Mated to the Chaos - Georgette St. Clair Page 0,40
Obviously, Nanshe knows what the King of History means, but it's important because she cannot explain it to you. All magic has rules, and mages are used to dealing with those rules more than other paranormal creatures.”
“You're talking about gambling with my life.”
“No, what I'm asking you to do is trust us. Magic is our life. If this is important, and it's something we need to face with the threat directed at Encantado, then as one of its residents and one of its protectors, you should be doing everything that you can.”
“Fuck you, Lennox. You go into it.”
Teague stepped forward. “We can argue about this later. For now, let's just get Asherah. If we get everyone together and Carlo is back in Encantado where he feels safer, we can have this discussion. For now, drop it.”
The demand in Teague's voice grated on Carlo’s nerves, but he could not deny the Fae had a good idea. “Fine. We table this conversation until we're back in Encantado. Nanshe, you said you had some sort of idea of where Asherah might be. Where is that?”
“I don't have an idea. I know exactly where she is. That buzzing you all must have heard earlier was a message to me from one of the other Norns.”
“Skuld?”
“No, the best one of us all. The Present.”
Chapter Thirteen
“You made it; this is good. Wasn’t sure how that was going to go. But hey, you did it.”
Carlo lifted one brow. The woman standing in the middle of a mishmash of furniture put her hands on her hips.
Smiling, she swung ruby-red hair—or maybe he should call it blood hair because it was wet and looked sort of like running blood with gold highlights—over her shoulder. As tall as Nanshe, but more waif-like with slender hips, this woman had gold horns around her ears. She wore … what the fuck was that? White MC Hammer pants, black genie shoes, and a vibrant green tank top that looked like it was made of … grass?
Nanshe slipped forward and pulled Ms. I Don’t Know Fashion into her arms. “Hey, Verdandi. How’s it hanging?”
“Hey buuuudy.”
Carlo blinked. When did Pauly Shore make it to the In Between? “Nanshe, why are you talking like that?”
“Sorry, but it’s the best way I can connect with her. Get to her level, so to speak.” She turned to Verdandi. “This is Carlo,” Nanshe introduced.
“Wassssssuuuuuuup, Chaos!”
Carlo cringed. He’d hated that fad. “Hello, Verdandi.”
“With the white hair is Lennox, the Unseelie with the green flecks–”
“Oh, look at the bird!”
Carlo tried as best he could to understand what the hell this woman was talking about. He looked to Lennox for help, but the mage only shook his head. Kallan and Teague weren’t doing any better.
“Focus, Verdandi.”
“Yes, yes. I see the hot one there, the one who loved the Ales but couldn’t keep her. It’s fine, son, she was never meant to be yours. The one who is will blow you away.”
Lennox jerked. “You know who she is? Tell me, please.”
Verdandi blinked. “Who are you?”
Carlo groaned. “We have a Dory.”
“Hey, Mr. Grumpy Gills–”
“Verdandi,” Nanshe interrupted. “Please. In this present, at this moment.”
“Why? I see them all and they all see me. The one with green in his eyes is Kallan, the one whose family called the river home and he can control the ‘river’ of magic. He’s a Duke or something, you know? Really removed from the Unseelie throne, of course, but you can’t take away good breeding.”
Kallan was going to have to close his mouth with his hand if his jaw hung any farther down. “How could you even know that?”
“Because I’m awesome, duh. And you, pretty purple eyes. It was a good thing they took the sword from you and gave it to Eiravel. Don’t be too upset. Your voice will change the world. Or was that Michael Jackson who was supposed to? Eh, whatever,” she added with a shrug. “I do know you were never meant to hold a sword. Singing is much better. Makes your head go bibbidy bob– Oops, can’t say that. Copyright.”
Carlo gaped at Verdandi. Michael Jackson? Copyright? This woman is certifiable.
Teague, unlike Kallan, didn’t say anything at her revelation. Instead, he went pale and stepped backward.
“Verdandi!”
“Okay, okay, Urd. Spoilsport. I like the name change. I think I’ll use it. Nanshe. Welcome to Nanshe Tower, everyone.”
Nanshe shook her head, tossing an apologetic smile to them. “Your tower is Changeling, Norn of What Is.”
Carlo swallowed. This was the Norn of the Present? This flighty, flaky, dressed-like-a-teen-from-the-90s, um, Norn?