Cursed

by Nancy Corrigan

  He spent a few minutes studying the abandoned home, then yanked his phone from his pocket and dialed.

  “Yeah?”

  Trevor’s whisper eased the noose around Ian’s chest.

  “I hit a dead end. What did you find?” Ian asked.

  “I’m…not sure.”

  The confused lilt to Trevor’s words retightened the vise on Ian’s lungs. “Tell me what you see.”

  “Shapes only. It’s dark, but I hear voices.”

  Shit. “It might be a trap. Wait for me. I’m coming.”

  “I’m not stupid. I’m not going to fall for an illusion. I’ll just get a little closer. Try to see something more.”

  “Just wait. I’m—”

  The line went dead.

  Ian spun on his heel and hurried to the gnarled tree. Shadows darkened the area. The dimness didn’t bother him. He could see well enough. He ran. The path wove between the trees. The farther he went, the more overgrown it became. Branches scraped him, slicing him open. He pushed them aside and quickened his pace.

  The urge to embrace the power of the Hunt overcame him. He resisted. By himself, he didn’t know if he could control it. The power it offered acted like an addiction. It made him feel righteous and invincible.

  He wanted to wipe the earth of the fairies’ creatures. He also knew it wouldn’t stop there. The redcaps and sluaghs weren’t the only ones who killed. Humans did too. That was the enticement he had to avoid. One man couldn’t rid the world of evil, no matter how much he wanted it.

  No, he couldn’t draw on the well of power his Huntsman’s mark entitled him to. He was too new, too unpredictable, too damn wild.

  Ian pushed his body harder. Female voices drifted to him. He picked out a couple of words from the murmurs. His name was one of them.

  Son of a bitch. They’d found the ring and sprung Craig’s trap. And Trevor was walking right into it.

  Trevor wasn’t naïve. He understood the tricks the redcaps used to draw in their prey. But he also wanted Allie back. They were friends, had been ever since she’d started working at his mom’s store.

  Allie’s laughter, the soft tinkling sound Ian had heard for years, carried over the din of the night’s creatures.

  “Allie?” Trevor called out.

  No! Ian cracked open the endless pool of power he drew from Arawn. He’d have to risk falling into the lure of the Hunt in order to save Trevor. Ian couldn’t lose him. Trevor was like a brother to him.

  Energy rushed into his pores from the world around him, and he ran faster than any mere mortal could. The trees blurred. Within moments, he reached the edge of an overhang. A valley stretched out before him. In the center of it, Allie stood barefoot in a fairy ring, wearing a pink nightie with depictions of cartoon kittens on it. Mussed hair framed a dirty, tearstained face. Craig stood outside the ring, a hand stretched out to her.

  Illusion or reality?

  Ian couldn’t tell, but he knew he had to find out. If it really was her, she couldn’t take Craig’s hand. The moment he pulled her out of the ring, he’d turn her into a sluagh, a walking zombie and his puppet.

  The twenty-three-year-old woman who still slept with a stuffed dog would become a murderer. Like Cynthia, she’d die at Ian’s hands because of it. Jesus, he didn’t want that.

  “Come on, sweet Allie,” Craig cooed. “I’ll save you. You can trust me.”

  As tall and as wide as his brother Raul had been, Craig looked like a cross between a linebacker and a model. It was part of his arsenal to tempt women close to him and probably why Dar had chosen the brothers. He valued beauty. Ironic, since his true form resembled the stuff of nightmares.

  Allie took a step toward Craig. She held out her hand. Trevor screamed her name. She jerked back. Trevor ran toward the ring, the small dagger Harley had given him in his hand. Craig grinned. The look of satisfaction told Ian all he needed to know. They were in deep shit.

  Craig unleashed his talons and egged Trevor on with a mocking curl of his fingers.

  Several hundred feet away, with no easy way off the ledge, Ian couldn’t help Trevor. Even with the Hunt fueling him, Ian would never make it in time. There was only one thing to do. He waved an arm. The portal to Hell opened. The three white hounds with red ears, who had remained at his side from the moment he’d accepted Calan’s offer to join the Hunt, trotted out. Affectionately named Larry, Mo, and Curly, the hounds usually greeted him with wagging tails and slobbery kisses. Not tonight. The dogs picked up on his agitation and froze midstep, gaze on him, not on the redcap in the valley below.

