Heart's Desire, Part 25

Chapter 10

Jordan did not intend to fall asleep. He had packed the rest of his things, which truly did not amount to much, and gathered his small store of clothing from one of the upstairs bedrooms, but waiting for Malachi to return had taxed his reserves, and he had fallen asleep.

He had also lied to Malachi and Emle. Lucas had told him to stay near the house and he had not ventured far from its safety, especially during the night.

In truth, he was a little afraid of the dark, especially this far from the comforting glow of streetlights and the normalcy of civilization. He would never last in town, of course; the din made it difficult to think, much less function.

That was how he had ended up at Darkbrook, after all. And even there, he had been treated with caution; almost fear. No one liked having their innermost thoughts exposed.

He stared at his pile of possessions, and then at his backpack and duffel bag, which was all he could carry at once. He would have to leave some things behind. He could only carry so much.

His leg hurt from his fall down the stairs, but he ignored the pain and packed half of his clothes, taking care to wrap his breakable supplies inside his shirt and pants.

Malachi and Emle had asked him to wait until dawn, but he knew they wouldn't return. No one wanted him. It hurt to admit that, but he should have been used to rejection by now.

He glanced out the kitchen window at the darkness beyond and shivered. Perhaps he should wait until dawn. In daylight, the forest was much easier to navigate. And surely Malachi would not return.

A soft sound in the hallway caught his attention, and he froze in place, his hands clutching the folds of a t-shirt as he stared beyond the door. The light of his portable lantern would give him away for sure--he had not thought to be cautious.

He quickly turned it down and off, just in case, and tiptoed to the door.

His night vision was next to nil in the darkness, but he had lived in the house for long enough to know the locations of most of the piles of debris. The chunks of plaster that lined the hallway were new, however, and he stubbed his toes more than once as he inched down the narrow corridor.

There was someone standing in the parlor. At first, Jordan thought the figure was a trick of the moonlight that shone through the shattered window frames, but when the figure moved, he drew back and struggled not to breathe.

"There are Council wards around this house." The voice that came from the darkest corners of the parlor held no warmth at all. Jordan shivered.

"We'll have to work around them," the figure standing in the moonlight said. "But that is all. This house has been abandoned for quite some time. And it is close to our--prize."

"But is it close enough to the Veil?" The woman appeared from the darkness, her gown sweeping across the glass-littered floor as easily as if she strode through a garden. In the moonlight, her hair was jet black. "It takes power to move the Veil, Stefan. And more power to fix it in place."

"It is less than a mile away."

They were obviously not human, Jordan thought, with their talk of the Veil. He knew there were elves in Faerie, of course; everyone knew that. And from their flowery talk, Jordan suspected that they were both elves.

"A mile may well be too far," the woman snapped. "I will not have my plans destroyed because you were not intelligent enough to find a dwelling close enough to the Veil for my purposes!"

"The only house that fits that purpose is the Hunt's lair, and that is unfortunately occupied." Stefan growled at her anger. "Do not blame me for losing your place in Faerie. I warned you. Many times."

The woman turned to stare at him. "It is only a minor setback to our plans," she said. "And this will do. For now."

"My Hunt needs to eat," Stefan said. "They will not be pleased to exist on humans. Elvish blood is like fine wine. Human blood is vinegar."

Jordan pressed one hand over his mouth to stop himself from whimpering. He was human, after all. And what Hunt? This man--this was not Gabriel. Jordan had seen Gabriel once before, at a distance.

The woman sniffed. "Exist on animals for the moment. We do not want the Council to get involved." She drifted around the room again, and Jordan scrunched himself into a tiny ball to escape her notice. "Are you certain this house is not occupied? I sense--" She vanished through the doorway into the kitchen and out of Jordan's view.

She would see the pile of his clothing, and the rest of his supplies, and then she would know that he was there.

He closed his eye for a brief moment to gather his courage, and then jumped to his feet.

Stefan shouted, but Jordan had already passed the parlor doorway and was on his way to the front door--and freedom. He slipped on a chunk of plaster and fell against the wall as something dark and deadly flew past him and blew out one of the remaining windows on the door.

Glass rained down on the warped floorboards. The door itself burst into flames, the dry wood crackling in the sudden heat.

Jordan pushed himself away from the wall. He took a step towards the door and felt the woman's hand close over his arm--she'd appeared on his blind side--to pull him back. Panicked, he kicked at her and tried to twist away, but she spoke a spell that turned her fingers to writhing ropes that curled around his arms and legs until he could not move.

Then she let him fall, as if he did not matter.

"A human. A human child, Stefan."

"I--" Before Stefan could stutter his apology--if he intended to apologize at all--, he jerked back as if she had hit him. "Magdalen--"

"I did not give you leave to speak my name," the woman said. "Especially in front of our little eavesdropper." Ignoring the glass on the floor, she hooked one finger in between the ropes around Jordan's legs and dragged him into the parlor. "What shall I do with you, then?"

