*
My father was home already, and he and the pack were grilling dinner on the back deck. Beef, it smelled like. Beef steaks from the grocery. I guess they hadn’t found anything large enough out in the woods to bring home. I smelled marinated tomatoes and sizzling potato skins, too. And beer, of course. My stomach rumbled at the scents. The pastries at the coffee shop had been hours ago.
My father heard me arrive and slid open the door to bellow cheerfully, “Hey, kiddo. You’re just in time for grub. Grab a plate.” His rugged face glowed with good humor.
I stood just inside the front door, almost nauseous with a mix of hunger and fear and nerves and loneliness. Sometimes he could be so generous and so supportive. If he wanted, he could convince any stranger he was the best of fathers. I’d seen him do it. But he was pretending. He’d always been pretending, since the beginning.
He saw me hesitate and his yellow eyes darkened. Something about the set of his mouth made me remember the sound of breaking bones, and I lowered my head and hid my hands behind my back. “I’ll be right there.”
And after putting my jacket back in my room, I dutifully returned, slipping out the back door as unobtrusively as possible. But as soon as I’d settled on the edge of a planter full of purple monkshood, Dad brought me a plate and the eyes of the pack turned to me.
“Where’s she been?” said one of them. It was Scott, who’d shown up while I was in LA. He was loud and smug and hateful, with a lot more confidence than his status in the pack warranted.
“She went out for a run,” said my father. “Getting herself back into shape.” He watched me eat approvingly. It was good food, but I ate too quickly to really enjoy it, both because I was starving and because I wanted everybody to stop looking at me.
Scott sounded displeased as he said, “Alone? What if she runs off again?”
“Her? Nah,” said Hunter, as I swallowed the last bite of steak. “She came back, remember? She’ll always come back. She knows this is the only place she belongs. Don’t you, Annalise?” He took my empty plate from my hand.
I knew, but I didn’t want to talk about it, so I didn’t answer. Another time he might have been annoyed by that, but tonight he only laughed and ruffled my hair before turning back to the grill.
But Scott didn’t drop the issue. “Look at her, sitting like a scared rabbit. She ain’t ever going to be one of the pack, boss. I don’t get why you’ve been coddling her, either. It’ll go to her head.”
“She’s been recovering. But no fear, she’ll serve one way or another, my cub. Even the Lost Boys needed a mother, eh?” Hunter grinned as the pack laughed, but there was an old familiar glint in his eye as he watched Scott.
Scott didn’t see it, or didn’t know what it meant. He didn’t know somebody was being tested. I knew, but I couldn’t tell if it was me or Scott under scrutiny.
Scott drifted closer, his nostrils flaring as he looked me up and down. He wasn’t as big as my father, but he had plenty of muscle and a cold, narrow-eyed handsomeness. “A bit young,” he said doubtfully, reaching for me.
I leaned back out of his way, sniffing as I did. I was looking for a nuance in his scent, and I found it: a note of genuine animal musk that hadn’t been there before. He was one of my father’s wolves now. Hunter had probably turned him this morning as part of the day’s entertainment.
That meant we were both being tested. It also meant my father had no intention of ever giving me to him, since his wolves couldn’t breed. I relaxed, just a little.
Scott scowled as silence spread over the patio, the few pack members who hadn’t been paying attention turning to see what was going on. “I’m not going to hurt you, girl. I just want to see what you’ve got under that awful sweatshirt you slop around in.” This time, he grabbed at me with both hands.
I stood up and broke his arm. I didn’t have my father’s gift of fracturing, but I was very strong and Hunter had trained me well. It really didn’t take very much at all to make Scott’s arm bend the wrong way.
As he howled in agony and danced away from me, I sat myself back on the planter again and folded my hands in my lap, watching my father to see what he’d do.
He roared with laughter. “She’s older than she looks, and she’s got way more than you can handle, cub.”
Clutching his arm, Scott threw Hunter a look filled with fear and hate as he backed away from the pack.
