Prologue

Forward. Backward. He wasn’t sure where he was going. He felt adrift in a sea of nothing, his body light with the ebb and flow of whatever casted him along his way. He knew he had fingers and toes but could not move them; knew he had eyes but could not see; knew he had lips but could not speak. He could only hear the dulcet tones of what carried him – a gentle, kind voice that whispered in his ear every now and then. Questions, he knew. Questions he couldn’t seem to answer even as he tried to will his body to respond.

“Who are you?” The voice had asked.

At first, it was a soft little bidding… like a parent to a frightened child. He wanted to trust that voice. Trust in what it meant. He wanted to reach out to it. He wanted…

“What are you?”

He felt a sudden heaviness in his chest, and wherever he had drifted, he was beginning to sink. Liquid fire filled his mouth and nose. He wanted to struggle. He wanted to fight! Down his throat it went until it spread through him like wildfire.

“Ours. Ours. Ours.” The one voice seemed to multiply and grow louder with each beat. It rose, and rose, and rose again until it became a crescendo of sound- an orchestra of voices repeating one, final word.

All at once he could move. He kicked and punched through what felt like molasses. He knew this would be his only chance. Somehow, he knew.

“Ours. Ours…”

He gasped as he plunged through the Veil.

“Find us…”

The combination of pain and the striking sensation of the cold on his naked skin made him shiver. When he tried to open his eyes, there was mostly darkness. One streak of light filtered through what he could only guess was a broken roof. When he attempted to move, weak limbs kept him from doing so. He felt like a newborn babe, weak and bare, at the mercy of the elements.

The world started to tilt on its axis and for a brief, terrifying moment the man wondered if he was about to go back to wherever he came from. His body replied by purging the contents of his stomach on to the floor. The smell almost made him retch again. He was surprisingly relieved.

“Och, ye look like da sorry end ov a troll’s arse.” A voice hovered over him.

Who?

Rolled to his back, he looked up to see the silhouette of a man. The ray of light added an eerie halo around him, emphasized the highlights of red that may have been hair…

…or was it feathers?

The stranger sighed. “Awwright lad, guess we need ta make our new master more comfortable.”

“Where…?” He managed to whisper.

“No need fer questions. Hold on a bit, and we’ll get’cha right well.” The stranger stooped down and scooped the other up and over his shoulder. “Ugh, ye smell even worse than ye look, ye ken. Dinna think ye’d be tumblin’ through da roof like that. Gave me and da others a good fright. Thought it was da Inquisitors, but then why would one ov ’em come crashing through da roof? Wee Molly said it was da Master, but we dinna want her to come down here without one ov us checkin’ first. She’s canny, ye ken.”

The man hadn’t followed, too focused on not throwing up on this person’s back. He croaked, “Sorry.”

The redheaded stranger gave him a kindly pat on the bottom as they ascended a flight of stairs in the darkness. His passenger managed to grunt his disapproval. “There, there, lad. We’ve all been there. It’s not an easy thing bein’ summoned through the Veil. When I came through da first time, wee Molly had ta put me in irons until I calmed down.” He chuckled at the memory. “Ah, here we go.”

The man shifted his weight, nudged open a door with his hip. He had to duck down a bit to get through. Once inside, he shrugged and his passenger just slipped off like a piece of luggage. The other man made yet another grunt of disapproval all the while hitting the floor with a resounding thump.

Not only was he naked, cold, and sick – he was naked, cold, sick, and treated like a sack of potatoes!

“Where are-” He tried his hand at words again but failed miserably.

It was then that he looked up at his surroundings. A dome shaped room, well lit with a small hearth at the back of it. There was a plethora of shelves, all tilted with books and knick-knacks strewn over the floor and turned over tables – one of which was decidedly cracked down the middle. There were two man-sized holes, one in the ceiling, one in the floor between the cracked pieces of table.

And there, all standing in a small group near the hearth, was a myriad of people… creatures… who stared at him with a mixture of awe and wariness.

One of them, a thin woman with eyes bigger than what was possible for such a small, angular face, stepped forward. She smiled a cheshire smile. “We’ve been expecting you, Master.” The woman curtsied low; the others in her entourage followed suit. “Welcome to House Morrigan.”

His vision swam.

He unceremoniously retched on to the floor. Twice.