Page 18

Summer

S hivering, even though the breeze is warm, I step onto the back porch. The music from the woods quickens, the drums pounding faster, an eerie vocal keening higher and higher. The sound is… strange. And wrong. Yet I step down into the yard, unable to resist its pull.

“Kurt?” I call out, even though it doesn’t sound like a recording, and there’s no way his falsetto is that good.

A shadow moves at the edge of the trees, then a tall figure steps forward, pale hands loose at his sides, his outline glowing softly. Fuck. That’s definitely not Kurt.

“Come here,” he commands in a dark velvet voice.

Barefoot and heart pounding, I pad to the back gate and stare through the twisted iron bars. The night is silent now. No music. No owls hooting or frogs calling. Why am I standing here passive, like a virgin sacrifice minus the intact hymen?

The man moves closer, and I get a good look at him. Dark hair with blue tips framing coal-black eyes that glitter with gold flecks. A wide, petulant mouth. Sharp cheekbones. Skin that reflects the moonlight. He’s frighteningly, sickeningly handsome.

“What are you?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Your destiny.”

Oh good. A terrifying stranger with cheekbones that could slice steel and an epic god complex. Just what I need in my life.

Dark eyes scan my face, and he laughs.

A shot of adrenaline spikes, and my upper body jolts forward, but my feet don’t budge. I can’t seem to move my legs at all. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.

Shadows creep from the woods and wind around the guy’s black-clad body, caressing his cold smile. Something about him reminds me of Wyn. Except Wyn makes me feel safe, and this one instills a nauseating kind of terror.

“Open the gate,” he says.

Even though the urge to obey tugs at the muscles in my arms and legs, I shake my head.

In response, his fingers circle through the shadowy smoke, flicking a line of whatever it is toward me, ash trailing in its path. The gate opens, unseen fingers releasing the lock and lever.

I don’t notice him move a muscle, but suddenly he’s right in front of me, his vicious smirk widening. “It’s good to see you after all these years.”

“I’ve never laid eyes on you before. Whatever you’re doing to keep me standing here, stop it. Please. Let me go.”

“Sorry. I can’t.”

What does he mean? He can’t, or he won’t ?

“Is this a dream?” I ask, my teeth starting to chatter.

“Oh, no. Not a dream. You’re so close to finally waking up. ”

Whatever he means by that, I don’t want to know. “Please,” I say, hot tears burning my cheeks.

“As the oldest gods bear witness, what we make ours in the shadows remains ours. Always. You belong to us, and an ocean of your tears won’t change that.”

Blinking, I rub my eyes. This can’t be real. I must have finally lost my mind, succumbed to the years of trauma.

“In case you’re wondering, I’m as real as the night sky. I made you leave the house. I’m the one rooting your feet to the earth.”

“Who are you?” I demand. “Tell me your name.”

A cold laugh sends chills racing over me.

“You’re not as foolish as most humans. Instead of screeching and howling, you have the presence of mind to ask the right questions. It would be a shame to take your sanity again. If you behave, perhaps this time we won’t need to.”

“ Again ? Listen, if I can’t stop whatever’s about to happen, you might as well tell me who you are. It won’t make any difference, will it?”

Amusement flickers across his face, and his eyes glitter with calculation. “Some fae call me Landolin. Others, evil prick. But those in the second category don’t tend to breathe much longer if they say it within my hearing—which, I must admit, is considerable.”

Fae? Isn’t that what Wyn said he was? A fae, a faery prince, like in the old books my mother studied.

“What do you want from me?”

He shrugs a velvet-covered shoulder, the white gemstones dotting the material flashing in the moonlight. “Only what we are owed,” he says softly. “You were ours, and then you were taken from us. ”

What the actual fuck? Is he the reason I lost an entire year of my life?

“But first, some entertainment for the Wild Hunt,” he continues. “To keep things intimate, we’re a small party this evening. But we do so love to chase. Prepare to run, sweet thing. Run as fast as you can.”

Did he say the Wild Hunt? Shit. I’m so, so screwed.

“I… I’m a terrible runner. Please don’t—”

“Hush now. I’ll give you a generous head start.

Twenty-five slow breaths, one for each year of your life.

But know this: the Hunt will catch you. The farther you get, the easier we will make your capture, and your subsequent return to my land.

I vow this upon the shadows that feed my soul.

Cross my heart. So… try to make it interesting, won’t you? ”

“Who’s the ‘ we’ you mentioned?” I ask, scanning the dark trees for any more weirdos hiding behind them.

His fingers trace a fast pattern over his chest, like a priest. Or a total lunatic.

A loud jingling noise comes from the trees, and twelve horses appear, their silver manes threaded with glowing flowers. Eleven riders, beautiful and yet horrible to behold, sit astride the gleaming black steeds. One saddle is empty. Must be Landolin’s horse.