My father’s eyes half-shuttered in amusement and he said, “Ah, Scotty, you missed the chance for that to interest me. Come on over and I’ll fix that arm right up, though.”
I muttered, “Yes, now coddle him,” and the words carried. The whole pack exploded with laughter and Scott looked around wildly, as if calm waters had suddenly sprouted fins. Then, instead of obeying, he jumped awkwardly off the deck and ran into the forest behind the lodge.
Hunter, less amused now, growled under his breath. There was a short, high scream from the forest as he did something to his new wolf remotely, which I didn’t even bother imagining. Once the men became wolves, I generally stopped thinking about them as individuals. They were all subject to my father’s will, and he could make and unmake them as easily as I summoned my dogs.
Then Hunter’s shadow fell over me again. I flinched as I looked up at him, but all he said was, “You were a little slow. You got soft with the half-breeds. We’ll have to work on that.” The way he bared his teeth was not a smile, and I knew the period of my recovery, where he’d insisted on my company but not my activity, had come to an end.
-three-
Halloween is tomorrow. I woke up with the thought echoing in my head. The clouds I’d seen on the horizon rolled in overnight, but by the time I woke at dawn, the rain was still just a promise. The sky was low and dark and lightning flickered from cloud to cloud. That was unusual; we don’t get thunderstorms much in the Pacific Northwest. The rising sun flamed red behind the storm cloak. It was beautiful, and a bit ominous.
Halloween is tomorrow. It had snuck up on me. Traditionally, my father held a big party on Halloween, which I did my best to avoid. This year I’d managed to miss most of the planning meetings, but when I went downstairs, one was in full swing in the kitchen.
I paused to eavesdrop, lingering by the trophy case. I looked at my mother’s locket and thought about how ridiculous it was that I was counting on my father to protect her. She was the only one who did any protecting; she’d protected me my whole life. And now I was just going to trust to my father’s power to save somebody I cared about.
Again.
“Annalise!” my father barked from the kitchen. I jumped. “Get in here.” I slipped into the kitchen, then purposefully headed past the group of men to the fridge. It always helped to walk with purpose.
My father watched me. “If you’re going running again today, go into town and pick up some candles for the party. Good ones, mind. Don’t be lazy.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
He scowled at me before returning his attention to his pack and the discussion of such sundries as playlists, grilling rotas, bedroom timeshares, and haunted forest walks. I found myself some leftovers from the barbecue the night before and leaned against the counter to eat.
Scott still wasn’t back, I noticed, and I was pleased to see it. It felt a little like victory, and I savored it because I knew it wouldn’t last long.
Then, as soon as I’d polished off the leftover steak and potatoes, I left before my father could assign me any more chores. Fetching candles was typical of what he’d demanded I do since I came back. Serving drinks and sitting pretty. Bait for the prey. If I didn’t stay out of the way, he’d make me act as guide for his “haunted forest,” which I really didn’t want to do.
But I would, if he told me to. In the end, I would. I couldn’t even imagine refusing anymore. Even if he didn’t always win when we fought, I always lost.
I brought out Grim and Nod and Heart, all three, and kept them with me all the way to the home decor store in Issaq
uah Commons, in order to banish the bad thoughts. I even considered bringing them into the store with me, but Nod stopped himself at the entrance, then snapped at Grim when he tried to follow me in. Heart looked between them, then curled up beside the doorway.
“Fine,” I told them. “I’ll be fast.” And I was, dashing through the store and cutting in line with my stack of economy-sized boxes of black and orange and white candles. When I was back outside again, I slung the big plastic bag over my shoulder and, without meaning to, looked over at the spot where Overalls Ghost had once sat.
With a catch in my breath, I looked away, then back again. Then I walked over and sat in the same place. It was, I told myself, no different than what I and every other part-celestial nephil faced. Our bodies were sustained indefinitely by our celestial heritage, but we had no souls; we left no ghosts.
It was the same, in a way. But it wasn’t right.
