Hunt: An Urban Faery Tale (The Faery Chronicles Book 1)

by Leslie Claire Walker

  “Throwing off pursuit?” he asked.

  “Going where I’m told,” Rude said.

  “I thought you didn’t always do everything you’re told.”

  Rude cracked a wry smile. “When it’s Oscar, I do.”

  So Kevin gathered. “So where the hell are we going?”

  “To a parking lot across the street from the restaurant that Oscar works out of.”

  “What does it have to do with my dad?”

  “He’ll be there,” Rude said.

  “He’ll be at work. Between eight-thirty and five-thirty, that’s where he is every day.”

  Rude lifted both hands from the wheel long enough to shrug. “Hey, don’t take my word for it. See it with your own eyeballs. Oscar said you’d need to. That’s why we’re going.”

  Oscar said. “What is it with you and Oscar? How come when he says jump you ask how high?”

  “He’s my teacher. I’m learning from him how to be a seer.”

  Kevin hadn’t expected that. He didn’t know what he’d expected, exactly. “How do you learn something like that?”

  “You ever see that movie The Karate Kid?”

  “Some of it,” Kevin said. “On TV.”

  “You know all that ‘wax-on, wax-off’ stuff?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “Well, it’s mostly like that. Like I said before: Chop wood, carry water. I keep feeling like he hasn’t taught me squat yet, like he’s testing me to see whether I’ve got what it takes.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “Almost a year,” Rude said.

  And Kevin had never known. That was a big secret to be keeping from your friends, one with a lot more depth than an embarrassing middle name.

  How did you reconcile the Rudolph Diamond Davies III who threw keggers when his parents went out of town and who smoked at school without being hassled by security with a guy studying to be a mystical whoosit? Life-of-the-party Rude Davies, the Faery seer?

  When had Rude gotten so serious? It made Kevin wonder how much else he’d missed.

  “How did you meet Oscar?” he asked.

  “I was at the Ritual Room downtown, you know?”

  Kevin nodded. The dance club, the one open to eighteen and under on Thursdays. Where else could you get your flashlight on with Parliament Funkadelic one minute and industrialize with Nine Inch Nails the next? Plus, live bands every night after twelve. Yeah, he knew it.

  “Oscar was there, waiting for a band to hit the stage. The Wild Hunt—that was the name of the band. Anyway, he saw me and kept on looking at me, you know, like people just don’t do. I figured he was coming on to me or something. He gave me a business card. Then I knew he was coming on to me,” Rude said.

  “Sounds promising.”

  Rude punched him in the arm. Not hard enough to hurt, but not a wussy punch, either. “I tossed the card on my way out the door. A week later, I stopped at the restaurant to eat, no particular reason other than I could’ve wolfed down a whale. He sat down across the booth from me. I thought he was crazy.”

  “I know the feeling,” Kevin said. “Do you think he could be shining you on?”

  “That’s just it,” Rude said. “I won’t know until the year’s up—a year and a day, actually. Then I’ll either learn something serious, or he’ll say, Rudolph, it’s been real, don’t come back.”

  “He calls you Rudolph?”

  “Yeah,” Rude said. “He’s just about the only one who does. Except for my mom.”

  Mrs. Davies wouldn’t know a nickname if it bit her in the ass, true. “So, why do you want to be a Faery seer?”

  Rude flushed. As in red cheeks, back of the neck, the whole enchilada. “Who doesn’t want superpowers?”

  Kevin started to raise his hand—but Rude cut him off before he could by pointing out the Parking Lot of Doom as they passed it.

  He didn’t pull right in; he looped the block and came at it through the neighborhood rather than from the main drag. That way, they could park in the back of the new-poured asphalt lot, in the shade of the pampas grass along the chain link fence, without being seen by anyone who happened to be idling at the front.

  Kevin gaped at the Suburban, its back windshield cleaner than usual after last night’s rain, windows down. Clearly visible inside? The top of his father’s head, with that one strand sticking up because of the cowlick and blowing in the cross-breeze. His dad was eating something that resembled an egg and croissant sandwich, slurping coffee from a large Styrofoam cup.

