Heart's Desire, Part 3

Carrion
Book 2
Twenty-eight years later

The house was full of death. Chunks of flesh and bone littered the floors of almost every room, and gobbets of unidentifiable pieces of things once alive squished under Gabriel's boots as he walked further into the carnage.

It wasn't all animal. Here and there, he saw other victims of the troll's appetite--the gaping remains of a child-sized skull--clearly human--and a larger, almost intact body of an elf.

The smell was almost enough to overpower him, and he should have been used to death.

He had left the Hounds outside. They would have come if he had called, to pick through the debris in search of survivors, but this was something Gabriel wanted to do alone. And from the look of things, there had been no survivors.

After all, he had promised Lucas that he would see this through. And although he still resented the Council's binding, after almost ninety years of servitude, their 'requests' for his services were something he almost looked forward to, anymore.

After all, what was the alternative?

And he had not minded killing the troll who had begun to prey on the human world. It felt good to be able to kill again, especially with the Council's blessing.

Its body lay in what had once been a garden, a lump of stone now and forevermore. He had not yet decided what to do about the house, the doorway into the human world, or the remains of the troll's victims; Lucas had only requested that the troll be stopped before it killed anyone else.

But the house itself had not been built by a troll. Gabriel did not know of its origins, but bits and pieces of its former owners still existed--a worn table in what had once been a kitchen; and wooden doors blocking off rooms down a shadowed hallway.

A human habitation in Faerie?

In fact, the carnage did not reach all the way down the corridor. There were bones, more than anything, and stains on the stone floors that would probably never come out. But the majority of the troll's kills had remained in the main room, where it had built its nest.

Behind the first door was a library--a musty room filled with books and the moldering remains of someone's meal on fine china, delicate and flowery in the near-darkness. The dim light brightened as Gabriel stood in the doorway, as if welcoming him, but he did not know if he wanted to be welcomed in such a place.

Did he intend to stay here, then? The Hunt had never truly had a home. Before the Council's binding, he had been passed between Masters, all intent on their own gains. After the Council's binding, Gabriel had bowed to folklore and spent his days in one of the many caves that dotted the forest--and never the same one for long.

But after so many years of servitude, he had begun to reconsider a perpetually nomadic existence. The Council's binding had presumably destroyed the original curse that had forced him to obey a thousand different Masters over the years, and now, with such a fine house standing empty, Gabriel wondered what would happen if he and his Hounds just never left.

The binding would expire in a decade, leaving him free--he hoped--for the first time in many, many years.

And that would prevent another monster from moving in and using the door into the Human World for ill. Unless the elves thought that he and his Hunt were worse neighbors than a troll.

Silently, through the bond they shared, he instructed his Hounds to begin the removal of the bodies. The elves would want the remains of their kin, of course, and the animals that weren't anything but animals could become carrion for those so inclined.

He would give the human remains to Lucas for burial.

With that thought in mind, he opened the next door.

A bedroom, this one, with a dusty bed and shuttered window. When Gabriel opened the shutters, he saw that the window--impossibly--looked out upon the Human World and not Faerie. The room was empty, of course, with no sign that the troll had ever ventured inside of it.

The next door led to a hallway and another door, which led to a set of stairs, leading down into darkness that did not lighten at Gabriel's approach. He left that door for later and found two more empty bedrooms before he acknowledged the Hound standing in the hallway behind him.

As always, when he conversed with them, he wondered what would happen if he allowed them to shift shape. Before, he had replaced them as they were killed, not caring about their deaths. But since the Council's binding forbade him from creating any additional Hounds, he had grown to depend on the six that remained.

My lord, we have visitors.

Malachi was one of his oldest Hounds. Gabriel still remembered what he had looked like as a human all those many years ago.

He was only one of three that had not been outright victims of Gabriel's fury.

As Gabriel followed Malachi into the main room, he saw that six Hounds had made short work of the carnage. They had dragged each and every piece outside, and their white fur showed the signs of their determination to obey his order. Bloody and ragged, they were still a formidable sight.

That was probably why the two elves who stood at the edge of the garden had not ventured any farther.

Gabriel stood in the doorway for a moment, and studied them. He had not spent a lot of time in Faerie, despite the original summoning that had called him to punish the elves for their transgressions--both real and imagined. Through the inevitable grapevine of gossip that reached far and wide, he knew that they did not approve of him or his Hunt.

Not that he particularly cared about what they thought.

And there was always Magdalen to think of, despite the fact that he had seen no sign of her for many years. Was she still biding her time until the Council's binding expired? Or was she--as he could only hope--dead?

He doubted the elves would approve if he decided to stay in the house, either, but in truth, he had already half decided to stay, despite their inevitable protests.

