Hunter: Faction 10: The Isa Fae Collection

by Angela Fristoe

  A gasp burst from her, and she tugged her hand from his. Only a few yards away was the fence, though it was still beyond the trees.

  “I didn’t think I’d find it,” she said, her elfin face looking up at him with amazement. “How…?”

  “Sometimes it just takes finding someone else who is lost.”

  He had been lost. He’d been searching the woods for days, and then he came across her. Exactly what he’d been looking for.

  Thora surged forward, but the trees seemed to multiply between her and the fence. Garrett raced after her, reluctant to lose his advantage.

  “Thora! Stop.”

  “Why?” she cried as she collapsed to her knees. “I found it. Why can’t I get out?”

  “Because you’re not found.”

  “What? That makes no sense. If the fence wasn’t here for me, then why…?”

  “I’m found. This is what I was looking for.”

  Her brow wrinkled as she gazed up at him. “Why would you be looking for the fence?”

  “Because I’ve been hunting you. Hunting for those like you.”

  Thora scrambled to her feet, trying to put distance between them, but he easily kept pace with her. He grabbed her hand and tugged her to a stop.

  “Let me go!” she yelled, and yanked against his hold.

  “Thora—”

  His words cut off at the sound of screams in the distance. Both of them froze as they strained to hear. The scream came again.

  “Britta!” Thora gasped. She ripped away from him and raced toward the fence. The trees thinned, easing her path, and he struggled to catch up with her. Despite her obviously shorter legs, she moved with a fluidity that surpassed any he’d seen before.

  He caught her at the very edge of the tree line, just as two sharp blasts pierced the early morn.

  “Thora, stop.”

  “That was my sister.”

  She spoke those words as if there were no others needed to explain her headlong rush toward possible danger.

  “You have no idea what’s happened, or who is over there.”

  “And you do?”

  “I do.”

  Her eyes narrowed in accusation, and he shook his head.

  “I’m not with them,” he said.

  “Perhaps I’d believe you if you hadn’t already admitted to hunting me.”

  The only way he could think of to convince her was to call on the name of the first Fae Queen.

  “I swear on the ever bright soul star of Tatiana, I am not with those men. But they are why I was hunting you.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Britta needs help. So either let me go or come with me. But I refuse to debate this any longer.”

  “Alright, but we shall do this my way.” He nudged her along the fence until they were south of where she’d been running. He helped her over the fence, and then motioned for her to crouch beside the crumbling barrier. “Let me check it out. Wait here.”

  She began to protest, but he turned his eyes on her, letting just a touch of his magic shine through, and waited as she lost herself in his gaze. When she settled back on her haunches, he ran up the hill, lowering to his stomach at the top, and peeked over the crest. The devastation he saw was as he’d expected.

  In the distance, black smoke billowed as the flames beneath it raged, licking the tops of buildings. The congregation of houses near the base of the hill were smouldering, having been the first to be hit. In the yard lay the bodies of an older woman and a girl. There was little doubt that they had experienced a horror no man could comprehend, or that they had elected to end that suffering before being subjected to a life time of it.

  Steeling his churning stomach, he raced back down to where Thora still hid.

  “Do you see her?” she asked.

  “We need to leave,” he said, urgency tightening his voice as he guided her over the fence.

  “My sister. Did you see her?”

  “Thora.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing left here for you. There’s nothing you can do.”

  “What do you mean?” Hysteria lifted her voice, and she tried to get past him, but he blocked her path.

  “She’s gone.”

  “What do you mean? I heard her. I heard…”

  “You heard two gun shots. Your mother and sister.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  She shoved at him.

  He gripped her face in his hands and forced her to meet his gaze, and gathered the truth there for her to see. It wasn’t a conjuring he’d used before as it was so contrary to the Fae’s typical use of magic to conceal and embellish. For a moment, he thought perhaps he’d failed. Then he watched as the reality of his words flowed over her.

  A strangled cry burst from her lips, and she frantically pushed on his chest, but he tugged her in to his arms, holding her as she gave into her grief. She crumbled against him, and he moved with her to the ground. For long moments, he held her there, unable to comprehend the loss she’d suffered in such a short time. He loved his sister, but the age difference between them was too vast for there to be such a depth to their relationship.

  Her shoulders jerked at the strength of her sobs, and he ran a soothing hand down her back. He released a calming force, letting it envelope her just enough to quiet her ravaged grief, yet not so much that he might completely vanquish it. Loss and sorrow were as important for the soul as joy and peace.

  “Who did this? Why?” She sniffled and gazed up at him, her still tear-filled eyes sparkling like emeralds.

  “You truly don’t know?” he asked.

  “Know what?” Confusion lined her face as she drew away from his hold.

  “What you are? Why they were hunting for you and your sister?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your parents were witch and Fae.”

  She nodded. “My mother was a witch; my father Fae.”

  “You’re a half-breed.”

  “What difference does that make?” she asked, and wiped the tears that continued to fall down her cheeks.

