by Dani Harper
He sighed and settled on his muscular haunches. “According to you, if I give in to Celynnen, if I don’t give in to Celynnen, the end is the same.”
“Exactly. You will die.”
His ordeal would be over then, certainly—but where was the justice in that? If he had simply wanted to die, he could have pushed matters to that point a long time ago. What had kept him going all this time was the vow he had made to extract revenge from Celynnen. She deserved to die for what she had inflicted on him. And something else…She had committed something truly heinous, he was sure of it, yet exactly what it was eluded him even when he was in the mortal world. “As I said,” continued the dark fae. “I have a proposal. You make a fine grim, but when did you last see your human features?”
Aidan had to think hard about that. Memories were so damnably difficult to resurrect. “In the waters of the Usk, leaning over the boat to draw up a fish,” he said finally. “I was young.” Young enough that he and his friend Grigor had both leaned over the side to practice making faces at their reflections. No one owned mirrors at the time—the church had discouraged them as vanity.
“I saw you when you were first brought to the kingdom beneath the Black Mountains. Know you that your face and mine are similar? Shape and bone and build…Truly, we would pass for brothers, one dark, one fair—although I am certainly the more handsome—and therein lies my hope that our beautiful but fickle Celynnen will be willing to transfer her shallow affections to me.
“Of course, that could happen only in the absence of her favorite pet.”
“You want me to disappear.” Aidan was glad he was sitting down. Surely it was not possible that Lurien wanted the tywysoges. The princess was self-centered, cruel, and incapable of true love or affection. But there was no arguing that she was exquisitely beautiful beyond all dreaming. At least on the surface…
“Beauty is a strange master,” said Lurien, as though he sensed Aidan’s thoughts. “We are possessed by it and strive to possess it in return. But that is my weakness and not yours, apparently. So, the question is, how to make you vanish? Perhaps I could take your place as a hound until the next time Celynnen comes to tempt you—and please her by accepting her offer. I could then appear as you in human form and permit myself to be won over by Celynnen’s affections.” Lurien grinned wickedly. “It would be a very good game. Eventually, she would discover that the Lord of the Hunt is in her bed and not you, but perhaps she would not be too unhappy about it by then.
“However, someone must take my place and drive the Hunt for a time. That could be you.”
“I will have nothing to do with the Wild Hunt,” declared Aidan. “I will not ride down the innocent, spirit away those that have done no wrong.”
“And that is precisely why a just man like yourself should lead it. You might even be able to do some good with such power behind you.”
Aidan shook his head. “Your hunters will not obey me.”
“They will follow whoever possesses the light-whip without question. They care not who you are but will ride at your command and obey you until my return. Surely you have heard the gossip over Tyne and Daeria? They seized the whip by magic and drove the Hunt outside of our dominion for murderous purpose, upsetting the balance between realms and causing chaos among innocents. Queen Gwenhidw herself had to set that mess to rights.”
Indeed, Celynnen and her companions had tittered at length about the incident, seeming to feed on the excitement and the novelty. “I thank you for the generous offer,” said Aidan. Lurien appeared friendly—or at least not hostile—but appearances were deliberately deceiving more often than not among the fae. “I will not lead the Hunt.”
“I see. You are uncannily resistant to temptation, Aidan ap Llanfor. You do not fall prey to feminine wiles, and you disdain to grasp power when it is presented to you. Perhaps more humans should be like you.” Lurien toyed with a silver dagger set with gemstones, then eyed Aidan appraisingly. “I’m rather glad I didn’t kill you now. That was my first plan, you know.”
It was the one thing that didn’t surprise him, and he remained silent until the Lord of the Wild Hunt continued.
“Of course, your outright demise would displease Celynnen greatly. And although you have no reason to believe it, I would also be displeased, since you are guilty of nothing. The old ways prohibit punishing the just, and I happen to agree with them.” The fae looked thoughtful. “I trust that Celynnen told you of the grim that escaped? It was lucky for him that he achieved his freedom, but it is also lucky for both of us: we now have a very useful precedent. Should another hound escape, it will seem less strange to the Court.”