Heart trotted down the sidewalk and started sniffing around the ground where the cowboy had touched the Overalls Ghost. Her ears perked up and she looked back at us. Grim galloped over to her and vanished, crossing the boundary between worlds in that instant way they had.
“Hey, come back,” I called to Grim and walked toward Heart, Nod trailing behind me.
I rumpled Heart’s ears as Grim squeezed back out beside me. “We should get out of here before somebody notices magical vanishing dogs.”
Heart took that as permission and started following the trail she’d picked up, across the street, between two buildings, across the parking lot, and toward the lake.
And I went with her, because, well, we were good at it. I followed them all the way down to the bottom of Lake Issaquah, until I realized that the trail wasn’t heading to the lake; it was headed to Seattle.
I crouched on the roadside and gathered the dogs to me. “I’m pretty sure the Wild Hunt doesn’t live in the city, guys. Dad would have mentioned it, if nothing else.” I concentrated, looking inside their minds.
Heat and Grim had each caught a different element of the Huntsman’s trail. Grim had wanted to take the direct route, the same route the Huntsman had taken, but when he’d investigated, it was impassable for mortals and part-mortals like me. Heart was tracking his movements in the other world on this side of the Curtain, like following a waterborne scent along the bank. Eventually we’d have to cross over, but until we did, it was easier and safer to travel here.
I stared at the gently moving water, thinking about my mother and the representative of the Black Clearing, and the flower-picking ghost who usually lingered beside my driveway but was now gone, perhaps for good.
My father was expecting me home again with a load of candles. I couldn’t just run away. I didn’t like it there, but it didn’t change the fact that it was where I clearly belonged.
I tossed a water-smoothed rock and watched it sink into the grey lake.
Half an hour later, the candles were on the lodge’s kitchen table, holding a note in place: “I’ve gone into the city to get a Halloween costume. Back later,” and I was getting on a bus to Seattle.
And it was true, too. I’d pick up a costume, and I’d be back. I’d just wander around the city awhile first. I’d find the quickest path to the Huntsman’s home, call Tia, and be home before the party. No problem.
It took two bus transfers to get into Seattle. As the final bus rolled over the bridge that floated on the lake between Seattle and its Eastside suburbs, I saw the flash of a fishtail the size of a minivan slapping the lake’s surface. It was only visible for a moment before it slipped out of view, but I wasn’t the only one who had seen it. A full third of the bus moved and rustled in response to the splash, and more than a dozen people trained their cellphones on the lake in case the owner of the tail appeared. Traffic on the already crowded bridge slowed to a crawl.
I traded seats with the woman leaning over me. I’d grown up in the shadow of my father’s magic; I had magic of my own. Most people didn’t have my experience. They lived and worked and loved, oblivious of the shadow world of fallen angels and wizards and monsters that I could never escape.
But the seals keeping some of the most dramatic magics out of the world had been weakened recently and strange things were popping up all over, including on the news. It was one of my father’s favorite topics of conversation, although it varied whether it irritated or amused him. He wouldn’t tell me exactly what happened, but he did like to talk about the consequences of the event, oh yes. I knew he was thinking about how it would impact his own activities, his own plans.
The lake itself was brighter, I realized. Despite the overcast sky, it glittered like it hadn’t realized summer was over. It looked almost inviting, as if a cool dip would be the very thing to shake off the last of a morning drowse. A couple behind me whispered about taking their kayak out later to see if they could get a better look at the “lake monster” and I hoped whatever had moved in was playful rather than dangerous.
Then the bus rolled off the bridge and the lake vanished behind a hill. As we entered downtown Seattle, the bus passengers settled down again. By the time the bus got to my stop, nobody seemed to be thinking about the possible lake monster anymore.
As I stepped off the bus, I looked around, getting my bearings since I hadn’t visited Seattle for almost a year. And I was no longer surprised the lake monster had been only a passing attraction, no more exciting than a deer in the road. The new magic had touched Seattle proper at least as much as it had touched the lake. The music playing over the speakers was louder; the sounds of traffic were muffled. The smell of shattered ozone was strong even here, right next to the street.
