The Cardinal Gate: An Eleanor Morgan Novel, #1

One

It was seven o’clock on the summer solstice, and the sun wouldn’t set for another few hours. The air was already starting to cool, though, and I shivered as a breeze hit the drying sweat on my arms. I settled back into my porch swing with my pizza and beer and gazed at the newly chain-sawed hedge in front of me.

My beer slipped out of my hand, and I barely caught it before it hit the ground.

The hedge was gazing back.

Whoever it was, they were too tall to be one of the neighbor kids pranking me. My heart rate accelerated until it felt like it was beating in my throat. My skin, which moments before had been covered by goosebumps, flushed hot, and the scene in front of me briefly swam in my vision. I took a deep breath, then another. It might not be Jeremy from next door, but it was probably nothing. Just a prank.

I forced bravado into my voice. I can see you. Come out or I’ll call the police.

A tall figure glided onto my lawn and bowed with dramatic flourish. Your powers of perception are indeed amazing, Ms. Morgan.

Who are you, and why were you in Hedge Antilles? I tried to keep my voice from wobbling but wasn’t sure how successful I was.

He raised an eyebrow. Hedge Antilles?

I knew he was trying to deflect, but I almost never slipped and revealed my plants’ punny names in front of friends, much less strangers. Just because I didn’t have pets or children didn’t mean I shouldn’t be allowed to bestow amusing names on living things.

Just answer the questions. My heart rate was starting to resume its normal pace, and I relaxed infinitesimally. The answers didn’t seem as important as they had a few moments ago. My Serenity Now! sign must’ve finally kicked in.

It was remiss of me not to introduce myself immediately. My name is Jonathan Deacon. He bowed again.

The bowing is a bit melodramatic, Mr. Deacon. I tried to rekindle my fear—it seemed to be the most useful emotion right now. A spark of it lit up, and I grabbed it.

Please, call me Jonathan. May I call you Eleanor?

No. Why were you in my hedge? How do you know my name? What do you want?

So many questions! I would be delighted to answer them all for you, but I think we’d be more comfortable in your living room.

I don’t. I don’t invite peeping Toms into my house.

That’s not true. You invited Finnegan Byrne into your home a couple hours after meeting him at a bar, and not just for a chat.

I schooled my features so I wouldn’t show a reaction. Something was wrong, but I couldn’t put a finger on it. Creepers were always a bit scary, but the fear that kept crawling around my brain getting squashed by either false bravado or a cotton-wool soporific was more than just scary man in the dark. Maybe if I kept him talking—at a distance—I’d figure things out. Answer my questions or get the fuck out of here.

You are in no position to make demands, Ms. Morgan, he whispered into my ear. I jumped backwards at his sudden and inexplicable proximity, pinning myself against my front door. I’m sure you don’t want any trouble.

What are you? I shrieked, trying to scramble around him.

Your worst nightmare, and the one who will claim the bounty. He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. I’ve never drunk a fairy before. This should be excellent.

I screamed as his teeth elongated into fangs, then thrust my knee into his groin, smashed my mostly empty beer bottle over his head, and grabbed his arm and attempted to throw him off me. His grip was unyielding, even as he bent double.

I could’ve made this pleasant for you, Princess, he snarled. "Now, however, this will hurt."

My knee stopped moving inches from a second groin attack. I was paralyzed.

He lowered his mouth towards my neck. I whimpered as his teeth broke my skin and searing hot pain coursed through my veins. Before he’d had more than a swallow, the pain abruptly ceased, and he dissolved in front of me. The particulates in the air slowly fell to the ground in a pile of dust and ash.

Finnegan Byrne, my best—and only—friend, stood on the other side of the vampire who’d just ceased to be, laurel stake in his hand and shit-eating grin on his face. Good thing you had all this wood around. He dropped the stake when I kicked him in the shin. Ow! What the hell? I saved your life!

What are you doing here? Are you another stalker like this… I struggled with the word before spitting out, whatever the fuck this is? How did you know my life needed saving?

