Portal: A Nina Decker Novel Part 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.

It was just like trying to press a Nautilus machine set to one fifty. My form was a little off but even after I made my adjustments it was still hard. I pulled with my shoulders, back and arms but it still wasn't enough. I grunted and strained. Sweat beaded on my brow. The string cut into my fingers. Finally I let it drop.

"It's too hard," I said.

Severin calmly picked it off the ground and handed it back to me. "You're pulling with the wrong muscles." He reached out and with the tips of his first three fingers to touch the center of my stomach. "Use what's in here."

I felt another burst of warmth from inside me. But this was only half desire. The other half was my fae body awakening. I felt uncomfortable. This was a part of myself I'd always kept under wraps. I had spent my life avoiding my faerie half. I didn't want to be labeled as a freak. I didn't want to be carted away from my father and thrown into some government laboratory. And I didn't want to admit that my mother was some dark fae princess.

"I don't want to," I said.

"You may not have a choice. This bow isn't for me. I already have a weapon. I just have to let it out of its cage."

Severin snarled a bit. His canines extended and then retracted.

"Your mother was a high fae," he went on.

"Thanks for reminding me."

"You have power in you, Nina. And I'll bet this bow was created to work with that power."

I closed my eyes and pulled again on the bow string. Warmth blossomed inside me. The bow string pulled back slightly. It was easy this time. But that energy inside made me uncomfortable. I forced it back down again. After all the years of hiding who I was, trying to deny my parentage, it wasn't easy to just stop and let it all out.

"You're not really trying," Severin muttered.

He was right. But still the tone of his voice triggered my anger. Had it been anyone else I would have shrugged it off. There had been one time when I had let the fae in me out. That was when Severin had provoked me. For better or worse the alpha werewolf was under my skin. He made me feel like no one else before. So he could irk me like no one else either.

I wasn't that mad but it was enough. A small fire ignited inside and it flowed into my hands. As I watched my arms pulled back the bow string. There was no effort this time. There was no tension in any part of my body. It was easier to draw than my bow in college. It was like a child's toy, the ones that fired foam darts.

"You can do it," Severin said.

That was all I needed to see. My wings popped out of my back even though I still had several hours to go on my glamor. I gently let the bow flex back into position. The surging heat inside me dampened. It didn't go away completely but that was probably because Severin was still there and he was still gorgeous. My anger at him changed to something else, fiery and pa.s.sionate. But this wasn't the time or the place.

Still I watched his sinewy, taunt body closely as he retrieved the rest of the archery kit. I savored the arch of his body as he bent over to pull out a vinyl case.

"Here's the rest of the equipment," Severin said.

I snapped back to the task at hand and looked over the bow's accessories. Severin give me a wicked smirk. He must have noticed me checking out his a.s.s.

I couldn't be sure whether it was fae magic that was making me feel this way or if it was just because I had to think of Severin in order to tap into it. Either way I gave myself a mental cold shower and got down to business.

"Let's have a look at this stuff."

Most of it was pretty familiar to me. I took out the leather arm guard and glove. The guard would protect my forearm from the bowstring. Supposedly a truly fine archer had a perfect draw and no need of the guard. I may have had fae power buried deep inside me but I had a sense I was going to need the guard unless I wanted a nice scar along my forearm. The glove would protect my fingers as I nocked the arrows. Speaking of ammunition it came in a plastic quiver. Inside I found wooden shafted projectiles with real goose feathers. The arrow heads were made of chipped flint. I wanted to ask how old these were. Thousands of chipped flint arrowheads had been recovered from the area around Vancouver and some dated back to the time when there was still a land bridge connecting this part of the world with Asia. But they could have just as easily been reproductions. A whole lot of people had rediscovered the art, from survivalists to anthropologists to guys who made them as souvenirs for the tourists.

I summed it up. "A sixteenth century bow, stone age arrow heads, and a plastic quiver. Eclectic to say the least."

"The important thing is there's no iron or metal. We can't take those through a fae portal."

I nodded. That made sense. Iron was the greatest weakness a fae had. I rode a motorcycle because I couldn't stand to be inside a car. It was only logical that they would make sure that any portal of theirs would filter out such hazardous material.

"Too bad. Fae magic or not I'd feel safer with a Glock," I joked. I did a quick count of the arrows. There were twenty. "Is this enough?"

"Trust me, it should be plenty."

"Are we ready to go?"

"Not yet. There's some pack business to attend to."

It was then I noticed that Severin's lackeys had surrept.i.tiously left the warehouse. I thought we were alone but then I saw Severin motion to a figure in the shadows to come forward.

When he did I nearly screamed.

"Decker," said Officer Stettler of the Supernatural Event Monitoring Agency. "Always knew you were a werewolf lover. I didn't think you'd go this far though."

Chapter 4.

I'd had the misfortune of dealing with Stettler and his redneck partner Coates on a number of occasions. Every time there was a suspected werewolf attack at the ER those two had shown up. From what I saw the pair did very little detective work. They just threw around slurs, insults and made inappropriate jokes. Now here he was in a secret pack location standing before the pack Leader. He still had that smug look on his face that made me want to slug him.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded.

He just grinned and nodded at Severin. To my shock Severin returned the nod.

Suddenly it dawned on me and I almost had to sit down. "You're a werewolf," I said to Stettler. "You're part of Severin's pack."

Stettler laughed. "You're not as dull as I thought you were."

For a moment I thought that this should have made me like him more, or at least like him a little. But instead I felt even more loathing for the man. I remembered every foul utterance that ever came out of his mouth. I remembered when he and Coates dragged away a poor woman they suspected of being a werewolf. Most of all I remembered his smug, cruel face. He had enjoyed those moments.

Severin let out a low growl to remind Stettler who the pack leader was. "Is it done?" he asked.

"Yeah. SEMA thinks I'm out on a hunting trip for the next few weeks. What 's all this about?"

Severin took a deep breath as if the next part was difficult for him to say. "You're in charge until I return."

At this point I didn't think anything could surprise me. But that one nearly took me off my feet. Stettler looked about as stunned as I felt.

He let out a nervous laugh. "Is this some kind of joke, Saint Morgan? Because if it is I don't find it funny."

"It's no joke," Severin said. "I need to appoint a leader in my absence and I've decided that it's in the pack's best interest that you take over." He fished a set of keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Stettler. "You're free to make use of the pack's house. I wouldn't recommend holding too many wild parties though. SEMA has eyes on that place and they wouldn't be too happy if they found out about you."

Stettler scoffed. "Those idiots? I've got them completely fooled."