  Craig was hidden to them. It was the only explanation. The dogs could sense anyone tainted by the chaos Dar had infected them with, but not those redcaps and sluaghs who belonged to Harley. Shit. Raul had given his brothers the other caps soaked in Harley’s blood. Craig belonged to her, but she had no control over him since she’d never turned Unseelie and taken his blood.

  It was Ian’s fault that Raul had gotten her blood in the first place. Ian had fallen for Raul’s trap. While he’d chased after Cynthia, Raul had shot Harley. Watching her fall had pushed Ian over the edge. He’d woken in Hell.

  And today he fucking fell for another redcap’s trap. But he wouldn’t fail again. He couldn’t. There was nobody close to save the day.

  Ian pointed toward the fairy ring at the same time the familiar grunts of sluaghs filled the night. The hounds snarled. In unison, they turned in the direction of the threat and ran. Between one step and the next, their bodies morphed into their Hunt form—deadly teeth and claws, black fur, and able to render the fairies’ creatures immobile with their powerful jaws. At the ledge, they leapt. He followed.

  He hit the ground hard. Bone snapped. Sharp pain radiated up his leg. He ignored the agony and pushed to his feet, then immediately collapsed. His bones hadn’t healed yet.

  “No!”

  Allie’s cry redirected his attention to the fairy ring. Trevor ducked a swipe of Craig’s clawed hand and slashed at the redcap’s gut. Blood welled, but Craig didn’t flinch. He dug his claws into Trevor’s arms and tossed him toward the fairy ring. He landed half-in, half-out of the circle.

  Rage turned Ian’s vision red. He pushed to his feet a second time. He stumbled but righted himself, then grabbed hold of the power in the air around him. He ran and willed his sword to take shape. It emerged in a puff of sulfur-scented air. Flames burst from the blade. Craig turned. Wide-eyed, he gaped at him. Ian grinned. It was the same reaction Raul had given him: surprise.

  The redcaps obviously didn’t know humans could join the Hunt. Not that he was human, exactly, but according to Tegan, he still felt like one. Whatever the reason, Craig’s shock worked to Ian’s advantage. For those precious few seconds, Craig’s attention centered on Ian, not Trevor, who lay unconscious on the ground.

  Ian directed the hounds to attack Craig from behind. He fell under the weight of their combined bodies launched at him. Ian turned his back on them, knowing they’d do everything within their power to immobilize Craig until Ian could finish him off. For the moment, Larry, Mo, and Curly acted as the extension of Ian’s hand. He felt them tied to him and only him, a consequence of the Hunt and the exclusive control necessary to avoid confusion among the hounds during battle. The dogs needed one rider to direct them. Ian, as the only Huntsman present, was it.

  Dammit, he wished he could connect with Calan. The tie to the leader of the Hunt only worked one way, however. Ian couldn’t initiate it. No matter, this was what the Hunters had been trained to do, fight nightly against the fairies’ creatures. Only problem, Ian hadn’t received a lick of training. He’d been tossed into the Hunt with the advice of “Trust your instincts”.

  Then that was what he’d do. He let his mind take in all the details around him and focused on Allie kneeling next to Trevor. The image of Craig offering his hand to her returned. If the redcap had the ability to pull her out, maybe Ian could. In a roundabout way, he was tied to Harley through Calan. All the Hunters sh
ared a bond. Ian had no idea if it’d be enough, but he had to try something.

  He ran to the fairy ring, allowing his sword to fade. Allie’s image wavered. The fairy realm was going to reclaim her. He stretched an arm over the circle of mushrooms. Blood dripped from a gash along his forearm. Each drop sizzled as it hit the ground. Her form solidified. He acknowledged the oddity but pushed it aside for the moment.

  “Allie, take my hand.”

  “Ian, oh thank God!” Her voice sounded far away.

  She reached for him. Their fingers touched. He wrapped his hand around hers and tugged. The force it took to drag her closer to the mushrooms stole his breath. He grunted and dug his feet in. She whimpered. A pop sounded, and their combined hands breached the circle. Her arm came next.

  He was doing it. He said a little prayer and tugged harder. Her torso stretched over the ring, but her eyes suddenly widened. “Ian!”