Vampire?

Not funny, Finn.

Bloodsucker, leech, sanguinarian, hemovore. You know, a fancy phlebotomist…a fangy asshole.

Stop. You’re missing the point. How did you know I needed saving?

You called me.

I did not. I didn’t have a chance.

We’re…connected. When you screamed in fear, I came. I’ll always come to help if I’m able. This was just the first time I’d heard you scream since…how long has it been again?

"Not the time, Finn. It’s never the time. I was just attacked by a motherfucking vampire who knew my name, called me Princess, and said there was a bounty on my head. What. The. Fuck?"

Finn shoved his hands in his pockets, then pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to me. For your neck. He stared at the ground and avoided meeting my eyes. I have something to tell you, and you’re not going to believe me.

What do you mean, you have something to tell me? Something relevant to this? I waved, rather wildly, at the pile of ashes scattered around me. My mind was going back and forth between seeking out that blanket of comfortable numbness that assured me everything was going to be just fiiiiiiine and grabbing onto a panic so powerful I wanted to flee the scene—maybe the city and state, too. I’m sure Fiji was nice this time of year.

I’ve had this conversation a hundred times in my head, but now that it’s time, I’m not sure how to begin. Finn tugged on one of his ears and stared at a fixed point above my head.

I crossed my arms and glared. You said we’re inexplicably connected, so you’ve already started. Why don’t you head back to the beginning and continue on from there? Anger was starting to seep in between the numbness and the panic. The tips of my ears were hot enough to burst into flames.

Finn cleared his throat. Ellie, can you calm down? Or take a couple deep breaths or something? You’re upsetting the hedge.

My mouth dropped open. I’m upsetting the hedge? I don’t even know which word to emphasize in that sentence.

Look.

I turned my attention to the hedge I’d spent hours trimming. It’d grown almost thirty feet in the last few minutes. What the hell is going on? How is that my fault?

Finn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. You’re a fairy.

That’s what the…vampire said, too. I don’t understand.

Magic, vampires, fairies—everything you read in your childhood books is real. The Fae—fairies—were locked away in their land a thousand years ago. It’s a kind of…parallel universe. The gates between our worlds were sealed up with magic, and only a few holes were left.

I don’t understand those words in that order.

You were sent here from the Fae plane so that when the magical barriers began to weaken, you’d be here to open the doors, allowing the Fae access to this world again. Your sole purpose is to be here at this place and time with enough royal power to fulfill the prophecies.

I was ‘sent’ here? What about my parents? Were they my parents? Am I a changeling like in Spenser’s ‘The Faerie Queene?’ Is there a human somewhere who should’ve been raised by my folks?

Your human parents were good people who desperately wanted a child but couldn’t conceive. It’s a fairy tale in every sense of the word. You needed to be immersed in this world, to appear human and to not give yourself away by drawing on your power. You needed to be ordinary. You were left on their doorstep with a note and a check, and they raised you like their own. They were your parents.

Holy crap. I’m like Harry Potter! Did they know who I was?

All they knew was that you needed a home. Finn ran his hand through his red hair, making it stand up in little spikes. I know it sounds weird and impossible, but look at your hedge and the vampire. He gestured at the pile of dust at my feet. You’re magic, and the kind that’s not often seen on earth. The Fae take their prophecies very seriously—that’s the only way they’d send the heir out unprotected to be raised by humans. We value our children, but not as much as we value power. Once you open all the gates, the boundaries will fall, and the Fae can once again freely access this land.

His words punched through me and sat heavy in my gut. I couldn’t tell if I was about to cry or puke or both. None of this could be true. It didn’t make sense. Fairy tales weren’t real, and even if they were, I was not part of them. I was Eleanor Morgan, data entry specialist and avid gardener. I had more hobbies than friends. I was not the heroine of some great tale.

This is ridiculous. I’m having another beer. I went inside, grabbed a beer, and went back out to the porch where Finn was sitting on the swing.

Feel better? he asked.

