Oak & Thorns Read online

  OAK & THORNS

  -A Wild Hunt Novel-

  -Book 2-

  YASMINE GALENORN

  A Nightqueen Enterprises LLC Publication

  Published by Yasmine Galenorn

  PO Box 2037, Kirkland WA 98083-2037

  OAK & THORNS

  A Wild Hunt Novel

  Copyright © 2018 by Yasmine Galenorn

  First Electronic Printing: 2018 Nightqueen Enterprises LLC

  First Print Edition: 2018 Nightqueen Enterprises

  Cover Art & Design: Ravven

  Art Copyright: Yasmine Galenorn

  Editor: Elizabeth Flynn

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any format, be it print or electronic or audio, without permission. Please prevent piracy by purchasing only authorized versions of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, or places is entirely coincidental and not to be construed as representative or an endorsement of any living/ existing group, person, place, or business.

  A Nightqueen Enterprises LLC Publication

  Published in the United States of America

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Welcome to Oak & Thorns

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Cast of Characters

  Playlist

  Biography

  Acknowledgments

  Welcome to the world of the Wild Hunt. This is one of those series that has been haunting me for a while, and now, it’s time to put pen to paper (fingers to keyboard) and let the stories out. And boy, do they want loose.

  Thanks to my usual crew: Samwise, my husband, Andria and Jennifer—without their help, I’d be swamped. To the women who have helped me find my way in indie, you’re all great, and to the Wild Hunt, which runs deep in my magick, as well as in my fiction.

  Also, my love to my furbles, who keep me happy. And most reverent devotion to Mielikki, Tapio, Ukko, Rauni, and Brighid, my spiritual guardians and guides.

  If you wish to reach me, you can find me through my website at Galenorn.com and be sure to sign up for my newsletter to keep updated on all my latest releases!

  Brightest Blessings,

  ~The Painted Panther~

  ~Yasmine Galenorn~

  Welcome to Oak & Thorns

  Life isn’t easy when you bear the mark of the Silver Stag.

  When Herne and Ember are approached by the matriarch of a group of water-horse shifters to help find her cousin’s murderer, the Wild Hunt is drawn into a dark and shadowed world of the Ante-Fae.

  But as the team delves into the details of the grisly death, they uncover evidence of a string of murders that leads them directly into the court of Blackthorn. Caught in a mire of political intrigue and shadow magic, will Ember and Herne be able to bring the serial killer to light, or will the King of Thorns manage to silence them forever?

  Oak & Thorns: Book 2 of the Wild Hunt Series

  Chapter 1

  I LEANED BACK in my seat, feet propped up on the desk, suspiciously eyeing the sunlight that gleamed through the blinds. It had been a chilly spring, with only sporadic sunshine, but now the weather seemed to be making up for lost time and the days were soaring into the seventies. I was grateful for the break from the rain and cool temperatures, but I wished I had time to get outside and enjoy it. The Wild Hunt had been swamped lately, and none of us had been able to take a day off for over three weeks.

  Angel peeked around the door. “Got a minute?”

  “For you? Any time.” I waved her in. Angel was my best friend and roommate. She was also the receptionist for the agency.

  “Guess what?” She entered the office and dropped a file folder on my desk. “Yet another new case.”

  “Oh, lovely.” I stared at the folder for a moment, then grunted and lowered my feet to the floor. When I picked up the file and was about to drop it on another stack of folders sitting in my inbox, she stopped me.

  “Not so fast. Take that file back out of the basket and read it. This one goes to the head of the pack.” She slumped in the chair next to my desk, looking as tired as I felt.

  “Another priority case?” I closed my eyes, wondering what miscreants we were going to have to corral this time, and whether they’d be Light or Dark Fae. Not that it mattered. Both sides of my bloodline were batshit crazy and I had ceased caring which side of the fence our targets hearkened from. “Who called us in on this one? Cernunnos or Morgana?”

  Angel shook her head. “Neither. This is a private case.”

  I blinked. Herne was taking on a private case, now? The agency had been mired knee-deep in crap going down between the Dark and Light Courts to the point of where we should have advertised a two-for-one special. Apparently the feud between Névé and Saílle had been jammed full speed ahead, given how many fires we had been called on to extinguish. Some of them literally. A week ago, the Dark Court had taken potshots at a warehouse owned by Navane and they had burned it down.

  I hadn’t been the only one wishing business would slow down. We all needed some breathing time. But I still had four open cases sitting on my desk, although they were all private. Stamping out collateral damage cases—or CDs, as we called them—always took priority.

  Five cases, I corrected myself, now that Angel had added another to the mix. I retrieved the file from the wire basket and squinted at it as I read the label.

  Foam Born pod—whidbey island

  “So, what’s this?” I ruffled through the intake pages, frowning.

  “As I said, it’s a private case. Herne wants you to sit in on the conference with the new client.”

  “When?”

  “Now.” Angel reached in her pocket and tossed me a candy bar. “Eat up.”

