"Hey, cracker," a guy shouted from the passenger window. "You lost?"
"Yeah, Hardly Davidson," another called from the backseat. "Redneck country is thataway. You come down here, we might decide that's a mighty fine bike you're riding. And a mighty fine bitch on the back of it."
The guys in the car laughed. Ricky just idled there, the put-a-put-a-put of the bike engine filling the night. The laughter trailed off into awkward silence.
"Hey," one yelled. "You hear us, blondie?"
Ricky said nothing.
"You deaf? Or just dumb?"
"He's definitely dumb," one said. "Dumbass cracker. You waiting for your posse, cracker? We'll hear them long before they show up. Which means we can kick your ass long before they show up."
Ricky turned to me. I lifted my visor. His eyes glittered with frustration over not finding the hound. He wasn't spoiling for a fight. That is another side of Arawn, but there was none of that tonight--just a glimmer that said he wanted to work off his frustration.
"Go ahead," I mouthed.
He put his hand on my knee, telling me to hang on tight. I leaned into his back and wrapped my arms around him. Feet planted, he began wheeling the bike backward.
"You running away, boy?" one called.
Ricky just kept backing up the bike. Two guys leaned out the window.
"You think you can reverse all the way outta our neighborhood? Is that some dumbass cracker code about not turning your back? If you keep going, we'll--"
Ricky stopped the bike. He laid one hand on my leg and tapped it with his fingers, counting down. Three, two...
The bike shot forward. The guys yelled something. One leapt out of the car, as if we were going to ram it. Ricky leaned down nearly flat against the bike, with me holding on for dear life, feeling the rush of the wind, the delicious, incredible rush, my eyes squeezed shut and then--
And then Ricky sat up, fast enough that I was glad I was holding him tight. The front end of the bike popped right onto the trunk of that big old Cadillac, and then we were airborne, shooting over the car. And I laughed. I couldn't help it. It was terrifying and exhilarating and absolutely mad, and I hugged Ricky tight and I laughed.
The bike landed with a jolt. Ricky hit the throttle and we were gone, zooming along the empty streets at impossible speeds, and it was like I was back in that vision, behind Arawn on the horse, holding tight and laughing with sheer joy.
He veered down a dark side street about a mile away and then turned into an even darker alley. His hand went to my leg, squeezing it, his fingers trembling as he turned back and mouthed, "You okay?"
I grinned at him. Just grinned and then tugged off my helmet, hopped off the bike, grabbed him by the shirtfront, and pulled him into a kiss. And God, that was a kiss, his frustration over the failed hunt for the hound mingling with the thrill of the jump and the triumph of his fuck-you escape.
A breathtaking, mind-blowing kiss, and when it ended, I was sitting in front of him on the bike, no idea how I even got there. I kept kissing him, hands in his hair, straddling him as I leaned back onto the bike. I slid my fingers to his crotch, rock-hard, and murmured, "Yes?"
"Fuck, yes," he said, his breath ragged.
I managed to get out of my jeans more easily than I'd have thought possible on a bike. Then he bent to kiss me again and that kiss, that kiss...
It was like being in the forest after the hunt, the smell of loam and pine needles, the smell of night and sweat and the hunt, those times when I'd swear I heard the hounds and the horses as he kissed me, as he pushed into me, hungry from the chase. This time, though? This time I wasn't lying on the ground, and when I closed my eyes I didn't feel the thrum of the idling bike under me. I felt as if I was still on the horse in that vision, except it wasn't Arawn with me--it was Ricky, stretched out over me, pushing into me, and God, oh God...
Fuck, yes, indeed.
I said that aloud, when we finished, and Ricky gave a ragged laugh, burying his face against my neck, saying, "Yeah..." He straightened, and then turned off the bike with another chuckle, saying, "Guess I should shut that off next time."
"Mmm, definitely not."
I reached up and pulled him down into a kiss, and we stayed there, locked together, until I realized it might not be the most comfortable position for him.
"Sorry," I murmured. "Probably getting a little tired of holding up the bike, huh?"
"What bike?" he said, and kissed me again as I laughed.