No. I paced while I sipped my beer until I’d calmed down enough to sit down next to Finn. Joke’s over. How’d you do it? How did you fuck with the hedge and arrange the stab and poof with the creepy dude?

Ellie, I wish I had more time to explain what was going on. I wish you could adjust over years instead of a day, but you can’t. I’ll start with what you need to know and do my best to fill in the blanks as we move forward. It’s my job to guide you through this process, to help you find the gates, and to be a resource as you learn more about your powers and your people.

I put the bottle down slowly. Step back from the pompous lecture. We’ve known each other for years. You’ve had time. More importantly and exponentially creepier, if I’m your ‘job,’ then it wasn’t chance we met when I moved here after my parents died. You orchestrated that meeting. I took you home the night we met and was surprised when we kept running into each other. It wasn’t a coincidence; it was part of a convoluted plot so you could keep an eye on me. That is a violation of everything, Finn. Everything. How can I trust anything you say at this point? You lied to get into my bed and lied for years after. You pretended to be my friend this whole time! I blinked rapidly to dash away the tears of fury that had formed in my eyes. I hated being an angry crier.

It’s not like that, Ellie. I swear, Finn said, holding out his hands in supplication. He didn’t quite make eye contact with me, and his persistent gaze on my forehead made me feel like I’d missed a spot the last time I washed my face. I did seek you out when you moved here, he continued. I knew who and what you were. Going home with you was not part of my plan. Sleeping with you was not part of my job description. It was more of a bonus.

Are you fucking kidding? Did you refer to fucking me as a job bonus? At least I put an end to that long ago. Red, hot anger was brewing in my chest, and fists formed at my sides. We’d been friends for years, and regardless of his feelings for me now, he’d used a lie and my goodwill to creep into my life. Every time he’d joked about us being a couple, every time I’d called him when I was lonely and needed a friend, every time we’d shared pizza and beer—it was all based on a lie.

No! No, definitely not. I meant that you’re amazing! I like you, and regardless of why we met, I still want to be your friend, more than friends if you’ll let me.

It was the same refrain he’d been singing since I’d changed our relationship from friends with benefits to friends only. I couldn’t reciprocate his feelings, so I’d ended it. He’d wanted to stay friends, but that hadn’t stopped him from trying to talk his way back into my bed, and presumably from there into my heart, ever since.

I couldn’t deal with the emotional backlash from him and the sea of emotions I was drowning in with everything he’d just told me. Part of me wondered if this was some elaborate ploy to win me back, but then I remembered the vampire. I shuddered, and the tug of war between tears and vomit was leaning towards the latter at this point.

Finn, I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I’m willing to believe that something is going on, and it appears that I’m involved somehow, but I’m bleeding from the neck, I’m exhausted, and I don’t want any alternate realities at this point. I handed him back his blood-stained handkerchief, which he took with the tips of his thumb and forefinger.

Of course. We’ll talk tomorrow. I’ll stay in the guest room in case you need me.

The fuck you will, I objected. The pile of ash on my porch was a visual reminder that I might need protection, but I didn’t want it from Finn.

He won’t be the last. There is a bounty on your head—not everyone wants the gates to open, Finn said, looking up at me from underneath his red eyelashes in a way he clearly thought was endearing, but that I considered punchable.

I looked back down at the ashes. Fine. I wasn’t prepared for a vampire attack, and I’m sure I’m not prepared for anything else. Come in.

I locked the door behind Finn and asked, Do you need anything?

No, I’m good. He did the puppy-dog from hell eyes at me again.

Perfect. I climbed the stairs and closed my bedroom door firmly behind me.

I’d forgotten to close the curtains on my east-facing window, so I woke with the sun. I rubbed my eyes and stumbled downstairs, following the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Finn stood at the stove, flipping pancakes. Good morning, he said.

I didn’t answer, although I did take his peace offering of breakfast.

When I’d finished eating, I took my coffee to the porch. I sat in the middle of the porch swing to make it perfectly obvious he was not welcome to join me. He sat on the railing across from me and opened his mouth.

