The Hallowed Hunt: A Wild Hunt Novel, Book 5 Page 20

  “I’ll call Mielikki today,” Herne said. “As far as Kipa is concerned, I’ve already called him and he’s willing to work with us on this matter once he gets back, though what he can do, I’m not sure. Maybe I can have him go talk to the wolf shifter packs and calm down this vigilante crap.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Talia said. “In fact, can we hold several town meetings for both shifters and humans, asking them to please let us handle this and not take matters into their own hands? What about setting up a press conference with the news agencies?”

  Herne thought over her suggestion for a moment, then nodded. “That’s another good thought. You have a number of contacts in the press. How about setting up something for me? Today’s Friday…make it for Monday, if you can. Or Tuesday. I think we’re just going to have to accept that this isn’t a problem we’re going to solve in a couple of days. Once we infiltrate the Brotherhood, maybe we’ll be able to stop it from there. But it’s not going to be easy. I have a feeling we’re facing a group of brilliant masterminds out to cause as much damage as they can.”

  “They’re accomplishing it. They’ve got humans and shifters afraid of the Fae, and they’ve got the general Fae populace worrying about being targets of vigilante groups. Do you think that whoever is behind the group is out to start a civil war?” I hadn’t thought about that before, but it seemed plausible.

  “You could be right, Ember,” Herne said. “All right, let’s adjourn for now. We’ll meet again when Rafé gets here. And regardless of what you think, Ember,” he stared at me pointedly, “at this point, Rafé may be our only hope.”

  The day progressed in a subdued manner. There was always the feeling of anticlimax after solving a case, and given we had taken care of Amanda’s problem, now we only had a longer-term issue to dwell on. No doubt we’d have another case soon, but for now, it was back to paperwork and mulling over ideas.

  Rafé showed up at four-ten, and we met in the break room again. Angel hung her head as Herne described what we were facing.

  “I have to ask you to keep this quiet,” Herne said after laying out what we were facing. “The public knows about the bombings and beatings, of course, but right now, we’re trying to keep any speculation from running rampant.”

  Rafé nodded, his copper hair glinting under the lights. He was tall and lithe and matched Angel’s body type perfectly. They made a striking couple. They were opposites and yet they complemented one another. Oddly enough, they made me think of a younger David Bowie—from his Ziggy Stardust red-haired days—and his wife, Iman. Rafé was dressed in black pants—the kind waiters often wear—and a long-sleeved, button-down white shirt.

  “I’ll be discreet,” he said. “I can see the bind you’re in. I have some questions. First, do you think I can pull this off? I’m a good actor, that’s my calling. But if you’re able to keep the Ropynalahol from affecting me, will you also be able to coach me in how I should act? And if the drug does manage to gain control over me, what guarantee do I have that I can be free of it? I’m willing to consider helping you, but not at the loss of my integrity or my life. And I won’t risk losing Angel.”

  Herne sat back, eyeing him carefully. “I think we can do a good job of coaching you, so yes to the first question. If you’re a decent actor, so much the better. Second—yes, I’m certain we can free you from the effects. There are drugs to counter the effects, and Ferosyn can administer a drug to sedate you until you’re clear of the medication. However, there may be some side effects. I’ll ask Ferosyn to present a clear picture of what you need to know before you make your final answer.”

  Rafé paused, the wheels turning in his brain. Angel was sitting next to him and she took one of his hands in hers, holding it tightly. He squeezed her hand, then leaned over to give her a kiss. Watching them together, I realized that—as much as Angel might think she was still just casually dating the man—there were some definite attachments forming between them.

  Letting out a long sigh, Rafé said, “Give me a day to think it over. Have the list of potential long-term side effects waiting for me. I’m not willing to say yes, not just yet. But if I can, I’ll help you. This is the best and most honest answer I can give you for now.”

  “I’d rather you think this over before agreeing, so I have no problem with your answer. We still have over a month before the recruitment camp begins. In that time, I’ll also look into finding a professional spy to do the job, but if we can’t, it would be nice to have a backup. I’ll have Angel bring you a list of the side effects and potential dangers of the drug.” Herne stood, shaking Rafé’s hand.

