Autumn's Bane: A Wild Hunt Novel, Book 13 Read online

  “Just promise my people that we’ll only have to deal with the Fae if we’re all called out to a fight.” She glanced at me and blushed. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean…well, I guess I did but I didn’t…” Her voice drifted off and she shook her head. “I’m not going to even try to talk myself out of this one. I apologize. I seem to have lodged my foot in my mouth and I really don’t know what to say.”

  I decided that being gracious was more important than being offended. Besides, my own opinion of my people was pretty much at the bottom of the barrel when speaking in generalities. “Not a problem,” I said, and the tension faded as we hammered out the details of what we were looking for.

  Chapter Twelve

  Angel and I were curled up on the sofa with Mr. Rumblebutt, watching a movie and eating pizza when the phone rang. It was Raven, calling my work phone. Uh oh. Something was up.

  “Raven, are you okay?” I motioned for Angel to pause the movie as I put Raven on speaker. “Angel’s listening too. What’s up?”

  “More than I bargained for. I could use your help.”

  I frowned. Raven wasn’t one to ask for help unless she really needed it. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m in a bar. I was called out on a case and it’s not at all what I thought it would be,” she shouted in my ear as the sound of crashing echoed behind her. “Cripes!”

  “What the hell? Are you hurt?”

  “No. A chair just flew past me, but I ducked. I honestly don’t know what I’m dealing with. They thought it was a ghost but I don’t think so. Or maybe it is, but it’s crazy physical and I’m having trouble protecting myself long enough to even set out my gear. I wasn’t sure who else to call. I don’t think Llew is the best answer.” She yelped and I heard another crash in the distance.

  “Raven!”

  “I’m here. I told you, this thing is getting physical. I can’t handle it by myself.” She paused, then shrieked and I heard yet a third crash.

  “Raven, where are you? We’ll be over there asap.” I motioned to Angel, who had already set down the popcorn bowl.

  “I’ll text you the address,” she said. “If you could hurry, I’d appreciate it.” She hung up and I jumped off the sofa.

  “Raven’s in trouble. She’s fighting something she thought was a ghost but it’s throwing things around and she’s not sure what it is.” I punched number 2 on my speed dial and Herne picked up almost immediately.

  “Hello?”

  “Herne, Raven’s in trouble. She apparently went out on a job to clear a ghost or something and whatever the damned thing is, it’s throwing things around the room and she’s in trouble. She’s texting me her address. Can you come?”

  “I’m on my way. Text me where to go.”

  My phone jingled and Raven’s text came through. I glanced at the address. It was on the Eastside, so not the Worchester District for once. But it was in the UnderLake District, another hot spot for spooky stuff. Raven lived in the UnderLake District, and every time Angel and I went over there to visit, I had the feeling something was watching us as we entered the neighborhood.

  I jammed my boots back on, grateful I hadn’t changed out of my clothes yet. Angel turned off the TV and made sure the stove was off, then handed me my purse and we headed out to my car. As I started the ignition, I handed her my phone.

  “Text the address to Herne, would you?” I thought about calling out the others, but decided that we should wait until we knew what we were up against.

  Angel tapped out a text, then snorted as he immediately texted back. “Herne enjoyed this afternoon. Should I answer for you, sweetcheeks?”

  “Oh good gods, no. Just text him—”

  “I’m texting him that it’s me who has your phone right now and we’ll meet him there,” she said. “I’m not about to catfish him.” She chuckled as the chime sounded again. “He very politely asked me to ignore his prior message and says that he’ll see us over on the Eastside.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, that’s Herne, all right. Pretend it never happened and everything will be all right.” I took a right onto West Government Way, following it till it turned into Gilman Avenue West. I followed Gilman Avenue to Dravus Street, where I took a left and headed over the freeway. Once we were in the North Queen Anne District, I navigated to Westlake Avenue North, which took us down to a cross street that led to I-5, and then to the 520 floating bridge.

