Wild Hunt

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Wild Hunt Page 15

by Bilinda Sheehan


  “It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter,” he said, pushing my hand away so he could turn up the collar of his shirt against what had looked an awful lot like bite marks.

  “A vampire bit you—I’d say that matters quite a bit!” I said, folding my arms across my chest.

  “It took me by surprise, is all,” he said, his lips forming a grim line as he attempted to turn me around and march me toward the door.

  “It looks new; did it happen here?” It was no secret that there were vampires in Ireland. In fact, one of the biggest issues the country had was its abnormally high vampire count against the small human population. Some people had speculated that there was as many as two vampires to every human on the island, a fact I could neither confirm nor deny, but judging by the pretty high crime rate, it didn’t seem unlikely.

  “Yes, but like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

  “Did you get it when you were out looking for me?” I asked unhappily. The very last thing I ever wanted was Nic getting hurt because of me.

  “Look, I found out some new information about the Master of the Hunt and I went to check it out. Unfortunately, it’s also a hot spot for vampires and I got caught unawares. Trust me, it won’t happen again,” he said, drawing a silver cross on a long chain from beneath his shirt. “Now can we please go in before you freeze to death?”

  I nodded and moved into the warm glow from the house. Stepping straight into the kitchen, the warmth of the room instantly enveloped me and I couldn’t stop the yawn that escaped.

  “I’ve got some soup on; it’ll only take a couple of minutes to heat up,” my mom said, busying herself around the kitchen.

  When she glanced at me, I couldn’t help but lift an eyebrow at her in surprise.

  “You’ve got soup on?” I asked. “Just how well prepared were you for finding me?”

  She grinned back at me and lifted the now empty can of chicken soup from its place on the draining board. “Prepared enough to have bought a couple of cans of your favourite,” she said.

  Laughing felt good, and I gave into the urge as it washed over me. It had been a long-running joke before everything had changed; she didn’t like cooking, and as far as she was concerned, the only type of cooking should be the type you could do with a microwave.

  I didn’t entirely disagree with her, although there were some things I would attempt to cook from scratch if I had the time or even the inclination.

  Sitting at the kitchen table, I stared around at the room, the mixture of red brick and yellow walls (that were really more a gold due to the depth of the colour) made the room warmer than it really was. It had always been one of my favourite places and now that I was back sitting on the chair I’d always sat on when I was younger, it felt as though time itself had stood still. How could the place look just as I remembered? It didn’t seem possible, and yet as Nic followed me into the room, I knew it was.

  Bunches of dried herbs hung above the old hearth, a modern cooker sitting where it had once been an open fire. But that had been a long time ago and long before my mother or I had ever lived here. Had the people who had lived here then had the same problem with the Fae as I had now? Or were the Fae still just fairy tales told to keep naughty children in line?

  I couldn’t be sure. I’d never bothered to look into the history of it all, and from what I could remember of Ireland, the Fae weren’t really out to the public, not like they were in America.

  Everything here was kept quieter, accepted more readily, and people didn’t ask as many questions as they did in America. It was both a blessing and a curse. If you wanted to keep your business to yourself in Ireland, you could do it; however, that didn’t mean everyone wouldn’t talk about you behind your back. In fact, given half a chance, people were more likely to have created a tall tale to accompany whatever half-truth they’d managed to grab onto. Your business would be your own, but the reputation that preceeded you would be whatever one your neighbours deigned to dream up.

  “Are you still head of the coven?” I asked, suddenly breaking the silence that filled the room.

  Mom stalled, her hands on the bowl she’d been reaching for before I’d spoken. “Not anymore. I stepped down after you left,” she said quietly.

  Surprise rocked me where I sat. She’d been head of the coven for a very long time, the grand witch, and with no one with powers to rival hers, it had looked as though she would remain grand witch for a long time after. What could possibly have happened to cause her to step down?

  “You’re not meeting with them anymore?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.

  “No, we had a disagreement and everyone felt it was in our collective best interests if I stepped down and never returned,” she said, and I could hear the hint of an emotion I couldn’t quite place colouring her words.

  “So where do you practice?”

  “Right here,” she said, giving me a tight smile as she grabbed the saucepan from the cooker and poured the piping hot soup into the bowl she’d dragged out.

  I kept quiet as she carried the bowl to the table and then grabbed a loaf of fresh bread from the counter and set it in front of me. The butter sat on the table, golden and soft, and I knew without having to taste it that it would be just as it always had; salty and smooth, the way only a real Irish butter could be.

  Nic crossed the room and dropped down into the chair next to mine. He didn’t wait for me to start, simply reached over and grabbed a piece of the already cut bread slathered it in butter and then stuffed it into his mouth. He did it all with a level of comfort that spoke of time spent in my mother’s house and in her company.

  Just how long had he been here?

  “So, when did you get here?” I asked, pretending I hadn’t just seen him cram an entire slice of bread into his mouth in what should have been a stranger’s house.

  “A couple of days after you went….” He trailed off and stared down at his hands splayed across the kitchen table. I could practically feel his emotions. He’d been scared and panicked, a dangerous combination. “After you went missing, your mom contacted Graham. She told him what she knew and asked if it were true, if you had gone missing….”