  “This would be the weirdest acting job I’ve ever had, tell you that.” He paused, tugging on his collar. “This may sound mercenary, but I work a shit job to support my acting habit. I’d have to take at least a week off and…”

  “We’ll compensate you for your help. If you do end up helping us, I’ll make sure that you are well paid.” Herne smiled at him. “As for everybody else, that’s it for today. Amanda settled her account, and we’re closing that file. The police are in the process of notifying the other parents that their daughters’ murderer has been caught. So that’s all for the weekend unless something critical happens.”

  As Rafé and Angel headed out of the break room, followed by the others, I lingered behind. “You want to get together tonight?” I asked. I was still hurting, but I wanted to resolve the slightly scritchy energy between Herne and me. “I promised Viktor I’d go watch the snowboarding match at his place tonight, but I can reschedule.”

  He caught me in his arms. “Worried about arguing with me? Listen, we work together and we’re bound to have a difference of opinion at times. That’s the way of all relationships, love. And believe me, if I can figure out a way to keep from sending Rafé into that mess, I’ll take it. I don’t relish putting him in danger, especially since he and Angel are involved.”

  I leaned my head against his chest. “Thank you for saying that. I know this is your duty. I know that we’re facing a serious problem. But…Angel is my heart, you know? She and I are soul mates. Once-in-a-lifetime friends. I won’t let her be hurt, not if I can help it.”

  “I know. But remember, Angel’s an adult,” Herne whispered. “She’s the one who suggested him. But I care about her too, and I don’t want to see her hurt. We’ll figure it out. Now kiss me.”

  I pressed my lips to his, warming in the glow that spread through my body. He lazily cupped my ass and I let out a little moan, though it wasn’t for pleasure.

  “I have cuts from the glass there, too. Sitting’s bad enough, but no squeezing the goods, dude. Not till they heal.” I laughed softly, even through the haze of pain. Sitting was rough enough, but getting pinched on the slashes across my backside? Not so much fun.

  “I’m sorry. I think you should rest tonight. I want to go talk to Cernunnos and Morgana about all this, so I think I’ll head to Annwn for the evening. You go over to Viktor’s and watch the match. Then go home, make yourself a drink, play with the Rumblebutt, and eat all the junk you love to eat.” He kissed me again, holding me gently as his lips crushed against mine.

  As we headed toward the front of the office, he slid his arm around my waist. I was growing more comfortable with our relationship in front of the others, and they seemed to accept it as a matter of fact. I glanced up at Herne, feeling a sudden swell of joy.

  “Dude, you know how much I love you, right?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I do. And ditto.”

  I told Angel that Viktor would give me a ride home after we finished watching the games.

  As Viktor and I headed out into the growing darkness, I tried to clear my mind, but they were a jumble of bombs and killers, of my love for a godling, and for the coming Cruharach. Caught in the tempest of thoughts, I quietly stared out the window as Viktor pulled out of the parking garage.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When I woke up, Mr. Rumblebutt was batting my face. He leaned over, sniffed my lips, t
hen meowed loudly.

  “All right, all right, I’m up.” I groaned as I pushed myself up against the headboard and grabbed his fuzzy butt, cuddling him to me. “What’s the matter? Didn’t Angel feed you?” I glanced at the clock. It was already nine, though outside it looked stormy as all get out. Viktor had brought me home right after the match, stopping along the way so I could buy some takeout for dinner with the money I’d won off of him. Given Angel had a date with Rafé, I opted for one of my favorite foods—a bucket of heavily breaded fried chicken. I had carried the chicken bucket up to my bed and curled up with Mr. R. to watch a movie until we both fell asleep. I squinted now, staring at my bed. I had forgotten to move the chicken, and the pieces that had been left were scattered across my comforter, with cat-sized tooth marks in them.

