The Hunt is On (The Patroness)

by Natalie Herzer

  Astonished at the pure honesty coming from the man in front of me I had to clear my throat, so many emotions were swirling inside of me I had troubles figuring them out. “Okay.”

  “I know you feel for Kylian. A blind man would see it, sorry. But the question’s not there. It’s, why are you here when you could be with him? In your line of work it’s true to say life is short. So what you should ask yourself is, when it’s over tomorrow would you want to have that sweet memory or not? Really, forget the mating. Mating isn’t for life when your love isn’t either. That’s all there is to it. Just do whatever your heart tells you to.”

  He pushed away from the counter and left me alone, standing in the kitchen with cold dishwater dripping from my trembling hands.

  Listen to your heart, Pauline had once said to me as well. Was it that easy?

  My head and heart were still reeling, trying to accept what Ben had told me and trying to fight through all the confusion that was spinning inside of me.

  I didn’t even get a minute to pull me together.

  My cell went off.

  Still feeling like a puzzle finished the wrong way, the pieces not quite fitting, I answered it.

  “What happened?” I asked Kylian the minute I stepped into his house on the clearing in the woods outside of Paris. He had called me to tell me that Mathieu was in their hospitable, getting stitched up by Fabienne.

  He came towards, his face serious and my heart plummeted. “He got into a fight. A dominance fight. But he’s okay.”

  Horror flooded me and I blanched, images flashing in my mind of Mathieu lying in a pool of his own blood, of his flesh shredded by claws and teeth. “What?”

  Kylian put his hands on my arms, stroking up and down. “He’s okay, Maiwenn. Nothing serious. Nothing that won’t heal up pretty quick.” When that didn’t get through to me, he shook me gently and added, “He won.”

  My heart still thundering in my chest I stared at him, blinking and trying to understand. “He won?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded, his eyes softly on mine. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but you hung up before I could explain it all.”

  “He’s okay?”

  A reassuring smile curved his lips. “Yeah. Come on, I’ll take you to him and you can see for yourself.”

  As soon as we reached the floor of the ‘hospital wing’ I heard Mathieu’s voice, clear and without pain. “Dammit, Fabienne. I’m fine, stop mothering me.” But only when I walked into the room and saw Mathieu whole and safe sitting on a bed, could I breathe easier and my heart found a normal rhythm again. Especially when he snickered, “It’s the a-hole over there that needs it.”

  Then he saw me and a little blush crept up his neck.

  “You called her?” he asked Kylian.

  “Yup, and he scared the living daylights out of me by doing so.”

  He rolled his eyes at me. “I wouldn’t have if you’d listened instead of hanging up on me.” To Mathieu he said, “Saw no reason why not. There’s no shame in a fight fairly won.”

  I leaned my hip against the bed Mathieu was sitting on and studied him, registering a couple of scratches and a blue eye in the making. Other than that he seemed incredibly fine. My eyes snapped to the guy in the adjoining room. He looked worse. His nose was gushing red and his elbow hang at an odd angle. Nice work. I wanted to jump up and down, clapping. Pride filled me, knowing that my Mathieu had done that. Then I frowned. Wait a minute. What did that say about me and the world we lived in when I was glad that my little brother had beaten the hell out of another guy?

  “But how come you were in a fight anyway?”

  Kylian agreed, “That was what I wanted to know before you came.”

  The blush crept up into Mathieu’s cheek. Oh. A nervous leg started to bounce. Interesting.

  Fabienne, grinning at his sudden reluctance to open that usually well-used mouth of his, helped out. “As far as I could gather he defended your virtue.”

  My what?

  My gaze flew to Kylian, whose raised eyebrows suggested that he was as surprised as I was, and then back to Mathieu who shrugged before pinning the other guy with a killing glance. “He mouthed off and I shut him up.”

  “What did he say?” Kylian wanted to know, his eyes turning blue around the pupil but nevertheless darkening his stare.