  I groaned. Angel and I had made plans to go out to lunch at Joe’s Burgers, but this shot that idea to hell. My stomach rumbled at the sight of the chocolate, and I peeled open the wrapper. “I love chocolate, but it’s not a good stand-in for a sandwich.”

  She grinned. “Take heart. I’m going to run out and get some fish and chips for our lunch. I should be back by the time your meeting’s over. I imagine Herne will call an agency meeting if he decides to take this case, so we’ll just eat here.”

  “What’s the case about?” I skimmed the form until I came to the line regarding the client’s reason for approaching the Wild Hunt Agency. It looked like she—I assumed it was a she, given her name was Rhiannon—wanted us to look into a murder. Great. Another dead body. At least the case wasn’t a CD case.

  “The only thing I know is that it’s an unsolved murder case. A cold case, no less.” Angel shrugged. “The Foam Born Pod are a group of hippocampi who live up on Whidbey Island.”

  “Hippocampus? I didn’t know we had any of those around here.”

  Not many people knew who the hippocampi were. Fewer still understood the nature of the water-horse shifters. While in the water, a hippocampus took the form of an actual water horse—but not the cute little seahorse creatures bobbing around in the ocean.

  No, a hippocampus had the front half of a horse
, with the tail of the fish. And they were huge. As they rose out of the water onto the shore, they could turn into startlingly beautiful white horses, or into human form. When a pod of them emerged together, it was astounding to watch as the elegant white horses came racing out of the sea foam. Poseidon hired some of them as his steeds in the depths of the ocean. They were as elegant in their water-horse form as they were on land.

  “I had never heard of them, so after she filled out the form, I took the opportunity to do a search. It’s amazing what you can find on the Net.” Angel giggled, rolling her eyes. “Never search on ‘horse people’ with safe-search off.”

  “I can imagine.” I pushed myself to my feet. “I’d better get in there before Herne comes looking for me.”

  “Somehow I don’t think you’d object to that,” Angel said, a knowing smile on her face.

  I snorted, glaring at her, but she knew I didn’t mean it.

  Herne and I had been dating for three months, and I was just settling into the idea that I was in an actual relationship again. So far, so good. We hit it off, and our chemistry was like flash powder—igniting at the slightest touch. Add to that, we enjoyed each other’s company. I just hadn’t quite come to terms with the fact that I was dating the son of a god.

  I TAPPED ON Herne’s office door, waited a moment, then quietly opened it. Peeking in, I caught his attention. He waved for me to take a seat by the desk.

  Herne’s office was a veritable jungle of plants, with walls the color of robin’s-egg blue, and a white ceiling that was suggestive of clouds. A huge rack of antlers was mounted on the wall, polished and glowing. They were a nod to his father—Cernunnos, the Lord of the Forest. Beneath them sat Herne’s desk, old walnut, dark and gleaming, and he sat in a leather chair behind the massive desk.

  The room held two pairs of wingback chairs, one set by the desk, the other guarding an end table. Against the wall near the chairs and end table stood a locked glass case, holding several crossbows, a number of daggers, a sword, and various other weapons. A daybed in the corner, complete with comforter and pillow, provided him with a place to catch a nap when he was working late on a case. All in all, the office felt like old money, luxurious but not indulgent.

  An elegant woman was sitting in one of the chairs by his desk. Her pale skin had a faint tinge of blue to it, and her hair was plaited back into a long braid, creamy white and looking as soft as spun silk. In comparison, her features were chiseled, angular to the point of rigid. She had rich brown eyes, and she was dressed in a cerulean linen pantsuit.

  Herne stood as I approached the desk. Close to six feet tall, his shoulder-length hair was swept back in a neat ponytail, and his beard was well trimmed. He was lean and muscled, with piercing blue eyes that shimmered with a magical light. Every time I looked at him, my pulse raced. I knew every inch of his body by now. Beneath those tight black jeans and that hunter green V-neck sweater, Herne truly had the body of a god.

  “Rhiannon of the Foam Born, I’d like to present Ember Kearney, one of our investigators. I asked her to sit in on our meeting since this is a complicated case.”

  Etiquette in the world of Fae demanded that I allow her to dictate whether we shook hands. I gave Rhiannon a gracious nod, and she gently held out one hand, so I accepted with a firm shake.

  “How do you do?” I sat in the chair next to Herne’s desk.

  “Pleased to meet you, Ember.” She gave me an appraising look, one that I was well acquainted with. Anybody connected with the Fae could usually pinpoint my heritage.

  “So the rumors are true. You are one of the…” She stopped, her cheeks flaming, come to life from their delicate porcelain. “Forgive me,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I understand. There really isn’t a good term for my heritage.” I knew what she had been about to say, and it wasn’t a word that I’d expect out of such a pretty mouth. Technically, in the common Fae tongue, I was what was known as tralaeth, or tainted blood.