  “Nice going, trash panda. Good job.” I eased out from under the covers and shoved all the remains of the bird into the bucket, then set it on my dresser. After that, I stripped the cover off my bed and piled it by the laundry basket in the corner. I’d be doing laundry later today, that was for sure. After making the bed fresh, I jumped in the shower, grimacing as the water beat a staccato tattoo on my back, pelting the sores. But they didn’t hurt as much as they had the day before, so that was a win.

  I got dressed, choosing a comfortable pair of low-riding blue jeans and a blue turtleneck sweater, hoping they wouldn’t irritate my cuts. Luckily, the cuts had scabbed over enough that the material wasn’t rubbing against them. I threaded a black leather belt through the loops and fastened my dagger to it. I was coming to learn the hard way that it was better to go armed than not. Pulling on a pair of pointy-toed ankle boots in black leather, I zipped up the sides. Then, after putting on my makeup, I brushed my hair out, letting it fall over my shoulders, and slid on a black headband to keep it out of my face.

  As I headed downstairs, Mr. Rumblebutt on my heels, I heard Angel in the kitchen. I darted around the staircase and into the kitchen, stopping short when I saw Rafé at the table, wearing one of Angel’s pink robes. He glanced up, grinning at me as I entered the room.

  “Well, good morning to you, twinkletoes. You look comfortable,” I said, sticking my tongue out at him. “I see you just got up.”

  Angel was wearing a long sleep shirt, and she was in the process of making waffles. “Morning, honeybee,” she said, a wide smile on her face. Her eyes were twinkling and she looked way more relaxed than she had the day before. I had a feeling Rafé was directly responsible for that, but decided to let it drop.

  But Rafé, apparently, didn’t have my sensibilities. “We didn’t keep you awake, did we? You were nowhere to be seen when we came in.”

  I coughed. “I was probably asleep. I ate in bed and fell asleep before I could even finish my chicken.” I plunked the chicken bucket into the garbage. “Rumblebutt woke me up. Did you feed him yet?” I glanced at his dish. It was abundantly full. “Dude,” I said, catching him up and holding him up so I was staring at him. “You lied to me. You have food.”

  He purped and I let him down. He promptly raced over to his dish and began to devour his breakfast. I stared at him, shaking my head, then turned to Angel.

  “You have a waffle for me?”

  “Sure. You sure one will do?” She snickered.

  “You know when I say one, or ‘a,’ I mean two or three.” I fired up the espresso machine and pulled four shots, then frothed some milk and added chocolate syrup, stirring it into the foam. “So what are you two up to today?”

  Angel handed me a plate with two waffles on it. “I’m making more, don’t worry.”

  I carried my plate and mug back to the table, sitting opposite Rafé. He pushed the butter and syrup across the table to me and I loaded up, drowning my waffles.

  “We’re thinking about taking the ferry over to Bainbridge Island for the morning,” Rafé said.

  I glanced up at Angel. “You aren’t thinking of dropping in on Nalcops, are you?”

  She blinked, shaking her head. “Are you kidding? No. We’re just going to drive around the island for a while.” Pausing, her voice dropped. “Rafé is probably going to say yes to helping us.” The words came out strained and I realized how hard it was for her to say them.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” I turned back to Rafé. “You don’t have to.”

  He shrugged, cutting his waffle into tidy squares. “I know. But this is important. And I’ve never had the chance to make a big difference in life, to be honest. I can contribute something here—and my brother would have done it, if he’d been asked. I trust Herne, and the rest of you.”

  I peeked over at Angel. She was focused on the waffle iron, her lips pressed thin. The tension between them had gone from zero to a hundred in ten seconds flat. Deciding it was better to step gently out of the water, I cleared my throat.

  “I’m headed over to Marilee’s this morning. It’s my last prep session before the Cruharach. She said it’s going to be a simple deep meditation, so I should be fine for tonight.”

  Rafé took his clue from me. “What’s tonight?”

  “Girls’ night at Raven’s,” I said, grinning. “So no boys allowed.”