There was a bright new mural of a ring of dancers on the wall across from the bus station and dozens of tourists stood underneath gaping up at it. The headline of a discarded inner section of the Seattle Times warned people to BEWARE STRANGERS, as if the city was populated entirely by five-year-olds.
It was also clear Halloween was only a day away. Black and orange crepe streamers festooned shop windows and mannequins posed with pumpkins and animal masks. One of them turned to watch me as I passed, which I told myself was probably only electronics just so I wouldn’t be creeped out. It’s one thing for magic to be running around causing mischief for others and something else entirely to be stared at by a mannequin.
A temporary costume shop was doing brisk business out of what had once been a stationary shop and I could tell via my nose that some of the costumes coming out of the store were less “costume” and more “genuine” than others. I also noticed cops on almost every street corner, looking harassed. One of them argued with a nearly nude pink-haired woman with large pixie wings “glued” to her back. As I waited at the street crossing, I had to suppress a gurgle of laughter as the cop tried to herd the giant pixie back to the costume shop and the pixie glumly tried sprinkling sparkling dust in response.
I ducked inside the bookstore down the street and stood in front of the magazine rack as I checked in with my dogs. I’d left Grim and Heart following the trail, keeping Nod in my shadow so I wasn’t utterly alone. They could move really fast when they set their minds to it and they didn’t have any trouble keeping Ion’s trail, even when it went skimming across Lake Washington.
More than half the news magazine covers featured photographs of some of the strange stuff that the faeries were doing now that they’d been partially freed. Time had a collage. I wondered if anybody would notice a pair of dogs galloping across the lake’s surface. I winced, thinking about it, and hoped if they did, it wouldn’t make it into any magazine my father glanced at.
The hair on the back of my neck prickled. Somebody was watching me. I glanced up and saw a man standing outside the bookstore window, looking at me over the Halloween window display. He wore a weirdly cut suit the color of oxblood, with the jacket unbuttoned over a rumpled shirt. His light brown hair was messy, too, like he’d just gotten off a long day at work. Since it was the start of most people’s workday, he stood out. He ca
ught my eye and smiled as if he recognized me.
He waved, then came into the store. “I know you,” he said, still grinning.
“We’ve never met,” I told him warily.
“No? Maybe you’re right. But you’re Hunter’s little girl. And Tia’s little protégé.” I took a step back, narrowing my eyes. Anybody might know Hunter, might have heard him talk about me. He liked to do that sometimes. But nobody ordinary knew about Hunter and Tia.
“Who are you?’ I asked as I activated my magical sight and waited for the wavering tangle of colored light to resolve into something meaningful. It usually took a while.
He chuckled, continuing on with his previous thought. “It’s some trick juggling the two of them. Like oil and water, they are.” He caught my narrowed eyes and added, “Oh, don’t worry. I’m one of Tia’s associates. Alastor. She ever mention me?”
Through the lens of the Sight, Alastor had a glow around his head and feet, but not the seven structural nodes that came with human blood. The radiance around his head flickered like a crown of fire, while the light at his feet shimmered like cracking ice. I relaxed marginally. “No, she hasn’t.”
His grin became a smirk. “Ah, well. I’ll have to try harder to impress her. So what are you doing in Seattle today, Miss—Annalise, isn’t it?”
I shrugged. “I’m getting a costume for Halloween. How about yourself?” I mentally told the dogs to meet me at a park nearby where the trail seemed likely to pass and wondered how to get rid of Tia’s friend without offending him. Demons weren’t as awful as my father’s brethren, but if you annoyed them enough, they’d kill you with the consequences of your own desires.
Nod, pressed against the edges of my shadow, indicated his willingness to get out and cause a ruckus in the store; that’d be sure to send him off. I resisted the temptation.
Wolf Interval (Senyaza Series Book 3) Page 3