My eyes strayed to the windows above my sink, and though I could not see the sky beginning to lighten in the east, I could feel the storm of emotions in myself, warring within me. As a summer fae, I loved dawn and the rising of the sun, as a wolf, I despaired at the setting of the moon and the rising of cruel Helios. It left me, for the moment the sun took to actually clear the horizon, in a state of confusion and complete helplessness for it was the line between the two halves of my soul being drawn and then crossed. Dawn was a very dangerous time for me, the changing of the guards so to speak, and though neither of my powers were weakened AFTER those moments had passed, while they reigned, I was without anything with which to defend myself. Lucky for me, few beings presently on this Earth or any other, knew my secret. Finishing my tea in one final unladylike gulp and the cookie with it, I went back upstairs to lay down in my soft bed and await the dawn.

I dozed, fitfully, the near dream state bringing back the nightmare from before. I hated this time of day, I felt mortal and weak; a state, that after all these centuries, I was still not used to. Once the sun was fully up in all it’s gilded glory, I got out of bed again, making sure to straighten the covers before going to draw a very hot bath. The plumbers had been confused when I had converted my large walk in closet into a master bath. The idea behind this being that with no windows, I had no need for disguises and could enjoy a moment of peace, as my true self. Going to the bathroom cabinet I chose some lily of the valley bath oil and added a generous amount to the tub. Turning on the water, I adjusted it to just NEAR scalding and sat back on the stool in front of my vanity to brush the sleep induced tangles from my waist length hair. Unpinning my curls, I let them tumble about my shoulders, watching the green tendrils dance in the light like summer leaves. Grabbing my boar bristle brush, I gazed into the mirror before me and began the daily chore of taming my hair into something that less resembled a briar patch. After a hundred strokes or so, my hair had settled into shining coils of jade and emerald. Grabbing the pins, I twisted the mass atop my head and re-secured it, so that I could bathe without having to get my very thick hair wet...again. Crossing to the garden tub, I let slip my nightgown and tested the waters with a toe; perfection itself. As I lowered my body into the perfumed water, I slid down until my neck and head were pillowed on the back of the tub, yet the rest of me was totally submerged. I surrendered myselt to joyous reverie for a moment, my mind clear of any recognizable thoughts, I was jerked from this bliss by a sound from my kitchen, that I instantly recognized as the pet door flapping. Almost immediately I heard a questioning “Me-rowr?”. My cat, Oberon, was apparently returned from his nightly haunts, and finding his food bowl empty, was asking how this sort of horror could have been allowed to happen. Raising my head I yelled “I will be down in a moment Obi.” There was an answering “mrrph” and I heard his sizable bulk land on the center island in the kitchen. He really wasn’t supposed to be up there, but a 25 pound cat pretty much does whatever he wants and his person just lets him; this too I have learned over the years.

Normally cats hate the wolves, seeing them as dangerous predators, and rightfully so. Usually they are very distrustful of the Fae as well, seeing the smaller ones, pixies and sprites and such, as glittering play toys and the greater Fae, Sidhe, Trolls and Ogres as being unnatural and therefore something to distrust; again, not without reason. Oberon however (I named him after the High King of the Sidhe) had simply been waiting for me one day when I came home, and when I opened my front door, he had marched in as if he owned the place and had always dwelt therein. Eventually I had the cat door installed, as he would not be kept as a pet or kept inside when he wanted to go out; shredded draperies and carpets attesting to that fact. Four years ago on the summer solstice I cemented our relationship by casting the familiar bonding spell that invited him to become my partner in all things magical, and he accepted. Since then, he had become my boon companion. Stepping from the tub, I reached for my towel to dry myself. After much buffing of my skin, I slipped into my glamor and into the dress I had brought with me from my bedroom closet. I shivered as the sapphire velvet slid over my skin, leaving me feeling much more alert and awake than I had since the early morning hours. You see I spelled each one of my dresses, so that they carried my disguise within their very threads. This was a painstaking business as I had to hand dye the threads and weave the cloth and sew the seams, but it was well worth it so that my mind could be involved with something else instead of holding the spell intact and seeming both scatterbrained and a bit dense. I slipped my feet into my china flats (who needed more height when you were already over 6 feet tall?) and crossed into the hall and down the stairs. When I reached the kitchen, Oberon was indeed snoozing on the center island, his bulk somehow woven around the candle arrangements. He looked both uncomfortable and unconscious at the same time; a feat I always marveled at. His eyes though flew open as he heard me cross to the refrigerator; he knew what came next. I reached in and brought out a very nice looking salmon fillet. Returning to the island, I began breaking up the fish with my fingers, Oberon’s yellow eyes never leaving my hands. I reached into the plate cupboard and brought out his favorite china plate; a cobalt fleur de lis in the center and a metallic gold ring around the border of the plate. I have never been sure why he loves this plate so much, but he will eat off nothing else; another familiar quirk I suppose. I grabbed a saucer as well, and filled that with heavy cream, both dishes I pushed forth to him as one would an offering to the Gods. Rising with surprising grace and speed, he sniffed the salmon first to make sure it was fresh enough for his liking, and set to to his feast.

Going back to the refrigerator, I gathered eggs and cheese to make myself an omelet. As I was cracking the first egg into the bowl, Oberon hissed behind me, and as I gazed down into the bowl, I found nothing but dark blood filling it; a bad omen indeed. In the parlance of Avalon, this was a sign of danger coming. I had studied long enough there to know that omens were often true, but just as often self fulfilling; either way in my line of work it didn’t bode terribly well. Humans would call me a private investigator, and indeed I had a license that proved as much but to my way of thinking I was a finder, not a detective, exactly, but more someone who found lost things as well as people, and when it came to the people, they often didn’t want to BE found. I quickly dumped the egg and blood mess in the sink; my stomach queasy; my appetite completely ruined. As I was washing up the bowl, my doorbell rang; the doorbell to my office, not my home. It was almost two hours two early for office hours and I had nothing pressing on the books this morning, but given how much keeping my familiar in fresh fish cost, I couldn’t afford to turn any client away.