A couple of minutes later, we were off the bike and on the blanket from his saddlebags, lying half naked in a grungy alley.
"If you close your eyes," he said, "you can imagine that faint eau de garbage is actually a nearby swamp. I did catch a whiff of something decomposing. Just need a big pile of deer shit nearby and we'd be right at home."
"You say the sweetest things." I craned my neck and looked up at the sky. "I think that's a star up there. Or is it a plane?"
"A star. Blinking and moving fast. They do that in the city."
He pulled me against him, and I snuggled in, the heat of his body perfect against the chill night air. I closed my eyes, and when he kissed me I could smell the forest, see it, feel it and hear it all around me, and then I was there, not just imagining it but lying in a forest glen. I could feel the warmth of him still on my skin, but he was gone. I didn't jump up. I just stretched out on my stomach, toes brushing the grass.
A whine floated over on the breeze. I lifted my head and squinted. Another whine came. Then a sigh. A deep, shuddering canine sigh.
The hound.
I rose and hurried to the edge of the clearing. I could hear the hound, sighing and shuffling, as if moving about. I jogged toward the sound and spotted it near a cabin. The hound guarded the door, and while I could see no sign that it was bound in any way, it felt bound, as it looked into the forest as if longing to run. It was a perfect fall night and yet the hound couldn't enjoy it, and I felt the grief and the frustration and the sadness of that as it paced and then, with a sigh, lay down in front of the cabin door.
When I started forward, the hound lifted its head and peered into the darkness. Its red-brown eyes glimmered as it searched, as if sensing me but seeing nothing. Then it stood and whined and tried to come to me but stopped short and gave a growl, ears pricked forward, seeing me and...
No, not seeing me. Not sensing me.
"Forest," Ricky whispered, and I was back in the alley, Ricky pulling from the kiss, saying, "The hound is in the forest. Guarding a cabin. You..." He grinned and pulled me into a tight hug. "You found it. Thank you."
"Um, you...saw...what I was...?"
He grinned again as he rose. "Forest. Cabin. Hound. That is what you were seeing, right?"
"Yes, but how...?"
"No idea. Hound radar plus omen vision, I guess. We should have skipped the riding around and gone straight to bike sex."
"I'm pretty sure it wasn't the bike sex that did it."
"Of course it was. Anytime we need to figure something out, we'll start with bike sex. If that doesn't work, we'll keep trying until it does."
I laughed as I pulled on my jeans. "As for a location, though, all I got was forest."
"I know where to go."
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
We were about a half hour south of the city, long off the highway, on roads I'd never seen before until, finally, Ricky brought the bike to a stop at the side. I could see forest across a moonlit field. He tilted his head, considering, and then squeezed my thigh, telling me to hang on, before he turned the bike into the field, rolling slowly over the rough ground. When we reached the edge of the forest, he idled there and I tugged off my helmet. I could feel tension strumming from him as he looked into the woods.
"Wrong place?" I said.
"No, just wrong."
As I leaned against his back and looked into the woods, I felt what he must. Uneasy. Unwelcome. This wasn't like other forests--no sense of invitation, of adventure, of voices whispering in the
dark for us to come play. I looked at this stretch of woods and I felt that ancient sense of the forest as alien territory. Dangerous territory. The dark unknown.
As I shivered, I tumbled into a vision. A cabin. Not the one from my hound vision. This was a home in the forest, the door bolted shut, the shutters battened tight. I was inside, fumbling with a lantern, desperate to ignite it as a girl's voice whispered, "Something's out there," and I could feel that, beyond those closed shutters. Something out there, something in the night. That primal fear of what the dark brought, what the forest brought, when the sun dropped.
I snapped back to reality with a shudder, still feeling the terror of our ancestors, shut in for the night, praying for morning, knowing that beyond their door lurked danger, that unshakable fear that would, even today, make children beg their parents to check under the bed, look in the closet, please don't turn out all the lights.
I rubbed my arms, reminding myself that I had a gun and a switchblade, and I was no peasant cowering in the dark. I knew what was out there. I'd faced it. Overcome it. And yet...well, logic and confidence only gets you so far against those primal whispers.