Wait. I held up one finger to silence him. Let me have one more moment. I took a sip of coffee and side-eyed Hedge Antilles. It was twenty feet taller than it had been last night. I turned back to Finn. Okay. I have a few questions I’d like covered, and then we can get through the things you’d like to say.

Finn nodded. That sounds reasonable. What do you want to know?

I ticked off my questions on my fingers. One—who and/or what are you? Two—if I’m a fairy and the land of the Fae is locked down, how did I get here? Three—vampires? Seriously? What else should I worry about? Werewolves? Sorcerers? Are there unicorns? Four—gates? Opening? Explain.

I held out my thumb, looked at it, then looked at Finn. I guess that’s it for now. Go.

You know who I am. I’m Finnegan Byrne. I’m Irish. Ish.

I interrupted, Irishish? That’s a lot of ish. You don’t sound Irish. I leaned forward, balancing my elbows on my knees, and stared at him. His tone was wrong—he was definitely hiding something.

Finn laughed. I didn’t live in Ireland for long, comparatively. To answer your second question…

Oh, no. You don’t get away that easily! I leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest. You missed the ‘what are you’ part of the question. I know you’re not exactly human since you sensed when I was scared and showed up in time to save me.

Can’t pull one over on you, can I? I’m also Fae. Kind of an exile. My mother was Fae, and my father was Irish. She snuck through a hole in the border and met my father. It was either a grand romance or a terrible one-night stand, depending on her mood when she was telling the story. When I was born so obviously part human, she came to this plane permanently. I was contacted when they needed someone familiar with the human world to keep an eye on you.

My mouth hung open a bit. Finn reached forward and pushed it closed. I came to Portland when you did, but things didn’t go as planned. I found myself buying you a drink instead of watching from the shadows, and you know what happened after that. He winked, and I curled my lip. There was no amount of charm that would cause me to forgive him this quickly.

Okay, fine. You’re half-fairy because your mother walked through a hole in the boundary—more than once, apparently. If there are holes, why do they need me? Can’t they map the holes and come and go as they please?

There are doors, but there aren’t many, and they’re fewer every year. The more they’re used, the less likely they are to be there next time. When a door is found, it’s guarded to ensure it’s only used for critical business—like sending through the fairy princess who was prophesied to save the world. Unlawful use of a portal can carry the death sentence.

The more he explained, the more ridiculous things sounded. I kept expecting to wake up or find out I was the victim of an elaborate practical joke. But even though it was completely insane, I did have the reputation of having weird things happen around me all the time. I was the bane of the IT department because they had to replace my computer a couple times a year when the motherboard would fizzle out. I couldn’t wear a watch, compasses went haywire when I held them, and after the fire department had to be called both times I’d fallen asleep in front of my fireplace, I’d given up hanging around open flames.

Princess?

That’s not an official title on the Fae plane, but it serves. There are two realms, the Dark and the Light. Your father is the king of the Light Sidhe. You are his only heir.

Do you know him? What’s he like?

The only time I met him was when he selected me for this mission. He’s ruled for centuries and is well-respected, as far as I know. I don’t know much else about him.

Why send royalty? Wouldn’t a commoner be more disposable in case something went wrong?

That is awfully classist, but that wouldn’t have worked anyway. Royalty isn’t an accident of birth—at least not the way it is here. Royalty is determined by the amount of power you have, and they needed someone of extraordinary power to open these gates.

I digested that information. My royal rank probably didn’t matter. I couldn’t imagine who I’d impress, anyway. It’s not like my boss or my neighbors or the number forty-four bus driver would treat me any differently if they found out I was a bona fide princess. At least not different in a way I’d enjoy.

Finn pushed forward, What was next?

Vampires? Werewolves? Witches? Unicorns?

