The Wild Hunt (Faerie Sworn Book 1)

by Ron C. Nieto

  Ms. McEnroe nodded and gestured to Peter to get the small bottle. This time, Lily surrendered it without complaint and he busied himself with the pitcher of water that rested on the table. With more care than befitted his age, he poured a spoonful of the liquid and mixed it with deliberate gentleness. Then, beaming with pride at a task well done, he wrestled the pitcher over to his mother, who got a glass, and once more, patted his head. Lily felt like an intruder.

  “Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked.

  The woman drank her glass and gave her a frail smile. “You’ve done enough bringing the medicine. Thank you.”

  “I…” Lily hesitated. “I think you should probably see a doctor about that,” she said. “A real one,” she added when she remembered the title the little boy had bestowed upon her grandmother.

  The woman shook her head. “Already did, first thing. This is not for them to cure, though. It needs a faerie doctor to go away, and thanks to Mackenna, I’m almost well again.”

  Lily went to protest, but bit back her words and frowned. Ms. McEnroe’s voice had sounded a little bit stronger, less pained. Her breathing didn’t seem all that labored… or was it her imagination?

  “Okay,” she said at last. “I guess I’ll head back home then. But if you do need something…”

  “Be safe on the way back,” Ms. McEnroe said. “Peter, be polite and show the nice lady to the door.”

  Peter gave Lily a suspicious look, not willing to overlook or forget the fact she had tried to withhold his mother’s medicine from him, but still, he complied and even managed a wave as Lily crossed the edge of their yard into the forest.

  This time around, she found the correct rock with ease and the way across the road to the burned tree took only a little over thirty minutes. She walked up to the blackened, twisted thing that had been swallowed back by the greenery around it and gave it a little, vindictive kick. Like touching base. She was getting the hang of these instructions. Then she turned to the right, ninety degrees, and—

  “Grandma!” she shouted, taking a hurried step back and nearly toppling over the tree’s remains. “What are you doing here?”

  Mackenna stood not three feet away, her white hair neatly combed, her eyes still tired and her smile a little bleary. She hadn’t changed clothes, still wearing her dark blue, knee-length skirt and prim white blouse, but she had straightened them up a bit after the night’s work. She didn’t say anything.

  “Why did you come? You are supposed to be resting, Grandma.” Lily did some quick calculations in her head. Even getting it right the first time, this place was at least a quarter of an hour from her home at her own pace. When constricted by age and a walking cast, that distance could easily seem double. “This isn’t funny, Grandma,” she said with a frown. “Maybe you can stand and move around at home, but you certainly can’t do this.”

  “Don’t you trust me to know what I can do? Such an issue with trust you have. It’ll be your undoing, you’ll see. Not having it, losing it, misplacing it, betraying it.”

  “What?” Lily blinked.

  “Go home, dear,” Mackenna said, disregarding her confusion. “I’ll follow you in a moment.”

  “Wha...? No. No way. I’ll walk you back. It’s okay if it takes a little longer.”

  Mackenna shook her head. She walked, limping only slightly, and perched down on the burned stump. “You go ahead,” she insisted. “Just now I feel myself faint. Go home ahead and bring me a shawl and a little fruit.”

  “Grandma, be reasonable.”

  “I’ll wait for you here.” Mackenna smiled. She spoke quietly but with all the authority of a queen, and Lily found herself nodding.

  “Okay,” she said. “Okay, you stubborn woman. I’ll be back as fast as I can… Don’t move from that spot.”

  “I will not.” Another smile.

  Lily fast-walked the first few yards away from the burned tree trunk and then she began to run.

  C H A P T E R IV

  Lily hit the front steps running and she barged in the house like a bull in a china shop.

  “Dear Lord!” said her grandmother’s voice. “Whatever is running after you?”

  She froze. “Grandma?”

  “In here.” Mackenna came out from her bedroom, looking more rested and slightly ruffled as if she had just jumped out of bed. “Are you well?”

