by Gwen Rivers
I need it done.
There, about twenty feet ahead of me, he stops. His back is to me. Without bothering to glance around, he unzips his fly and then the unmistakable sound of liquid on leaves, accompanied by his relieved groan. The back of his neck gleams in the moonlight and I prepare to dash forward and strike, quick as a snake.
A hand wraps around my waist, hauling me back into the darkness.
Whoever holds me is strong, but not smart, since no hand covers my mouth. Not that it matters. I don’t scream. Screaming would draw attention, the last thing I want. Instead, I fight. Kicking, thrashing, aiming for sensitive places. My elbow rams into a rock-hard midsection until pain ricochets through my funny bone. It’s like bashing my elbow against a concrete wall. Tears well in my eyes but my foot stomps on a booted instep. My captor doesn’t cry out, doesn’t release me. Doesn’t so much as flinch. Sweat coats my body when I am dragged around the corner of the building, away from my truck, from my prey, from all eyes. It’s a silent fight for survival.
The reek of the Dumpster and the decay of leaves combine with rancid fryer grease fill my nose as I suck in air. “Who are you?” I hiss.
“Is it she?” The words come from the left, from the direction of the tree line and address my captor. “The one we seek?”
There is no verbal reply from the one that holds me, but the other, with the hissing sort of voice responds as though answered. “What is your name, girl?”
I don’t answer. Though I peer into the dark, I see nothing but a shadowy outline. The speaker is of slight build, smaller in stature than I am but the voice has every hair on my neck standing on end. It’s a male voice, at least I think it is, but those drawn out s sounds are unlike anything I’ve ever heard.
“Your name?” The speaker moves closer and I can see eyes glowing in the dark, orange eyes that burn like coals. The nose is misshapen, flat with elongated nostrils. And between bloodless lips a forked tongue emerges, flicking the air between us.
All thoughts of hunting, of secrecy, flees. I scream, throwing every bit of energy I have into making enough noise to be heard over the blaring pop-country crossover music emanating from Shitty BanG.
“Quiet,” the snake man hisses. “Keep her quiet.”
The one holding me shifts his grip to my neck and lifts me until my toes barely scrape the ground. The move cuts off my oxygen supply and my voice. I kick, trying my best to connect with something vital. My blows land with a dull thud and there isn’t even a grunt of impact.
Who are these creatures? What are they? Little black dots dance before my eyes as my brain gives birth to an incredible thought.
Not human.
The speaker with his ember eyes and prehensile tongue isn’t just malformed. The one with super strength isn’t just a lifter. These beings aren’t Homo sapiens.
My vision tunnels. My struggles intensify as panic bubbles up. I can’t afford to lose consciousness. These aren’t the sort of monsters I’m used to dealing with. I’ve lost control and it’s the most terrifying feeling I’ve ever experienced.
“Will you talk?” The snakelike one slithers closer. “Will you answer our questions?”
I can’t respond, unable to speak or nod. My head lolls forward and my hands and legs go still as my vision tunnels.
“Drop her,” the speaker commands.
The strong one opens his hands, allowing me to slip through as though I am nothing more than grains of sand. I crash onto the ground at his feet, wheezing in air through my bruised throat.
They wait, silent witnesses to my slow recovery. My lungs feel as if they will burst and my neck is on fire. I need to do something, to try and make lip to skin contact with one of them, no matter how repulsive.
And then get away before the other kills me outright.
“Your name.” The snake man offers me a hand up.
That one. It’ll have to be him, or her…it—revolting as I find the idea. I reach out to take the offered hand, ready my strength—
A growl rips through the night.
The creature’s eyes go wide, confident manner slipping a moment before it’s tackled into the dirt. Instinct kicks in and I roll away as a giant wolf pins the snakelike one to the ground. There’s a hiss, it’s fast but the wolf is faster, stronger as it tears the creature’s throat wide.
He looks up at me, those leaf green eyes assessing. Aiden. The snake thing lies dead at his feet. I look away when I see a single drop of blood drip from his exposed fangs.
