The Hallowed Hunt: A Wild Hunt Novel, Book 5

by Yasmine Galenorn

  “Crap, I did step on a slug.”

  “Don’t track it onto the carpet. Let’s go in the kitchen and I’ll help you clean it off.”

  She motioned for me to follow her and, making sure the door was locked, I limped down the hall, keeping my right foot on tiptoe so I didn’t muck up the floors.

  “Sit down,” she said, once we were in the kitchen.

  I did so, gratefully. She carried over a bunch of paper towels and the spray cleaner.

  “You’re cleaning my foot with that?” I pointed to the bottle.

  “Shut up. It will work.” She plopped down on the floor and I held out my foot. She sprayed it with the cleaner—which was a natural blend and, I hoped, non-toxic—and began to scrub at my foot. After a while, she dried it off. “There. That should do. How does it feel?”

  “Like you just stripped off all the natural oils.” I crossed my leg over my knee to look at the bottom of my foot. It was relatively clean. At least the slug juice was all gone. “We should go to bed. Thank the gods we don’t have to go anywhere today.”

  Mr. Rumblebutt appeared, glaring at us.

  “I know, I know. We’re late. And you need your…shit, we forgot his dinner.” I turned to Angel. “Grab a dish and I’ll get his food.” After feeding Mr. Rumblebutt and apologizing with a thorough petting, we headed up the stairs.

  I entered my bedroom and stripped off my clothes, thinking that sometimes being friends with one of the Ante-Fae could be hard work. I liked Raven a lot, but I was grateful that I didn’t live in her world all the time.

  “Coffee.” Wearing a pair of sweats and a tank top, and a pair of old sneakers, I blurrily entered the kitchen. I had taken a shower, but the water had barely skimmed the edges of my hangover.

  Angel was sitting at the table, hunched over what looked like a double-strength cup of tea, eating toast and eggs. “I didn’t make you any because I wasn’t sure when you were going to get up. I did feed His Highness, though. He’s still miffed.”

  “Of course he is. He’s a cat.” I headed over to the espresso machine and pulled five shots, pouring them into a tall mug. I frothed the milk and then added it, along with some chocolate syrup. As I stirred my mocha, I stared lethargically at the stove. “Angel…will you make my eggs?”

  She shot me a nasty glance, but pushed herself to her feet and nodded. “Yes, but you get them out for me, along with some cheese. You can toast your own bread.”

  We worked silently together, and five minutes later, I joined her at the table. “My head feels so foggy I can barely think.”

  “Yours and mine both. I think I drank less than you and Raven, but man, every move is a struggle. How do you think Ulstair kept up with her?” Angel finished off her eggs and leaned back in her chair, staring at me with bloodshot eyes.

  “I don’t even want to know. But man, she has some freaky friends. That dude Apollo, though…” I suddenly flashed back on dancing with him. “Oh gods, I didn’t do anything I’ll regret, did I? I remember dancing with Apollo.”

  “You danced with him. Raven danced with him. I danced with him. But I think I saw him sitting on Vixen’s lap. I get the feeling he belongs to her, so I think we’re safe. By the way, just who is Vixen? Is she royalty?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t know how the hierarchy works with the Ante-Fae. I have to admit, even though I got so hammered that my stomach feels like it’s on permanent protest, I did have fun. Did you?” I glanced at Angel, hoping she hadn’t regretted the evening.

  “Yeah, I did. But you know what? How about tonight we just curl up with a movie and popcorn, and make it an early evening?” She winked at me. “Ow, even my eyelids hurt.”

  “I think that sounds wonderful.” I went back to my breakfast as the caffeine began to work on my hangover headache.

  I was out in the garden. The afternoon was clear, though chilly. It was one of those rare autumn days in Seattle where the clouds had parted and the sun shone down, the rays barely breaking the chill. I walked over to one of the rose bushes. We had pruned and snipped and finally things were set for spring. All the garden needed was to sleep through the winter.

  Angel was taking a nap. I thought I was alone, but then, my crow necklace warmed against my throat and I felt a shift. Someone was nearby.

  “Thinking?” The voice was low and sultry.