  Something rammed into him, breaking his hold. Allie jerked back and fell on her bottom. A sluagh clamped a mouthful of sharp teeth over Ian’s arm. He recalled his sword and took the sluagh’s head, then hopped to his feet and faced Craig.

  The redcap knelt on the ground, the hounds attacking him. With a roar, he stood, knocking two off. The third he grabbed by the scruff of its neck and tossed it across the clearing.

  Ian charged him and swung. Craig ducked and lunged for Ian’s feet, nearly the same move Trevor had tried a few moments ago. Ian countered it in a similar manner. Although he didn’t have claws, his nails lengthened and sharpened. They didn’t come close to matching the curved ones Craig sported, but they helped. Ian needed every advantage.

  He released his sword. It disappeared before hitting the ground, gone to wherever it went when he wasn’t using it. With his pointed nails, he pierced Craig’s shoulder while the redcap’s claws scored a path down Ian’s thighs. Ian’s knees gave out. He landed a third time, pulling Craig with him. Craig bared a mouthful of sharp, pointy teeth and bent for Ian’s neck.

  Ian brought his legs up and pushed against the heavier man, stopping him from ripping out his throat. Craig growled and dug his talon-tipped fingers into Ian’s sides. Ian groaned, hating the sound of weakness but unable to stop it. The redcap had pierced Ian’s lungs. Sharp pain seized him. He struggled to hold Craig back.

  More roars mixed with the growls of his hounds. Ian cut a sharp look in the direction of the sound. Dozens of badly nourished sluaghs spilled from the surrounding woods. Malformed with elongated limbs and saggy gray skin, they resembled the walking dead. They fed like them too, and they all converged on Trevor.

  “No!” Ian yelled.

  Craig’s hot breath bathed Ian’s neck a moment before he bit. Shooting pain whipped through Ian. He ignored it and rammed his fist into Craig’s face before he could tear out a chunk of Ian’s flesh. The sound of bone shattering added to the redcap’s scream. Ian shoved him off. He would’ve taken Craig’s head, but concern over Trevor directed him.

  Ian closed the distance between him and Trevor. Ian willed his blade to appear and slashed at the nearest sluagh. It fell. Another replaced it. He brought his blade down in an arc, gutting the creature. Its rotten insides spilled out. The stench choked him. He held his breath and kicked the sluagh aside.

  “Let him go!”

  Ian jerked his head toward Allie’s bellow. She tugged on Trevor’s wrists while a pasty teen yanked on his calf.

  “Allie, don’t!”

  She froze and stared at Ian with frightened eyes.

  “You can’t pull him in. He’ll be trapped like you are.”

  If it was possible, her eyes widened more. She released Trevor and lunged for the sluagh. She hit an invisible barrier, preventing her from escaping, and shrieked. She bounced back, a hand covering her bloody nose.

  Ian shoved the sluaghs out of his way.

  Craig beat him to the ring.

  He grabbed Trevor’s legs and tossed him inside the circle. A whoosh of rain-scented air swept out, and both Trevor and Allie disappeared.

  Ian dove at Craig, knocking him away from the mushrooms. They rolled across the ground. Stones and sharp twigs tore at their skin. Blood soaked them. Ian dug his nails into the redcap while Craig ripped at Ian’s back with his claws. On a grunt, Ian rolled them, pinning Craig. He recalled his blade and shifted his hold on the handle to impale him. Before he could, three sluaghs tackled Ian, knocking him off the redcap.

  They were no match for Ian, not with the strength of the Hunt behind him. Within moments, he took their heads. Their souls rushed out of the husks they’d been confined to and floated on the breeze above his head. They’d have to be collected and given peace, but he had to deal with Craig first.

  Ian pivoted and scanned the woods. Instead of Craig, he found close to two dozen sluaghs, all pathetically malnourished. Craig had been starving them, exactly as Raul had been doing to his sluaghs. Ian acknowledged the similarity and dismissed it in the next breath. They still needed to be cut down and given peace.

  As they shuffled forward, Ian raised his blade and met them head-on. They fell, one by one, until only their lost souls remained. Ian stood in the middle of the dark valley, chest heaving and rage choking him. He’d failed. Trevor and Allie were gone. So was the redcap. Sure, Ian could go after him. He might find him. Craig couldn’t have gotten far, but Ian had a duty to the unfortunate victims who whispered their thanks in his ear. Only he could give them peace. No other Huntsmen were close.