"Please--Please don't hurt me," Jordan whispered, his throat dry. He had wanted to scream, but no one would have heard him anyway. The house had no neighbors. A refuge had suddenly become an isolated prison.

"What are you doing here, child?" Magdalen's voice oozed with sudden warmth. "Did you run away from somewhere? Is anyone looking for you?"

Jordan struggled against the ropes. Her fingers had returned to normal, but if she could make ropes come out of them, then what else could she do?

"I--I live here," he whispered, and felt something slice into his shoulder.

Magdalen turned on Stefan, who had crept up behind her. "He lives here, Stefan! He lives here!"

Stefan's lip curled. "He--He wasn't here when I first visited this house." He was--almost--bowing now, as if he wanted to sink to his knees but didn't dare because of the glass.

"What is your name, child?"

Names were important. Jordan knew that, but he also knew that she would hurt him if he didn't tell her. "J-Jordan. My name is Jordan." His vision blurred with tears.

"Why do you live here, Jordan?" Magdalen bent down over him and cupped his chin in her hand. In the light of the fire, Jordan saw that her hair was dark red, not black. And her eyes--her eyes were cold enough to promise him death.

He would have rather faced the Master of the Hunt than be forced to look into her eyes again.
"I--I have a wild talent," he whispered. "The Council cannot help me, so they sent me here to live."

"And what kind of wild talent do you possess?" Magdalen asked, her voice still sweet.

Jordan bit his lip. "I'm a telepath." He couldn't read their minds; his talent worked only on humans. But he had a feeling it wouldn't matter to Magdalen, since she no doubt intended to kill him anyway.

"I see," Magdalen said, and released him. Jordan's head slammed against the floor hard enough to bring tears to his eyes.

"Ah, yes." Stefan had regained his composure now. His grin was full of sharp white teeth. "I've heard of him. The Council fears his talent."

"Then he could be useful," Magdalen said, and turned towards the parlor again. "We have a lot of work to do, Stefan. Put him somewhere safe."

By the light of the flickering fire--which had spread now to the front wall--Jordan saw someone else in the parlor. But this person's fate seemed to be sealed already. He sat in a battered wooden chair, bound hand and foot, his head lowered to his chest.

"No, wait," Magdalen said as Stefan hauled Jordan up by the ropes wrapped around his chest. "Wait. I want him to see this. I want him to know my power."

"Is that wise?" Stefan asked, dropping him again.

Magdalen shrugged, then seemed to notice the flames for the first time. Their reflection danced in her gaze as she watched them. "Hmm."

"If you burn down the house, you won't have much of a sanctuary," Stefan commented, following her gaze.

"I won't be burning the house in Faerie," Magdalen said, and called up a wind so the flames would spread faster.

Stefan dragged Jordan into a corner of the parlor and left him lying in the middle of a pile of debris. Jordan lay petrified for a long moment as Stefan and Magdalen gathered around the person in the chair, but they seemed content to leave him alone.

For now, at least.

Neither Stefan nor Magdalen seemed to have a problem working in the dark. The moonlight and the flames illuminated the parlor enough for Jordan to watch their actions, but he truly did not realize what they had done until Magdalen held a thin dagger up to the light and then plunged it into her prisoner's chest.

Jordan heard a high keening sound coming from somewhere, but didn't realize it came from his own throat until Magdalen turned and threw a spell at him that smothered his voice.

The spell was worse than a gag. He could still breathe, but no sound escaped from his lips.

Panicked now, he fought the ropes, struggling to win free before she killed him too.

"Can you read my mind, Jordan?" Magdalen asked abruptly, turning on him.

Her gaze was so--so scary that Jordan squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, not wanting to see the glittering madness in her eyes.

She laughed, a terrible sound. "So your talent has limits after all. I'm surprised the Council did not think to test it."

The fire was spreading now, across the front of the house, burning every inch of wood that had survived the test of time. A gust of hot air blew down the hallway and stinging embers settled on Jordan's skin.

Magdalen did not seem to notice, or care. Stefan glanced at the flames once or twice, but he, too, seemed unconcerned.

"My Hounds still need to eat," he said when Magdalen slit her prisoner's throat.

"You can have his body when I'm done with him," Magdalen said, and tipped her prisoner out of the chair. "There will be plenty of meat left on his bones for your Hounds."

"And the boy?" Stefan glanced at Jordan, who tried not to tremble at his gaze.

"He may be useful, yet," Magdalen said in a tone of voice that brooked no argument.

Stefan stepped aside, now, to let her work.

Jordan tried not to watch as she opened her prisoner's veins and let his blood pool on the parlor floor, all the while muttering something--a spell?--under her breath. Her long skirt trailed the blood all over the floor, but again, Magdalen did not seem to notice, or care.

The flames continued to spread. Jordan closed his eyes against the heat, unable to escape.

His first indication that something had changed was when the heat vanished. The flames were still there, but they were--fainter now, as if he saw them through--well, a Veil.