  In fact, she wasn’t. Lily’s head began to spin as she tried to reconcile the woman in front of her with the woman she had left behind.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Well, where would you rather I be?” Mackenna chuckled softly. “I may be able to walk a little, but I certainly am not up for hiking anywhere else.”

  “But I just saw you.”

  The smile froze in Mackenna’s lips, a strained grimace appearing in its place. “I’m sure it was a misunderstanding. It must have been someone who looked like me, that’s all.”

  “You talked to me!” Lily gestured wildly, her head spinning faster as her breathing became more labored. “You were there—where the burned tree… and you talked to me!”

  Mackenna walked up to her, only a slight limp to her steps, and put her frail arms around her shoulders. “There, there. I’m sure there’s another explanation. How could I have been there and here at the same time?”

  Lily realized she was shaking. “I’m not going mad,” she murmured.

  “Of course not!”

  “But it feels like it. The spoon first, now this. I—”

  “I think you just were tricked by a faerie,” Mackenna cut in. Her tone was perhaps a little bit too terse.

  “Faeries don’t exist, Grandma,” Lily said with a heavy sigh.

  Mackenna fixed her for a long moment and then her shoulders slumped, giving up the discussion. “Maybe they do, maybe they don’t. But they’re great pranksters, so it would not surprise me if this had been their idea of a joke.”

  Lily didn’t reply. Arguing would lead nowhere. She’d seen it every time her mother tried to talk Mackenna out of the old ways. For her grandmother, faeries were there. She even called herself a faerie doctor as the visit to the McEnroe’s had reminded her. That was the reason she had so many odd things about and had spent a whole night working on something Lily could only call a potion. But still, those beliefs didn’t explain what she had seen, so—

  “Come, Lily,” Mackenna said. “Let’s forget about the good folk. I have a gift for you.”

  “Really?” She grinned. “You didn’t have to! What is it?”

  Lily didn’t forget about meeting her grandmother on the way back home, but she did push it to the back of her mind. While there were no faeries, the prankster theory did have its merits. Impersonating her grandmother to such an extent must have taken a lot of planning and effort and it was odd that anyone would bother, but what other explanation was there?

  “Come and you’ll see for yourself,” her grandma called back over her shoulder.

  Mackenna led Lily to her room. The bed cover was still askew after napping and she straightened it with care before sitting down and patting the bed by her side. Lily obeyed while her grandmother rummaged in the bedside table. After a few moments, she got out a small leather pouch and put in in Lily’s hands.

  “There,” she said. “It will look lovely on you.”

  Lily loosened the string and spilled out the contents. Her breath caught in her throat when the silver chain flowed over her fingers.

  “It’s so beautiful,” she whispered. The necklace shone, capturing every little ray of light available and glimmering like pale fire. The brooch, big and engraved with an elaborate rose bud, was designed to rest against her throat, holding the delicate triple chain closed and letting the charms hang from its end. Each charm hung at a different length and each was intricate and graceful. There were two roses in full bloom and one that had wilted, but even the wilted one was gorgeous, a decadent testimony of a lush past.

  “I’m glad you like i
t.”

  “Like doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Lily said, her eyes captured by the jewel. “It’s a masterpiece. It’s amazing. It’s… Where’d you even find something like it?”

  “That’s going to be my secret,” Mackenna said with a smile, squeezing her free hand.

  “I’m not sure I can wear it. What if I lose it?”

  “Oh, no, I won’t have any of that. You simply must wear it. That’s the only condition for the gift.”

  Lily grinned. “Well, I’ll sacrifice myself then.” With reverent care, she clasped the necklace in place. The metal felt cool against her skin and the weight settled comfortably around her throat.

  Mackenna studied her, gave a nod of approval, and stood.

