Hexed

leafy feel, even though they were made of stone and wood just like back Earthside. But their yards and lawns—they were brilliant works of art, living gardens that sparkled and popped with energy. Even in the winter, under a thick blanket of snow, they were filled with ice sculptures and the crystalline look of snow on conifers.
    Camille leaned her head against Smoky’s chest, and he wrapped his arm around her. She was five seven, and next to his six four, she was positively diminutive. “Where are we headed?”
    I let out a low sigh. “We meet Howl at the Wounded Warrior. It’s an inn.”
    “How will we know him? I assume you know what he looks like?”
    I nodded, quietly. I knew what Howl looked like all too well. “We’ve talked several times over the years. The last, near the fall equinox when I came to Otherworld with Camille. Howl and I met then, and I asked for his help.” And then I told them what I’d asked.

     
    SEVERAL MONTHS BEFORE, near the autumn equinox, I’d journeyed back to Otherworld with Camille and Morio—her second husband. While Camille reunited with her alpha lover Trillian, Morio and I’d prowled the streets of Dahnsburg. I’d left Morio outside in the streets telling him I’d be out later. Howl had instructed me to come alone and I didn’t want him to think I was cheating on our deal, so I entered the tavern by myself. The Crystal Bridge, a sister bar to the Wounded Warrior in Elqaneve, primarily serviced veterans of the Y’Elestrial civil war. Elfin vets, that is. Too many had been killed or captured by Lethesanar, the Opium Eater drugcrazed queen who had been taken down by her sister. A number had retreated to Dahnsburg, on the shores of the Wyvern Ocean, hoping for rejuvenation.
    The bar was dark, gloomy, and filled with smoke from a dozen different herbal smoking mixtures. I coughed, glancing around. Amid the shadows that flickered in the dim lights, I saw a variety of elves mingling with Fae and even a few Svartans. But these elves didn’t have the easy look of most of their kin. They were weathered, some missing limbs or limping, and had a look in their eyes that reminded me of myself six hundred years ago. They’d been through hell, and returned.
    One wandered up to me and leaned down, his fingers reaching for my hair. “Beauty. You are such a little beauty—”
    “I can cut your privates off with a whisper to the wind,” I said, smiling sweetly. “Do you really want to chance it?”
    Most people thought I was a pushover, an easy mark, since I was so short and petite. Some assumed I was mild and delicate; others thought I was a cozy maid. But I’d seen too much to ever be mild or cozy or an easy mark. I hid my memories well, but they were always there to fuel the need to fight.
    He looked at me, looked deep in my eyes, and backed off. “No, I don’t think I do. Mistress, be safe on your way.” As he turned to leave, a small gleam of clarity peeked out through his fog-shrouded gaze.
    I continued through the bar unaccosted, the cacophony of noise crowding my thoughts. The smells of ale and wine were thick, and I motioned to the bartender. “Brandy, please.” Tossing a coin on the counter, I took the proffered glass and turned to let my gaze flicker through the crowd.
    There . . . in the corner . . . a man who was staring directly at me. He was tall, at least to me, probably about five nine and rough looking. Five-o’clock razor stubble shadowed his chin. I knew those features.
    Howl.
    He was wearing leather buckskin pants, and his chest was bare, with a cape of wolf pelts draped around his shoulder and a headdress of teeth and bones and cedar rising from his head. His eyes were dark, so dark you could fall in and lose yourself for days. He looked to be in his early forties, and I noticed everyone had given him wide berth.
    When he caught me staring at him, he raised his glass silently to me and I headed over in his direction.
    “Howl. It’s good to see you again.”
    “As it is you, Lady Iris.” He motioned to the opposite seat. “Please, sit.”
    I slid into the booth and carefully placed my brandy on the table in front of me. “Thank you for meeting me. I did bring a companion but left him outside.” I wanted to be straight up in case he somehow knew I’d come with backup.
    “Not a problem,” he said, attending to his own drink. He paused, sipping the golden liquor in his glass. “So, tell me, how can I help you?”
    “I’m seeking