The house changed, too. The broken glass on the floor faded away and the windows were whole again. The plaster hanging from the ceilings repaired itself, and elaborate lamps appeared, hanging from the stripped fixtures on the ceilings and walls.

The floors regained their luster, and warped boards flattened and stabilized. There was stained glass around the front door now--the flames were gone. A beautiful Oriental rug appeared out of nowhere under Jordan's body, stretching the across the parlor floor and covering up what was left of the blood.

Outside, it was still nighttime, but the forest had a luminescence now, as if the very leaves of the trees glowed in the dark.

Jordan had never ventured far enough into the forest to cross through the Veil between the Human World and Faerie. Lucas had warned him about the Veil, and taught him how to notice the subtle signs that he had crossed the ever-shifting line.

He had not, however, mentioned that a structure could exist differently in the Human World and Faerie, as this house now did.

Quite suddenly, he realized that the fire still burned in the Human World, and that if Malachi did return, he would find the house in flames and Jordan nowhere to be seen. What would he do then? Give up? Return to his Master empty-handed?

Shadowy furniture had appeared in the parlor now, and as he glanced down the hall, he saw that the kitchen looked very different as well. On the other side of the hallway, the missing spindles on the staircase were back, and the whole dusty banister gleamed as if it had been newly polished.

"This will do," Magdalen said, and the transformed house shivered at her words.

"Impressive," Stefan said. He vanished from Jordan's sight for a moment, his footsteps echoing on a wood floor that shone in the lamplight.

Jordan shivered too. Would she kill him now? Or were there--things that she could do with a human boy like she had done to her prisoner?

If Malachi returned, would he think that Jordan was dead? Would he even bother to look for him? Would Lucas?

"And now, for you," Magdalen said, and suddenly, she stood over him, the glittering madness in her gaze muted now. "You cannot read my thoughts?"

Jordan shook his head.

"Does your talent only work on humans, then?"

He nodded, desperately. Would she keep him alive for that reason? Did the elves have any dealings with humans?

"Hmm."

A black Hound appeared in the doorway, followed by four others and their Master--Stefan. The Hounds fell upon the body, growling and snapping at each other like a pack of wild dogs.

Magdalen watched them with pursed lips. "I would have rather they eat outside," she said. "But it doesn't matter now; we're beyond Council awareness at the moment."

She smiled at Stefan, who watched his Hounds with a hunger of his own. "Do not hesitate to shift on my account. I will take care of our guest."

Stefan took her words as invitation, and shifted shape into a large black Hound. Jordan watched with wide eyes as he approached--and the others slunk away, giving him top choice of the feast.
He saw the prisoner's face--as yet unmarked by the Hounds' hunger--and his delicately pointed ears, now stained with blood. An elf. It seemed wrong, somehow, that his first sighting of an elf would be this.

He could not watch when Stefan tore out the elf's throat.

Magdalen vanished for a moment, moving too quickly for Jordan to track her progress. When she returned, she lifted him easily with a handful of rope and dragged him up the stairs.

Which were, of course, magically restored. The bedroom he had been sleeping in was a girl's room now, with a canopy bed and light, airy wallpaper. A lamp burned on a small table beside the bed, and for a moment, Jordan thought he saw a small figure asleep under the covers.
It must have been a trick of the shadows, however, because when he blinked, the figure vanished. And Magdalen did not mention it.

There was a closet in this room, and it had been a narrow, dusty place choked with decaying clothes and mouse nests. He had left it alone, because the floor was rotten and full of holes. Now, it housed only air and a pair of old-fashioned shoes lying forgotten in the far corner.

Magdalen pushed him inside the closet and shut the door. A moment later--even though there had been no key in the lock--he heard a key turn and a lock engage.

And then, faintly through the thick door, the click of Magdalen's footsteps as she left him alone in the darkness.



Next Update: September 7th

House St. Clair Home

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Heart's Desire, Part 24

Chapter 9

The sun had set by the time they reached the mouth of the cave, and Gabriel's absence did not bode well for his mood at their return. Malachi had rushed her through the forest, almost panicked at the thought of being out after dark, but Emle could only move so quickly with her ponderous stomach.

She stopped him just inside the cave. His muscles were taut with tension, quivering as he forced himself to stand still beside her.

"You've done nothing wrong," she said, struggling to keep her voice light. "Nothing at all. You did what your Master requested--I am home safe."

"That remains to be seen," Gabriel said from the doorway in the back of the cave. "You were gone for the better part of a day!"

Malachi fell to his knees in the sand that covered the cave floor and cowered there, as if he expected to be beaten in front of her. Or if he expected the truth to be torn from his mind, which Gabriel could very well do.

"We need to talk," she said firmly, moving to stand in front of Malachi. "He did what you asked, Gabriel. I saw the Healer, and she said that our daughter is healthy and happy."