  “Now that it’s settled, I think I’ll make myself presentable for the day.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep anymore? The wake-up call wasn’t all that nice on my part.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s a great moment to start doing things, and we wouldn’t want to sleep perfectly good hours away when we can be using them.”

  “Okay. I’ll prepare something to eat then. A late meal. Would you like anything special?”

  “Thank you, my dear. Anything you pick will be fine.”

  “Pancakes then. I’ll have them ready when you are.” Lily needed something sweet after the rocky start of the day, and she thought she remembered where all the ingredients were in the kitchen. She might even manage to surprise and impress her grandma as a thank you for the incredible necklace.

  C H A P T E R V

  Good will did very little to improve her skills in the kitchen, Lily found after puttering around for five minutes. She wasn’t used to cooking and the only guidance she had to go by was a vague recollection of eating raw dough with her grandmother in her last visit.

  She tapped the spoon against the flour container. How much flour did she need again?

  “I see you were waiting on me,” said her grandma, entering the kitchen just as the pondered whether to add more flour or more egg.

  “Oh, hey. Not on purpose, but I’ve realized I don’t remember how to make this as well as I thought.” Lily turned to shoot her grandma a quick smile, but the expression wilted in her lips. Furrowed brows didn’t belong with Mackenna and the odd expression sent yet another thrill along her already frayed nerves. “Is everything okay, Grandma?”

  “I can’t seem to find my blouse. The red one. I truly wanted to wear it today.”

  “That’s not too bad.” She finally chose to add another egg and hope for the grub she had prepared to improve. “Do you want me to help you look for it?”

  A moment of silence followed and it made Lily glance at Mackenna once again. There was a thoughtful look in those blue eyes, but then she noticed her looking and shook it off, offering a tight smile instead.

  “No, I think not. I’m sure it’ll just appear when we least expect it. But let me help you. It looks like those pancakes could use it.”

  Lily made room and Mackenna took charge of the kitchen. It was easier that way, letting her give instructions and explain how to do it properly. Her expertise even salvaged Lily’s disaster and by the time they had anything like dough going on, the both of them had flour in their hair and were laughing, the tiredness of the previous night and the weirdness of the morning all but forgotten.

  “Now that looks more tasty, doesn’t it?” Mackenna gave one last twist of the spoon and contemplated their work. “We only need add the yeast and we will be done.”

  Lily reached behind to the counter, to the spot where she had placed all the ingredients, and froze. It wasn’t there. There was milk and flour and eggs, and even the cinnamon she had pulled out just in case, but no yeast.

  She swallowed, her throat dry.

  “I… It’s not there. But I took it out,” she said.

  Mackenna didn’t try to convince her otherwise. She dusted off her hands, went to the right cabinet and looked inside.

  “Well. We seem to have run out of yeast.”

  “I know that’s not true, Grandma. I took it, I put it on the table. It was there when we began cooking.”

  “It’s not there now, dear, and there’s no use in crying over what was.” Mackenna’s tone was kind, but the words had trouble coming out of her mouth. They felt wrong. Like her mind was on something else and she had to force herself to focus on calming a recalcitrant child from a spooky dream.

  “It was there!” Lily insisted, feeling more and more like that recalcitrant child and unable to care. She had other things to worry about. Like her grandmother growing dopplegangers, spoons hopping out of boxes and yeast disappearing in thin air.

  “Yes, dear. But it is not; not anymore.”

  “How can you be so—?”

  Mackenna took a deep breath. “It’s alright, dear. I’m sure we only misplaced it while preparing the dough. Why don’t you walk to the store and buy some more? It should be faster than trying to find it, and I will clean the mess we have made meanwhile.”

  Lily choked on air and felt like a fool for it. They were little things, all of them. Easily explained away by pranksters and misplaced items. But there were so many odd little things, coming so fast one after the other, that she felt a wave of vertigo wash over her.

  She had to grip the counter not to fall.

  Is this what Mom felt like? Like she was one step away from falling down the rabbit hole? Is this the reason she’s obsessed with order now?

