Part 2 (1/2)

His skin hardened to nearly stone. His legs fused together, and his arms stiffened, bent like aging tree branches. His face and head were swallowed up by what looked like living, breathing foliage. His feet, now roots, broke through the concrete floor and fixed into the earth. It all took maybe five minutes. And in the end, Ralph Donnelly turned into a tree.

”Jesus Christ.” One of Severin's lackeys's murmured. While the other turned, ran to a corner and vomited.

I had to fight the urge to retch. It was hard to look upon the grotesque transformation but I figured I owed it to the man to do just that. I reached out to touch him but stopped just inches away. I knew my hesitation came from guilt. Guilt that I had somehow done thing to him. That I had tortured and killed him. Because that was exactly what had transpired.

Obviously, Severin didn't share my guilt as he eagerly ran his hands over the grayish trunk of the tree that had been a man named Ralph Donnelly. ”Amazing,” he murmured as he circled the tree.

”Amazing? What the f.u.c.k Severin? A man just solidified and turned into a tree right in front of us.”

”I realize that Nina, I'm not blind.”

”How can you seem so...so pleased?”

”I'm not full of pleasure, love. I'm full of awe. This kind of power astounds me. I knew the fae to possess powerful ruthless magic but this...this is on a whole new level.” Then he laughed and it made me want to rip his face off. He turned and looked at me. ”I wonder if you could do something like this. If you possessed the right magic.”

That took me back. ”Jesus, why would I even want to? This is sick and twisted.”

”Sick and twisted it may be, but it did give us our portal.”

”What? I don't think I heard you right?”

”Our portal.” He tapped the tree.

I stared at him, certain he was putting me on.

”He said he was the way.”

”That doesn't mean...”

”Nina, you know the fae don't do anything without reason. Friend or foe didn't send this man to you for nothing.”

I turned away from him and paced the room. I didn't want to accept that he was right. The thought of it made my gut roil again. ”This isn't right. You shouldn't have taken him out of the hospital.”

”No one could've helped him. You know that.” He came to me and stroked my arm. ”He would've turned into a tree in the hospital and we wouldn't have access to him. He'd forever be a science experiment with people dissecting him and examining his parts. Here, at least, he can serve a purpose.”

”I didn't realize you were so cold.”

He dropped his hand and moved away. ”I'm sorry you think of me that way.”

Sighing, I rubbed a hand over my face. I was tired, hungry and still in a state of shock ta what I'd just witnessed. I hadn't meant to take it out on Severin. The urge to strike just consumed me. It was either that or implode.

”I'm sorry. I'm just...”

He gave me a small smile, then grabbed my arm and pulled me to him. He opened his arms and enveloped me. I sighed into his chest, grateful for the solid weight of him. For his strength. He kissed me on the top of the head. ”You don't need to apologize, love.”

I hugged him tighter, drawing him into me, inhaling his now familiar smell. He had a way of making me clam. This was likely one of the many reasons he was alpha of his pack. Although I wasn't a werewolf, I wasn't human either. So, maybe somewhere don our long line of ancestors we converged into one being. Which was why his beast could calm whatever humanity lay deep inside me.

After one final squeeze, I pulled back and turned to look at the Ralph Donnelly tree. My stomach still churned at the thought of what he had to do next. ”So, how do we get in there? Saw or ax?”

Chapter 3.

Six hours later, Severin and I were ready to go through the portal to Nightfall. Leaving a few of his pack members to stand guard, Severn had dropped me off at home so I could prepare, while he'd gone off to do the same thing. When he'd returned I was prepared to go into the depths of h.e.l.l to get my father back. I'd dressed for combat, with olive green cargo pants, black t-s.h.i.+rt and big black boots. I looked like an army brat. Severin was clothed equally as threatening. But he also brought some accessories.

I gawked at the long bow draped over his shoulder. ”Who are you? Robin Hood?”

”We need a weapon, and since we can't bring any iron through, I thought this would do us.”

I ran my fingers over the polished wood. ”It looks old.”

”It's about five hundred years old,” he said with that sly glint in his eyes.

”It's lovely.” I saw that it was a true English longbow made from st.u.r.dy yew. It had the tell-tale blend of blonde and dark wood. ”It's in perfect condition. Where did you get this, off the Mary Rose?”

”You seem to know your ancient weapons.”

”That's what years of research on the fae will do. I hung out with Wiccans and LARPers. Everyone thought it was my geek phase but I approached this as serious study. I learned a little bit here and found a dead end there. I decided the best source of information came from people who were into real medieval history and folklore. Recreationists, Ren Faire enthusiasts and such. By the time I graduated from high school I could list all the mistakes in Braveheart. ”

”You didn't keep it up?” Severin asked.

”By my soph.o.m.ore year in college my father got worse. I decided to concentrate on medicine. By junior year I switched to nursing. That way my dad would always have a caregiver. One who wouldn't ask uncomfortable questions.”

”I wouldn't have expected anything less from you,” Severin said. Then he held the bow in front of me and I marveled at it.

A dozen of details flooded my mind. I'd always been a great student. What I studied stayed in my brain. I ran my fingers along the stave. The yew was the preferred wood of bow makers. One side was light blonde the other darker, one type of wood was flexible the other provided strength. This was the weapon that dominated the battlefield during the Hundred Years Wars. It was so successful the English kept using them right through the Elizabethan Age. When Henry the Eighth's flags.h.i.+p the Mary Rose sank it carried hundreds of these bows. When the wreck was rediscovered they found the bows were still perfectly preserved because the water at that depth was nearly free of oxygen.

I shook my head at how much of that had come flooding back to me with one touch.

Severin drew back the bow string. His chest and shoulder muscles flexed and I felt a warm surge between my thighs. Jesus, I was a geek.

”You're right,” he said. ”This did come off the Mary Rose. That s.h.i.+p carried hundreds of longbows but few of them were this special.” ”Special?”

”The yew tree this bow was made from was marked by the fae. So it was more than an ordinary tree. And this is more than an ordinary bow.”

He tossed it to me.

”You try it.”

I had drawn a bow before. My first two years in college I had to take a sport so I decided on archery. I was even pretty good. But if this was a true Tudor longbow it had a draw weight of a hundred and fifty pounds which meant it took a hundred and fifty pounds of pressure to bring it to a full draw. Fortunately you didn't draw a bow with only your arms. Proper technique used the back, shoulders, almost the entire upper body. It was more like a bench press. Still that meant I would be bench pressing a hundred and fifty pounds.

”I work out a lot. But not that much,” I explained.

Severing just smiled. ”Try it.”

I shrugged and pulled back on the string.