  I nodded and lifted the first spoon of piping hot soup to my lips. Liquid perfection poured down my throat, filling me from the inside with a warmth I’d honestly thought I would never get back after spending time in Fionn’s company.

  “Graham told her everything and I hopped on the first flight out of there to here,” he said, reaching over to brush his fingers across my face. Before his hand even touched me, he paused and withdrew, and my heart sank. He could barely even look at me and he didn’t want to touch me—what exactly did he think I would do if he touched me?

  “He wanted to come, too, but with everything going on and the case still not solved….” Nic trailed off and I shook my head before spooning more of the soup into my mouth.

  “It’s fine, I get it. He’s running the Elite, he can’t just up and walk away….” I paused and sipped at my soup slowly. “Lily…” I said, my heart suddenly hammering in my chest. If I’d been gone for forty-five days…. They didn’t exactly like to keep dangerous prisoners hanging around, and Lily was one of the most dangerous ones that I knew of. Whether they knew just how dangerous she was remained to be seen, but that didn’t change how the system usually worked.

  “Jason stayed her execution until he can finish his questioning of her….”

  I let out a sigh of relief that left me more than surprised. I’d wanted her caught, wanted her killing of the innocents stopped, and I had known only too well what would happen once they caught her. So why the hell did I feel relieved that they hadn’t executed her yet?

  There were so many reasons why I could be relieved. She was my half sister whether I liked it or not, but then again, I didn’t know her and she was dangerous…. Some might even consider her evil for the things she had allowed to happen, for the things she had done herself.

  Lily was
stronger than I was, her magic more developed than mine could ever hope to be, and yet when I’d visited her, I’d seen a more vulnerable side to her. Had it just been a manipulation?

  “You should get some rest,” Mom said, her hand gently brushing against my shoulder. “You’ll be wanting to get back and—”

  I cut her off with a shake of my head. “I’m not going anywhere, not yet anyway. Fionn knows where I escaped to, he’s not stupid,” I said.

  “Who’s Fionn?” Nic asked, straightening in the chair.

  “Master of the Hunt, the one we’ve been searching for,” I answered.

  “What does it matter him knowing where you escaped?” she asked, sitting across from me.

  “I can’t risk him coming after those I care about. I have to go back and finish this, draw him out so he can be stopped….”

  Nic’s hand whipped across the table and closed over mine. “I won’t let you go back to him, not now that I have you here. Safe…” he said, his voice half choked.

  “Trust me, if there was another way to do this, I would do it. But I can’t risk him releasing the Hunt again and killing innocent people all because he’s pissed as Hell searching for me.” My words were those of someone braver than I was. The mere thought of going back to him had me breaking out in a clammy sweat that caused the dress to stick to my skin.

  “Amber, no,” he said, his grip never loosening. His eyes were filled with panic and fear, and I reached over to him but he recoiled from my touch.

  It was enough to kill the fear that curled in my gut. Just what was going on with Nic? Why was he behaving as though I’d stayed away deliberately? He was behaving as though this was my fault.

  He released my hand and dropped back into his chair, his expression utterly lost and desperate, and when I opened my mouth to speak, he shook his head and climbed to his feet.

  I watched him walk away, slamming out through the door into the cold night air.

  “I don’t understand why he’s behaving like this,” I said, staring after him.

  “Don’t you?” Mom said, her voice cutting through the confusion of thoughts that wrapped around in my head.

  “I really don’t. None of this is my fault and he’s treating me like I had a choice in any of it.”

  “Amber, he cares for you, and all of this made him feel utterly helpless. If you had seen him when he arrived here—he was more than frantic, and then as time passed, I could see resignation beginning to set in. He really believed he’d lost you, he was grieving you, and now you’re back, I don’t think he knows how to process it all….” She trailed off.

  “And that makes it all right to…” I cut myself off. It was unfair to keep throwing blame around. I couldn’t imagine what I would do if Nic had been gone from me for forty-five days. Helpless wouldn’t even be the tip of the iceberg of emotions I would feel.

  “He blames himself,” she said quietly, and I suddenly had the feeling that there was more to the statement than just her opinion on Nic’s emotional turmoil.

  “He didn’t cause this, Mom,” I said, turning to face her.

  She dropped her gaze to her hands as though she couldn’t even meet my eyes. “I know it was wrong to block your memories, to cut you off from your power, but I was afraid….”

  “I know, but you should have at least told me what was coming down the line,” I said. “I killed him and I deserved to know the truth of what I was, the monster I was turning into.”

  She jerked her gaze up to meet mine and shook her head. “You’re not a monster, Amber, you never were. That man….” She trailed off.

  “I know you loved him,” I said.

  “Once, perhaps. In the beginning, he was sweet, charming, and he was more than a little good at playing the part of a loving husband, until you were born….” She cast a quick look in my direction but I didn’t say anything, simply waiting for her to continue.