A dog started crying. Not the hound. Just a dog.
Ricky murmured, "Bad omen?"
"Yep. Better late than never." I was twisting to look around when I spotted a raven gliding silently across the moonlit field. It swooped toward us, as if to fly into the woods. Then it veered sharply and instead came to rest in a dead tree twenty paces from the forest's edge. It hunkered down, feathers ruffling, head pulled between its shoulders.
"Uh, yeah..." I said. "Let's see...Overwhelming sense of foreboding. Omen of impending danger. Freaked-out Cwn Annwn raven. Do you get the feeling--?"
"That this is definitely the place?"
"I was thinking more along the lines that the universe is sticking a big Do Not Enter sign outside that forest."
"That, too."
"So..." I waved at the forest. "Shall we?"
He smiled and slid off the bike, and we walked into the woods, hand in hand, like Hansel and Gretel. When I mentioned that to Ricky, he said, "You think there'll be candy?"
I took out my boar's tusk. When I touched it, I thought I'd accidentally grabbed my gun instead. The tusk was as cold as metal. I held it out for Ricky to touch and he said, "Weird." Then he checked his own and confirmed it was the same. "So that's a sign they're working extra well, right?" he said.
We shared a smile. In our guts, we both knew it meant the opposite. Our handy-dandy fae-evil-repelling boar tusks had shut down, as if their power couldn't penetrate these woods.
At a loud croak, I looked over my shoulder and saw the raven launch from the tree and fly back toward the road.
"Abandoning us already, huh," I murmured. "If the mortals are too stupid to heed flashing danger signs, screw them."
I turned toward the forest. It was unnaturally dark, the moonlight seeming not to penetrate the tree canopy. When I looked up, I could see gaps in that canopy, but not a single star glinted in the blackness beyond.
"Second thoughts?" Ricky asked.
"Never."
The woods were larger than they seemed from the road, and we walked at least a mile, Ricky moving sure-footed and straight, his gaze fixed on something only he could see. Then I caught the sound from my vision--the whine of the hound. Not boredom and frustration now, but anticipation. Ricky's hand squeezed mine.
"Before we get there," I murmured, "what exactly do we expect to find in that cabin?"
"Presumably his master."
"So do we split up? You take the front and I slip around the back?"
"I'd really rather not split up here, even for a second."
"Okay, so we stick--"
I stumbled. I didn't feel any obstacle or dip in my path. I just stumbled. Ricky's hand tightened, his grip pulling me up. Then his hand disappeared and I staggered forward and when I caught my balance and turned...
I was alone in the forest.
THE HOUNDS OF HELL
"Liv?" Ricky spun around, but even as he did, he knew he wouldn't see her.
"Liv!" he shouted again. Yeah, that wasn't smart, yelling so close to his quarry's den, but what mattered was that she was gone and this forest was wrong, unnatural and wrong, and he'd brought her in here. Fuck the signs. Fuck the omens. Fuck the fact that the raven wouldn't cross the threshold and their damned tusks were cold weights in their pockets. They had their weapons, and they had each other, and that was enough.
It's never enough. It never was.
Ricky squeezed his eyes shut as if he could block Arawn's voice.
You did this. So cocky. So confident. You dragged her into this place knowing--feeling--the danger.
Which was bullshit, of course. No one dragged Liv anywhere. But that didn't mean Ricky failed to accept responsibility. He would never be Arawn, blaming Gwynn for centuries until he'd finally faced the truth--that he'd been equally responsible for Matilda's death.
Ricky had sensed the danger here, and they came in anyway. He hadn't told her exactly how this forest made him feel. Had not been clear enough, and that was where his failure lay: in believing he could simply hold her hand and keep her safe.
"God-fucking-damn it," he cursed. Then he yelled again, "O-liv-i-a!"
"Lose someone?" a voice whispered through the trees, and Ricky's hackles rose.