  I whirled, almost making myself dizzy. There, in all her beauty and power, stood Morgana. She was shrouded in a long indigo cloak, fastened at the neck with a Celtic triskelion. Her raven hair was hidden beneath the hood, but she was staring at me, a smile on her face.

  “I suppose,” I said, crossing my arms for warmth. The temperature felt like it had dropped several degrees. “What can I do for you, milady?” I wondered whether I should offer her a seat, or something to eat or drink. As far as I knew, there wasn’t a Miss Manners to consult when it came to dealing with the gods.

  “Oh, I just came to talk to you. Tomorrow night is the ritual of the Cruharach. I thought you might like to chat.” She moved past me, the smell of ocean brine following her. Overhead, the crows circled, as though they were guarding us.

  I nodded, following her over to the nearest garden bench. As we settled on it, I was aware of a wave of warmth that flowed around us. The smell of warm sand filled my nostrils, and I caught the images of sea green water and exotic flowers floating atop the ocean.

  “I’m nervous.” I looked up at her. Morgana shifted height every time I saw her. I had begun to realize that the gods could change shape at will. Or at least work with glamour.

  “I know you are. I won’t tell you not to be. That would do no good. But you will find your way through it. Of that I’m sure.” She paused, holding out one hand. One of the crows landed on it for a moment before flying away. “Most of the Fae have varying lineages, but seldom does a mix like yours come along. They do spar for dominance, you know. Usually, one heritage will be submissive to the other, or both parents will come from the same branch. That’s how it seems to work. But the Leannan Sidhe and the Autumn Stalkers…neither likes to give up control.”

  “Will that affect how the Cruharach changes me?”

  After a pause, she said, “Yes. But how you react to it is more important. Did Marilee warn you to go in with an open mind? Don’t take sides, Ember. Don’t hope for one over the other. You must let whatever happens, happen. Only through surrender will you discover the mastery you hope for.” She leaned down and picked up one of the fallen leaves. “What you did to your grandfather was a necessity. It doesn’t mean the Leannan Sidhe side of you has to be a killer. You instinctively reached for the power that would help save your life at that moment.”

  “I know that. But he was my grandfather. I hated him, but I feel so conflicted about what I did to him. Will that ever go away? Could I have done something different that would have saved his life and yet saved mine, as well?” Even though everybody kept saying “Don’t feel guilty,” I couldn’t help it. I did feel guilty. I had murdered him.

  “There’s never a way to know for sure. But Ember, if you hadn’t protected yourself, you’d be dead now. Or worse. The ritual that he wanted to put you through strips more than one bloodline from a person. It’s forbidden because it changes the very psyche. It permanently damages the ego. He was insisting you go through a rite that would have destroyed who you are.”

  “And the Cruharach won’t do that?”

  “No. It will merge your bloodlines into the best possible form, as long as everything goes right. It’s a natural metamorphosis, unlike what your grandfather sought for you.” Without warning, she took my hand in hers. “Close your eyes.”

  I closed my eyes. The pulsing grew louder, and it felt as though I was in the middle of the ocean as it shifted and turned, waves growing in the storm. They roared past, silver tides churning as they threatened to drag me under. Their fury was bathed in ice and frost, and their glory was in the morning sun, climbing into the sky over lazy waters beneath which turtles swam and
dolphins danced.

  And then I was in the water, swimming with the dolphins, letting them pull me along as I hung onto their fins. We raced through the waves, the foam churning from our wake, and joy filled my heart as I opened myself to the power of the Ocean Mother. And then, under the moon, the dolphins beached on the shore, letting me go before the waves reclaimed them, and I ran toward the tree line, darting up the trail, where I blended into the undergrowth, all my hunter’s instincts coming to play.

  A moment later, I pulled out of the vision and shook my head.

  “Are you telling me it doesn’t have to be one or the other?”

  “The word ‘merge’ does not indicate exclusivity.” Morgana stroked my cheek. “Do not fear losing part of yourself. The whole is stronger than the sum of the parts. And now, my dear, I will see you tomorrow night. You will not work tomorrow, but spend the day in quiet meditation. Go to Marilee’s around five tomorrow night. She will know what to do next.”