  “He was disappointed you were a girl; he’d been so certain you would be a boy but he got over it, loved you fiercely,” she said, staring up at me. I could see the need in her eyes for me to know that I was wanted, that he hadn’t resented me always.

  “But not enough to not start another family,” I said, and I could feel the bitter smile that curled my lips.

  “It had nothing to do with you, that I swear…. I’m not sure what he was trying to do exactly, but I knew about Lily long before he ever got up the nerve to tell me. He saw my magic as weak; the fact I wouldn’t dabble in anything remotely grey bothered him, he didn’t like me teaching you our ways….”

  “The way of the coven?” I asked.

  Nodding, she continued: “He taught you the spell to summon the demon, tried to teach you other things, too,” she said. “That was when I kicked him out.”

  I stared at her, shock washing the words from my lips. I had so many questions and yet I couldn’t form any of them. He’d taught me the spell to summon the demon; he’d been the reason for his own demise. If it were true, then it was a perverse form of poetic justice.

  “What was he?” I asked finally.

  She shook her head and clasped her hands together on the table top hard enough to cause her fingers to whiten. “I really don’t know exactly. He never displayed any of the Shadow Sorcerer abilities, not really, but some of the spells he taught you….” She trailed off.

  “They were shadow sorcery, weren’t they?”

  “Yeah, they were. I don’t know if he could do them himself or if he needed you for it, but I knew I couldn’t let him be around you…. I don’t know if you remember the part from that night when he threatened to take you away from me,” she said quietly.

  I cast my mind back over the memories I had from that night and finally shook my head. I didn’t remember it, but there were plenty of pieces of that night that were hazy in comparison to what I did to him. That part I remembered as though it had just happened.

  “He was going to take you with him; that’s what he and I fought over, because I wouldn’t let him. You told him you didn’t want to go, that you were happy….”

  “I didn’t want him to leave either,” I said.

  “Of course not. You were a child, and no matter what, you loved your father….”

  “He would have killed you,” I said; suddenly, the memory of my father’s voice, low and threatening, filled my head. “He told you he would kill you if you didn’t relent.”

  She nodded and the tears that tracked down her cheeks caused my chest to ache.

  “I thought you hated me, feared me for what I had done. I thought that was why you’d locked my powers away….”

  “No, never … I didn’t hate you. Fear, yes, I had that, but only because I didn’t know the extent of your powers. We’ve all read what the Sorcerers were capable of, and all I could see was my little girl.”

  “But you sent me away, forced me to leave anyway….”

  “I didn’t, it was the coven. The second they knew what you had done, what you were, they wanted you turned over to the authorities. As far as they were concerned, you were a danger, so I promised to block your memories, hide your powers from you and send you away….”

  “They forced you to send me away?”

  She nodded. “They didn’t want me to do it; they were only interested in handing you over to the authorities, but I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t let that happen.”

  “When you disobeyed them, what did they do to you?” I’d read stories of the repercussions of disobeying your coven. None of them were good and most ended with the death of the witch in question. To turn your back on your sisters was considered a capital crime.

  “They bound my powers,” she said quietly.

  “But you still have visions?”

  “Only dreams. They don’t have the power collective or otherwise to strip me of that. The gift of the sight is a rare and powerful one; only someone with a power equal to mine could have stripped me of that, too.”

  Her words shocked me. I’d always know
n my mother to be a powerful witch, a powerful, practicing witch, and to think of her now with no magic at all … well, it just didn’t sit right. They’d stolen it from her because she’d tried to protect me.

  “Why didn’t you fight them? You could have. I know you had the power….”

  She shook her head and smiled sadly. “It would have risked too much, Amber, and as long as I knew you were safe, then that was all I really cared about. Whatever they did to me, none of it mattered.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. The combination of escaping from someone like Fionn, exhaustion, and recovering pieces from my past was enough to emotionally send me over the edge.

  “Don’t cry,” she said, drawing me in against her. “It’s all water under the bridge, now, anyway.”

  “I caused you so much pain, blamed you for so much….”

  “You had every right to; I kept secrets from you, and by all accounts, my actions have been more of a danger to you than anything else….”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” I said, sitting up and scrubbing my hand across my cheeks.

  “You should get some rest; there is always tomorrow to discuss everything else,” she said, pulling me onto my feet. “You know where your room is?” she asked, and I nodded.

  She was right of course. I needed sleep, I needed to regroup and come up with a viable plan to face down Fionn once and for all before it was too late.

  Her lips pressed to my forehead in a soft kiss before she pushed me gently toward the stairs. “Go, sleep,” she said.

  I went, my feet more like deadweights as they carried me up the wide stairs to the landing above. Moving down the hall, I paused outside my old room and sucked in a deep breath. It was more than a little strange to be back.

  Pushing open the door, I stepped inside. It smelled of fresh cotton and crushed camomile, scents I firmly associated with my mother’s house. The room was different and not as I remembered it, but then, what did I expect? Too many years had passed for it to stay the same.

  Moving toward the bed, something sparkled and caught the corner of my eye, causing me to turn back toward it. The fairy sat on her toadstool, her tiny features upturned to the sky as she basked in a sunlight that only statues could feel.

 

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