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Maurice

M oonlight shimmers over the flat, still surface of the lake. I crouch down, curling my fingers in the sparse grass to keep me steady as I wait.

My prey is out there. I know it. Even if I couldn’t sense it, the fluttering remnants of police tape would be enough of a giveaway. I stepped over discarded beer cans and cigarette butts on my way here. There should be people, but all I hear is…

Silence.

I wait and I wait. Despite my nature, this kind of waiting has always come to me easily. My breaths stay steady. My thoughts quiet, all my attention narrowed in on the water and what I know lies beneath.

The moon is almost ready to set when the kelpie emerges from the lake. A dark veil of hair streams behind her as she stands —impossible because of how deep the water must be—and her black eyes glitter with the promise of temptation.

I shift my stance but don’t get to my feet. She tilts her head to one side. The water laps at her waist, her hair covering her naked chest.

No temptation for me.

She sees me. Sees it.

Her body changes, twists, shoulders widening and arms thickening as she takes the shape of a man. Tricky little fae. Almost all of them can shift, to some degree, and now the kelpie’s form is far more appealing, except—

Except I know what he is. Hair still long, features still this side of pretty, but this fae has killed three teens in the past month, and so here I am to mete out the consequences.

I get to my feet and shrug off my jacket before I pull off my boots. The kelpie watches me, brow faintly furrowed in confusion. I wager most of his prey wouldn’t bother before wading into the lake’s depths, but I plan on surviving this, and I don’t fancy the trip home with wet feet.

The kelpie doesn’t move as I walk into the water. I ignore its cold bite, wading in until water laps at my chest.

“Come closer,” the kelpie croons, his voice low and delicious.

Of course most of his prey will have just walked to their own deaths.

He doesn’t even need to touch them. I give him a flat look in response.

This lake is large but not impossibly so.

He will not beat me on land, so by the time he’s worked out why I’m here, he’ll be desperate.

“Come here,” I say in reply, spreading my arms wide and letting my fingers skim the surface of the water. “Let me see you.”

The kelpie narrows his eyes and moves closer. He stays out of reach, but his expression is now more calculating.

“You are not human.”

“No.” Never have been, not really.

“Why are you here?”

“For you.”

I move quickly, but the kelpie is quicker. Something tangles around my ankle before I can grab him, and I’m dragged underwater. I swallow a mouthful before I slam my lips shut, trying to swim back up to the surface again.

Fuck. He’s smarter than I thought. Fucker.

Trying to swim out of the grasp of whatever has me is useless, so I look back to see what it is instead. Some kind of weed, but when I put my hands around it, it tightens until the bone in my ankle cracks.

Bubbles escape as I let out a growl that’s equal parts frustration and pain. Sure, technically, I don’t need to breathe, but if I get trapped at the bottom of this lake, I’m still trapped.

Besides, try telling my body I don’t need the air. It’s never quite got the message.

I don’t know where the kelpie is, but I wriggle around, fingers curling around the handle of the knife strapped to my calf.

Sigils heat under my touch and it’s the work of a second to cut through the weeds, which curl back like they’re truly sentient.

I swim back up and suck in a greedy breath when my head crests the surface of the water.

I paddle there, turning in a slow circle. I can’t see the kelpie, and there’s nothing that suggests he’s left the lake. In fact, no… I know he hasn’t. The spark of fae magic in me reacts to his own. He’s still here. Still close.

My ankle aches as the bone knits itself back together. Where is he? I can see underwater but only so far, and his vision there will be far better than mine. I can’t lure him out of the water, either.

Whatever opening I see, I need to take. Fewer things can kill me now than could even manage it a century or two ago, but this kelpie may be one of them.

I feel a rush of movement before the kelpie surges out of the water behind me, and I drive my right arm around and forward without conscious thought.

He bares his teeth when my knife slips between his ribs. Those teeth are sharp and plentiful, and he’s no longer the pretty thing he was before. The bones of his face jut out too far, skin stretched over them so it’s nearly transparent.

When he speaks, the sound of a hundred overlapping voices falls from his mouth. All his victims. “What do you think—”

The kelpie gurgles and I twist the knife, my grip on the handle tight enough that it hurts.

“Iron,” I say. “Spelled iron.”

He howls, and his fingers are tipped with claws, so when he slashes at me, he cuts through my shirt and the skin beneath. I don’t let go. I clench my teeth and withdraw my blade, this time plunging it in where his heart should be.

Two laboured breaths and he goes still. His hands slap against the surface of the water, and when I pull out my knife and push away, he sinks into the lake’s dark depths.