Faster than Aidan could react, powerful magic seized him, drew him close to the dark fae, and held him in place as effortlessly as though he were a newborn pup, not a massive and muscular fae creature that outweighed Lurien twice over. Aidan roared with fury, and every black hair in his thick pelt bristled as he struggled and fought against the forces that gripped him, seeking to seize the fae in his bone-crushing jaws. Nothing worked.
Lurien seemed unconcerned by Aidan’s reaction. All his attention was on the intricate silver torc, identical to every collar that every grim was forced to wear. He ran his long pale hands over the cleverly forged links, but Aidan could not see what the dark fae was doing. He could hear, however, the faintest of murmurings, ancient words that belonged to a time out of mind, words similar to the ones that Celynnen had once used. Something changed, shifted, gave way, and the Hunt master stepped back. The torc remained in place as always, but it felt different in a way Aidan could not describe. It was different enough that when the magic released him, Aidan didn’t immediately attack the fae lord.
“I believe the spell is undone,” declared Lurien. The Lord of the Wild Hunt now stood on the porch of Maeve’s house, casually leaning against the wall as though he had been there all along. “If so, the torc no longer has the power to command you.”
Aidan shook himself all over and pawed at the collar until the dark fae raised a hand, palm out.
“Leave it on for appearance’s sake,” he instructed. “Do not attempt to remove it until you make your bid for freedom, lest you attract the attention of others among the Tylwyth Teg—and believe me, I want to be the one that hunts you. And should you succeed in escaping, you may want to keep the torc in your possession.”
Aidan’s canine forehead furrowed deep into a humanlike frown. “So I can remember my captivity? I think I would rather cast it into the nearest fire.”
“Fire will not destroy fae silver. And you need not worry that I can use it to track you in the future—if you have a future, that is. The torc’s magics are closed to me now that I myself have unspelled it, and I give you my word on that. However, with the torc, you can find me. Permit me the faint hope that someday you may change your mind about leading the Hunt, even temporarily.”
The word of a Fair One was solid enough. It was one of the few things in which a human could trust. That much honor remained among the Tylwyth Teg at least. But Lurien’s hopes about the Hunt still made no sense at all to Aidan. Why would he want to hand over such power to a human? “Do you tire of your high station, that you are so eager to rid yourself of it?”
“Nay, the Wild Hunt rides the storm.” A fragment of something like longing crept into the fae’s voice, and his gaze seemed focused on something far away. “There’s no feeling like it, and I would not trade it. But I see a time when dividing power will multiply it for the sake of the kingdom. I cannot be everywhere at once.”
Aidan had no idea what the dark fae could be talking about, but he decided to leave the topic strictly alone. What the fae kingdom needed or didn’t need was no concern of his. If he managed to escape the Tylwyth Teg, he certainly couldn’t picture ever needing or wanting to call on any of them, and that included the Lord of the Wild Hunt. He agreed to keep the collar, however—after all, knowing where it was and using it were two different things. “Are you letting me go?”
Lurien shook his head. “I am not letting you do anything. I am merely presenting options. As you well know, it’s my duty to pursue any prisoner who seeks to flee the kingdom.” He vanished and reappeared abruptly at a bus stop a couple houses down the street, seated beside a young woman with a little girl. The woman was unaware of him, but the child kept craning her head about as if she heard something she could not see.
“I am free to pursue an escapee anywhere,” continued the fae. “However, the Hunt is bound to the hours of the night. If a prisoner just happened to leave very close to mortal dawn, and if he was clever enough to keep ahead of the Hunt until it was forced to turn back…Well, it’s easy to see how someone just might—might—get clean away.”
The little girl turned to her mother then. “Who’s getting away?”
Lurien chuckled amiably and was again on the steps of Maeve’s house before the sound of his laughter died away. “A most perceptive child, that one. Quite rare these days.”