  As quickly as she had appeared, Morgana vanished, and with her the warmth that had cloaked me. Exhausted and feeling exposed, I headed back to the house to take a nap before dinner. All my thoughts were on the Cruharach, and I just wanted to get it over with, regardless of the outcome.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Monday, on Samhain Eve, I met with my lawyer, dragging Angel along with me After the meeting, I had done as Marilee asked. I had spent the day in quiet mediation, but a growing nervousness had taken hold. I had spent a lot of time out in the garden, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. I tried not to think about what could happen, but my mind kept straying toward the darker outcomes and finally I gave up and watched the House and Garden TV network, choosing shows that were calming.

  Both Angel and I had recovered from our hangovers, and she went to work while I stayed home. Herne had called me, making sure I could get to Marilee’s without a problem. I wondered if he’d be there for the ritual, but decided not to ask. I didn’t think I’d get a straight answer, anyway.

  Monday evening I arrived at Marilee’s at five p.m., promptly. I was carrying my ritual gear in a duffle bag.When I knocked on the door, Marilee opened it, but she wasn’t dressed in ritual robes. No, she was wearing a pair of jeans and a shirt, and a jacket.

  I frowned, suddenly wondering if I had gotten my wires crossed. “It’s tonight, right? The ritual?”

  “Yes, but it won’t be held here. Come along. Follow me.” She led me down to her car. “Put your bag in the backseat. I’m going to blindfold you so that you won’t see where we’re going.”

  I stared at her, then cleared my throat. “Okay, then.”

  I tossed my bag in the backseat and allowed her to fit the blindfold over my eyes. As the shade lowered over my eyes, my stomach shifted again. I couldn’t see a thing. She helped me in to the car, and I could tell that I was sitting in the backseat as she fastened my seatbelt.

  “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue. I need to give you the tincture that’s required to guide you into the Cruharach.” The compassion had drained out of her voice and she sounded gruff, almost irritated.

  The realization that I had already lost control of the situation hit me. I was about to ask if it was safe, but then stopped. I already knew what she would tell me. Nothing was guaranteed. Obediently, I stuck out my tongue as she dropped three drops of a grassy-tasting liquid on my tongue. It was absorbed before I could even swallow.

  The car shifted.

  “All right, we’re ready to go.” Her voice came from in front of me, and I knew she was in the driver’s seat. “Ember, I want to say something. I have every confidence you can pull through this and I’m looking forward to seeing what happens once you’re on the other side. I won’t be able to help you. No one will. But you have the skills to handle this, and you’ve met both sides of yourself. Go in without expectations. What’s meant to be, will happen. I want you to remain silent during the ride. Focus on your core and your breathing.”

  The car started then and we were moving. I could feel the car making turns, though I soon lost track of which way we were turning. I had no idea where we were going. After a time, we eased to a stop and I prepared myself for whatever was to come next, but then I heard one of the car doors open—it seemed to be the passenger door up front by the way the wind whipped in, and somebody settled themselves there. Whoever it was kept silent, but I recognized the smell. Herne.

  The little kid in me wanted to shout, “I know who you are,” but I stopped myself. This wasn’t the place for games or for acting like a smartass. I kept my mouth shut and tried to do as Marilee asked. I focused on my breathing, keeping it even and rhythmic.

  The car continued for quite some time until we pulled to a stop. The back door opened and someone—I smelled Marilee’s perfume—took hold of my arm and gently guided me out of the car, holding my head down so I wouldn’t hit it on the door. Then another hand took my other arm—I was sure it was Herne—and the two of them began leading me across a rocky patch of either grass or dirt. I suspected it was grass, given the feel under my boots.

  Finally, about five minutes later, we came to a stop.

  Marilee whispered, “Good luck. Do not remove your blindfold until you are given permission.”

  I stood there, unsure of what to do. The longer the blindfold was on, the more helpless I felt and any residue of my snarkiness vanished, leaving behind a quietly growing fear. My stomach shifted, and I was grateful I had obeyed the instructions and not eaten or drunk anything after noon. I was thirsty and hungry, but at least I didn’t need to go to the bathroom.

