The Hallowed Hunt

by Yasmine Galenorn

  “What if you fail? Then we cope with that when it happens. You can’t run away from this, Ember. There’s no escaping it and let’s face it, the Cruharach will come to you. In fact, it’s barreling right toward you. I can feel it in your aura. It creates that ominous feeling you’re worried about. The Cruharach is shadowing over you like a massive cloud, ready to burst. So the best we can do is hope that we’ve prepared you enough. You’ll either come through it or you won’t. Those are the only two options.”

  “What if I don’t?” The thought of going mad was scarier than the thought of dying. “Promise me, Marilee, if something happens to me…if I don’t come through…you’ll help Angel with whatever she needs?”

  Marilee took my hand. “I promise,” she said gently. “But I think you’ll manage it. I can’t guarantee anything, but you’ve come a long way in your training.”

  “What will happen if I pass through?” I glanced at her. “Will I still be me?”

  “You’ve asked that a dozen times. And each time, what have I said?”

  Once again, I caught my breath. “That I’ll still be me, only more so. My magic will have its direction, and so will my innate abilities.” I swallowed my fear, bringing my focus firmly into the room. The crystals amplified feelings, and I didn’t want them to amplify my fear and doubt. “All right. Let’s get this show on the road. What’s on the agenda today?”

  “Today is simple. I want you to lie down, close your eyes, and sleep. I’m going to give you a tincture that will work on your subconscious while you’re asleep. You won’t feel it, you won’t dream, but it will prepare your body for next week.”

  I didn’t ask any questions. I trusted Marilee with my life. Morgana would never have given me over into the care of someone who was a danger to me.

  “All right. Let’s do this.”

  As she dropped three drops of a vile-tasting tincture on my tongue, it occurred to me that I still had no idea exactly what the Cruharach would be like. But I also knew that if I asked, there would be no answer.

  Marilee had been right. I had no memory of what had taken place in my sleep, but I did have the sense that my body had shifted. Almost…lighter. The wounds were less painful, and I felt like something inside was shifting and changing, though I couldn’t pinpoint how.

  As I scheduled the ritual for Monday night—Samhain Eve—on my phone, I felt a shudder of apprehension. Squelching it the best I could, I bid Marilee farewell until then.

  One thing Mama J.—Angel’s mother—had kept telling us over and over: Don’t borrow trouble. You never know what’s going to happen. So if you worry too much about what’s coming, you’re wasting precious time. You could walk out your door and get hit by a bus in five minutes, so take each moment as a blessing and don’t waste your life fretting.

  As I headed to my car, I felt a spring in my step and realized that a lot of my tension and aches and pains had vanished. Whatever was in that tincture worked wonders. It occurred to me to ask Ferosyn if he could create a sleeping potion similar to it, for nights when sleep came hard.

  I glanced at the clock. The meditation, as she called it, had taken three hours. It was almost two, and we were due at Raven’s at around six. Since Angel and Rafé were off to Bainbridge Island, I decided to go shopping. I still had to replace my leather jacket. But first, I brought up my lawyer’s site on my phone and used the e-scheduling app to make an appointment for Monday. I needed to take care of something before I went into the Cruharach on Monday night.

  Two hours later, I was not only wearing a new black leather jacket, complete with chains and studs, but I had bought a new purse that matched, a pair of leather gloves, and a new corset. I stopped at the corner market to pick up a dozen roses for the house, and a dozen to take over to Raven’s, as well as a box of chocolates. Angel was always on me because I loved sweets, but since she had moved in, at least my diet had improved thanks to her love of—and skill in—cooking. By the time I got home it was almost four-thirty, and Angel had texted me that she was home. Rafé’s car was nowhere in sight. He must have taken off for the evening.

  “Honey, I’m home!” I opened the door, carrying my packages into the house.

  “In the kitchen,” Angel called, laughing.

  I carried my packages in, handing her one of the bouquets. “I left the other in my car, for Raven.”

  Angel brought the flowers to her nose, inhaling deeply. “Lovely scent. They must have thorns,” she said, laughing.