The girl--lovely as all elves were--straightened up at his approach, her gaze steady and her mouth firmly set for an argument. The boy--younger than his companion--took a wary step back before scowling as he realized his weakness.

"We came for the body of my brother." Her voice showed no hint of fear.

"If you can find the body of your brother, you are welcome to it," Gabriel said, and wondered if the elf's body was the one they sought. "The very same goes for any of your kin who might be here." He spoke softly, since this was--at the moment--a place of the dead. "I had intended to contact your Queen as soon as I could."

The boy stared at the lump of stone that had once been a troll. "You truly killed it?" He sounded skeptical.

"It will not return," Gabriel said. "But if you doubt my word, I invite you to spend the night in the garden come nightfall, just to be certain."

That brought a delight of laughter from the girl and a scowl from the boy. The girl's laughter did not last for long. "I thank you," she said, simply. "This house is yours by right of conquest, of course. But I would warn you that my kin will not take your presence kindly in these forests."

"I have no intention of Hunting in these forests," Gabriel said, giving her the same respect she gave to him. He had no reason to deny her request or allow her words to anger him, especially since she did not speak them in anger. "And I have yet to decide whether or not to stay."

The boy looked as if he wanted to say something cutting, but the girl glared at him until he glanced away. "If we may--"

"You may," Gabriel said, and stepped aside so they could approach the piles of bloody flesh.

The boy turned green almost immediately, but the girl kept her composure as she moved between the piles of carnage, one hand covering her mouth and nose against the stench.

Gabriel watched them for a moment, and then turned back to where his Hounds waited in a patient line across the back of the house.

Or was it the front of the house? There was no true front, really, since the door into the Human World led to a cave.

He remembered the door leading down to the basement, or a dungeon, perhaps, and wondered what he would find when he ventured down those stairs.

The girl's voice stopped that train of thought. She had fallen to her knees beside the body of the elf, and the boy now looked embarrassed for her, as if he was ashamed of her grief.

"We will take him with us," the girl said a moment later when Gabriel approached. "And I will send someone for the others. I do not know their family, but we will favor their souls with a proper burial." She rose, unsteady on her feet now, as if finding her brother's body had taken away some reserve of strength.



"I will leave them here for you to take," Gabriel said.

The boy glanced at Gabriel, swallowed words that he might have regretted later, and nodded swiftly, his eyes bright with what might have been tears. "Thank you."

Gabriel nodded and walked back to his Hounds. He had yet to contact Lucas to tell him that the deed was done and to hand over the human remains.

And he would do that, soon enough. But first, before he ventured into the Human Realm again, he would explore the underrealm of the house. That dark staircase hinted of darker things below--darker, even, than the carnage strewn through the rooms above.

He did not watch the elves retreat with their sorrowful prize. In truth, as long as they left his Hunt alone, he did not care what they did.

If he ever allowed his Hounds to shift shape, that would change, of course, but he had not yet made that decision.

He set the others on guard for any additional visitors and took Malachi with him. Since the ambient light in the rest of the house did not reach into the underground, he was forced to search for the makings of a torch or the stub of a candle.

Despite popular folklore, even the Master of the Wild Hunt could not see in full darkness.

He found a store of candles in one of the worn cabinets in the kitchen, and a small tin of matches tucked under them, as if someone, long ago, had known he would need them now. Thus supplied, he opened the door to the hallway again, and ventured down the stairs with Malachi at his back.

Whose house had this been? The elves might have known, but Gabriel doubted they would impart that information willingly. Lucas didn't know about the house at all--and neither had Gabriel, at first. But whoever's house it had been, it was his now.

He would have to figure out a way to scrub the floors clean of the blood.

The basement was cool and damp, and opened into another set of caves far underground. The stairs had been carved--or built, Gabriel supposed--by an expert hand, rock-solid under his feet.

A narrow corridor ran the length of the small stretch of space, with larger caves hollowed out by both time and someone's chisel. Each of the openings--and there were four--had bars in place of doors, firmly set into the stone as if they had grown into place.

Malachi whined uneasily, his voice echoing between the walls.

And something shifted in response--a brief flash of white in the darkness beyond one set of bars.

With the candle flickering in the ghost of a breeze from some unknown source, Gabriel moved towards the first set of bars. Behind them, a small, bare cell of a room, with a narrow window cut into the back wall--and more darkness beyond that.

What, then, had been that flash of white?

He moved to the next--and found more of the same in the other two. Tiny, empty cells, each with a window that showed only darkness. Nothing more. Two on either side of the corridor, as if the builder had wanted to conserve space.