  “You know…stuff.” He sighed when Kylian’s eyes made it clear that wouldn’t do as an answer. “Like how it is cool that our leader gets himself some piece of Patroness-ass but that he should better not put it in front of the pack as alpha mate.”

  God, Kylian was a sight to behold. Two icy pools of alpha fire snapped to the offending guy in question who, obviously feeling the unpleasant heat, looked up and froze. Yeah buddy, tough luck. The man ducked his head, showing submission although his leader was the length of an entire room away from him.

  I had known that a part of the pack wasn’t thinking highly of me - due to my killing rogues and all - but hearing it, knowing that Mathieu was pulled into a fight because of it was an entirely different matter. They would never accept me at Kylian’s side.

  I swallowed at the pang in my heart. That truth hurt more than I had ever expected it to but I hoped it didn’t show as I tried to ease the thickening tension and rolled my eyes at Kylian and a smirking Mathieu. “Overprotective, much?”

  Back at my place after hanging around with Mathieu to make sure he was alright, the rest of the day went by just like all the days before a fight went – very slowly. I was eagerly awaiting our chance. Trying to help push the hands of the clock by training in the shed on the rooftop or even by going through some of the paperwork which I couldn’t concentrate on. With everything going on in the last two weeks I was desperate to fight, determination and the thrill of the hunt fueling me.

  When the troops slowly filled our apartment, one could feel the nervous excitement buzzing in the room, tickling our skins. We were ready to bounce.

  Then that’s what we would do – bounce, like a lion targeting his prey.

  The Wild Hunt would visit the city soon enough, but where we didn’t know. So Kylian and I would go where a good view was offered, and as soon as the Hunt was spotted the ravens were to get in and bring us there as fast as possible. The others would patrol the streets but stay on the ground, ducking away if the Hunt were to come after them. No one was to be captured but us, Kylian and me.

  When the sun set, we welcomed the night. At last.

  SIXTEEN

  With the ravens high in the sky and the others patrolling on the ground Kylian and I could concentrate on getting our asses up the Eiffel Tower, our best vantage point. To get there we first went to the Place de la Bastille, a square where once the proud Bastille prison was stormed but today the July Column stood surrounded by a nearly labyrinthine traffic circle and restaurants and cafés. From there we took the line eighty-seven. I preferred busses to the metro. I didn’t like being in the dark, in more than one way.

  With my hand I wiped away some of the mist clinging to the window and looked out. The city hadn’t really changed. The people might be frightened, but the city was still there, warts and all. Brightly illuminated attractions and shadowy alleys. The Boulevard Saint-Germain seemed to hammer home the point, framed by all sorts of cafés and shops and stores it was jammed with traffic and crowded with people. Hard to believe that once there were several small streets instead of the boulevard cutting a rough path from east to west. But in the nineteenth century Napoleon III ordered a modernization program for Paris, and the new boulevard was probably the most important part of it. I wouldn’t mind so much since it’s only natural for a growing city to adapt – if they hadn’t destroyed a prison planted in the middle of their path. An old one, whose inhabitants had been incarcerated for minor offenses but often ended in the hospital thanks to its poor condition. Actually I really wasn’t against them removing it, but couldn’t they have done it without leaving behind such a mess of ghosts and curses?

  A baby cried an
d I turned my head away from the window to watch a tired mother trying to calm her red-faced son. The bus was crammed with people and their sounds and scents. I wasn’t even a shifter and I wasn’t comfortable, so I felt with the little, spitting guy. Briefly I wondered how his mother would react if in a week her child couldn’t only drool the most but also make his toys come to life.

  My gaze traveled over the usual, suit-clad business man. What would his life be like after the Turn? Would he just continue? Behind him stood a girl, one arm hooked around a grab pole, a phone at her ear. She couldn’t be more than thirteen years old but with all the war paint on she looked nearly five years her senior, and the girl managed to continue her very private phone conversation with an ease that was rather scary, as if she weren’t surrounded by a bunch of strangers. Pubertal bravado…or stupidity, as some adults would call it.