  Ian sent Larry, Mo, and Curly into the woods. Hopefully, they’d find Craig. It was the best Ian could do.

  He turned his back on the hounds, opened the portal to Hell and called forth his horse, Doubt, to collect the sluaghs’ souls. The irony of his steed’s name hit him. Arawn had named all the horses in the Hunt. Ian had assumed his had been given that name because the Lord of the Underworld mistrusted Ian. He wondered for the first time if it didn’t mean more.

  Doubt.

  It’d be the death of him. If he could actually die permanently, anyway.

  He shook off the disturbing thought and patted Doubt’s flank when it trotted over. They had a job to do before he could return to Tegan: release the souls into the fields surrounding the Huntsmen’s fortress in Hell.

  When he did see his mate again, he had his work cut out for him. Ian had to win her trust. He’d need it. If Calan refused to go after Trevor and Allie, Ian would. One way or the other, he was getting into the fairy realm and saving them. Tegan would have to get him out. He’d proved it was possible.

  He reopened the portal and stepped through. Arawn waited for him, legs spread and fists clenched at his sides. Anger tightened the god’s features. Any number of reasons might’ve caused it—he’d found out about Ian’s mating to Tegan, discovered Ian was an incubus, or that Ian was his mate’s kid. Ian hoped for the first. An angry dad he could handle. A god bent on punishing him for being born, he couldn’t.

  Ian slapped Doubt’s back, sending the horse forward. “Arawn.”

  The god looked him over and focused on his dual-colored eyes. “You mated her.”

  Ian nodded. “Yes, I love Tegan.”

  Arawn snarled. Black leathery skin overtook his body. His back arched, his spine extended, and wings burst from his taller frame. “Lies. Incubuses don’t love.”

  Ian silently cursed. At least he knew the reason for the confrontation, not that he could do a damn thing about it. He had no control over his heritage. “How did you find out?”

  Arawn grinned. The smile distorted his elongated face. He looked like a Huntsman on steroids, only with the power of Hell at his fingertips and no qualms over using it to suit his needs. “From Tegan, of course.”

  No. Ian stumbled back. The sense of betrayal overwhelmed him. He shoved it aside. She’d professed her love for him. He wouldn’t doubt her. “You lie. Tegan loves me.”

  “My foolish daughter only wanted to meet the Triad’s challenge. She made a mistake.” Arawn approached, talons extended and murder on his fa
ce. “I will save her from it.”

  Arawn leaned over him. Ian tipped his head to hold his gaze. He refused to cower. “You can’t. She’s my mate, bound to me for eternity.”

  “She will cut her bond to you. I will see to it. Do you think I stupidly gave Calan all the angel’s tears I’d collected to sever a mate bond?” Arawn sneered. “I’d saved some for myself, but I will give them to my daughter instead. I’d rather suffer than see her cry over you.”

  Ian’s heart raced. “One chance at love. She gave me hers. You take it away, and she’ll be alone forever.”

  “Better alone than with one such as you. I know my child. She will become enraged the first time you cheat on her. She’ll embrace the Hunt, lose herself to its power, and I will once more have to restrain her because of it.”

  Arawn wrapped a clawed hand around Ian’s throat. The sharp points dented his skin but didn’t cut him. The promise of pain hovered between them, however.

  Ian considered fighting back, but it’d only make the situation worse. “I won’t cheat on her.” He let the god see the truth in his eyes. “That is my vow. I gave it to her and now you.”

  Arawn tightened his grip. Warm blood trickled down Ian’s throat. “Promises can be broken, and love isn’t forever. It’s an illusion.”

  “It’s a commitment, one that needs to be treasured and valued.”

  Arawn dug the sharpened nails of his other hand into Ian’s chest, right over his Huntsman’s mark. Ian’s heart raced, knowing what would happen and powerless to stop it.

  “And one that all too often is tossed aside for a quick fuck.” Arawn leaned closer so his monstrous face filled Ian’s vision. “I won’t put my daughter through that. She was betrayed before. Your promise isn’t worth risking her sanity.”

  “Why don’t you let her make that decision?” Because Ian was convinced he could keep Tegan happy and sated long enough to earn her trust.

  “I must. Free will demands it.” Arawn shrugged. “But she will. Of that I have no doubt. And when she does, I’ll be free of my mate’s mistake once and for all.”