  “The best scented flowers do,” I said, setting my bags on the counter. I pulled out the chocolates. “And…a little pre-dinner celebration.”

  She stared at the box. “And what are we celebrating?”

  “My last session with Marilee. Next week, I undergo the Cruharach. So don’t even mention the amount of sugar in these.” I held her gaze. “I need to say something now, and I don’t want you to try to avoid the subject or tell me to stop.”

  “This sounds serious,” Angel said, carrying a vase and the flowers over to the table, where she began to cut their stems and arrange them. “So, what is it?”

  I bit my lip, then decided just to come out with it. “I made an appointment with my lawyer for Monday. I’m going to appoint you the beneficiary of the house and everything I have, except for my dagger—that goes to Herne—just in case I don’t come out of the Cruharach. I’m also giving you power of attorney in case something goes wrong.”

  She slowly placed the rose she was holding on the table and put down the scissors. “Nothing is going to go wrong.”

  “There’s a chance, Angel. I don’t want to think about it either, but there’s a chance. I could go mad. I could die. I could…change. I just want to know things are in order.”

  “I said, nothing is going to go wrong.” She looked up at me. “I need to believe that you’ll be all right. I understand you need to do all this, and thank you for telling me. But nothing will go wrong. Do you hear me?” Her voice was so low I could barely hear it, but I recognized the look in her eyes. This was Angel’s line in the sand.

  Nodding, I leaned back in my chair. “I hear you. Nothing will happen. But I still need you to go in with me, to sign off on the POA. Will you do that?”

  She picked up the rose again. “Yes. But turnabout fair play. If I get to be your POA, then you get to be mine. Deal?”

  “Deal.” And that was all we said on the matter.

  Raven BoneTalker’s house was over on the Eastside, on 61st Place NE. She lived at the edge of UnderLake Park, a dangerous park that had a long history of murder and hauntings. It was a beautiful, feral place, hiding dark secrets as well as the bodies of those who had vanished on its paths.

  As Angel and I parked behind Raven’s Toyota sedan, I noticed that Raven had put up a new railing along the walkway, and the stepping-stones leading to the house were new. The house itself was hidden behind a hedgerow, though the trees in front were bare-branched. The ground was littered with sodden leaves, and a feeling of heavy magic cloaked the entire lot.

  As we swung around the walkway onto the path behind the hedgerow that led to her door, we saw Raj. He perked up when he saw us and let out a low grunt. Raj was a gargoyle, and he had been with Raven for some time now. She had saved him from a demon who had clipped his wings. Raven wiped the gargoyle’s memory to help him forget the loss and the pain, and now he was like a massive puppy-dog, his gray leathery skin well oiled.

  Raj walked on his knuckles and his back feet, looking very much like an orangutan. He was guarded against strangers, but Angel and I were now on his friends list. We were greeted with a slobbery kiss as he first licked my face, then hers. He reserved his growls for strangers. Raj spent a lot of his time in his little house by the sidewalk, guarding the door, though Raven let him in whenever he wanted.

  “Hey Raj, how you doing, buddy?” Angel said, pulling a piece of jerky out of her pocket. Raj loved beef jerky and we always brought him treats when we visited.

  “Ruff.” Raj snorted as
he saw the jerky, his eyes lighting up. He delicately plucked it from Angel’s hand and chewed happily away.

  I patted him on the head as we moved past him, stopping at the door where I rang the bell. Angel was holding the bouquet, as well as a bottle of wine.

  As Raven let us in, I could smell spaghetti cooking in the background. My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t had lunch, just a bag of pretzels after I left Marilee’s, and the chocolates back at the house.

  “I’m so hungry, and that smells so good.”

  “I’m glad. I made enough for an army.” Raven BoneTalker was one of the Ante-Fae, and it showed in every move and in the timbre of her voice. Like the Fae, who were descendants from the Ante-Fae, Raven had an otherworldly look about her. Curvy and buxom, she was more padded than I was, but I wouldn’t bet winning in a fight against her. She had hair the color of deep espresso streaked with plum, but the color was natural. It cascaded down to her waist, coiling in waves. Her eyes were the same rich brown as her hair, and she was pale to the point of looking almost like a porcelain doll.