This might sound hypocritical as hell, but I don’t do gore. My role ends at the takedown. It’s Addy and Chloe that dispose of the body, sanitize the wood chipper. At first, I was too young and so I deferred to the Fates’ decree. Bodies lead to questions, whereas missing is open-ended. Don’t worry, Nic. We’ll take care of this.
A sound snags my attention, like dry leaves being crumbled between leather gloves, only a thousand times louder. I look up and see the strong one falling to dusty pieces before my very eyes. “What the—?”
A warm hand lands on my shoulder. “Are you all right?”
Aiden is back in his human form. I missed his transformation. Somehow it doesn’t feel real without witnessing the shift with my own eyes.
He shakes my shoulder a bit, as though trying to wake me. “Nic? Are you hurt?”
I glance up at him. There’s blood on his mouth. Somehow, it’s even more disturbing that way than on the wolf’s muzzle. “No.” The word comes out as more of a croak and I lick my lips.
“Good,” his hand drops away from my arm. “We need to get out of here.”
“We can’t just…leave them here.” All the times the aunts took care of the evidence would be wasted effort if the police discover this supernatural crime scene.
“I’ll take care of it.” Aiden tugs at my arm. “After you leave. But you need to go, now.”
I stare at the remains and an involuntary shudder racks my body, stemming from the scrap of shadow that passes for my soul. “What…are they?”
The noise from the Shitty BanG is drowned out by another sound, a sort of distant hum. “Minions. Of someone you don’t want to meet. Now come on.” There’s a frantic edge in his voice, one of desperation and fear.
The noise grows louder, and the wind lifts my hair away from my face. It’s a gale unlike any I have ever experienced, yet still somehow familiar. The aromas are wild, the same sort of wildness that is a part of Aiden’s scent, but there are more layers carried on the wind. Every instinct I possess is clamoring that I should heed his advice and run. I obey, allowing him to pull me away from the inhuman remains, but I balk when instead of heading back into the parking lot, he veers into the trees.
Even naked, Aiden’s speed is…inhuman. His every footfall silent. I have all the stealth of a tranquilized bear crashing through the underbrush. To keep up with him I trip over rocks and upthrust roots, dodge low hanging branches, barely avoid having my eyes poked out by leafless twigs. Every heartbeat ricochets in my temples, my breaths tear from me in ragged gasps. My companion doesn’t even appear winded. His stride never breaks.
The sound grows thunderous, like giant boulders crashing together. I need to look back, to see what it is that pursues us.
Am afraid to look back because deep down I know.
Hounds bay, rabid in their pursuit and I realize the thunder is the pounding of invisible hoof beats.
The Wild Hunt.
Chapter 6
The Hunt
Aiden veers sharply to the right, almost yanking my arm halfway out of the socket in his haste. “Here,” he says, pressing against a giant oak. “Combine yourself with the tree.”
“What?” I gasp.
“You need to combine your life force with that of the tree, let it absorb you.” He places my palm flat against the rugged bark of the oak.
I stare up at him, confounded. He doesn’t look insane. His gaze is fixed on where his hand covers mine against the tree trunk as though waiting for something to h
appen.
Behind us, a frantic series of yips and then a baying sound. The cry of a bird of prey and the great pounding of hooves. They are closing in fast, will be here in moments.
“They have our scent. This is the only way.” Aiden insists.
“I don’t know how.” The fear rises within me. What will happen once the Hunt catches us? Will the dogs tear me apart? Or will they spirit me away to some sort of hellish afterlife?
Sarah, I’m sorry I let you down. I was such a lousy friend, using her for my cover. She deserved better, deserves to have her killer put down. I want to do one last thing to make amends, but it looks like my time is almost up…
“Nicneven,” Aiden’s voice is soft, the pressure from his hand steady. “Concentrate. Feel the life force of the tree. Let it become a part of you, let it pull you in.”
My arm shakes. The panic grows, terror overwhelming me for the first time in my life I breathe the words, “I can’t.”