  Goddamn him, Kevin heard.

  His dad’s thoughts. Jesus H. Christ in a sidecar. “What’s he doing here?”

  “He’s watching Oscar,” Rude said.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

  Rude crossed his heart. “He was out here yesterday, too.”

  “But what about his job?”

  “Maybe he’s calling in sick, Kev. He’s got time coming to him, right?”

  Not that Kevin kept that close a track on his father’s work life, but that was possible. His dad took a sick day every few weeks. He just got overwhelmed. Stayed home all day, away from people. Or so Kevin had always believed.

  A thought skittered across his mind that maybe his dad had been fired or quit, which thought he immediately dismissed. Because if it were true, then he had a lot more to worry about than Amy and school and the cops-who-weren’t and the rock-n-roll Faery and her bus and what on earth his father could be doing in this parking lot when he should be accounting for some lawyer’s travel expenses.

  He would have to worry about how they were going to buy groceries and pay the bills. He could. Not. Go. There.

  Stick to the problem at hand, please and thank you.

  “Why is he watching Oscar?” Kevin asked.

  “We think he’s looking for an opportunity to get to him.”

  “Again with the kidding, man. What, my dad wants to put the whammy on him?”

  “Yep,” Rude said. “And we think it has something to do with you.”

  “That makes no sense. How could my dad even know about Oscar?”

  “You know what I told you about the cops?” Rude asked.

  Kevin blinked. “What do they have to do with this?”

  Rude spoke slowly. Like he was schoolin’ a dummy. Which pissed Kevin off so much he almost didn’t listen. Almost.

  “What’d I say to you about them?” Rude asked.

  “That they’re not cops.” Kevin made the mental leap, and he felt dumb. “Are you saying that’s not really my father?”

  “Something’s off with him,” Rude said. “Oscar said he’s—”

  “What?”

  “Broken.” Rude turned toward him. “I know that sounds bad.”

  “It’s loony. Also it makes no sense.” He dug his fingernails into the armrest. He wanted out of the car.

  “He hasn’t been himself lately, has he?”

  Not exactly. But that didn’t mean anything was that wrong. “He’s just upset about what happened with the fake law. He’s just pissed off about opening the door to let them in and having to think something happened to me, just like with my mom. That’s all it is.”

  “You should talk to Oscar.”

  No way. “I’m not going within five feet of that dude. He’s certifiable. And so are you. I’ll prove it.”

  “How, Kevin?”

  By marching over to talk to his father, who had no reason on earth to be sitting in this parking lot, eating a late breakfast, and plotting to put the hurt on some guy claiming to be a seer.

  Never mind that he’d only be digging a deeper hole for himself. That he was supposed to be in class. That he’d be grounded for the rest of his natural life, or worse.

  There was nothing wrong with his father. Even if he could hear the man think.

  He jumped out of the car. Rude lunged after him, but he only caught a handful of sweatshirt. The big guy bolted out of the vehicle after him. Running, for crying out loud. Why try to stop h
im?

  Kevin picked up speed to full throttle. He was faster than Rude and he had a head start. His sneakers skidded on the blacktop by the passenger side of the Suburban. He banged on the door with the flat of his hand.

  His father paused mid-bite, egg sandwich hanging out of his mouth. He met Kevin’s gaze without a flash of recognition or surprise or welcome. There was nothing behind the man’s eyes.

  And he had a gun on the seat beside him. His father, who had never owned a gun.

  Kevin backed up—straight into Rude. Who grabbed hold of him and swung him away from the open window. Took him down to the ground.

  Rude’s thoughts echoed in Kevin’s skull. Stay down. Rude thought Kevin’s dad would fire on them. He thought Franklin Landon would shoot his own son.

  But he didn’t. Franklin gunned the engine to life and punched the gas. The rear of the Suburban fishtailed. The tires kicked a spray of asphalt pebbles into Kevin’s face.

  He shut his eyes tight—quick enough. But he couldn’t turn away in time to keep the flying rocks from scoring his skin. He couldn’t move. He sure couldn’t breathe with Rude on top of him.