At the end of the corridor was a small alcove that held a handful of clues. A ring of keys--four, of course, despite the fact that he had not seen any keyholes, a single white feather, and a scattering of small discolored bones across the floor. Bird bones, Gabriel thought after studying them for a moment. From more than one bird. There was even a tiny, perfect skull perched on a small ledge near the back where the ring of keys hung.

Gabriel lifted down the key ring and approached the first cell again. This time, he had no trouble finding the keyhole, despite the fact that he had missed it earlier.

That probably meant there were spells in place here, especially since the entire area was so clean.

When he inserted the key in the lock, the bars retracted into the stone, moving smoothly and silently as if they had just been oiled. Once they were gone, Gabriel pocketed the keys and stepped into the cell. Malachi did not follow him. If this were a trap, then Gabriel wanted him outside of it. It would not do to kill the troll and then become trapped in someone's defensive spell before he had a chance to tell Lucas of his success.

When he touched the far wall, it felt solid enough under his hands. But when he reached his candle through the window, leaving him with little light to see by, the wall dissolved as if it had just been an illusion, showing him what lay behind the window.

Another cell, of course, but this only roughly formed from the original cave. The walls were slick with algae and water; puddles had formed on the floor. A half-rotten table and a broken chair sat against one wall, along with an oil lamp--long dry--and a small, crumbling stack of books.

On the opposite side of the room was a wooden cot--its legs white with mold--with a threadbare blanket and a stained pillow as its only comfort.

And in the corner, just beyond where he could see from his vantage point, a girl's wide-eyed face appeared in the briefest instant before it vanished again past an outcropping of rock.

Gabriel started forward and smashed into stone. The wall was not gone, but invisible, and the shock alone of such a spell caused him to drop the candle.

It spluttered and died, and he saw it roll into a puddle just before the darkness descended.

"Malachi, I shall need another candle." Gabriel did not turn around to see if his Hound obeyed--he knew that he would. "And bring the matches as well. This might take some time."

"I am not here to harm you," he said into the darkness after Malachi had vanished up the stairs. "The troll is gone, and whoever kept you here is gone as well."

How long had the house stood empty before the troll moved in? Did anyone know about the cells in the basement? Were the others occupied as well?

Gabriel felt the briefest touch against his fingers, and then heard a small splash. He withdrew his hand from the window--it was pointless to keep the spell running when he could not see past his nose.

But somehow, he could see, after a fashion. He did not realize that it was the candle's light flickering through the narrow window until the girl's pale hand reached through the window to give it back to him.

Her skin was moon-pale, her arm stick-thin. He saw the glimmer of her eyes through the hole, and smiled at her.

"Thank you." He kept his voice gentle. "Is there a way through this wall? A door of some sort?"

More splashing. She vanished from the window. He could have poked the candle through the hole again and activated the spell, but he was curiously reluctant to expose that horrible cell again, especially since he doubted it worked both ways. A moment later, she poked a folded piece of paper through the window. It was printed paper, from a book, but in the margins she had written the word Illumination in what looked to be her own blood, long dried.

"Illumination?" Gabriel asked as the brittle paper fell apart in his grasp.

In the middle of the wall, a stone began to glow. It was a rounded stone, protruding a little from the wall, its shape the only anomaly. When Gabriel pressed the stone, it began to turn, and the wall itself reorganized itself into a doorway with the smooth movement of magic.

The girl stood on the other side, swaying now, her eyes wide and frightened. She wore a white dress--more of a gown, although Gabriel was not well-versed in women's fashions--and her hair was also white like the feather he had found in the alcove. But her eyes were dark--green, perhaps, or grey. Despite her surroundings and her fear, she held herself with a sort of regal vulnerability that tugged at an empty space in Gabriel's heart.

He held out his hand. "You are safe now. I will not harm you."

Silently, she touched his hand with the very tips of her fingers, and then snatched it away, as if she couldn't quite believe that he was real. Then she crumpled, her legs collapsing, her eyes closed now as she fell.

Gabriel caught her, but he had to drop the candle again. And in its spluttering light, he saw Malachi behind him, watching silently, a fresh candle at his feet and the tin of matches in his mouth.

Yes, it would have been much easier to allow him his human form to fetch and carry. But would his Hounds scrub the floors?

He lifted the girl into his arms--she weighed next to nothing of course, all skin and bones. But her face was lovely under the signs of her ordeal, and he could only hope that she recovered both her senses and her strength after food and rest.

"She'll need to eat," he said to Malachi. "Take one of the others and find her some food. Raid someone's garden or an orchard. No rabbits."