That--as nothing else would--gave Gabriel pause. He stared at her for a moment, his eyes silver reflections of fury, and then shook his head. When she touched his arm, she found it rock hard and quivering, as if he barely held back the urge to pummel his Hound into unconsciousness.

"You were gone the better part of a day," he said, his voice dead calm.

"It takes time to walk the miles to and from that house," Emle said, and placed one hand on her stomach. "Did you expect that I would be able to run?"

Her tone of voice surprised him enough to deflect his fury--at least for the moment. He glanced at her, consternation now evident in his gaze. "No, of course not. But--"

"If I understand it correctly, all you had to do was open the bond to see that we were not in danger," Emle said sharply. "You need not take your frustration out on Malachi. He did a wonderful job of protecting me."

Gabriel frowned at his Hound. "Malachi has never learned the proper place for silence."

"If I am to stay here, then I need to know these things," Emle whispered. She released his arm and stepped backwards, placing herself between Malachi and Gabriel again. "You will not punish him for speaking with me, my love."

Gabriel clenched his hands into fists.

"Please, my lord. I did as you asked. I brought her back safely." Malachi spoke in a rush, his voice a thready whisper. He had not moved from his place on the ground.

"So you did." Gabriel's voice held neither condemnation nor praise.

Emle was not certain what happened next. She started to speak, but something--some vast, invisible thing--pulsed through the mouth of the cave and hit Gabriel square in the chest. He staggered back--his gaze registering both shock and pain--but before Emle could go to him, Malachi whispered Josiah's name.

"Who is Josiah?" she asked, and the world righted itself in an ear-popping instant.

For a moment, Emle could not remember how to breathe, much less how to speak. She took a step, slid in the sand, and would have fallen if Gabriel had not caught her arm.

"My lord--" Malachi's voice was hoarse. He staggered to his feet, forgetting his previous fear. "My lord--was that--what was that?"

Instead of getting angry, Gabriel stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. "That was--strange," he finally said. "And warrants exploration, in the morning."

Something had changed, but Emle did not know what. The intricacies behind Gabriel's relationship with his Hunt were too complicated for her to figure out without much more information at her disposal.

"He was a student at Darkbrook," Malachi said, picking up the thread of story even though Gabriel had not given him permission to speak. "A gifted student."

"You--You allowed a Hound to attend school? At Darkbrook? In full view of the Council?" Emle shook her head. "And yet you punish Malachi for--"

"That was ten years ago," Gabriel said calmly, but his gaze was troubled, as if he had also asked himself the same questions. "I will explain. I promise you that. But I--" He sighed, as if there was no easy way to say what he wanted to say. "I was always rather--fond--of Josiah."

He turned abruptly and vanished through the doorway, leaving Emle alone with Malachi.

She glanced back at him and wondered if he would answer any of her questions.

"Josiah was his favorite," Malachi whispered with no ill-will. "He was also a very talented wizard. He made some of the furniture in the house, and created the wards."

"He made the furniture?" Emle couldn't imagine a wizard doing something so mundane.

"Yes," Malachi said. "From the house itself."

"And then he just vanished? With no warning? Could he have run away?" She couldn't imagine a gifted wizard allowing himself to be ruled by the Master of the Hunt.

Malachi shook his head. "Don't even suggest that. Josiah wouldn't have run away."

"That's true," Nathaniel said from the open doorway. "Josiah is the only one of us who asked to be a Hound."

"Why does that make a difference?" Emle asked. "Malachi said that you all gave Gabriel your lives and your loyalty--"

"But we did not ask to be his Hounds," Nathaniel said, stepping out into the cave. "Josiah did."

"I don't understand," Emle said.

"Our Master--Our Master has given us leave to speak with you freely," Malachi whispered. "So we can explain. But we still--you still--" He took a deep breath.

"Yes." She still had to ask him about Jordan, and try to deflect his fury when he discovered that they had been seen. "I will do that first."

It was strange, walking between two Hounds in human form. Stranger still to see the two of them standing in the living room, awkward and uneasy.

"Where is he?" Emle asked.

Nathaniel avoided her gaze. "He said he would be in the library."

"No. I am here." Gabriel's appearance put both Hounds on edge. "I was unable to track the origin of what we felt, other than it came from Faerie."

"What we felt--" Malachi shivered and wrapped his arms around his chest. "My lord, we were seen."

Emle gasped. "Malachi!"

The world stood still for a moment that stretched into eternity. Gabriel did not move from his place in the doorway, but Malachi fell to his knees, his eyes tightly closed as his Master--and there was no doubt--tore the information from his mind.

"We were seen by a ten-year-old child!" Emle shouted, struggling to move past the horrible slowness in the air. "A child who has been left to fend for himself by the Council!"

"And you want him to come here?" Gabriel's gaze was far past silver now. "To expose the Hunt's last secret to a human child?"

