Page 43 of The Enemy to the Living (The Wild Hunt #2)

Grant

L ook, being a vampire is really fucking cool.

Yes, Vlad and I might be going through it, but the fact that being a vampire rules is a fundamental thing that doesn’t change, no matter how much time passes.

Take tonight, for instance. It’s the first time I’ve managed to sneak out of the house since Maurice and Paxton helped raise new wards to keep the fae out.

I can glean the shape of them if I have enough time to sit and look, but I don’t want to raise suspicion, and Jeremiah and Paxton have been lingering ever so close.

So, tonight. They’re off on a job on the east coast. Maurice is staying with Njáll. Asher’s been in Liverpool for a couple of days and has already told us that if he doesn’t hear anything—meaning there’s no serious emergency—he’s heading straight to Quinn when he returns.

I’m never going to get a better moment than this. Vlad might be somewhere downstairs in the house, but I’ve already told him I’m not interested in hanging out tonight, and I think he was secretly relieved when I said it. I’d care more, but I’m still really, really mad at him.

Whatever. The point is that it took about ten minutes to get out my window—had to go slow so he wouldn’t hear—and then another ten to slip through the wards without being noticed. I haven’t told anyone about the fact that I can do that yet. I don’t really want to.

And now? Now I’m in Limehouse, flitting from old warehouse to old warehouse in search of whatever’s set my senses off this time.

I know I’m different from most vampires, even if Vlad wants to pretend that’s not true. It’s really not hard to tell. Slipping from shadow to shadow is easy and some kind of magic beyond my conscious thought keeps me swathed in darkness even as I pass under streetlights.

No point lingering on those questions about why I can do things like this. Not right now, not when something has been tugging at the edge of my mind for the past few nights, some magic trying to draw me out into the darkness.

I pass another warehouse, eyes skimming over boarded-up windows, until I reach one that makes me stop in my tracks. Magic pulses within, vibrating with the same frequency as the pool that exists inside of me.

Whoever’s in there isn’t as strong as the Huntsman. Not even close. They’re stronger than Maurice, though, which likely means full fae, and I’m not prepared to face that.

I should go back and tell the others, but with only Vlad at home, I know it’s a lost cause. He’ll spend too much time arguing with me, and we’ll never discover what’s happening in time. What I’ve been sensing is the lead-up to this, what’s happening tonight.

For a moment, I eye the building, then spot a window I can slip through.

It’s broken, the edges of the glass jagged, but now that I’m a vampire, I’m fast, and I leap up to the edge with ease.

I’ve swapped out my usual light shorts and shirt for dark trousers and a hoodie, though the protection doesn’t matter that much.

Any wounds will heal quickly. Still, the thought is there.

I drop silently into the warehouse and immediately set eyes on my prey.

Windows in the roof allow moonlight in, but I wouldn’t even need that to see the fae. They’re kneeling in the centre of the space, light flickering in their cupped hands. Silky, silver hair falls down their back, and the curtain of it hides their face from view.

I duck behind one of the ceiling supports and crouch, watching their delicate, precise movements.

Magic pulses around me again. Whatever they’re doing, something big is coming, but I don’t have time for terror to tighten my throat.

I need to focus. I can’t get Vlad or the others now, but I can stay vigilant and then tell them everything I’ve seen.

Murmured words reach my ears and I edge closer. Whatever they’re holding in their hands, I need to see because I have a sick, terrible feeling that I know what it is.

I can feel the traces of Asher’s blessing. I haven’t seen Quinn shift yet, but I feel something similar to what I sensed when we all went to Asher’s flat to remove Sorrel’s body.

This fae has their magic. The only question is why.

I get my answer a few seconds later. I flit behind another of the ceiling supports, but the fae doesn’t seem to notice at all.

I’m not convinced they’d pay attention if I walked up to them and tapped them on the shoulder.

They’re fully engrossed in their task, and the buzz of magic makes my teeth vibrate.

My fangs lower. I’m not hungry—I don’t know that I’ve felt the sensation since Vlad turned me—but I instinctively recognise a threat. All the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I grip the support I’m standing next to so tightly that my fingers hurt.

It’s coming. Whatever is about to happen is going to be terrible and world-changing, and I shouldn’t be here, but if I weren’t, who would be?