Aidan caught himself before he spoke. It was an ill thing for a child to catch the attention of the fae, something he could attest to personally. Saying anything about it, however, would only bring the little girl more attention. If he left the subject alone, it was possible that the Lord of the Wild Hunt would forget about her. Not all of the Fair Ones spirited mortals away, but he had no way of knowing if Lurien would do so. The Tylwyth Teg never harmed children, of course—in fact, they often protected them, one of the fae’s few virtues. But that didn’t mean that Lurien would not do as Celynnen had done and bide his time until the charming child became an attractive adult…
“Ah, but what if I didn’t get away?” asked Aidan, casually moving a few steps to the right and pretending to inspect something on the sidewalk so that Lurien’s gaze was on him and away from the little girl. He was relieved when his canine hearing picked up the sound of a bus lumbering its way along, collecting passengers at leisurely intervals throughout the neighborhood. Mentally, he beseeched it to hurry. “There is no question that your hunting skills are legendary—the Court has yet to stop chattering about your last exploit when you captured a giant bwgan alive,” he said. “Therefore I allow there is a slight chance that I would not escape you.”
“Only slight?” Lurien looked amused. “I think the odds are far better than that.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. Should you overtake me, however, I think it fair that I know what to expect.” He kept his eyes on the dark fae until his keen hearing told him that the slow-moving bus had finally done its job and borne the child and her mother away. Luckily, Lurien did not so much as glance in that direction.
“You yourself know that faery law is strict,” he said. “I would have no choice but to kill you myself or to return you to Celynnen—and what she would do would likely be far worse. If you knew her better, you would likely beg me to kill you.”
The ultimate stakes, then. Aidan knew it was a dangerous enough gamble if Lurien was telling the truth. And if he wasn’t? The dark fae seemed sincere, but he could simply be setting Aidan up for an elaborate game to please himself, or much more likely, to please Celynnen. What was it she had said? It might be very entertaining to see you run. Still, game or not, it was also the first opportunity for escape—however slim—that had presented itself in nearly a millennium.
At that moment, a police car turned into the laneway, and two officers emerged. Unaware of the powerful fae’s presence, they walked right through Lurien as he sat on the steps. Aidan wondered what they would think if they knew.
The Lord of the Wild Hunt vanished and reappeared beside Aidan, and they watched together as more vehicles arrived in a flurry of red and blue and yellow flashing lights. It wasn’t long before Maeve’s earthly shell was gently removed and taken away. Lurien nodded his approval. “A clever idea you had, grim. A neighbor called the constables because he saw the door was open. He thought there had been a robbery.”
Aidan was glad, but already he felt the pull of an invisible string. Another passing life required his unwanted attention. “I have work to do and must take my leave.”
“You don’t actually.” Lurien tapped the side of his own neck and nodded at Aidan’s torc. “Unspelled, remember? Because you’re attuned to your morbid task, you’re simply sensing death at work in the mortal realm. You need not concern yourself further.”
Is that so? Aidan realized then that the dark fae not only craved the chase but was anxious for it to begin. He cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. Maybe Lurien really did believe in the things he’d said about justice and honor and the old ways, but when it came right down to it, he was one of the Fair Ones—and the game came before all. He was looking forward to hunting an escaped grim, probably even more so since he’d missed out on the last one.
“I think I’ll be concerning myself with my work for a while yet,” said Aidan carefully. “Free for the first time in a millennium, it would be natural for me to try to run now. But you are prepared for that, and the Hunt would ride me down much too quickly. Not only would I fail to escape, but your pleasure would be cut short before you could truly savor it.”
The fae said nothing, and his face showed no expression. Yet Aidan sensed he had struck a chord, and he boldly continued. “You offered me a proposal, Lurien, Lord of the Wild Hunt. Now I will make you one. I propose to wait.”
Lurien’s dark eyes glittered. No doubt he thought he was being mocked, and Aidan knew his canine form could be a pile of ashes at any moment. Finally, the fae spoke, his voice low and dangerous.
“Wait for what, grim?”
Suddenly it was like fishing. How many times as a boy had Aidan bounced a twisted piece of grass on the surface of the water, until the fish could not help but pay attention? “Why, to behave as any worthy prey behaves, and lie low. Waiting, watching, hoping to catch the hunter unawares and seize the right moment to break away. To gain a lead and a chance of true escape, and”—Aidan dropped the last bit like a baited line—“to give a superior hunter the gift of true sport.”