"But Lucas knows," Nathaniel said, his fists clenched at his side. "You said--you told Josiah that Lucas knew he was a Hound. I remember that. And Malachi--"

Gabriel's fury was swift to strike. Despite the fact that he still had not moved a muscle, Nathaniel flinched back as if he had been struck.

"I am sorry, my lord, but I speak the truth." Nathaniel did not raise his voice, but his gaze was full of fear. "Please don't do this--"

Up until then, Malachi had not made a single sound. But now he screamed--a wailing keen that chilled the blood in Emle's veins.

Greatly daring, she stepped between Master and Hound and folded her arms across her stomach.

"Stop. Please stop," she whispered, struggling to stay calm.

Behind her, she heard Malachi collapse, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. For a moment, the only sound in the room were his sobs.

Gabriel stared at her. "You wanted to bring him here? Why?"

"Because a ten-year-old human child should not be allowed to wander the forest at will," Emle said, raising her chin. "It's June now. What will happen when the weather changes? He shouldn't have to live his life alone just because the Council is afraid of him!"

"I am sorry, my lord," Malachi whispered behind her. "I neither saw nor sensed any signs of habitation. I failed you."

Emle glared at Gabriel, daring him to agree with his Hound's assessment.

Gabriel closed his eyes. "No. You did not fail me. You brought Emle back unharmed." He turned, then, and vanished down the dark hallway, as if he could not bear to continue the conversation. Or perhaps he felt a bit guilty that he had overreacted.

Or that he had reacted exactly as Malachi had expected.

"Mama?" Eri's small voice echoed from the hallway, and she appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide. "Mama?"

Emle glanced back at her daughter, then turned and sank down on the floor beside Malachi. "Malachi, are you--"

"No. He is not well." Nathaniel pulled him up and half-carried, half-dragged him over to the wooden bench against the wall. But Malachi pushed him away and fell against the wall, sliding into a heap on the floor. "It hurts, when he--when Our Master does this."

Malachi whispered something Emle didn't catch. Nathaniel stiffened at his words, but gave him no reply.

"What did he say?" Emle asked. "This is my fault, not his. He tried to tell me how Gabriel would react, but I--I did not believe him." She held out her arms and Eri ran to her in Hound form, whining softly.

"He said he would have rather stayed a Hound," Nathaniel said stiffly, "and if you knew anything about Malachi, you would know how--" His voice broke. "How ludicrous that sounds."

"I apologize," Emle said, although she knew it wasn't a comfort. She glanced down the hall where Gabriel had vanished and felt a twinge of unease. "Perhaps--Perhaps Eri and I should go elsewhere, for a time. I seem to have made a mess of things, and I--"

"No!" Malachi whispered the word. "No. This is not your fault." He opened his eyes, squinting a little at the dim light, and stared at her through red-rimmed eyes. "I chose of my own free will to tell him."

"To protect me?" Emle asked, hugging Eri to her chest.

"No. Yes." Malachi closed his eyes. "Because I didn't want him angry at you."

"I think it's a little late for that," Emle whispered. "I never should have considered the possibility of bringing Jordan here. Not with the binding's destruction so close. This is my fault, Malachi. And I apologize for hurting you."

Malachi blinked at her. "You did not hurt me." But there were tears in his eyes as he spoke.
Emle glanced down the hallway again. There was a light now, flickering in the library, and she wondered if Gabriel could hear their conversation through the Hunt's bond.

"Are you to stay in human form, then?"

Eri shifted shape. "Mama, I heard--Malachi, are you okay?" She crawled across the floor to him, hesitated, then held out her hand.

After a moment, Malachi took her hand. "Yes."

"Until our Master tells us otherwise," Nathaniel whispered. "Yes." He sat down on the floor beside Malachi, whose eyes had closed again.

Emle squeezed Eri's shoulder and kissed the tears from her daughter's cheeks.

"I'll be right back."

With some trepidation, she crept down the hall until she stood in the doorway of the library. Gabriel stood at the window, staring out at the dark forest, his back straight but his shoulders slumped.

"They are still grieving for Josiah," she said, keeping her voice soft. "And I believe Malachi half-intended to hurt that child, just to save himself from your fury."

"I know." Gabriel's voice shared nothing.

"And this is acceptable? That he was so frightened of you that he considered murdering an innocent child?" Emle's voice rose, despite her efforts. "Perhaps I am not meant to be here after all. I thought--I thought I knew you. But you are not the man I thought I knew."

She wiped the tears from her cheeks and turned away, intending to walk back to the living room where Malachi, Eri, and Nathaniel waited.

"Emle."

"It's late," Emle whispered. "And I am weary. Our daughter is frightened, and thinks this is all her fault. And I do not wish to argue with you."

"Nor I with you," Gabriel said, his voice equally soft. "I--I did not mean for this to happen."

Emle suspected it was probably as close to an apology as she would receive. "No one did," she said. "Malachi least of all."

"The child you mentioned--I know of him," Gabriel said, still facing the window. "Lucas told me he would be living in the forest." He hesitated. "He did not inform me that he would be living in that house."