  “You okay?” the big guy asked, and pushed to his feet.

  Kevin gulped air. “No.”

  Rude extended a hand to help him up. Kevin took it. He needed all the help he could get. He brushed himself off. When he did his face, his fingers came away bloody.

  “I don’t understand what just went down here,” he said.

  “Oscar can explain it,” Rude said.

  “Tell him to come explain it out here.”

  “You’re bleeding, man. You need to wash those cuts. We can do that inside.”

  “Later,” Kevin said. “I want answers. Right goddamn now.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  RUDE REACHED FOR HIS CELL. Before he could speed-dial, the door to the restaurant opened. Oscar jogged out, gauged the traffic, and crossed the road. When he got close enough, Kevin could see that he kept glancing this way and that, like he expected to be sideswiped any second.

  By what—or who? His dad had to be miles away already.

  Oscar looked bigger than he remembered. His biceps bulged inside the short sleeves of his white undershirt. No sweater. No coat. He hadn’t taken the time to put one on.

  That should mean something, but Kevin couldn’t think what. In fact, he couldn’t think at all. His knees started to buckle.

  Rude caught him by the arm. Held him upright.

  “Inside,” Oscar said.

  Kevin shook his head. “I already told Rude no. Whatever it is, say it to me here.”

  Oscar took hold of his other arm. “Those pseudo cops will be here any minute. Do you want to be out in the open for them to pick you up?”

  Kevin dug in his heels. It made no difference. Oscar and Rude dragged him. He tried to wriggle out of their grasp. He couldn’t even gain an inch of freedom.

  “How?” he asked. “How would they know I’m here?”

  “I’ll tell you inside,” Oscar said.

  “Why would they pick me up?”

  “We’re not in school,” Rude said. “We’re truant. That’s a human reason. No clue if they’ve got another one.”

  Shit.

  “If they look like cops, no one will even look at them sideways when they shove you in the car,” Rude said.

  Kevin stopped struggling.

  The back room of the restaurant was warm enough for Kevin to strip off his sweatshirt. Oscar brought him hot cocoa spiced with chili and cinnamon. He drank it all in one long swallow, burning his mouth. He gripped the empty mug with both hands, afraid to let it go.

  Oscar sat on one side of him, Rude on the other—flanking him. Kevin got the feeling they did it to support him. And to keep him from running out the door.

  “What’s wrong with my father?” he asked. “Straight-up. No games. No ‘go to this address before midnight’ crap.”

  Oscar folded his hands and rested them on the table top. “He’s been messing with powers he doesn’t understand.”

  Kevin met the man’s gaze and saw only honesty. Exactly what he’d asked for.

  Oscar spoke low. “Your mother died last October, didn’t she?”

  Tears welled in Kevin’s eyes. He refused to cry them. “On Halloween.”

  “And your dad’s been acting strange since that happened?”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “I would,” Oscar said.

  “So what are you trying to say, man?” Kevin asked.

  “Your father’s been trying to bring her back.”

  “That’s impossible.” The first, traitorous tear rolled down Kevin’s cheek.

  “It’s not,” Oscar said. “Not if the person in question died a mystical death. Not if you know what you’re doing. Who to contact, both here and in the Faery realms. They watch over the dead.”

  Crazy talk, that’s what this was. But after everything that’d happened the last few days, he could only take it as it came. “A drunk killed my mother.”

  “What if your father doesn’t believe that?” Oscar asked.

  But it happened the way the cops said it did. Confirmed by the coroner. “Who would tell him different?”

  “I did,” Oscar said.

  Kevin stared at him. “You? How would he even know who you are?”

  “He sought me out. I’m not that hard to find.” He gestured at Kevin, seeming to mean that after all, if Kevin could find him, how hard could it be?

  But Kevin had had help. He turned to look at Rude, who’d been too quiet ever since they’d sat down. “Please tell me you didn’t bring my dad here.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Rude said. “Not exactly.”

  Dread crept over him. “Well then, how exactly was it?”