  Traffic was fairly sparse. By the time we pulled off the bridge and turned left onto 116th Avenue Northeast, we had been on the road about ten minutes. Another fifteen minutes of clear roads and we were headed north, near UnderLake State Park. The address that Raven had texted us led up to the north end of the park, not too far from Raven’s house. I turned right onto 148th Place and pulled into the parking lot of what looked like a dive bar.

  Tracy’s Tab was a small hole-in-the-wall tavern that was one of those bars where you went to get drunk. The outside was nondescript, but the surrounding shops—a tobacco shop and a weapons shop—gave it a distinctly seedy feel and it occurred to me how dangerous it was to have easy access to weapons when people had had too much to drink.

  We parked. Herne hadn’t arrived yet so Angel and I headed in. I was packing my daggers—sheathed and strapped on both legs—and Angel had done her best to muster up the protection spells Marilee had been teaching her.

  As I opened the door and entered, I froze. Angel bumped into me and I quickly stepped to one side. The bar was dimly lit, dark paneling covered the walls, and the booths were covered in a garish red and gold upholstery. But what stopped me was the teetering stack of bar stools that were precariously balancing on one another, forming a tower that almost reached the ceiling.

  The stools must have been three feet high each, and there were five stacked atop one another, but they were each balancing on one leg, at a skewed angle that looked impossible to achieve. Another bar stool was upside down, spinning in midair.

  Knives were embedded in the walls, and broken liquor bottles covered the floor and counter. One man was splayed flat against the wall, four feet off the ground, his arms and legs spread as if he had been chained there. A look of terror filled his face and I didn’t blame him in the least.

  Two men and a woman were hiding beneath tables. In the corner near the cash register, Raven was ducking as various items sailed toward her—a glass, a plate with a half-eaten hamburger on it, somebody’s purse.

  “What the hell?” I said slowly, catching my breath as the purse suddenly switched direction and came barreling straight for me.

  Raven let out a shout as I ducked and it bounced off the door behind me.

  Angel shook her head. “This is bad, Ember. Really bad.”

  “Well, it ain’t good,” I said, trying to pinpoint the source of the energy behind the activity. But the psychic ooze that filled the bar seemed to flow from everywhere, a tidal wave of currents washing over me.

  A deep laughter emanated from behind the bar and two more liquor bottles went flying across the room to smash on either side of the man pinned against the wall.

  “Damn it, that’s my best scotch!” a voice shouted from behind the counter.

  The man on the wall said nothing, but I could see his mouth move and I realized that, thankfully, he was still alive. I crouched, scurrying toward Raven, with Angel right behind me.

  She motioned to a nearby table. “Grab that and turn it so we have a shield, for all the good it will do.”

  I managed to grab hold of the table and began to tip it over when something felt like it was grabbing it from the other side and pulling. “Damn it, something’s trying to yank it away from me. Angel, help me.”

  Angel grabbed hold of the central leg and together, we yanked as hard as we could. What ever had hold of the other side let go. We tumbled back, the table almost breaking my foot as it landed on my boot. I groaned, pulling my foot out from beneath it.

  “What the hell is going on?” Angel asked.

 
; Raven was keeping a close eye on the objects flying around the room. “My friend Rachel asked me to come over and help her out—she owns the bar. Apparently the past couple days something’s been mucking around, scaring the help and the customers. Then tonight, it let loose and she called me. I thought it was probably just some ghost that was pissed off, but this is beyond anything I’ve dealt with in a while.”

  “Poltergeist?” Angel asked.

  Raven shook her head. “It doesn’t have that energy. Poltergeists usually don’t manifest with laughter and cursing, and this force has done both tonight. You heard it laughing when—” she paused as a large framed picture tore off one wall and came sailing toward us. We all ducked, hiding our heads as it crashed against the wall in back of us so hard that the pane and glass shattered into a thousand pieces, raining glass and wood. The pieces of glass and wood began to spin, as if caught in a twister, and before I could say anything, the funnel cloud of debris headed our way.