"Perhaps he doesn't know," Emle suggested.

"He knows." When Gabriel turned around, his eyes had returned to normal. "There is little Lucas doesn't know."

"Jordan was to wait at the house until dawn," Emle said. "After that, he said he would go to another of his safe places."

"Yet you did not tell him where it was you wanted him to stay," Gabriel said softly. "Don't you think he might be a bit--uneasy to stay with the Wild Hunt?"

Emle had not truly thought that far. "Perhaps," she said, allowing him that. "But he's only--"

"Ten years old." Gabriel sighed. "Yes. I know." He hesitated. "Eri is ten years old, and I wouldn't want our daughter living in the forest by herself."

"Perhaps if you have the Hounds look in on him--" That would still not solve the problem of a child living alone in the forest, but at least he would have some small sort of protection.

"No." Gabriel moved away from the window at last, and gathered her into his arms. "You were right, milady. A child should not be living in this forest alone."

Emle's heart leaped. "You--You are going to allow him to come?"

"I'm going to send Malachi to ask him to come," Gabriel said. "If he wants to, of course. I will not force him." He closed his eyes for a moment. "If--If you help me, I will not force anyone ever again."

Emle lay her head against his chest. "You will have to trust my word and listen to me," she said. "And you will have to trust your Hounds."

That would be the hardest part of all, she thought.

"Why did Josiah ask to be a Hound?" It was a blatant change of subject, but Gabriel did not seem to mind.

"He was dying," he whispered. "Starving to death. He'd lost his family in a plague, and he was delirious."

"How old was he?" Emle asked, thinking of Jordan.

"Thirteen." Gabriel hesitated for so long that Emle began to think he would not finish the story. "We came upon him--my Hounds did, at least. But instead of running or begging for his life, he begged me to turn him into a Hound."

"And you did."

"No one had ever asked to become a Hound," Gabriel said. "Of course I did. And he served me well, both in human and Hound form."

"And he ended up having a talent for wizardry." Emle closed her eyes when he stroked her hair.

"And I doomed him by allowing him to study at Darkbrook," Gabriel whispered, stricken. "If I had--"

Emle put one finger against his lips. "Hush. You cannot change what happened, Gabriel."

"I know." He sighed and took her hand in his, then kissed it. "I know. But that does not stop me from trying to prevent such a thing from happening again."

"By tormenting your Hounds?" Emle asked. "By punishing them?" She shook her head. "That is not the way to keep them, Gabriel."

"They cannot leave," Gabriel said. "They cannot escape me. Sometimes--Sometimes the power I hold over them is too much for me to bear."

"Malachi told me that he gave you his life and his loyalty a long time ago," Emle said. "Don't abuse such trust, Gabriel. He is your Hound, yes. They are all your Hounds. But they are alive, and they have wants and needs just like us." She paused, waiting to see if he would reply to that, then asked, "What about the others?"

"I told Malachi that I would allow everyone to shift again as soon as we were free of the Council's binding," Gabriel said. "I shouldn't allow--"

"The Council's binding expires in two weeks," Emle said. "Surely two weeks will not harm anything--will it?"

"Seth, Thomas and Zechariah are hunting for dinner," Gabriel said. "I suppose--I suppose I will allow them to shift as soon as they return." He hesitated. "The others have not been Hounds as long as Malachi and Nathaniel. They were the only survivors of the time before the Council's binding, when the only thing I could obey was Jacob Daulton's order of vengeance."

"Jacob Daulton? That name seems familiar--"

"He used to own the house you visited today," Gabriel said. "He was the last Daulton to live in it. The Council owns it now."

Emle shivered, remembering some of the echoes she'd felt while exploring. "Malachi had said that the man who lived there was not a beautiful man," she said. "I had intended to ask him further questions, but that's when I saw Jordan in one of the upstairs windows. And he--he ran back into the house."

"Yes. I saw all of that from Malachi's memory," Gabriel said. "And I--I overreacted. These past ten years have not been easy for all of us." He kissed her, then, and hugged her before letting her go. "You were right, Emle. It is late. Go to sleep in good conscience. There will be no more punishments tonight. I promise you that."

"Will you talk to Eri?" Emle asked. "She is frightened of what you did to Malachi."

Gabriel sighed. It was not a sigh of resentment, but more of dread, as if he did not relish the questions their daughter would inevitably have.

"She is tired too," Emle said. "Be gentle with her." Struck by a sudden thought, she spoke before she considered the impact of her words. "Perhaps--perhaps it would be easier for you if you treated your Hounds like your children instead of your servants."

For a very long moment, Gabriel did not reply to her outburst. In fact, he stood as if frozen, his gaze far away now, unseeing.

"I am sorry. I spoke out of turn," Emle said.

"No. You spoke the truth." He smiled down at her, but his smile was both troubled and sad. "And perhaps--perhaps that is all I need to do."