  She might be onto something.

  “Okay,” she said when the room stopped spinning. “I will go.”

  Fresh air might do her some good.

  She felt Mackenna’s eyes on her back as she left, making every effort not to run. Running away from a homey kitchen wasn’t normal, and normal was what she needed right then.

  The path toward the village proper took her by the sterling silver knife planted to prevent summer storms and she looked the other way, relishing the view of the river instead. The surface was still like a mirror and it reflected the gray overcast sky, blurring the horizon line and calming her own thoughts.

  A flicker of movement caught her eye when she had nearly reached the road: a woman knelt by the shore, her head bent over her task, and a flash of red cloth fluttered underwater.

  Lily frowned. Is she… washing? Is that even allowed?

  As if sensing her lingering gaze, the woman lifter her eyes and stared at Lily. A shiver ran down her spine in spite of the distance and she quickened her pace, hunching her shoulders against an invisible cold breeze.

  There had been madness in that stare. The sort brought on only by grief and pain.

  C H A P T E R VI

  Lily didn’t return home after purchasing the yeast.

  She wanted—craved, needed—to see people about their business, to hear them laugh and talk or even grumble along. Spending a while just sitting in the main square, watching everyone act normal and then walking aimlessly around, mingling with them, helped put her more at ease than any amount of pancakes ever could. By the time her steps took her back to her grandma’s, the day was darkening fast, partly because of the hour and partly because of what felt like an approaching storm.

  She’d probably been gone too long. Mackenna was probably worried. She probably shouldn’t have been freaked out by the morning’s incident.

  God. I’ve been here all of two days and I’m falling apart worse than Mom. This is not what I came here for. I need to get a grip.

  And to apologize, she decided. She would just be more open-minded and less of a worrywart for the rest of the month. It was the least she could do.

  Then, when she approached the steps of the porch, something red flying in the breeze caught her eye and she stopped for a moment, unsure.

  What was that?

  The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she remembered the woman she’d seen when going out by the river Dee. There had been something red, too, something streaming down the current, but she
had only looked for a second.

  She turned her focus to the backyard beyond the house’s corner. A breath of air caressed her face and she saw it again, almost hidden behind the wall, too vibrant against the encroaching shadows. It was real.

  Lily lowered her shopping bag to the front porch and walked toward the flutter. She almost felt like a kid again, finding an adventure in the most mundane things, and although she felt foolish, a sense of wonder accompanied her when she cleared the corner with a quick jump.

  It was the laundry line. The day was anything but ideal, and the only piece of clothing strung out to dry was her grandmother’s favorite blouse. It was the one Mackenna had spent the best part of the morning searching for. Her grandmother loved the splatter of wild red flowers covering the fabric and said it was like carrying around your own spring. In the kind of weather they endured, she insisted it was the least she deserved.

  Lily took it down from the line. It smelled fresh, like mountain rivers and morning dew, but it had dried already. She arched a brow, surprised, and checked her watch. She had been gone longer than she intended, longer than needed to reach the village and come back, but not quite long enough for her grandmother to find the shirt, wash it, and have it dry. She might have been out an hour and a half, two hours tops, and with the declining sun hiding behind heavy clouds and the moisture in the air ever higher, the blouse shouldn’t have dried.

  Forget the drying, she thought. Where did she find it? She took the room apart and the moment I’m not there, it appears.

  “Grandma!” she called out, clearing the steps to the back door in a small leap. “Where’d you get it?”

  Mackenna didn’t answer and the sense of unease that had accompanied her for most of the day piped up. Her hand froze in the latch, pinpricks of apprehension tickling her fingers.

  Why isn’t the radio on? Why isn’t she outside, tasting the coming storm?

  She shook herself. Standing outside and wondering wouldn’t help, so she banished the discomforting thoughts to wherever they’d sprung from and entered the kitchen.