  “You know I’m here, don’t you?” Herne’s voice whispered in my ear.

  I nodded, still not certain if I was allowed to talk.

  “You can speak now.”

  “Where are we?”

  “I’m here to lead you through the gates. You will find yourself in Annwn, in the forest. There are trails there. It’s your task to reach the other end of the trail alive. I cannot come with you, my love, but I will be there in spirit.”

  He slowly removed the blindfold and I found myself staring at a large pair of oak trees. They were half-bare of leaves, and those that were still holding on had turned color and were waiting for one good wind to blow them aloft. The light was dim and I didn’t recognize where we were, but it appeared to be an abandoned field of some sort. The oaks were smack in the middle, and along the edges there appeared to be a thicket of trees.

  “What do I do?” I asked, my fear rising. I had only been to Annwn a couple of times, and then, only to Cernunnos’s palace and Morgana’s island. The otherworld of the Celts was a vast and dangerous place, from what Herne had told me.

  “Here. Take these.” He handed me first a backpack, then a pair of leather gloves.

  I stared at them. “What’s this?”

  “You’re wearing your jacket, and jeans and boots, so you’re set that way. But you’ll need the gloves. The pack contains food, a blanket, water, and a few first-aid supplies.”

  Growing more nervous with every minute, I took them, slinging the pack over my back, then tugging on the gloves. “What next?”

  He handed me my dagger, along with a second one, and then a pistol grip crossbow and quiver of bolts. “There will be options along the path for you to take a different route. There is no correct answer as to which one to take. Listen to your intuition. Let your instinct guide you. Don’t try to think your way through this.”

  I slowly took the weapons, strapping one dagger sheath around my left thigh and the other around my right. I slung the quiver over one shoulder and gripped the bow in my right hand. I felt in my pocket and found a bandana, which I folded into a long rectangle and tied around my head to keep my hair back.

  “I heard you and Angel had quite a party with Raven the other night,” Herne said. “Angel told us about it today.” He leaned down, his lips near mine. “Get through this, Ember. I love you. I’d come with you if I could, but that would only muck up things. You get
through this and come back to me. You understand? I’ll be waiting on the other side for you. All paths lead to the same end—they’re just roundabout ways.”

  I wanted to kiss him, but it felt wrong in this case. I could feel his breath on my face, and I inhaled sharply, memorizing his scent.

  “I love you,” was all I could say. I couldn’t speak of my doubts, or even think about them. I could feel them squirming in the back of my mind, but to give them voice was to give them power, and the last thing I wanted was for my worries to follow me into the woods.

  Herne seemed to understand what I was thinking, because he held my gaze for a moment longer, possessing me with his look, and then he stood back and pointed to the oaks.

  “Walk between them. They’ll take you directly where you need to go. Stay alert. Keep ever watchful. Annwn awaits.”

  Blowing him a kiss, I turned and walked between the oaks and into the heart of the Cruharach.

  One blink, and the world was shifting. Two blinks and my body stretched and flew and scattered and then fell back together again, stardust drifting and then condensing into form. Three blinks, and I was on terra firma again, in the heart of the forest.

  The woodland was deep and dark, illuminated only by the moonlight above. I could feel the heart of autumn on the wind. Tonight was the night of the dead. The night of the ancestors. The night when the veils were thinnest and the ghosts of those long past walked the world again. Tonight was Samhain Eve, when the Lord of Fire and the Lady of Ice scoured the land, hunting for the souls of those who were ready to pass over.

  All around me, the trees rose like silent watchmen, massive and dark. This forest reminded me of home—of the woodlands around Seattle. Fir trees—tall timber—towered over the rest, hundreds of feet high. Cedars bushed out, massive and shaggy, and I recognized huckleberry thickets crowding around their trunks amidst the waist-high ferns. But unlike home, the firs here were interspersed with ancient oaks creaking in the wind, and occasional maple and birch whose dry leaves mirrored the susurration of the wind. It was an unlikely forest, but it felt right. The whispering gusts that rustled through the branches played a haunting tune, and I felt like everywhere around me, I was being watched.