She realized then how much of an impossible task that would be for him to accomplish. "It was only a thought," she ventured, half-wishing she had kept her mouth shut.

Gabriel laughed then, an actual laugh, as if he could read her mind. "It was a good thought," he said, and kissed her. "Go to sleep, milady. I will take care of my Hounds and I will speak to our daughter. And no one else will be harmed by me tonight."

Next Update: August 31st

House St. Clair Home

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Heart's Desire, Part 23

Chapter 8

Althea opened her eyes and winced away from the afternoon sunlight. For a long moment she wasn't quite sure what had happened, but then she felt the coldness of the heartblood stone against her skin and knew that something had gone very wrong with her spell.

For ten years she had used it as a staple for her own meager power, supplementing the Council's shared power, which wasn't nearly enough. After the first few years, she had stopped imagining Josiah Hunt in endless torment behind Magdalen's mirror. It was easier on the conscience to believe that there was some other explanation for her talent.

She sat up and had to close her eyes as the room swam around her head. She was in her own living room, at least, so no one could see her moment of weakness. The couch lay to her left, a chair to her right. Squinting against the sunlight, she crawled across the floor and leaned against the couch, fighting against the nausea that threatened to leave her healthy lunch on the carpet instead of in her stomach where it belonged.

Once the room stopped swaying, she pulled the heartblood stone out from beneath her blouse and stared at it in horror. It had been smooth, an organically shaped ruby, uncut and beautiful. Now, thousands of tiny cracks marred its surface--and in places, chunks of the stone had fallen free. She saw them glittering among the carpet fibers now, like fallen stars.

If the backlash from the spell had been that powerful, then she could have died. What had gone wrong?

"Josiah Hunt is dead." Magdalen's voice came from the chair by the fireplace, but at first, Althea could only see the chair. She appeared in pieces like the Cheshire Cat, but she wasn't smiling. "I am sorry that I wasn't able to come earlier to warn you."

Althea scrambled to her feet. "What do you mean he's dead?" she asked. "He was alive a week ago!" She would address Magdalen's obvious dismissal of her wards once she got some answers. "I need his power!"

Magdalen shook her head. "Child, you have not needed his power since the first time you took it. You are much more powerful now than you were before." She held out her hand. "Give me the stone. You have no need of it now."

Without arguing, Althea unclasped the chain and dropped the heartblood stone into Magdalen's outstretched hand. But at her touch, the stone broke into a thousand pieces, tiny razor sharp shards that sliced through Magdalen's skin when she closed her hand around the offering.

"Did you kill him?" Althea asked. "We had an agreement--"

"Don't be silly," Magdalen said, not noticing the blood that dripped down her fingers and onto the carpet. "There's been a--a setback, that's all."

"A setback? With the Hunt free in two weeks?" Althea threw up her hands. "I've been working to hold up my end of our agreement--"

"Our agreement still stands," Magdalen said. "I still want the Hunt."

"And I still haven't found a way to get Gabriel to agree to bind himself to you," Althea said, still angry. "It would help if you--"

"I have a plan," Magdalen interrupted. "You have no need of Josiah's power--not anymore. Use what I have given you, child. That spell is ancient and outdated!"

And convenient, Althea thought, but held her tongue. Magdalen spoke the truth, after all. She had given her a lot more than just that first spell.

She folded her arms, still not ready to forgive Magdalen for Josiah's death. "What is your plan?"

"I need you to kidnap a Hound," Magdalen said. "We will hold it hostage, and Gabriel will do anything we ask."

"He isn't that fond of his Hounds." Althea shook her head. "I've seen him punish them before. He won't agree to bind himself to you for the life of a Hound!"

"Yes he will," Magdalen said. She sounded so certain that Althea stopped and stared at her.

"Why?"

"Because his Hounds are all he has," Magdalen said. "And he will not allow one of them to be tortured to death." She finally smiled, but her smile never reached her eyes. "It is a matter of pride to him, Althea."

"And when you have the Hunt bound to you?" Althea asked. "What then?"

Magdalen's smile widened. "Perhaps I will rule Faerie. And you shall be rewarded for your efforts on my behalf."

"And how am I supposed to kidnap a Hound?" Althea asked, still not convinced.

"Do some research in that library of yours," Magdalen said, standing. "The Hunt has a bond. To break that bond, you have to sacrifice a Hound." She drifted towards the door, even though Althea knew she had not come in that way.

"Sacrifice?" For a moment, Althea had no idea what she was talking about. "I thought you wanted me to kidnap one of them?"

"If you laid hands on a Hound with the bond intact, Gabriel would know in an instant what had happened," Magdalen said slowly, as if speaking to a child. "If you break the bond first, the Hunt will be in chaos, and no one will notice a missing Hound until it's far too late."

The possible backfiring of such a plan had disastrous proportions. "If it doesn't work--if the bond doesn't break, I'll lose everything," Althea said, suddenly cold. "Could we not use a dampening spell?"