  At that moment the door opened and Herne stepped in, right into the path of the debris cloud.

  “Watch out!” Raven and I shouted at the same time.

  Herne immediately dropped, and the debris paused, raining sparkling shards of glass down onto his back. As he stood, shaking off the splinters, his expression told me he had just joined the fight.

  “Fuck this,” he said, raising his hand. “Show yourself, you coward.” His voice reverberated through the bar, ricocheting off the walls.

  There was a pause—a brief silence during which I felt the energy shift. Something had heard and was accepting his challenge.

  “Look,” Angel said in a hushed voice, prodding me in the ribs and nodding toward the arch leading to the restrooms on the opposite wall.

  There, a crimson glow began to flicker. It wasn’t the light of fire or flames, but it sputtered before it grew stronger. There was a thickness to the air that almost made me gag—the feel that if you just opened your mouth, slime would flood your throat and suffocate you.

  “What the hell is it?” I whispered.

  Raven slowly inched her way up and peeked over the edge of the table. “Holy fuck… Ember, have you ever seen anything like that?”

  I shook my head, my gaze glued to the light. It was taking form now, a cloud of crimson mist shaping into a robed figure. All we could see was the flowing cloak and the piercing white eyes from within the hood. It emanated so much energy that my body was tingling, setting the hairs on my arms on end. A current of fear electrified the room, and Herne pointed to the door.

  “Everybody who isn’t one of us, get out while you can.”

  The men and the woman hiding beneath their booths crawled out, then scrambled for the door. The man against the wall suddenly came crashing down face first, landing with such an awful thud that I swore I could hear bones breaking. He lay still, unmoving, and I wondered if he were playing possum, or if he was really dead.

  “Bring it on,” Herne muttered, striding forward.

  Raven crawled out from behind the table, following him. “What is it, do you know?”

  “A Reaver. They’re created by several ghosts that have been merged into one creature. They only appear when there have been a number of murders nearby. The ghosts are unaware of what’s happening when they’re absorbed.” He glanced back at her. “Do you have any War Water on you?”

  She nodded. “Ember, my bag’s back there. Can you bring it to me?”

  I glanced around, my gaze falling on a black and silver bag. I grabbed it up and darted up to her side. “Here. What can this thing do?”

  “What can’t it do?” Herne asked. “But even though they’re powerful, they aren’t indestructible.”

  All the while, the Reaver was watching us. As Raven handed Herne a bottle of black water, it streaked past us so fast it was a blur. As I turned, Angel let out a shriek and then stumbled forward, her eyes glowing.

  “Die, idiots,” she said, holding out her hands. The Reaver hovered behind her and I could see the strings of energy connecting it to her.

  “Angel!” As I shouted, a sickly beam of red light flared out of her hands to catch me in the chest. It knocked me off my feet, sending me sailing backward. I spun through the air at least ten feet, only to slam into a table. The force of my landing broke the table beneath me and both I and the splintered wood went crashing to the floor.

  Herne snarled and leapt toward Angel.

  “Don’t hurt her!” Raven shouted. “She’s possessed!”

  “I’m not going to hurt her,” Herne shouted. “But I’m taking our red-robed friend out.” He splashed the War Water across both Angel and the Reaver behind her.

  Raven held out her hand, aiming at the Reaver. “Close your eyes,” she shouted.

  I turned, knowing what she was going to attempt, and hid my face as she began to chant:

  Fire of heaven, I call thee down,

  from top of cloud to kiss the ground.

  Bolts to forks, forks to bolts,

  I summoned thee, a million volts.

  Strike to true, I set the mark,

  jump from heaven, to Reaver arc!

  Raven’s voice rang clear as the bar began to shake and a swirl of mist and smoke formed. A lightning bolt ripped out of her hands, across the room, to strike the Reaver. There was an electric snap, and then the Reaver shrieked and froze into a blackened statue, shattering into pieces that fell to the floor, smoking.