He didn't need to see the figure to know it was a Huntsman. And yet not a Huntsman, no more than this forest was truly a forest or the hound truly a hound. The hound and the forest were tainted, warped, by no fault of their own. The taint came from the voice that oozed through the trees like an oil slick, black and unnatural, corrupting everything it touched.
"Show yourself," Ricky called, and the voice laughed.
"Arawn, I presume? Yet another pretender to the throne. And such a child, too. A swaggering, grinning child, clutching his switchblade and telling himself he's a man. Telling himself he's Lord of the Cwn Annwn."
"Pretty damned sure I never claimed any such thing. But I did come on behalf of the Cwn Annwn. To take back something you stole."
"Your girl?"
Ricky snorted. "Hardly."
"Oh ho, so the girl doesn't matter? Perhaps you are the true Arawn after all--finally man enough to stop playing silly romantic games, chasing a girl he'll never have."
"You have something of ours. A hound."
"Yours? No, the hound is mine. A broken and useless beast that I found and saved. But let's test exactly how little you care for your Matilda. You may choose which I return: her or the hound."
"You misunderstood. When I laughed, it wasn't because I don't care for Liv. It's because you didn't steal her. If you'd managed that, you wouldn't have time to come mock me--she's a bit of a handful. Something has separated us, but you have nothing to do with it, and as much as I'd love to tromp through this forest, shouting, I won't find her until it's time. I trust she can look after herself until I do."
"Are you certain?" The voice slid around him now. "Very certain?"
"Yep. Sorry. And the weird-ass spooky-voice thing really isn't going to work. Why don't you just come out where I can see you and talk?"
"I have nothing to say to you, little Arawn."
"Then you won't mind if go collect my hound."
A shadow cut in front of him as he turned, formless, the very trees seeming to shift and slide as it moved.
"It is not your hound, boy."
"Wanna bet? Bring it here and we'll see who it chooses."
A laugh resounded through the trees. "You are an arrogant child, aren't you?"
"Confident, not arrogant. There's a difference."
"Ricky!" It was Liv, deep in the forest. He turned to track the sound.
"Your borrowed lover calls," the voice said.
"Liv!" he shouted.
"You say you are not concerned, but that bellow gives you away. Does she wander from you often, boy? I bet she does. Wanders from your side to his, comes back when she w
ants something from you."
"Yep, she comes back when she wants to be with me. Which is all that matters. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
He turned in the direction he'd heard Liv, because as brash and bold as he might act, the man was right--he was more concerned than he let on. He could hear the hound whining, but it had waited all this time, and it would understand if it had to wait a little longer.
He broke into a jog, yelling for Liv as the voice chuckled behind him.
"Ricky!" she called.
"Here! Coming!"
"Damn it," she said, her voice carrying in the night. "We've really got to figure out how to stop separating like this."
"Agreed."
"You know what we need more of?"
"Bike sex?"
She laughed, and he knew that wasn't some random snippet of conversation shouted across a forest--she was making sure it was really him.
"Run, little Arawn," the voice whispered. "Run after her while you still can."
Ricky shot his middle finger over his shoulder and picked up his pace. A shape leapt in front of him, darkness against darkness, pulsing there. He veered, as if it was no more than a stump in his path, but when the shadow dove for him, he was ready, blade slashing. He could still see nothing, but the knife met resistance and there was a sharp intake of breath.
"Guess my puny weapon can do some damage after all, huh? Even if you don't have the guts to uncloak yourself."
Ricky saw the blow coming. No fist. Not even a shape. Just darkness flying at him, but he'd been in enough fights to recognize the sense of movement alone, and he wheeled out of its path, shouting, "Liv? Be careful! I've found our rogue Huntsman."
"Kinda figured that's who you were talking to," she yelled back. "You two keep exchanging semi-witty banter and I'll have no problem finding you."
"I think he'd rather exchange semi-useless blows."
The next one came from his right, and Ricky wasn't quite fast enough to duck. That was, of course, the danger of being a smart-ass. You can enrage an opponent into wild blows, but one of those blows is bound to hit. This one struck him in the jaw and--
Holy fuck.
He'd say it felt like a sledgehammer, but there was no pain, just...explosion, and then--
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