  “You know nothing about life beyond the woods, do you?” He struggled to fathom the isolation it must have taken to keep such knowledge from reaching her.

  “There is nothing beyond other than the ice fields and other domes. Besides, no one ventures in to the woods.”

  “You and your friend did,” he pointed out.

  Her lips squeezed together, and he could have kicked himself for bringing up the boy.

  “A few have entered, but none return.” Thora stood and leaned against the fence. “My father went in. He’d hoped to approach The Council about fixing the fence.”

  “How long ago was that?” He rose to stand behind her.

  “Nine months.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “What’s it like on the other side?”

  “It depends on who you are.”

  His ears picked up the sound of movement on the other side of the hill, and he pressed a finger to his lips, motioning for her to stay quiet. Taking her hand, he led her in to the forest, and they were greedily embraced by the trees.

  He didn’t bother to press her into running. Once in the forest, they were at the mercy of the trees. If the trees wanted them found, they would be.

  “Stay alert,” he said. “The trees like to play games with visitors.”

  She nodded, and that same sad look passed over her face as if she truly understood what he meant. Then he realized she did—her friend had paid the price of that game. Despite the peace he’d shielded her with, her grief still flowed freely from her, and they walked in silence as she shed the sorrow of her losses. But as the cloud over her gradually lifted with the help of the enchantment he’d used, he felt a different type of energy emanating from her.

  “What did you mean when you said it depends on who you are?” she asked as she walked gingerly along the game trail they’d come across.

  He steadied her as she stumbled over a fallen branch, and smiled at the hint of inquisitiveness ben
eath the nonchalant way she’d inquired. There was a part of her that could not deny the excitement of facing the unknown.

  “For witches and Fae, the faction is safe,” he answered. “Although it is far from the fairy tale existence it once was. But for someone like you, a half-breed, it would be dangerous. You’d be hunted by every other being.”

  “Why would anyone want to kill us?”

  “Killing you would be a mercy you’d beg them for.”

  Her face paled, and her eyes flicked behind her as if seeking the hill that had concealed her sister and mother’s fates from her.

  “You know of how the witches came to the Fae realm?” he asked, and she nodded. Garrett took her hand, lifting it, and pushed up her tattered sleeve to reveal the atern cuff all Fae and witches wore. Hers was at one hundred percent charge. “And you know of this?”

  “It’s atern; my life’s energy. I’m to use it sparingly, or risk a swift death.”

  He shook his head at the simplicity of her answer. How could she not know the importance of atern in their Faction?

  “Atern is what gives the Fae and witches their life and their magic. If a Fae chooses not to use their magic, they could live an eternal life.”

  “And witches?”

  “Not eternally, but a long life. Using magic, though, is how most Fae and witches die. The greater the magic conjured, the more atern it uses. After the extinction of humans, atern became the most valuable resource in the realm. Some Fae and witches, like those in your village I suspect, were willing to put magic aside. But a life without magic is not for most Fae, and many have resorted to stealing and whoring for enough to live another day.”

  He guided her to the right, around a boulder, to the foot of a stream. Anywhere other than in those woods, he would have followed the flowing water to the nearest town. But instinct told him to cross and keep walking.

  He turned his back to Thora and crouched. “Climb on.”

  “What? Why?”

  He gave her an exasperated look over his shoulder.

  “We’re going to the other side, and those sandals will offer little protection against the water.”

  “Oh.” She climbed on, and he tried to ignore the soft press of her breasts against his back and the way her skirt slipped away, leaving only the bare flesh of her legs to grasp.

  He waded through the water, wincing as the freezing flow rushed over the top of his boots. When they reached the other side, Thora slipped off his back, and he sat to remove his boots. Draining the water from them, he gave a quick glance at his own atern cuff.

  He’d entered the woods over a week ago with a solid charge and it should have been enough to last months, but over the past few hours with Thora, he’d managed to deplete a tenth of it. Her constant battle with her fear and grief had required him to continually use charms to suspend her emotions.

  Though he’d have preferred to save his atern for emergencies, at least until he was nearer a withdrawal station, death from cold toes was too real a possibility.

  He swept his hand over his boots, and watched as droplets of water were suctioned to the top of the boots then lifted in the air before him, forming a small cloud. He gently blew on it and watched it float away, drifting toward the stream which gladly absorbed it back into its rushing waters.

  “Why would you use your atern for something like that?” Thora sank to the ground beside him, wrapping her arms around her legs as she tugged her knees up under her chin.

  “A touch of magic to warm my freezing toes is a small price to pay.”

  “A touch. It’s part of your life force. How can you use it so freely?”

  “It’s only a level one spell,” he said. Her brows pulled low, and he realized that her parents had not just shielded her from the dangers of the Faction. They had shielded her from magic. “Have you never used your magic before?”

  “To use your magic is to bring about a swift death.”

  One side of his lips tipped up. “Not always. There are different levels of magic. Some require more atern than others.”

  “Why? How do you know how much a spell will use?”