He ignores me, as though the admission of powerlessness didn’t crack my very foundation. “You can, I’ve seen you do this a hundred times. Listen to it, feel it. Open yourself to it.”
He’s so sure and his confidence is rock solid. I suck in a slow breath, try to ignore the panic clawing through my intestines like a wild creature. Instead, I listen. It’s the only portion of Aiden’s instructions that makes any sense. The roar of the Hunt fills my ears, but I strain, search for any sound that a tree might make, try to focus exclusively on that. The wind rustling the budding leaves, the creak and groan of ancient branches that sway in the tempest. I sway along with it, closing my eyes, my hand warming against the trunk.
Against my trunk.
And then everything changes. I try to open my eyes and find I no longer have eyes. Moving is out of the question because my feet have morphed into roots. I can’t see, speak, smell or taste but I feel more solid. There is a steadiness, a slow wisdom, and surety that ebbs through me. This tree has seen things come and go, passed seasons and decades all by standing tall and still. It soothes me, comforts me, lets me know I’ll be all right while we are joined in this way. The tugging of the wind in the leaves, the richness of the nutrients in the soil. I am at once part of the tree and it is part of me, just like Aiden said.
Aiden.
I sense him nearby, not as part of the tree, part of me, but close. As is the Hunt. I feel it as my host would, a great disturbance in its otherwise tranquil environment. Again, that gnawing terror as I wonder if I will be able to separate myself from the tree if the ghostly horde carries Aiden away.
Or destroys him.
But the Hunt rides past the tree, past Aiden. I am sure he’s still out there. Did he conceal himself from them somehow? Or maybe he joined with another tree?
Beyond my wood shelter, there is pawing and sniffing. And voices. Female voices. Crying out warlike epithets. Speaking a language that is both foreign and familiar.
“The hounds scent him,” one says. Her voice is deep and smooth, like rich velvet.
“Brigit won’t be happy if we return empty-handed.” A different voice, higher in pitch with a sharply clipped tone. “She’s been after him for months. Another failure won’t sit well.”
Horses whicker and the first speaker responds. “Failure is inevitable only until it is not. The Hunt never fails.”
The brisk one barks out the order. “Come, we ride!”
The ground around my roots shakes as though under the onslaught of an earthquake. If I still had teeth I would grit them together, but the tree holds me immobile. That eerie wind gives one final tug against my upraised boughs and then they are gone.
And Aiden is there, with his hand pressed against my bark. “Nic, all clear.”
I imagine myself separate from the tree, not allowing the what-ifs to get the best of me. The tree holds on to me. It’s like trying to pry my entire body from a vat of tar inch by inch. I fight to reclaim my body, to be separate from the oak again. Its hold is desperately strong and a part of me wants to stay with that steady presence, stay where I am safe.
But I have a promise to keep.
One last pull and the oak bends to my will. There is a shift, and then I can breathe, can smell the cool night air, feel it caress my skin. I fall to the ground along with the other discarded leaves and twigs. Everything hurts, my body aches as if I’ve just come off a week of the flu.
“You okay?” Aiden crouches beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder.
I flinch at the sound of his voice. “Quit shouting.”
“I’m not,” he whispers but I clap my hands over my too sensitive ears.
I try to blink up at him but the starlight filtering through the canopy is bright as a spotlight and I throw an arm up to protect my vision. “What’s wrong with me?”
He pats my back as though soothing a child but doesn’t attempt to answer my question. I appreciate the restraint. Slowly, I relax, the stiffness leaching out of me. My hearing adjusts and I focus on each breath and listen to the music.
I never realized how rich and full of sounds nature could be. Frogs, what must be a million frogs not too far away. The splash of water over rocks from a nearby stream. Bugs flitting about, the hoot of an owl. It’s a veritable symphony of the night.
The tension ebbs from my shoulders and slowly I sit up then try to open my eyes once more. The night sky doesn’t blind me, which I suppose is a step in the right direction.