  “My bag—there’s another bottle—Blessed Water. Sprinkle some on every piece of that thing,” Raven shouted, collapsing to her knees.

  Herne turned, frantically looking for the bag that I had been holding. I sat up, my entire side aching from having smashed the table.

  “Crap, where is it?” Herne scanned the floor of the dimly lit bar.

  I caught sight of the bag. “There—over there, beneath that booth!”

  Herne dove for it, coming up with the bag. He dumped everything out on the floor and selected one of the bottles filled with a clear liquid.

  “Hurry, it’s trying to re-form!” Raven called. She was trying to stand up, but she was covered in soot and looked dazed and confused.

  The pieces of the Reaver were sliding toward one another and I realized that it was, indeed, trying to regroup. I tried to stand but something wasn’t working right and I realized there was blood on my hands.

  Herne managed to get the lid off and began sprinkling the water over the agitated pieces of charcoal. As he did so, they sizzled, snapping and popping like a blown transformer.

  The pieces of charcoal began to melt. He pressed on. I made it to my feet and stumbled over to Angel, who was on her knees, shaking her head, looking absolutely bewildered.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  She squinted up at me. “What happened? I don’t remember anything from when we first came in the door.” She looked over at Raven, then at Herne. “What…did I do something?”

  I winced as I tried to help her stand, but I was too sore for her to put weight on my shoulder, so I pulled over one of the bar stools that was now scattered on the floor.

  “Here, use this for leverage.”

  She struggled, but managed to get to her feet. “What happened?”

  “That damned thing possessed you and blasted me with a bolt of energy that sent me flying across the room.” I winced again.

  “Oh crap, oh Ember! I’m sorry—”

  “Save it,” Herne barked. “Let me make sure I get every piece of this thing. Go see how Raven is.” He was peering behind the bar, trying to find any piece of the Reaver that he might have missed.

  I groaned, leaning on the bar for support as I limped over to Raven, followed by Angel. Angel helped her stand and sat her down on one of the chairs that was still intact. A moment later, the room suddenly brightened—both in energy and literally as the lights flared up again—and Herne let out a sigh of relief.

  “I think I got everything,” he said, turning to the three of us. “You look rough around the edges
.”

  “Which one of us are you talking to?” I asked, wincing as my side spasmed. “Oh gods, I hurt like hell. I must have bruised myself.”

  “All three. Man, you look like you had an all-night bender.” He strode over to stand beside us, a worried look on his face. When he turned to me, he blanched. “You’re bleeding. Ember, what’s going on? Let me see your side.”

  “What?” I asked, glancing down. And then I saw where the blood on my hands came from. A piece of wood about four inches long was sticking out of my side. “Crap. Herne?”

  He examined it. “We have to get you to a medic. Angel, are you all right?”

  She nodded. “I feel a little out of it but I’m all right, basically. I’ll stay with Raven, you take Ember to the clinic.”

  “No, you’re all coming with me,” he said. “Tell the bar owner to lock the front door and don’t even bother with anything tonight. I’ll check back tomorrow.”

  Angel trudged outside as Herne gathered me in his arms. “I’ll carry you. Just relax.”

  “I can’t do much else.” I leaned my head against his shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief as we left the bar. Angel and Raven were talking to someone and then they caught up, Raven walking like she was eighty years old—at least eighty human years. We all looked ragtag around the edges, and we smelled like soot.

  As Herne maneuvered me into the back seat, then helped Raven into the front, I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and just go to sleep. With Angel driving my car, we eased out of the parking lot and off toward the nearest urgent care facility. All the way there, I kept slipping in and out of consciousness. By the time we got there, I let myself fall into a deep sleep, and I didn’t even feel Herne carrying me out of the car and into the building.

  Chapter Thirteen

  By the time I was patched up—I needed twenty stitches, and got a warning from the healer to quit playing vampire hunter, and we didn’t correct him—Herne had called for Viktor to pick up Yutani and meet us at the clinic.