All at once, the sensation vanishes. The magic pulls back on itself, light flaring blindingly bright in the fae’s hands before it sinks into their body.

They let out a single pained cry and I grip the support tighter because I’ve never heard a sound like that before, but there’s nothing I can do for them.

I know that the way I knew to come here, the way I’ve always known Asher was a wolf before the Huntsman claimed him.

If I go near that fae right now, I’ll die too.

I stay where I am, feet planted, ready to push off and run. The fae trembles, and I feel magic again as what they were holding, what used to belong to Asher and Quinn, surges through their entire body, making their limbs shake and twitch.

It bursts out of them in a cacophony of light, and I duck when a wave of it crashes through me and hits the wall. The power shudders through me, and there’s so, so much of it, like bringing together a fae blessing and wolf magic has somehow magnified what’s there to incredible proportions.

It’s restrained by the walls, though, which has me frowning. I keep my hands on the ceiling support like that will ground me and turn my head to scan the blank walls behind me.

A moment later, I feel it. Some other power, probably wards set by that fae to contain what they were about to do. Doesn’t matter now. A loud cracking sound has me whipping around again, and my mouth drops open when I see the jagged tear floating in the centre of the room.

Power pulses beyond. More than I’ve ever felt—more than I think might exist in the entirety of this realm. I swallow a whimper; I’m here now, and I’m determined to see this through. I know what’s coming. I’ve seen the veil before.

The magic begins to settle, still powerful but not as overwhelming, and I duck even lower when the first fae steps through the tear.

High fae. They blink dark eyes, looking around the space, and I don’t know if it’s whatever magic I have or the fact that here is dark and the Otherworld looks light, but they don’t see me at first.

Another steps through and joins them. Both wear shimmering robes, with light hair that reaches down to their hips. They speak to each other in low tones, in a language I don’t recognise.

The Huntsman should be here. If I can sense this, I don’t know why he can’t, but maybe he’s too far away. I don’t need to breathe, but my breaths are coming faster now, heart beating so fast I think it might just explode.

I’ve seen the Huntsman without his glamour, and he doesn’t look like either of these fae or the few that step through after.

Magic flares with each one that steps into this world.

I need to go. I don’t have long before they notice me, and vampires are faster than fae, I think, but I don’t want to bet on it.

The first two to emerge turn to the others, and all talk to each other in low, urgent tones. I want to get closer, but I’m not certain I’ll make out any of the words. And that urge is warring with the one to run, to get as far away as possible.

I need to get to Vlad. Vlad will keep me safe.

No.

Vlad needs to know that the veil is open. That the twins’ plan ultimately succeeded. The Hunt needs to know.

I take a small step back. I know where the window is behind me, and I’m certain that the wards keeping the power in won’t trap me, too. I just have to make it before any of the fae notice me because they’ll be able to use glamours or magic to keep me here, and then there’s no hope for me at all.

Another step. No more fae have come through for a few seconds, but the tear remains, a pulsing, throbbing wound. I let out a breath. Now or never.

“Wait,” calls a silky voice before I can move. It sounds like the faint tinkling of bells, and I freeze more out of surprise than a desire to listen. Perhaps they aren’t speaking to me at all. Perhaps I heard something and just thought it was in English.

Except when I look up, the first fae to emerge is standing a little way from the others, dark eyes fixed on me.

The shadows surrounding me flex and tremble.

They’re trying their best to stay, but when I tilt my head and focus, I can feel the insidious reach of this fae’s magic, so subtle as to hardly be detectable at all.

“Wait, wait, little creature,” the fae says, taking a few steps closer. “What’s that magic you have?”

Oh, fuck. Oh, no. The other fae are looking now, heads tipped slightly back like predators scenting prey.

I push away with a snarl and race for the window. A growl sounds behind me, and magic flares, but my body knows what to do, and I haul myself up and out, then throw myself to the pavement. It scrapes the side of my face, my hands, but I don’t stop.

I run and run and run, sure that the fae are right on my heels, breathing down my neck, and by the time I stop, I’m standing outside the base, the magic of the wards reaching for me as I tremble all over.

Vlad opens the door and stares out. I’ve seen him worried for me, but when he takes in the sheer panic on my face now, it echoes on his own. He opens his mouth, but I shake my head.

“The high fae are here,” I say. “They’ve broken through. We need to call the Huntsman.”