  Raven was wearing a long lace skirt with an asymmetrical hem. Higher in front than in back, it flowed easily off her hips. Over the skirt, she wore a plum-colored corset, and she had on black witchy boots, calf-high with silver laces. A magnetic aura surrounded her, and she crackled with energy. Her smile was both crafty and yet infectious.

  “Thank you! I love roses!” Her voice was sultry, and she gathered the flowers in her arms, spinning around as she breathed in the rich, dusky scent. “Let’s put these in water.” She carried them into the kitchen and we followed after shedding our coats and purses.

  “How goes it?” she asked, searching for a vase in the cupboard.

  Angel leaned over the pot of sauce simmering on the stove, waving the steam toward her nose. “Oh, this smells so good. What’s your secret?” Given how good of a cook Angel was, when she thought something was good, it had to be excellent.

  “I grow my own herbs, and I use a mixture of ground venison and ground pork for the meat.” Raven handed me the vase. “Water, please. Angel, can you get out the plates?”

  We moved in unison. We had only known each other for about a month, but in that time the three of us had bonded. Raven could be a little scary in how intense she was about certain subjects. The fact that she was Ante-Fae helped in the “don’t mess with me” attitude that she wore like a cloak. But she had a wicked sense of humor, and was a natural leader when it came to getting into mischief and causing havoc.

  I clipped the stems of the roses and arranged them in the vase as Raven stirred the sauce and drained the spaghetti. Angel set the table and placed the roses in the center.

  Raven’s home was minimalist—all clean lines, and neutral grays and blues and whites. It almost had a windswept ocean feel to it, and I could easily see it transported to a cliff overlooking the ocean. The floor was striking—a checkerboard of black and white. The table was in the kitchen nook, looking out through sliding glass doors onto the backyard.

  Raven’s dishes were black and white as well, with silver trim. She poured the sauce over the spaghetti and thoroughly mixed it, then carried the steaming tureen to the table.

  “There’s bread in the oven, and a salad in the fridge if you could grab it.” She settled the tureen on the table as Angel moved to get the bread and salad. I walked over to stare out the sliding glass door at her backyard, which was a tangle of roses and herbs and lilacs.

  “I go through the Cruharach on Samhain Eve,” I said.

  Raven paused, turning to me. “So it’s come.”

  “Yeah, it has. Do the Ante-Fae have anything like that?” I didn’t know much about her people, especially since they were all unique, and there weren’t really any generic traits that seemed to belong to all of the Ante-Fae.

  She walked over to stand beside me. Goosebumps raised along my arm as the magic surrounding her crackled against my own. We weren’t all that dissimilar, but hers was far more potent. Raven was a bone witch, and she dealt heavily in death magic and the spirit world.

  “Are you afraid?” she asked softly.

  “Shouldn’t I be? There’s a chance I could go mad during the ritual. Or die. It’s not that I expect those things to happen, but I’m tired of people telling me they won’t. I want to face the reality that there is a chance—however slight—that I won’t come through this.” I spoke softly, so that Angel couldn’t hear.

  Raven nodded. “You want your fear acknowledged. This is a serious ritual, and I understand that. But how many actually do go mad, though? Or die? Only a small percentage, right?”

  “Yes,” I conceded. “I guess I’m mostly afraid that I won’t be me anymore. One side of my parentage will take the dominant position, and whatever powers I’m to inherit from both will settle in and make themselves known. I’m worried that…I won’t be Ember anymore, but some cunning hybrid predator.” And there was my real fear. The fear that I’d end up worse than dead—that I’d end up someone whom I’d hate.

  “You will be Ember, regardless of what happens. And you will change. No Fae can go through the Cruharach and come through untouched. This is the way of your people. If your parents were alive, they would have prepared you for it.”

  “I suppose so.” I stared out at the darkness. “I suppose I need to just quit worrying about it. I’m like a dog with a bone.”