  I was half Light Fae, half Dark Fae, and I was anathema to both sides. Neither court accepted me. In fact, I was considered an insult to the race, even though they pretended my kind couldn’t possibly exist. My parents had been murdered because of their love, and if I had been home at the time, I would have been killed as well.

  “I truly didn’t mean any insult,” Rhiannon said, casting her gaze at the floor.

  She sounded so sincere that I believed her. I wasn’t one to hold a grudge if somebody made an honest mistake.

  “Why don’t we start over? I’m Ember Kearney, and you’re Rhiannon of the Foam Born, and here we are.”

  Herne took it from there. “Now that the introductions are over, Rhiannon, why don’t you tell us what the problem is. I wanted Ember to be here, because when I looked over your intake chart, it’s obvious that this case will require our entire agency’s focus. If we accept the job, that is. And it’s always helpful to have a second set of ears present during the initial meeting. Do you mind if I record our conversation?” He held up a digital recorder. “It helps me focus on what you’re saying rather than me having to take notes.”

  I pulled out a notebook. “I prefer pen and paper.” I winked at her.

  “I don’t mind.” She took a deep breath, and her smile faded.

  Herne clicked on his recorder, recited the date and the case number, and then asked Rhiannon again if she agreed to the conversation being recorded.

  “That’s fine.”

  “Please state your name for the record.”

  “I’m Rhiannon, the Matriarch of the Foam Born Encampment.”

  “And why are you here today?”

  She cleared her throat. “I’m here because a little over a year ago, my cousin Jona disappeared. He was missing for over a week.”

  “What was he doing when he vanished?” Herne asked.

  “He was on his way to a meeting over at the grange.”

  “Grange?” I knew the word “grange” meant farmhouse in the UK, but I wasn’t familiar with any other use for the term. “You mean your house?”

  “No. On Whidbey Island, the SubCult still has a grange.” She paused, then realizing I really didn’t understand, added, “The grange is a farmers’ organization. A number of the Foam Born are small farmers. My cousin raises blueberries. It may seem an outdated custom, but the S-C Grange—the SubCult Grange—offers our community a chance to talk over issues that human farmers don’t have. And trust me, there are plenty.”

  “Thank you,” I said as I jotted down the reference.

  “Anyway, Jona was headed for a meeting over at the grange and he never showed up. Nobody there thought anything was wrong when he didn’t show, because Marilyn had recently had a baby. That’s Jona’s wife. The other farmers thought he stayed home to help her. It wasn’t until Jona didn’t come home after the meeting that anybody realized anything was wrong. Marilyn started to worry around ten p.m., the usual time Jona returned from the meetings. But sometimes they can run late, so she waited until near midnight before texting him. When he didn’t answer, she called him and was sent right to voicemail. That’s when she contacted the sheriff.”

  Herne chewed on his lip. “What day did he vanish?”

  “May thirty-first. So it’s been a little over a year.”

  “Do you remember what the weather was like?” I wasn’t sure if it would be pertinent, but it made sense to gather every scrap of information we could.

  “It was raining. We had a big thunderstorm that afternoon. After the thunder and lightning passed, the rain came down the rest of the day. It didn’t let up for a week.” Rhiannon stared at the floor. “Before the police arrived, Marilyn called me and I hurried over to their place. His parents are still over near Greece. They stayed behind under the water when we decided to immigrate to the land, so Marilyn turned to me. You see, Jona and I grew up together. He was my best friend.”

  “How did Jona and Marilyn get along? Were they happy?” />
  I wasn’t sure how he managed it, but Herne had the ability to ask discerning questions like that without insulting the client. Somehow, he inserted just the right inflection into his tone to avoid sounding like a jerk. It was a skill I admired, but hadn’t been able to emulate.

  “Marilyn and Jona adored each other. They were married for about three years. They wanted to start a family right away, and they were thrilled when she got pregnant. There was a scare with the baby, but it only brought them closer together.”

  “What kind of scare?” I asked.

  Rhiannon’s eyes misted over. “Ryan almost died during his birth. Marilyn’s labor came on so fast that she didn’t have time to get down to the shore. Our people must be born beneath the water or they’ll suffocate. It was touch and go whether she’d make it to the water before he came out, but luckily a neighbor had a swimming pool. He offered it to her for a birthing pool and everything worked out. Anyway, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody as much in love as they were. When Jona died, it devastated Marilyn. I think that Ryan is the only reason she managed as well as she did.”

  “Walk us through what happened. What did the sheriff do?”

  “She asked a lot of the same questions you are. Both the sheriff and her deputy are Fae. I think Light Fae. They followed the path Jona took to the grange. Even though it was raining, he decided to walk. My people aren’t shy about water. But they didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. The next morning, a search party went out the moment dawn broke. They combed the area but the only thing they found was his phone, which was under a bush. It looked like there might have been a scuffle in the mud. It was difficult to tell, though, given how hard it was raining.” Rhiannon shook her head. “We all went searching for him, but it was as though he had just vanished from the face of the earth. At least, until a week later, when they found his body.”