I glance behind me, preparing to run into the house and lock myself in the basement, but three riders appear between me and the porch stairs. One lifts a curling horn to his lips, and Landolin mounts his horse, his sneer turning gleeful. “Ready?” he asks.

Nope. I’m absolutely not ready. And I think I’m about to die in my pajamas. Definitely not the best look for my ever-lasting ghost. But at least I’ll be matching Mommy Dearest in the eternal-nightwear department. Fashion icons, the both of us.

Taking a massive breath first, I scream Wyn’s name as loud as I can, and with a snort of surprise, Landolin looks up at the house, the glow around his body intensifying. He says something, but the horn blows, drowning out his words.

The muscles in my legs release, and an idea slips into my mind. If I can make it through the gap cut in the wire fence that’s too small for a horse to fit through, then maybe I’ll stand a chance. Fuck, I wish I had my phone.

I take off running toward the left side of the yard like hell just burst open behind me—because, hey, it kinda has.

The terrible horn sounds again as I scramble through jasmine vines hugging the hole in the fence. On the other side, I collide with the ground.

Landolin’s voice rings out as he counts each breath. So far, he’s only reached five, so at least he’s kept his word and is taking his time.

I lurch to my feet and leap forward, crashing into a wall of fur. When I look up, the black wolf with the silver patch around one eye is standing in front of me. Hank. Or… Wyn.

It has to be Wyn.

After what I’ve seen tonight, I believe every unhinged word that’s come out of his mouth. Fully. Completely. Fates help me.

The wolf huffs warm breath on my hand, and then moves forward, staring at me over his shoulder, begging me to follow, before taking off downhill in the direction of the lake.

The Wild Hunt’s horn splits the air behind me, a low, bone-chilling sound that promises no mercy. Wyn streaks ahead, a dark shadow flashing through the moonlit forest. My lungs hurt as I pump my arms and do my best to keep up with him, my legs trembling and bare feet sliding over the ground.

My feet are probably bleeding, but I can’t feel a thing. Other than fear.

Hoofbeats crash closer, the staccato rhythm relentless, drowning out the hammering of my heart.

Wyn’s glowing green eyes slice through the darkness as he glances back every few moments to make sure I’m close by, rumbling low in his throat and urging me onward.

“I’m going as fast as I can,” I choke out.

My heel slips on loose dirt, and I go down hard, a jolt of pain shooting through my knee. “Shit,” I hiss, scrambling to my feet, the echo of Landolin’s voice in the distance spurring me into action.

He’s not counting anymore. Instead, he’s laughing and joking with his monstrous friends, taking great joy in scaring the crap out of me.

“Run harder little human. Run for your life,” he taunts over the piercing shouts of the other riders. “You have it in you, I know it. The longer the game, the better our aim.”

Whatever that means.

Wyn skids to a sudden stop, looking right, then left, a guttural snarl ripping from his throat before he bolts off again, and I stagger after him, no clear thoughts in my mind other than, don’t fall, don’t fall. Just don’t fucking fall.

The woods behind Gravenshade are a tangled mass of live oaks and cypress, Spanish moss twisting around their limbs, dripping like tattered cloaks.

When playing here as a child, the forest felt alive to me, like a sentient, ancient being.

Tonight, I imagine it whispering encouragement, cheering me on .

I yelp as I trip again and smash my nose into a tree trunk, the jangle of bridles, hoots, and calls of Landolin’s Hunt growing closer, the riders gaining on us. I look behind me as an antlered silhouette lifts a glinting spear before leaning over his mount, urging it forward.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. We’ll never outrun them.

“Wyn! Should we hide and wait for them to pass? I can’t keep running forever.”

The wolf doubles back and nips the air an inch above my arm, his meaning crystal clear.

No fucking way . Keep moving .

We leap over a fallen tree, push through low shrubs that open onto a flat, cleared space, the dark waters of Lake Grenlynn stretched out before us.

Now what?

Landolin is right behind us, his raspy laugh raising tiny hairs over my skin, his horse snorting and stamping the ground.

I taste blood in my mouth and wipe my nose with a clenched fist. “Wyn? There’s nowhere to go.”

“Let her come quietly,” says Landolin, “and you can return home without punishment for interfering in Shade Court business, Prince of Mud.”

Prince? Another thing Wyn wasn’t lying about.

The wolf’s hackles rise, his whole body shaking as a fuck-you growl rumbles in his chest.

Without warning, Wyn suddenly veers around me, then a blunt force hits the back of my legs, and I fall, tumbling sideways, rolling headfirst into the water.

The lake swallows my scream, dragging me down into its depths.