Malachi silently padded up the stairs, and Gabriel followed him with the girl in his arms. He laid her on the bed in the first bedroom after calling a Hound to help strip away the top coverlet, which was thick with dust. The blankets underneath had fared better, but she still seemed a pitifully frail figure all alone in the bed.

He left the Hound to guard her and ventured back into the dungeon. He could not pretend and call it a basement any longer.

Only one of the remaining cells contained a prisoner, and it was quite obvious that the boy inside had died a long time ago. What remained of his skin was stretched tightly over weathered bones, and his grinning skull would haunt Gabriel's dreams much more than the carnage upstairs.

Someone had left him here to die, and he had died without any hope of rescue. But who had kept him here? And how had the girl survived?


He did not find out part of it until much later, when the elves returned for the rest of their dead. The girl came without her cousin this time, but with two others elves who set to work sorting through the mess without any qualms at all.

Gabriel did not envy them their work, but it was something that had to be done. He would gather up the human remains himself to bring to Lucas long before dusk.

The girl approached, wary around the watching Hounds, but still unafraid. "I came to thank you again," she said. "My brother lies in peace. And soon, these others will as well."

"Do you know who lived here before the troll?" Gabriel asked, wondering if she would answer him.

She hesitated, and glanced at the two elves. They paid her no mind. "A sorcerer. A shapeshifter."

"His books are still in place in the library," Gabriel said, by way of explanation so she wouldn't get suspicious.

She relaxed, as if she had expected him to say something more. "It was rumored to be quite the collection at the time."

"How long ago was this?" Gabriel asked. How long had the white girl been imprisoned?

"Years and years ago," the girl said, dismissing the sorcerer with a toss of her honey-blond hair. "I have been--instructed to offer you a boon for your cooperation here. You did not have to allow us to take the bodies."

"That is true, but why should I prevent you from taking them?" Gabriel asked. "If you grant me any boon, I would ask that you ask your kin to leave us in peace."

She bit her lip. "I cannot speak for my kin, but I can ask." Another hesitation. "My--My parents would be pleased if you accepted something a bit more--concrete."

"Your parents?" Gabriel asked, and wondered just who this girl was.

"The King and Queen," the girl murmured, not looking at him. "My name is Amalea. With my brother's untimely death, I am now third in line for the throne."

That certainly explained her attitude. Someone had raised her to treat others with respect, and expect the same in return. Which was rare for an elf, in truth.

"You needn't look so surprised," Amalea said with a quick glance at his face. "I volunteered to come."

"I am surprised they allowed you to come," Gabriel said. "What sort of boon were you thinking about?" He understood her insistence in granting him with something; the elves would feel they owed him something if he did not accept.

But short of the impossible request he had already asked, he truly wanted nothing from them. They could not free him from the Council's binding, and if he told her of the girl from the dungeons, they would only try to take her away.

"A brownie," Amalea stated without hesitation. She had clearly thought about this boon of hers.

Despite himself, Gabriel felt a grudging respect for this girl. A princess, in truth, but she did not act like a princess. "A brownie?" He tried to keep the doubt from his voice.

"All of this--" she indicated the piles of rotting meat and bones. "If you intend to live in that house, it will need to be cleaned."

That was true, but Gabriel did not know whether to be amused or offended by her offer. "You offer me this as your payment for allowing you your brother's body?"

"The house needs to be cleaned, does it not?" Amalea asked, and the glint in her eye told Gabriel that she was not used to being refused.

"Yes, it does," he said, and remembered wondering if he could allow his Hunt their human forms just to scrub the floor. But what would happen if the brownie saw the girl from the dungeons? "If I accept this boon, then I will make one request in return: that your brownie not venture beyond the library. My Hounds will be in the other rooms, resting, and I do not wish them to be disturbed."

"Very well," Amalea said, and did not seem to think anything wrong with his request. "By dusk, then. I'll see that your boon is honored."

"Agreed," Gabriel said, and watched as she rejoined her fellows. She would be one to watch out for, this Amalea. For a princess, she was almost too self-assured for her own good.

Behind him, in the shadows of the blood-strewn living room, Nathaniel whined a question.

"Yes. They will be gone soon," Gabriel replied, still watching the elves.

And the girl in the bedroom?

"If she wakes up, Seth will let me know," Gabriel said. "I need to tell Lucas that the troll is dead, and bring him the human remains. I'll need help, but two of you need to stay here. And Seth is already guarding our guest." Malachi had taken Josiah with him to find the girl some food to eat. And as long as Lucas did not keep him long, Gabriel should be back quickly. And then he would feed the girl, and hopefully she would eat.

If he waited for Malachi and Josiah to return, Lucas might become impatient and force him to come.