You saw the vampire. They drink blood and eschew sunlight. A stake through the heart—either wooden or silver—or beheading are the only ways to kill them. I understand immolation is effective, but it’s pretty hard to get them to stand still long enough. Garlic isn’t a deterrent, they have reflections, and as far as I know, they can’t fly. They can hypnotize humans into doing things they might not want to, like acting like a walking juice box and then forgetting it, but they won’t have that power over you. Most of their daytime activities and errands are carried out by Renfields—humans who are both snack and servant to the vampire. The Renfields drink a little vampire blood regularly, which prolongs their lives and ties them to the bloodsucker. They are a little stronger than a regular human, but don’t have any special powers other than as spies. He paused and took a deep breath.

"Werewolves are a yes, although not just wolves. There are shifters of all species, although they are usually predators. I don’t believe any of them are bound to change during a full moon unless they’re being pretentious about it.

"Witches—yes and no. There are people who can do what you would consider magic. You’ll be able to do magic, but you’re not a witch. Witch is generally considered a derogatory term to denote someone of little power or bad intent. Those who are of this world and can do magic call themselves mages, practitioners, or, if they’re headed towards the Dark Side, sorcerers. Never, ever call them wizards unless you want pubic lice. Trust me. Gandalf isn’t as much of a role model as you’d think.

As for unicorns, I’ve never seen one, but that doesn’t mean a whole lot. I haven’t spent much time wandering around on the Fae Plane, and who knows what sorts of creatures abide there?

I leaned forward and forgot all about my coffee. This is insane. If that damned hedge wasn’t growing in front of my eyes, and I hadn’t seen you stake a vampire last night, I wouldn’t believe it. I tilted my head to one side. Maybe I’m suffering from a psychotic break.

You’re not psychotic—at least not any more than usual.

I rolled my eyes. Now I want to talk about what comes next.

Finn stood up and stretched, then settled into a cross-legged position on the porch. He looked up at me long enough for me to become uncomfortable. I sighed and moved over so he could sit next to me.

During the last great supernatural war, the vampires, practitioners, and shifters buried old enmities and joined together to force the Fae off Earth and back to their own plane. The mages, using the power they were able to raise from the other supernaturals, slammed close the gates that had allowed easy travel between planes. Those gates have moved over the years, but there have always been eight—one for each of the Pagan High Holidays. They are currently scattered around North America, although I don’t know exactly where.

Why are they here? Shouldn’t they be in Europe?

"The magic is younger and stronger here, and the great gates have never been opened in North America; they don’t have to fight directly against the magic that keeps them closed.

You need to open them in a specific order on certain days—the old pagan holidays which were taken from the Fae when they were worshiped as gods. Only a full-blooded Fae with strong connections to both worlds can open them. You’re connected to the Fae Plane through virtue of your birth and this world through virtue of your life. The final gate will open on Midsummer a year from now.

A year? This is going to take a year? I blinked rapidly and then punched Finn as hard as I could. I’d been wanting to do that since last night.

Finn rubbed his shoulder. Yes. You’re Fae, so you’ll live a lot longer than the average human. In the grand scheme of our lives, a year isn’t long.

How long is longer than average?

Forever, more or less. Provided you aren’t killed, you’re practically immortal. I’m only half Fae, so I’ll probably age and die eventually.

How old are you, Finn?

He looked down. Older than you. Does it matter?

Right now, it does. How old?

About 450.

This keeps getting weirder and weirder. I sighed, looked for my coffee, and rubbed my eyes. What exactly happens if I open the gates? And what happens if I pretend this never happened and go back to my regular life?

To answer your first question, I’ve been told that nothing much will change for humans. They might not even notice a difference. The Fae will be free to travel between worlds freely as once they did. Some might come live here, in the regions in which they are most comfortable. Most would likely stay on their plane but would have access to resources they don’t currently, like precious metals and stones, but this world has so much iron that few would feel comfortable setting up permanent residence.

Then what’s the point? I asked. I had that same niggling feeling like he was…if not lying to me, at least not showing me the whole truth.

Balance, Finn said. With the planes closed off, there can be no balance. They were meant to exist in symbiosis, and with the gates closed, Earth is closed off from the magic that keeps it alive. This world needs the Fae magic to help eliminate the environmental imbalances that have sprung up since the Industrial Revolution.