  A smile curved my lips. All of them were crazy in a way, walking clichés, but also totally normal and ordinary people. Some might say the world would be better off without them. But for me they stood for what I was fighting for, for what I would give my life. In them I saw love, dedication and innocence.

  Watching as one after the other stepped out of the bus I relished the warmth they had left behind inside of me, like a blanket covering my shoulders. It was my armor. Soon we reached our stop and got off.

  Champ de Mars.

  Maybe Mars, the Roman god of war would help us kick his Celtic cousin’s ass. The bus stop was right in the middle of the field of green, where also an oval fountain stood, its water shimmering in the soft light of the night. A military school, the École militaire, wasn’t far away and in times past this field was used as drilling and marching grounds by the French military. This field before us had seen good and bad stuff, the first major of Paris had been guillotined here and in the 19th century it was the site of the World’s Fair. Now, it was just a green space surrounded by elm trees, used by tourists, for parties or as a backdrop in films. But what a breathtaking backdrop, especially at night. The green lawns, the sound of trickling water and the scent of barren trees surrounded us, all of it illuminated by the ethereal light of high lamps. And there, right in front of us, rose the Iron Lady. Though in the dark and brightly lit she glowed like gold against a sky covered in clouds that were tinged an eerie dark red, reflecting the city lights. Thousand feet of elaborate, iron lattice. The rows of elm trees seemed to be her feet, and between them and the high arch of the base one could even see the two wings of the Palais de Chaillot framing the Gardens of the Trocadéro on the other side of the river Seine.

  Choosing the left white, gravel path we walked under the elms and lightened dark, probably looking like other tourists as long as one didn’t look too hard.

  “You know, it’s been nearly four months now that I’m in Paris, but I’ve never even once visited the Eiffel Tower.” Kylian looked at me from the side. “Nor gone on such nice walks like you took me for, to be honest. A little history would be the cherry on top.”

  I smiled, pleased that he would remember our walks and the historical facts always tumbling out of my mouth as a side effect of being the Patroness of Paris. Obliging, I replied, “But remember, you asked for it. The Eiffel Tower was first of all the idea of Maurice Koechlin and Émile Nouguier, two engineers working for Eiffel’s Company and trying to find something suitable as the centerpiece for the 1889 World’s Fair. At first Gustave Eiffel wasn’t even very interested in the idea, but after others worked on the design and added the arches and so on, he liked it. In 1886 there was an open competition for the centerpiece and Eiffel won. In January the following year the construction began, though there were a lot of protests from writers, architects and painters claiming that the monstrous tower would butcher the beautiful face of Paris. One of them was Guy de Maupassant, a French writer. He ended up eating lunch in the Tower’s restaurant. Every day.”

  “Not so much of a protester anymore?”

  “Oh yes, he was. He said it was the only place where he didn’t have to see the damned thing.”

  Kylian threw his head back and roared with laughter. I found that I liked that sound. It made me warm inside.

  We reached the Tower, passing under the great arch and seeing one of the four big feet supporting it I had to admit that it was an amazing piece of work. With a glance at the rows of visitors I suggested, “We should take the stairs.”

  “I’d love to.”

  And so we attacked the first three hundred stairs that would bring us to the first floor. The stairs were metal as well, so that one could look at Paris from within the structure while ascending. Not really recommended to people suffering from vertigo. “Did you know that it takes them up to sixty tons of paint to cover this whole thing?”

  “Now I know.” Instead of taking a look around when we reached the first floor we turned to continue up. “How many stairs to the second floor?”

  “Another three hundred or so. Don’t tell me you’re already tiring?”

  His voice like velvet with a rough edge to it he purred, “Oh, I don’t tire easily.”

  At the sexual innuendo and the sudden need punching my gut I sucked in a breath. Ah, God. This was so not the right time to get me all worked up.

  Soon we stumbled onto the second floor, slightly out of breath – whether from the stairs or the unexpected verbal foreplay I couldn’t really tell – but breath was quickly forgotten as soon as I took a look at Paris. It was overwhelming. Then the lights started to flicker, and I turned to look around and up. Iridescent, sparkling, golden light flooded us.