After eighty-eight years under the Council's binding, Gabriel knew he did not want that to happen.

I will stay, my lord.

Zechariah, this time. With a current of almost-anger running through his voice.

There had been spats between the eldest Hounds and the others before, but not lately. If he had time, he would have pursued the matter of Zechariah's anger, but it would take enough time to sort through the rest of the carnage and carry the human remains to Lucas' house. He would have to referee between his Hounds later.

"Very well." Gabriel waited until the elves were gone, then led the two remaining Hounds to the pile of human remains. With the aid of the dusty quilt as a makeshift bag, he helped them sort through the bloody bits and pieces until he was satisfied that he had found them all.

Then he wadded up the grisly bundle, slung it over his shoulder, and walked back into the house, through the hallway, and out the door into the Human World with his Hounds at his feet.

It would be so much nicer now, without having to work around the vagaries of the Veil.


Lucas Lane's house was stone just like Gabriel's new home, but its currents, of course, ran on electricity and not magic.

Out of respect for the souls of the dead he carried, Gabriel gently lowered his burden to the porch floor before knocking on Lucas' front door. As he expected, the wizard answered the door in less than thirty seconds, his ever-present gnarled cane of a walking stick clasped in one hand.

"Good news, I hope?" Lucas asked. "There were searchers in the forest today, looking for the last little girl."

"If she is dead, her body is on the porch, in pieces," Gabriel said. "The troll is gone. I killed it at dawn."

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "And you waited this long to tell me this?"

"The elves wished to claim their dead, and I saw no reason why they couldn't have the bodies," Gabriel said, refusing to rise to the barb. He did not want to get into an argument with Lucas, not with the girl from the dungeons asleep back at the Hunt's new home.

Home. It was a strange, almost yearning word.

"And it took time to sort through the rest," he continued. "As I said before, the human remains are on your porch. I thought you might wish to bury them before they smell any worse."

Lucas nodded. "Thank you. And I am sure the elves will thank you as well, for eliminating that troll. Did you find out how it was getting past the Veil? Those kinds of Faerie creatures can't usually pass between worlds."

"I have been assured that the way has been blocked," Gabriel said, and the lie only caused a twinge of pain from the binding. "Do you know the name Amalea?"

"She is fourth in line to the elvish throne," Lucas said without a second thought.

"Third, now," Gabriel informed him. "The troll killed her older brother, and it was his body she came to claim." Perhaps if he volunteered information, Lucas would not press for details.

"I see," Lucas said. "I will not keep you. Thank you for returning the remains--I will see that they are buried in consecrated ground."

Gabriel nodded. On his way out the door, Lucas called to him, his voice oddly intense.

"You said the elves came for their kin. Did they offer you anything in return for the favor?"

"The services of a brownie to clean up the troll's lair," Gabriel said truthfully.

"Ah."

Was it relief that Gabriel saw in Lucas' gaze? Relief that they hadn't offered him a way to destroy the Council's binding?

"I accepted their offer," Gabriel said. "And I'm to meet the brownie at the site. May I go?"

"Of course," Lucas said. "Of course. And thank you again."

Gabriel did not attempt to respond to that, other than to nod on his way out the door. He could not leave fast enough--not without fearing that Lucas would somehow guess about the house, and refuse to allow him to stay there.

Not that the Council had ever cared where the Hunt slept before. Why should they start now?


The cave that led to the house in Faerie was actually only a brisk twenty minute walk from Lucas' house. Gabriel wasted no time, since morning had fled and the afternoon was waning.

He let Nathaniel and Thomas run ahead to the cave, but they waited for him at the door.

Yet another reason why it would be smart to allow them their human forms. Hands were useful things, especially when doors were involved.

It was something to think about.

Seth sat looking out the window into the garden, so that meant Malachi and Josiah had returned as well and had probably carried the food into the bedroom.

Zechariah was in the garden, sniffing around a vine-laden tree.

Without a word to his Hounds, Gabriel walked down the hallway. Josiah slipped out of the library as he passed and joined the others in the living room, but not without giving his Master a guilty glance.

But he had no reason to feel guilty. Gabriel would not forbid them to explore.

The door to the bedroom was closed, which was new. When Gabriel opened it, he caught a glimpse of something--someone--sitting beside the girl before the vision was gone and a ceramic plate slid off the bed and crashed to the floor, casting globs of canned fruit and other tidbits flying under the dusty bed.

Malachi cowered on the floor beside the bed. And for a short, terrible moment, Gabriel didn't realize the import of the open can, the plate, or the piece of fruit lying beside the girl's head on the pillow.

Paws could not open cans. Hands could.



Next update: March 23

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