  “It’s about the way the magic manipulates nature and the world around you. So, my pulling water from my boots… I’m not really changing anything; just moving it.”

  He reached over and lifted her hand. Scratched and coated with dirt, it held a record of her traumatic night in the wood. He turned her hand palm down and slid his underneath, facing up, then arranged their fingertips to align.

  “Focus on the very tips of your fingers. It’s like imagining a string pulling through you,” he said, watching concentration furrow her brow. “Do you feel the pull?”

  She started to shake her head, but froze when tiny silver particles began to form around her hand. A breathy laugh burst from her, and she looked from their fingers up to him.

  The silver dust blossomed and traveled along her arm, and then quickly encompassed her body. Once she was completely engulfed by it, the dust immediately retreated back to her fingers. As it vanished, she held up her hand. The dirt was gone.

  He chuckled when she flipped her arm over to check her cuff and then gave a sigh of relief. She could have performed the spell a hundred times before using a noticeable fraction of her atern.

  “It barely used anything,” she said, looking at him. “Why wouldn’t my parents have taught me this type of magic?”

  “Probably because using magic can be addictive. For some more than others. It’s why atern has become the currency of the faction.”

  “But if breeds can’t transfer atern to witches or Fae, I don’t understand why the Bascadors are hunting us.” She tipped her head to the side, and gave him an expectant look.

  He had a hard time not smiling at the sweet picture she made. Without the sun to catch on her subtle blue aura, and only her rounded ear tips gave away that she was not a full Fae.

  “It’s been nearly a hundred years since the fall of Earth. At first, laws separated witch and Fae, but Queen Tatiana decided that to maintain harmony within the faction, there needed to be acceptance of the new order. She forged an alliance between the Fae Council and the Grand Coven. With no barriers, Fae and witch united.”

  “And had little breed babies?”

  He gave a short laugh. “Yeah. They had breed babies.”

  “So, why would anyone want us dead?”

  “They don’t. When those first breed babies grew up, it was discovered they could replenish the atern of the Fae.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “For the Fae, but not the breeds. With humans, a simple touch could completely recharge a Fae and then the Fae could transfer to each other. But with breeds, it’s not so easy.” He cranked his head to the side, avoiding her innocent green gaze. “Breeds can transfer and replenish, but it takes much more than a touch.”

  “What do you…” Her words faded away and a hand flew up to cover her mouth as comprehension and horror settle over her. “Is that… Britta?”

  “No. I think your mother stopped it in time,” he lied. She didn’t need to know the state her sister had been in.

  Whether Thora truly believed him or whether she simply chose to rather than harbor the thought of the horror of her sister’s rape, he didn’t know, but she nodded and straightened her back.

  “You were hunting us, too. How are you different from the Bascadors?”

  “I’m not here to rape you.”

  “But you want something.”

  “I’m here to take you to The Sanctuary.”

  “What’s The Sanctuary?”

  “It’s a place for breeds. A place where you don’t have to live in fear anymore.”

  “I’ve never lived in fear.”

  “Maybe you didn’t, but I would guess your parents did.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, her delicately arched eyebrows drawing down.

  He motioned his hand around them. “They planted the trees. They created this forest to
keep everyone else out. But now the Bascadors have been to your village. It’s only a matter of time before they come back, searching for any breed they missed. You’ll never be safe there again.”

  “And in The Sanctuary?”

  “No one would ever dare harm you.” He tipped her chin up until she met his eyes. “I promise.”

  She relaxed ever so slightly. Like all Fae, lying came naturally to Garrett. The game of deception was how their race had survived so long. So, why did his stomach tighten as the lie passed his lips? Why wasn’t he celebrating the ease with which he’d convinced her to go to The Sanctuary? More importantly, why did he feel as if the promise he’d just given to her was going to cause him problems he’d never even anticipated?

  Chapter 3

  Sanctuary. Thora let the word roll through her for what must have been the hundredth time in the past four weeks. She hadn’t yet decided whether she could fully trust the warmth ignited as it echoed within her. Every emotion that swept through her seemed so foreign in the wake of what she’d come to see as her past.

  She had always thought of the past as something from long ago, yet now she realized it was defined by a moment when there was no going back to the way things were. Even her father’s disappearance hadn’t marked that moment because she’d so stubbornly held on to the hope that he would eventually come home. Her past officially started when she’d made the foolish mistake to enter the woods.

  At first, those days had been spent wandering through the thickening foliage, passing the hours until night fell. Then they would stop to eat and sleep under the dome Garrett conjured around them. When they rose in the morning, Garrett would help Thora practice a few simple charms. Mostly the spells were for mundane tasks that she would otherwise have just done herself— sparking the fire, removing knots from her hair, cleaning their clothes, and drawing water from the plants.

  She’d complained about the training at first, worried that the use of her atern would leave her weak, but when faced with the prospect of not showering for weeks, she’d relented. Besides, Garrett had reassured her that once they reached The Sanctuary, she would be able to earn more atern by working chore shifts.