  “Or Raj, with his jerky. By the way, thank you for remembering him. He’s such a sweetheart, and he’s taken with you two. Do you mind if I let him in during dinner? You’d be surprised how many people object. Of course, they never find themselves invited over again, so there’s that.” She arched her eyebrows and winked at me.

  “We love Raj. He’s welcome as long as he doesn’t try to steal my food.” I laughed, pushing away my thoughts. Raven’s matter-of-factness comforted me. She had a way of making my shadow thoughts almost seem amusing.

  We settled down at the table, and Raven poured the wine. It was rich and robust, with undernotes of plum and cinnamon, and honey behind that. As we fell to our dinner, we kept the conversation light. Once we finished—even Angel had eaten two servings of the spaghetti—we carried our glasses and a fresh bottle into the living room, leaving the cleanup till later.

  “I have a quandary that I want your input on, ladies,” Raven said, sitting in one of the recliners and folding one leg beneath her.

  “What’s up?” I asked, pouring myself another glass of wine, and topping off Angel’s.

  “It concerns a friend of yours, so I’m hesitant to say anything,” Raven said. “But I’m at my wits’ end. I mean, I could cast a whammy on him and make him stop, but my hexes have a way of doing more damage than I plan and I don’t really want to hurt him.”

  Angel and I gave each other a long look.

  “It’s not Ray, is it?” If Ray was targeting my friends now, I was going to have to pay a little visit to him.

  “No, it’s actually Yutani. He’s been calling me, asking me out. And while I like him, there are two problems. One—I’m in no way ready to date again. I’m still in mourning for Ulstair. And two—Yutani’s not my type. He’s cute, but I don’t think we’d play well together, if you know what I mean. I wouldn’t mind having him for a friend, but that’s it.” She frowned. “He’s called me four times in the past two weeks, and each time I’ve told him, thank you, no, I’m not interested in dating. So either he’s not listening, or he thinks he can wear me down.”

  I cleared my throat, taking a big swallow of wine. “Yutani’s a very private person. It surprises me he’s still pushing. But then again, he’s also impulsive as hell.” I glanced at Angel. “You don’t think he could be drink—” I stopped. I hadn’t told Angel what Yutani had told me.

  “Drink? Yutani drinks too much?” Angel said.

  I shook my head. “Not anymore. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s his secret to tell. But yeah, now that I’ve let the cat out of the bag, he has a history of drinking to escape. Don’t say an
ything to him, please? Either one of you? I don’t want him knowing that I let his secret out.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not looking to engage him in conversation,” Raven said. “As I said, I like the guy, but if he won’t take no for an answer, he’s going to get a buttload of ‘No means no’ shoved down his throat.”

  “Have you tried being blunt? As in, ‘Don’t call me again’ blunt?” Angel asked.

  Raven shook her head. “Not quite so direct, but by now he should figure it out. I’ve been pretty blunt. I don’t hand out mixed messages. I really don’t want to be rude, but he’s pushing the boundaries.”

  “He’s dealing with some serious issues. That’s not an excuse, but it could be the reason he’s not really listening. He recently found out that Coyote is his father.” I set my glass down and took off my boots, curling my feet beneath me on the sofa.

  “That’s pretty hard core,” Raven said. “But regardless, it’s so not my problem. Anyway, I wanted to get your advice on how to approach this. I’m not going to ask you to talk to him for me—that’s my job—but do you think I should just go full-tilt rude on him?”

  “You may have to. He’s blunt enough with everybody else. He should be able to accept it from others.” I shook my head. “I never thought Yutani would be that guy, but then again, I didn’t expect my ex-boyfriend to become a stalker either. Though to be fair, my glamour had something to do with it. Now, he’s just being an asshole.”

  “And a good one at that,” Angel muttered. “Okay, enough about men. What are we going to do tonight? And before anybody suggests anything, I’m not game for trying to summon up another dead rock star. That didn’t go so well.”

  I snorted. “You can say that again.” Our recent drunken adventure in trying to conjure up Jim Morrison had gone so far south that we had vowed to keep it between the three of us forever.