  Rude stole a glance at Oscar. If he was looking for help from his teacher, he didn’t get it. “I felt bad for him,” he said. “He needed something to hold onto. I figured I could get him to talk to someone, and maybe he’d be able to be himself again.”

  “Be himself?” Kevin asked.

  “C’mon, dude—your life has radically sucked since your mom died, and he hasn’t been a lot of help.”

  “He’s trying.”

  “Sometimes trying isn’t good enough,” Rude said.

  Well, there wasn’t anything he could do about that, was there? He was doing the best he could, too. What if that wasn’t enough? “You’d know a lot about that,” he said. “Seeing as your life’s so perfect. Big house, big car, plenty of cash.”

  Rude held up a hand. “Stop right there, Kev.”

  “Why should I?”

  “You sound like an asshole,” Rude said.

  He couldn’t have cared less. “So what if I am one?”

  Rude let the question hang long enough for Kevin to hear how stupid he sounded, which only made him angrier.

  “You’re just pissed because I’m right,” Rude said.

  Yeah. To prove it, Kevin gave him the cold shoulder. “What did you tell him?” he asked Oscar.

  “That it was possible his wife was carried off by the Wild Hunt. He never saw her body—never had to make an identification, no open casket at the funeral.”

  Because she’d been mangled too badly in the wreck.

  And wait—that hunt thing—the name was just like the band that Rude had talked about. Just like the page his father had been checking out online.

  “He asked me how to know for sure,” Oscar continued. “I sent him to the same place I sent the two of you last night—to the girl on the bus. I told him she would know what to do for him, if anything could be done.”

  Kevin tried to imagine his dad going to see Simone. His stubborn, accounts-payable-clerk father. Kevin just couldn’t see it.

  “Why did you do that?” he asked. “You should have known better.” His father wasn’t the kind of guy who could handle that kind of reality shift. That would’ve been obvious to anyone with eyes.

  “I didn’t know,” Oscar sai
d. “I didn’t know your dad. He was convinced. He believed utterly that his wife had not died. And he needed my help. Who was I not to give it to him?”

  “So you were trying to be kind.”

  Oscar nodded.

  Stupid. Sometimes helping someone was the least kind thing you could do. If Oscar had just said no, you’re wrong, then…then his dad would have found another way to get what he wanted. And maybe the next person he went to for help wouldn’t be a good guy.

  Kevin wanted to hate Oscar, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet. “Why her? Why the girl on the bus?”

  “She’s special,” Oscar said. “She used to be a flesh-and-blood human girl. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, out on Halloween night. She ran into the Hunt.”

  The Hunt. Again. “You want to fill in the blanks?”

  Rude did. “The Wild Hunt rides the sky every year on Halloween. It’s a procession of ghostly hunters led by the Faery King. Usually, they’re hunting a woman. Otherwise, they take the souls of the newly dead with them to Faery. Sometimes they also take the souls of people unlucky enough to run into them, leaving their dead bodies behind.”

  “Busy fuckers,” Kevin said.

  “Sometimes they kidnap living people, dude. That’s what happened to our girl.”

  “The Fae kidnapped her,” Kevin said. “How’d she get the wings?”

  “Someone stays in Faery long enough, they start to change,” Oscar said.

  “Into Faeries?”

  “Yes,” Oscar said matter-of-factly.

  “Well, how long has she been there?” Kevin asked.

  “Seven years, Kev. She was twenty-four when they took her.”

  That would make her thirty-one now. “But she doesn’t look that old.”

  “Time moves a lot more slowly there. There’s no way to tell how old she is anymore,” Oscar said. “She still hangs on to hope that one day she’ll be able to come back home, back to her life. But if it doesn’t happen soon, she’ll be too far changed to do it.”

  “But the wings—”

  “Still flesh and blood,” Rude said.

  Kevin remembered: the ripple of muscle and the course of blood.

  Rude glanced down at the table. “Eventually, she’ll just become light. She won’t have a physical, human body at all. She’ll lose that part of herself. It’s her destiny, and there’s no going back.”