  “They installed twenty thousand flash bulbs for the millennium celebration in 1999, and now they sparkle every hour on the hour. It’s beautiful.”

  “Yes.”

  “I so don’t want to see their electrical bill at the end of the year, though.”

  “You know what it costs anyway, don’t you?”

  I shrugged. “Four hundred grand worth of sparkle.”

  “Jesus.”

  “At least it means we’re on schedule.”

  We stepped up to the railings and wire fence protecting from the nearly 380 feet drop. Kylian pulled out his cell and let the others know that we were positioned and ready. I gazed at the horizon, searching for unnatural tendrils of fog. Once I saw the flash of a raven soaring through the sky, but wasn’t sure whether it was Riva, Gabin or Luc. At the distance it was impossible to tell. We still had not much of an idea of what to do up there, but I was sure we would come up with something. During my research I had stumbled upon several rumors claiming that the Hunt couldn’t exist without a Hunted, and that it wouldn’t rest until they had found their prey. If Morgan was truly the one holding the strings, I was pretty sure I knew the chosen Hunted – me. If it turned out to be the only way to save the souls taken, I would give myself up – but not without taking Morgan with me.

  Together Kylian and I walked the wrap-around platform, watching for the Wild Hunt. We were into our fifth round when Kylian nudged me with the elbow.

  “There. Can you see it?”

  I followed his finger, pointing to the north, and sure enough, there it was. The fog. And that meant the Wild Hunt wasn’t far either.

  He grabbed his cell and called for two ravens to get us.

  God, they were a sight to behold. Like huge but nevertheless elegant ravens they soared through the night air, their feathers gleaming like silk. In a rustle of giant wings and with a gust of wind a black and a red brown over night-feet tall raven landed beside us on the platform. Ignoring the gaping bystanders Kylian climbed onto Luc’s back and I got onto Riva’s, careful not to hurt her in any way. With a loud shriek that somehow reminded me of excited laughter they jumped up and into the air, flapping their powerful wings and making my stomach jump.

  At first I thought that this was going to be a rough ride, but once we cleared the fence of the platform Riva spread her wings and used the wind, calmly gliding, and it was just magnificent. The cold air on my face, and the city a sea of
lights stretching underneath us as far as the eye could see. It smelled of autumn and rain, fresh and damp. From up here everything looked so normal. No fear or panic or death. Simple freedom. Above not even the clouds could stop us as Riva whizzed through them. I laughed at the sheer joy of being, loving the buzzing feeling that flying left inside of me. The thrill and temptation to leave everything behind, to just draw the veil of oblivion was absolutely addictive and when Riva started to fly lower I even felt a pang of regret.

  Just as planned she prepared to land at a safe distance away from the fog. The ravens obviously seemed to gun for the little green space at the stairs in front of the Church of Saint Vincent de Paul. The trees down there would make for nice cover and I was glad that we wouldn’t have to scare some more humans tonight. The illuminated church looked impressive from above, but my gaze was quickly pulled away and I grabbed some of her fine feathers to hold fast as the trees rushed towards us and Riva dipped down, the rush of her wings loud in my ears.

  As soon as her feet touched ground I jumped of her back, as did Kylian a few feet away. We were once again near the Gare du Nord. Apparently it was one of their better hunting grounds. My heart was still hammering in my chest as I stepped to caress Riva’s silky feathers. “Thanks for the ride.” Then I pushed away and said, “But now get the hell out of here.”

  Both ravens bowed their head and with a last shriek were soon airborne again.

  My gaze still on the ravens I walked to stand beside Kylian and together we watched them until they vanished in the dark of the night sky.

  Kylian’s blue eyes grinned at me. “Let’s hunt.”

  “Love to.”

  Together we descended the grand stairwell leading away from the church and to the street below. We had just reached the bottom and taken a look at the crossroads in front us, knowing that we had to head east, when Kylian paused and cocked his head.