Was that a glimmer of interest he saw? Aidan had spoken of waiting, but it was nerve-wracking to wait upon the whim of the Fair Ones. Especially the Lord of the Wild Hunt.
“A tempting proposal, but you cannot meet the terms. I will be at the ready.”
“I too will be ready.” Aidan forced himself to be calm and to meet the dark fae’s gaze confidently. It all rested on this, on setting the hook and setting it deeply. Otherwise he was likely dead where he stood. “I will be ready to surprise you.”
After what seemed like a lifetime, Lurien’s brow quirked. “Interesting. I give you credit for originality and accept your proposal, grim.”
“I thank you for your mercy.” Aidan knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment it left his lips.
The dark fae smiled broadly, but there was no warmth to it. The chill expression resembled Death itself. “The Lord of the Wild Hunt has no mercy. Remember that.” Without warning, Lurien loomed over him, black eyes flashing green fire. A veritable army of shadows rose behind him, and his voice echoed thunderously inside Aidan’s head. Aidan ap Llanfor, no one has escaped me in ten thousand of your mortal years. Should I overtake you, you will be trampled beneath the hooves of the Hunt until your blood and flesh are pounded into the earth.
The dark fae vanished and reappeared, seated calmly on Maeve’s porch steps. The hellish fire was gone from his eyes, and when he spoke again, it was in a perfectly normal tone of voice. “I too have my masters.”
FIVE
Brooke silently recited the Code, the creed she had committed to memory over a dozen years ago, cultivating the right frame of mind in preparation for working with magic. It was still amazing to her that she even had magic to work with. She’d been seventeen before she’d stumbled on the power that lived within her.
It happened during her postgrad weekend, when she was camping out with her girlfriends—Morgan, Sharon, Katie, Tina, and George’s twin sister, Lissy. They had set up their tent
s in the wooded area on Tina’s grandparents’ farm outside of Spokane Valley. The proms were over, the diplomas gathered, the formal dresses packed away. They had this one last weekend together, a gals’ weekend—no guys invited. One last weekend to remember what it was like to be kids together, to swim naked in the pond and stay up all night, and eat junk food, and drink beer, and talk about their current boyfriends or the ones they hoped to meet. They’d done plenty of camping in this very spot whenever the weather allowed…This time, however, there’d been an urgency to it, a sense that the adult world was closing in on them. In only a few days, they’d be splitting up to go to summer jobs and colleges, and their little group would never be quite the same again.
It was cold and dark when Brooke got up to pee. The fire had gone out, but she’d huddled hopefully over the fire pit and stretched her hand towards the blackened pile of spent wood. All she had wanted was to feel a little warmth still radiating from it. Instead, a sudden golden blaze erupted skyward from the ashes as if she’d dumped gasoline on them. Instinct helped her leap backwards out of the way, but not before she’d lost one of her eyebrows and, just above it, about a half-inch-wide strip of hair. She feared to think what might have happened if she hadn’t fallen asleep with her hair still pulled back in an untidy ponytail…
The fire quickly settled down to a low and tidy size, although the flames retained an odd golden color, almost like melting amber. When the girls emerged from their tents in the morning, the fire was still burning brightly, despite the fact that Brooke hadn’t added a single stick of wood.
Katie and Sharon pulled out the cast-iron skillets and made a reasonable bacon and egg breakfast, with just enough char on the edges to give it an authentic camping flavor. They’d had no idea it wasn’t an ordinary fire they were cooking over. George’s sister, Lissy, made some lumpy pancakes. Afterwards, Tina fed the left-overs to her bad-tempered wiener dog, Jake, although Morgan lectured her on why it wasn’t good for him. Morgan was sure to be right too—after volunteering at the local animal clinic every summer since forever, she was already taking classes in order to pursue her dream: a degree in veterinary medicine. Brooke picked at her own plate, and in the end, Jake got her food too—but not until Morgan wasn’t looking.