I let out a breath. My hands shake from the adrenaline—and anger. This was supposed to be an easy job, but that kelpie wasn’t young or powerless. All those voices… He must have killed hundreds of people, just not all here.

He is no longer my problem. No longer anyone’s problem. I tuck my knife away and swim back to the shore.

I strip off my socks and my shirt, and only when I’m wrestling into my jacket do I realise I’m not alone. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I don’t reach for my knife.

The Huntsman always inspires that feeling in me.

“He took more work than you were expecting,” he says, and when I look to my left, he’s standing there, watching the lake.

He doesn’t glamour himself around the Hunt. Or around me, anyway. My eyes track over the way his pointed ears emerge from long, dark hair. Full lips hide sharp teeth, but he doesn’t look like the kelpie, not really.

Our Huntsman is high fae. Far more powerful than the creature I just killed in the lake. I can feel it. Feel it alongside the power he gave me when he asked me to join him.

“If you were watching, you could have helped,” I reply grumpily, shoving my right arm into the sleeve of my jacket.

The Huntsman’s eyes cut to me. All the fae are difficult to read, but he’s more difficult than most. Still, I think he’s not angry with me for my impudence.

No, if he’s here, then he wants something.

I like that even less.

“You did well,” he says, and I huff, snatching up one of my boots.

“What do you want?”

“You serve the Hunt.”

I don’t respond to that. We both know I do.

“I have need of you in London.”

That is surprising. I pause, my boot halfway on my foot. “London? Why?”

“Did you hear anything about what happened there last year?”

I shrug. I do not keep in touch with the rest of the Hunt aside from the occasional letter, and the last of those was…

a few decades ago, probably. It is likely longer than that since I last saw Vladimir or Asher.

Jeremiah and Paxton I have seen more recently as they were assigned to watch over a wolf pack a few hundred miles away, but even my last meeting with them took place more than five years ago.

Why should I need to speak with them? The Huntsman communicates what I need to do, and generally, that is to ensure that the fae who have crossed from the Otherworld are not causing trouble.

The Highlands are one of their favourite places to come to—aside from Ireland, perhaps—and so it’s not as if I’m not busy. This has worked for us for at least seventy years. I’ve watched this landscape change, the cities grow. I’ve kept the people here safe.

“Not really.”

“A vampire attacked.”

“And…?”

“These have been tumultuous times, Maurice. He had fae blood and caused much strife. Now we need to ensure that nothing similar happens again.”

“Why do I have to go?”

“I need you to watch over the clan’s crai.”

I pull a face. “Vampires.”

Something sparks in the Huntsman’s eyes. Amusement? “Vampires,” he says, inclining his head in agreement. “I thought you might be well suited for it.”

“Vlad is…”

“Well. But he has other commitments.”

“Why do I—”

“Maurice.” The Huntsman’s voice is firm. “You serve the Hunt.”

You serve me is unspoken but there. I bite back a reflexive growl. “I do.”

“Then your assignment, in serving the Hunt, is to travel to London and watch over the clan’s crai.”

“Is that all?”

“No.” The Huntsman looks back out at the lake again. “That one should never have made it through. That much power should have been detected. More and more fae are through the veil, and many of them are travelling to the cities.”

“Why?”

“I do not know. But that is something we also need to uncover.”

I nod, a little less irritated this time. Tracking down fae? That I can do. Still… “London.”

“If you no longer wish to remain in the Hunt, that can be seen to,” the Huntsman snaps, and I flinch at the ice in his tone.

He means it.

All these years, and he—

My face burns with humiliation and rage. “I serve the Hunt,” I bite out, and he holds my gaze for a second too long before he nods.

“Go to London. Protect the crai. Find the fae.”

“Yes, Huntsman.”

“And remember, Maurice. Our business is our own. Involving the vampires or—worst of all—the wolves will only make things more difficult for you.”

“I understand.”

He comes closer and I hold myself perfectly still. His expression is still unreadable, but I fancy I see some tightening around his eyes as though he is tired.

“You have served the Wild Hunt well, Maurice,” he says, and I think he means it. “Do not fail me now.”

I swallow hard. The Huntsman saved me when I thought I would never be my own man again.

“I will not,” I promise, dropping my gaze.

His hand lands softly on my face, ice-cold fingers digging in for just a second before he lets go. When I lift my eyes again, he is gone. The moon is beginning to set, but still, I see no evidence he was ever here—no footprints in the mud.

I shake my head and pick up my other boot. I suppose I am headed to London, then.