  Angel let out a long sigh. “Quit trying to pretend this isn’t an issue with me. I wish I’d never opened my mouth in the first place, but I did. I’m just going to have to woman up and accept that this job comes complete with danger for those we care about. At least DJ’s out of the target zone. Now I understand why it was important to let him go.”

  “He’s also learning things about his heritage that he never could have with you. You did a very unselfish thing by letting Coo—the family take him. They’re treating him right, and he’s having fun. Well, when he’s not getting grounded.” I slipped out of my chair and joined her at the counter. There were five waffles on the plate. “You’ve got plenty here. You never eat more than one, so just stop and sit down and eat your breakfast. I’ll make you some more tea.”

  Before she could protest, I picked up her cup and carried it over to the sink, where I rinsed it out. Then, placing a fresh tea bag in it, I checked the electric kettle we had recently bought and, finding the water still hot, I filled her cup and carried it to the table. Angel brought over the stack of waffles and took her place beside Rafé. I speared a waffle and dropped it on her plate, then snagged another.

  “You mother me,” she said. “I kind of like it.”

  “We mother each other, and I think that we deserve it, given we’re both sans mothers at this point.” I handed her the syrup and butter.

  The rest of breakfast passed in peace, and by the time I drained my mocha, Rafé and Angel were headed upstairs to dress. I cleared the table and rinsed the dishes, putting them in the dishwasher, and then—making certain Mr. Rumblebutt had plenty of dry food—I gave him a smooch on the forehead, grabbed my jacket and purse, and headed over to Marilee’s.

  Marilee lived in a gorgeous house on Boyer Avenue, near the arboretum. The preserve was filled with trees and plants both exotic and endemic to the area. The gardens spread across the entire two hundred acres, and “enchanting” was the only way to describe them. The staff were mostly Fae and the magic they infused into the grounds had created a wonderland. Trails threaded through the thickets and gardens. I liked coming here to wander when I was in an introverted mood. The green magic that riddled the arboretum always lifted my spirits and spread out in a ripple effect through the entire neighborhood.

  Marilee’s house was enchanting as well. With a roof that reminded me of a pagoda, and gardens that were tended with care, her home was inviting and cozy. An air of protection spread over the entire lot.

  I dashed up the steps. Marilee must have been watching out the window, because she opened the door seconds after I rang the bell. She was five-four, athletic and trim, with a long silver braid. She looked human, though I wasn’t actually sure and I had never asked. Whatever else she might be, she was first and foremost a priestess of Morgana.

  Marilee wasn’t wea
ring her robes today, but jeans and a peasant shirt with delicate embroidery around the neck. She looked older, but again, just how old—I didn’t know. She might be seventy, or she might be seven hundred.

  She welcomed me in. “I’m glad you could make it this morning. How are you feeling?” Concern filled her eyes, but her voice was steady. Marilee was compassionate, but she was also one of those people who was good at pushing me to knuckle under and deal with the things life threw at me. I had learned a lot since she had undertaken my training, and was grateful that Morgana had assigned me to her.

  “I’m all right. A bit stiff, and a little sore, but I’m alive and walking and that’s better than a lot of people who were in the path of that bomb.” I dropped my purse on the table, then followed her into the ritual room.

  “Good way of looking at it,” Marilee said.

  “Herne’s offered me access to one of Ferosyn’s counselors,” I added.

  “Do you think you need counseling?” Marilee opened the door and led me in. There was no circle drawn on the floor today, but merely a yoga mat with a pillow and a blanket. “Sit down there.”

  I obeyed, settling myself in a cross-legged position on the mat.

  “Honestly? I don’t know. I do find myself flashing back, but I don’t feel traumatized per se. I just feel…angry.”

  “Angry about what?”

  I thought for a moment, then said, “That so many people were injured, that people died. I was listening to the news on the way over and five of the most critically injured have died. Four more bodies of the missing were found.”

  “Anger is a natural response, and one that I would expect more from you than PTSD. Especially with your lineage. If you feel you need counseling, accept it. If not, then don’t worry about it. All right, are you ready for the last session?” She squatted down beside me.