his fingers, the helicopters floated gently backward until neither their wind nor their noise bothered us.
“It's time you learned the truth, humans,” Azrael declared, staring right into the cameras. “Your world is connected to that of the Fey. We once lived together in peace, but you turned on us. You hunted my wife's people until they were nearly extinct.”
I gaped at him. If he remembered that...
Yes, he can remember more. Stay with him, Vervain. Help him, Alaric urged.
As if I was going to leave, I huffed. Fuck me, he's speaking as if he is Fey.
Because he is.
“We closed our realm rather than wage war on you but the passage between our worlds is open again, and we have another chance to live in harmony. I have faith in you,” Azrael said firmly. “I have watched over you as Death and now, I have come to you as Life. Together, we can change the fate of the world. Humans and Faeries living side by side and working together to save the Earth. Join us. Speak for the planet and those creatures who cannot speak for themselves. Sow seeds instead of poison. Help instead of harm. Love instead of kill. Embrace what I offer and you shall know happiness as you never have before. For I am Life and Death. I am the voice of the wild things and wild places. I am the elements given physical form.” Azrael's eyes glowed as he shouted, “I am the Faerie God!”
Chapter Forty
Vervain? Odin's voice spoke through our link.
I'm okay. I'm trying to get through to Az. He's, uh, a little bonkers right now. He just called himself the Faerie God.
Azrael had me by the hand and was leading me into his castle. The helicopters still hovered above, watching us avidly while they could. The sound of their propellers muted into silence once we stepped inside.
Yes, we saw. A video of you two just hit the Internet, Odin said dryly.
But, hey, you know the line: all the best people are, I tried to joke but I sensed no amusement from Odin, only worry. How bad is it?
Azrael isn't the only one who's gone bonkers. The entire world is losing its mind. The humans might have disregarded him as a hoax if he hadn't been preceded by all of the fey magic. Plus, he was caught on camera by actual news reporters, not just some guy with a cellphone.
Right. I figured people would be freaking out.
But it's not as bad as it could be. Az spoke of peace and the camera caught it. I don't think the American President will order an attack now. He would look bad. Especially since it's obvious that Az would come out the winner.
Inside, the castle was a symbol of the elements. The floors were covered in grass, a breeze blew gently around us, fire burned in long trenches cut into the stone walls, and shadows shifted over the vaulted ceilings. Azrael walked with confident focus, silently leading me through the maze of corridors, and I used the opportunity to continue speaking with Odin.
He built a faerie castle, I said gravely.
I saw that too. We think Azrael pulled the magic from the other MZs and gathered it there.
The other MZs are gone?
Utterly. But it's not like when you took the magic. The earth isn't bare, it reverted to what it was. We think it's because the magic went willingly.
I can't believe this is happening, I muttered.
How is he?
He seems like himself but... not.
Get him back, Vervain. Keep reminding Azrael of who he is. We're going to try Lugh's suggestion and attempt to positively spin this through social media.
Seriously?
Magic was already on display but now, Az has confirmed it and given it a name—fey. We have to run with this and try to make the Fey look like more than a bunch of egomaniacs who want to lead humans into their version of utopia. Unless, of course, you could get your star to fix things?
I'll give it another try but I doubt it will work. I waited but there was no response. Odin?
“You won't be able to speak to them anymore, my queen. Not the gods or the consciousness,” Azrael declared. “The Faerie God does not share his wife.”
“Vervain,” I said firmly. “My name is Vervain. But you also call me Carus.”
Azrael stopped walking and frowned, looking at me sideways. His eyes had dimmed but were still a startling color—like the shade of ripe limes. Or kryptonite.
“Carus,” he tested the name. “Beloved.”
“Yes!”