And what’s in it for the Fae? No way are they saving Earth out of a sense of altruistic balance. I put as much scorn as I had at my disposal into my voice. I didn’t want him to start thinking he could get away with this shit.

The Fae need contact with this world to renew their own magic and bring balance to the universe. Balance is very important to the Fae, Finn replied, smiling at me with so much sincerity I almost let myself believe him.

Bullshit, Obi-Wan. I rolled my eyes.

I only know what I’ve been told, Finn protested. I didn’t grow up at court, and I’m not privy to their secrets. When the Light King tells you what to do and why, it’s hard to think of a hundred clarifying questions.

Fine. That sounds logical enough. The Fae have reasons of their own they haven’t shared with you, but it’s likely more than balance and renewing their magic in a world with little magic that motivates them. I huffed and changed the subject. What’s the deal with the iron?

Iron is to Fae as silver is to vampires and werewolves. Iron and the industrial revolution are what gave the factions opposing the Fae enough power to finally push them out. It burns—you’ll want to avoid being shackled or stabbed with iron.

I kind of think that’s a given.

If you’re stabbed with a silver blade, it’ll hurt, but unless it’s a solid hit, you’ll recover quickly. An iron blade would fester and weaken you, making recovery less likely and more difficult.

Can I be killed by bullets?

Yes, but it’ll usually take a direct shot to the heart or the brain to kill you before your body can heal the damage. I mean, I wouldn’t want to test an iron bullet and a gut shot, but if the bullet was removed from your body, you should recover.

Oh. Okay. I cataloged this in the things I needed to remember but couldn’t currently process. And if I say no?

The magic is flowing, and nothing can stop it. My understanding is that the gates are the only controlled way to let the magic into this world; without them, it’ll find every nook and cranny and burst through, flooding this world with wild magic and destroying anything in its wake it doesn’t understand. It’s the difference between a controlled sluice gate and a bursting dam.

What do you mean, anything it doesn’t understand?

"Technology discovered after the wild magic was pushed out. Computers, the internet, electricity… Humans have lived without those things before, so it’s possible that everything will be fine.

Either way, you’re a target. You’ve been identified through stories and prophecy as the catalyst, the world-breaker⁠—

How? Who identified me? How do the bad guys know who I am? And what does ‘world-breaker’ mean?

There have been rumors for years that the world-breaker—the Fae destined to open the gates and change the course of history—was in Portland, but until the magic started breaking through over the last month, you looked ordinary. Now—to those who have the ability to see beyond the mundane—you…glow. The magic recognized you, and no matter what, you’ll never be the same. You won’t age—you’ll always look thirty-four.

This seems like the kinda thing you could’ve mentioned last night, I pointed out. I was angry again. Beyond angry. Furious. The azalea bush in front of me put on at least six inches while I glared at it.

You weren’t ready last night, Finn said, sounding eminently reasonable and simultaneously full of shit.

I took a deep breath. This wouldn’t work if I ascribed bad intent to everything he said. He was right—I was too upset to listen to reason last night. If he was only telling me now, there must be a very good reason for it. I tried smiling. It didn’t feel right, but I kept it up anyway.

Who’re the bad guys? I asked. Smiling. My cheeks hurt.

There are groups of supernaturals who aren’t interested in changing the status quo. The Fae were not always nice. They occasionally killed for no reason, and they kidnapped mage babies to keep as magical slaves. Overall, they were a pain in the ass. That is enough reason to not want this world accessible to scads of Fae again, is it not? The supernaturals here worked hard to rid the plane of most Fae and do not care about balance or the environment enough to make that change. Some are excited about the return of the wild magic, but others would prefer to keep things the way they are. You’ll have almost as many allies as enemies among the magical folk of Earth.

It made sense, and I could tell by the set of Finn’s jaw that I wouldn’t get more from him right now. I wasn’t going to let this go, though. If there was opposition, I needed to understand it to make sure I wasn’t the bad guy. Kidnapping