Page 23 of Demon and the Raven

“Only that it was not any of the fae. It was other.”

“Other?”

“Yes. Not from our realm, not from Olympus, the Trimurti, the Tuatha Dé Danann, the Great Ennead, or any other realm of gods known to us.”

That was sobering. “What about a lot of the fae at once? Could that do it? I only ask because there seem to be a lot of them at this carnival.”

“There are,” she agreed. “And my sisters and I would have culled any that were malignant. But you have only elves in your midst, along with fairies, dryads, and fauns. You know as well as I do that those races pose no threat to humans. Furthermore, they all traveled here with the matron of the carnival, a descendant of Nintur, who keeps both her fae and humans safe from the horrors of your world, that is far from kind.”

She wasn’t wrong about keeping people safe. That was sorely needed. “So none of them came through the rift Nott used to guard.”

“Correct. Fear none from this carnival, they come in peace, merely to entertain.”

I sighed deeply.

“You hoped it would be simple.” She reached out, took hold of my bicep, and squeezed gently. “I understand that desire.”

“Easiest would be best,” I acknowledged, covering her hand for a moment, then letting go.

“Though you know as well as I, if some visitors fall under the influence of the fae, they will make the decision to leave with them.”

“By influence, you’re not implying they’re bespelled,” I clarified. “You mean the natural beauty and charisma of the fae.”

“Yes. The same way some are enchanted by alluring humans, so are many enthralled by those whose only magic lies in what they are.”

“Which makes leaving purely a choice.” I knew this, but it never hurt to double-check.

“Of course.”

“And contrary to fairy tales, no one is ever under a love spell.”

“I am always surprised at the powers that humans believe the fae possess,” she said flatly. “Many have some minor magic, but only witches are blessed with the art of honey and wounds.”

Otherwise known as the ability to lure others to us and weave sticky, encompassing love spells—the honey—and hex and hurt others—the wounds. I didn’t dabble in either, as I had been raised to leave alone whenever possible the ebb and flow of the world. Nature always knew best, and to interfere meant you had to fix whatever you broke. My grandmother always said that it was best not to assume the part of a god when one had not been so blessed. It was good advice and worked well in all kinds of situations.

I took a breath. “So your lord is Soter?”

“Yes, and the small, sliver rifts of this realm are his to guard on the order of his lord, and mine, the battle god Neit.”

“Nott said that was whom she served.”

Her face scrunched up in pain again. Obviously, she missed her sister dearly.

“Please give both Soter and Neit my thanks.”

“I will,” she whispered.

“May I ask when you found her?”

“A fortnight ago.”

“Thank you again for patrolling.”

“To be clear, we stopped doing that once we found Nott. We have searched these past weeks for what could have crossed but found nothing.”

“Since it successfully crossed through,” I said, studying her face, “why torture Nott? It was already here, safe and sound.”

“Perhaps it wanted to go from here to somewhere else and knew Nott could make that transport happen if she wanted. Maybe it needed information about your town. Nott patrolled here, she knew all who resided in the area. It might be they were looking for someone or something here.”