Wondrous Strange

It was too early for him to be so keyed up-the Gate wouldn’t open for another several hours. Still…even the thought of what was to come made the adrenaline thrum through Sonny’s veins like siren song. He’d heard actual siren song once, and it had not been a pretty thing. Beguiling, yes. Pretty…no. Beneath the heartbreakingly lovely surface of the Sirens’ melodies, all Sonny had heard were discordant notes of hunger and rage. Need. Madness and nightmares. Compulsion.

The same kind of compulsion that had driven him down into the park every night for almost a year in preparation for what was to come when the Samhain Gate opened and all that would stand between the Otherworld and the mortal realm were thirteen Janus Guards. Including Sonny Flannery, the newest member of that elite rank.

This was his first year of service as a Janus and would be his first time guarding the Gate. He could hardly wait.

The October breeze was brisk that high up but, even shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of jeans, Sonny was unaffected by the chill. Still, when the temperature plummeted in the apartment at his back, he couldn’t help but notice.

“My lord,” Sonny called, not turning to look. “Welcome.”

“Sonny.” The greeting floated out to him.

From his perch on the balustrade, Sonny turned to see Auberon, king of the Unseelie Court of Faerie, lounging against the door frame. A mane of charcoal-gray hair, shot through with silver, flowed down his back, and a mantle stitched from the furs of timber wolves fell from his shoulders in rich platinum layers.

“Your door,” Auberon said. His voice was low and melodious, with hints of the slow crack and boom of a frozen lake breaking open on a midwinter night. “It was unlocked.”

“I know. Most unwanted visitors never make it past the front-desk security in this place. Either that, or they’re not the kind who come up in the elevator, so I don’t usually bother.” Sonny knew perfectly well that Auberon had not come over the threshold. The Winter King, Lord of the Unseelie, had no need of such trivial things as doors. He was simply being polite-in his own inimitable way.

The Faerie king’s pale lips twitched. “Unwanted visitors?”

“Not you, lord. Of course.” Sonny grinned and jumped down onto the flagstones. His bare feet made no noise as he crossed the terrace.

“Of course not.”

“I only meant that I’ll have enough doors to worry about keeping locked soon enough.”

“Aye. You will.” Auberon’s cold eyes glittered.

“And, at any rate, this is your apartment.” Sonny waved a hand at the expanse of polished floors and sleek furnishings. “I only live here.”

It was true. Auberon’s decrees had forbade the Faerie from having any interaction with the mortal realm, and his enchantments had made it virtually impossible to do so. But as king of Winter, the most powerful of the Four Courts of Faerie, Auberon could come and go as he wished. He’d done so through the years, and in the course of dealing with humans, Auberon had-among other things-amassed an impressive portfolio of priceless real estate, including Sonny’s corner penthouse apartment on Central Park West. Lavish couldn’t even begin to describe the young Janus’s accommodations to most people; New Yorkers would sell body parts to get their hands on a place like it. But Sonny had grown up in the unimaginable splendor of Auberon’s palaces.

Sonny was a changeling-a human, stolen as a child from the mortal realm by godlike beings who did not often produce children of their own. Growing to adulthood over the course of a century or more rather than years (for time in the Otherworld moved differently than in the mortal realm), the changelings served as surrogate offspring for the Faerie, walking in the shining halls of bright palaces, resting and feasting in canopied bowers. Mortals made almost immortal, they lived in that timeless, dreaming place, doted on or ignored by their capricious masters, sometimes treasured, sometimes tormented. But always in the thrall of the Faerie.

“I trust you find these accommodations adequate?” The king’s voice shook Sonny from his reverie.

“It’s not home, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It was not.”

“Of course, lord.” Sonny ducked his head, remembering himself. And who it was he spoke to. “The apartment is fine. Thank you.”

“How fortunate that your predecessor vacated in time for your tenure.”

“He had his throat ripped out by a glaistig last year.”

“Aye.” The king’s mouth quirked in a mirthless grin. “But the timing was fortuitous.”

Sonny cast about for a change of subject. “May I offer you a refreshment?”

“The occasion warrants that I do the offering.” As Auberon drifted farther into the room, a gathering chill rolled through the air in his wake. He held up a dark bottle sealed with a silver stopper, and Sonny’s mouth watered in instant, automatic response. Faerie wine. Mortal libations weren’t even a shadowy taste of the perfection that was contained in that bottle. The king seemed amused by the expression on Sonny’s face. “We must celebrate your first year as a Janus Guard.”

“That’s very kind, lord. But I haven’t yet proven myself.”

“If I had any doubts that you would, boy, I wouldn’t be here. Of course…neither would you.”

Sonny wasn’t sure if the Faerie king meant that in a more or less ominous way. He watched as Auberon plucked two wine goblets from the hanging rack in the kitchen. With a deft twist of the silver bottle top, he poured out the sparkling liquid in generous measure.

“I have no qualms.” Auberon shrugged elegantly, handing a glass to Sonny. “You are the finest Janus I have ever chosen. Better even than Maddox, or the Fennrys Wolf.”

Sonny fought against the urge to defend his friend Maddox, knowing it would be unwise to disagree with the king’s praise.

“Joy to you,” the king saluted. “And good hunting.”

Sonny raised his own glass in return and took a sip, suppressing a groan of pleasure at the taste. The Faerie wine sparkled so brightly it seemed made of tiny stars.

“Titania sends her regards.”

The delight Sonny took in the wine evaporated, and he shivered involuntarily at the thought of the queen of the Seelie Court. Titania. All the elemental charm and beauty of a summer thunderstorm… and just as dangerous.

“She wishes you luck.”

I’ll wager she didn’t specify whether it was good luck or bad, Sonny thought. He was careful to keep the thought quiet, though. “Does that mean that you and the Summer Queen are on cordial terms, then, my lord?”

“For the moment.”

Of course, in the Otherworld-the Faerie realm-time had no meaning. And so that “moment” could last for years…or vanish in an instant. At least, thought Sonny, if Auberon and Titania were on civil terms, it meant there would be no interference from her for the duration of the coming Nine-Night, and that was a relief-Summer and Winter were so rarely in accord. Sonny wondered fleetingly about the other two-the so-called shadow courts-with their unpredictable monarchs: Queen Mabh, capricious ruler of the malevolent Autumn Court; and Gwyn ap Nudd, the strange and secretive Lord of the Spring. Alliances among the monarchs were treacherous, constantly shifting, and Sonny marveled at his lord’s ability to navigate those stormy seas.

Auberon moved across the floor, beckoning with a gesture for Sonny to follow him out onto the balcony. For a long while they stood in silence, leaning on the balustrade. Far below, pastoral and at peace, lay the green expanse of Central Park.

“Do not fail me, Sonny.”

“My lord. I will not.”

“This year of all years…I must not fail.”

A weighty silence stretched out between them, and Sonny cast a sideways glance at Auberon. The pale, perfect skin around the Faerie king’s eyes seemed tight, his features drawn. “You seem…weary, my lord. Ill at ease…”

Auberon turned away, murmuring to himself as though the young Janus had suddenly vanished and he stood alone. “My subjects tear at the chains across the Samhain Gate with teeth and claws. Batter at doors-doors that