“Better?” Aiden’s leaf green eyes assess me, the one word spoken on a soft exhale. His scent is overpowering with my too sharp nose. Cedar, sage and that unique hint of wildness on the wind. For a moment, I’m struck with the bizarre urge to curl up into his body and just breathe in the air around him, as though filling my lungs with his scent can fill my soul with his strength. The impulse frightens me more than the Hunt.
“Nic?”
I glance away, so he can’t see the battle within. “What happened?”
“You joined with the tree in the manner of a dryad. Coming out again is a bitch, gives newbies major sensory overload. I wouldn’t recommend doing it again except in cases of extreme emergency. And never the same tree.”
Sensory overload, that sounds about right. “Where were you?”
“Nearby.” As answers go, his is amazingly half-assed. I scowl at him, but he changes the subject. “You did well.”
“They are hunting you,” I say, though I don’t bother to phrase it as a question. “Those women.”
He doesn’t bother to deny it. “Yes.”
“They are part of the Wild Hunt?”
“The Unseelie commanders, yes.”
“Unseelie?” It’s not a term I’m familiar with, though the word stirs something within me. “What’s that?”
“A faction of the fair folk. Half of the fey of the Unseelie Court of Alba.”
“The fey? Do you mean fairies? You pissed off a bunch of fairies and they sent the Wild Hunt after you?”
He holds my gaze but offers nothing more.
“Who is Brigit?”
“No one you need to worry about.” He reaches for my hand. “Come on. I’ll see you home.”
I pull away abruptly before he can touch me and get to my feet. “I’m fine on my own, thanks. Probably better off than if you come with me since you’re a wanted man and all.”
His hand drops to his side. “My only wish is to protect you, Nicneven.”
Again with using my full name, wielding it like a weapon. No, not a weapon, but more of a tool, like a hammer to drive his point home. His use of my name is meant to pique my curiosity, to convince me to spend more time with him, if only to uncover the truth.
I don’t miss the fact that his speech patterns have changed once more. His bearing is constantly in flux, sometimes very casual, at others formal and courtly.
As though he’s pretending to be something he’s not, but his real identity keeps peeking through. The bastard is trying to manipulate me.
One thing is clear. No one ever tol
d him you don’t play a player.
“And I’ve already explained this to you. I don’t want or need your protection.” I start walking, wondering if I’m even heading in the right direction but not really giving a shit.
“You have no idea what’s out there.” True to form, Aiden’s dogging my heels.
I ignore him because really, what can I say? He’s right, after tonight how can I argue? I have no clue what else is roaming these woods. The snake man and the one that crumbled into dust, a bunch of elven warrior women, never mind the naked shapeshifter hot on my heels.
And let’s not forget the teenage serial killer on a mission.
That tree trick might come in handy in the future. A shudder steals over me when I think of how the tree clung to me, like the adhesive on a bandage, tearing little bits of me away as though desperate to hang on to whatever it could. I decide to use it again only as a last resort.
We reach the stream. It’s wider than I thought but shallow. I don’t remember crossing in when we were running, but the chase might have blotted it from my mind. Maybe we leaped over it at a narrower point? I glance left and then right, relatively sure I am heading the wrong way, but my pride refuses to ask Aiden for help after insisting I didn’t need him.
I sit down on the bank and unlace my boots.
Aiden crouches beside me. Completely unselfconscious that he’s still naked. Even though I don’t feel any sort of attraction to him, it’s hard not to look, like a car crash on the highway. Anyone would look. I should just look since he insists on parading around in front of me in the raw. Just look and get it over with and maybe he’ll kindly fuck off.
Eyes on my bootlaces, I clear my throat and ask, “Doesn’t that bother you?”
“What?”
I gesture at his naked body. “Being without clothes.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve spent most of my life skyclad, as the wolf and as a man. It’s the wearing of garments that feels unnatural now.”
Most of his life? That would explain the lack of tan lines. I don’t want to ask any more than I want to look, but the words slip out. “Where the hell are you from that people don’t expect you to wear clothes?”