Magdalen turned with her hand on the door, ignoring both her questions and her protests. "And if you fail--if the bond doesn't break and the Hunt is freed, then I, too, will lose everything I've worked for, my dear. Don't suppose you are the only one with a stake in this." Her lip curled. "I want the Hunt in chaos. You will have to kill a Hound."

Again, she spoke the truth. And Althea had agreed--ten years ago--to help her achieve her goal. "I never see the Hounds without their Master," she said, her mind already trying to figure out the best way to kill a member of the Wild Hunt.

"Perhaps you need to set a trap of your own," Magdalen suggested. "Gabriel cannot disobey a summons from a member of the Council. Once he is gone, you will have free reign to put our plan into motion."

Althea wondered why it was 'our' plan when she was the one doing all the work. But again, she held her tongue. Magdalen had given her so much. This would repay her tenfold, and eliminate the possibility of a free Hunt roaming the forest in the same breath.

"I don't think I've ever looked for their lair," she murmured. "Lucas would have a map in the library, I'm sure of it."

"You have two weeks," Magdalen said, and opened the front door. "Use your time wisely. And keep me informed. When you have your prisoner, I will return."

She vanished before she reached the porch. Althea started to tweak her wards, then wondered if it was even worth bothering. Magdalen would come and go as she pleased, regardless. And she knew no one else could get inside.

Perhaps it was a leftover result of the gifts she had given Althea over the years. The spells. The knowledge. Althea truly could not repay her in kind, except to do this one little thing.

Kill a Hound, and kidnap another one. It sounded both simple and complicated, which meant that she would have to orchestrate the entire attempt without a single mistake.

She would only have one chance to succeed.



Next update: August 24th

House St. Clair Home

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Heart's Desire, Part 22

Chapter 7

Without Magdalen in residence, her rooms were cold and empty; soulless. Kyren kept his gaze away from her lavish bed--now stripped bare of its silken sheets.

There were signs--here and there--that Amalea's technicians had been hard at work decoding spells and disarming traps. A gaping hole in the floor underneath one of the windows spoke of a success, and an expanse of cracked and broken tile gave mute testimony to a possible failure.

The mirror stood untouched, its gilded beauty mocking what lay behind its glass.

Kyren stared at his reflection for a moment, then tore his gaze away. "There's a--a button on the left-hand side."

"And more than likey a trap, since I doubt she wanted her secret to be discovered," Amalea said darkly. "I've already lost one of my team."

"Lost?" Kyren stared at her, stricken.

Amalea shook her head. "I'd rather not discuss it here. There's too much of Magdalen left here as it is. Since she told you to return here to kill her prisoner, I think, perhaps, you should open the secret door."

"And if she left a trap for me--" Kyren briefly closed his eyes. "Cousin, if she left a trap for me, promise me that you'll open the door regardless."

"I promise," Amalea said, her voice very soft.

It took him a try or two to find the button to press. He closed his eyes when he pressed it, expecting anything but the door to open. It would have been just like Magdalen to tell him to murder her prisoner, and then leave a trap behind that would kill him as well.

But the mirror slid open--whisper-quiet--and the smell of rot and mildew crept into the room.
Amalea hissed a strangled curse and started past him, but Kyren caught her arm just before she stepped into the tiny cell and opened his eyes.

"I'll go in," he said. "You stay out here." The dim figure lying in a corner of the tiny room was barely visible in the sunlight streaming through the windows. "Can you--Can you make me a light?" His throat was too dry to swallow, but he forced himself to anyway and almost choked on the fumes.

Amalea snapped her fingers and cupped her hand around a ball of flame. When she released it, it darted into the room and hovered over the body in the corner.

As far as Kyren remembered, Magdalen's prisoner had not changed positions. He had been lying in the corner three weeks ago, the same rusted shackles hanging from his stick-thin wrists. It was only Magdalen's word that assured Kyren he was well and truly alive then, and he didn't even have that to go on now.

Holding his breath, Kyren stepped over the mirror's frame and into the tiny cell. It only took five steps to reach the corner--and less than a second to determine that despite appearances, Magdalen had not lied.

"He's alive," he said, ignoring the puddles of slimy water to drop to his knees beside the boy. "He's--"

"He hasn't aged," Amalea said from behind him, her voice uncharacteristically grave. "Else Althea was robbing someone's cradle. Let's get him out of here, Kyren."

Without speaking, Kyren gathered the boy into his arms. He weighed almost nothing--a bag of bones--and one of the shackles slipped off his wrist without any resistance at all.

His other hand had been tied shut at one point, but the rope had rotted away long ago. When Kyren lowered him to Magdalen's abandoned bed, Amalea coaxed his clenched and blackened fingers apart.

"An interesting reaction to the spell," she said, and bit her lip as she tried to pry the heartblood stone from the palm of his hand. "It's the conduit, of course, but it also acts as a very powerful shielding spell. And I think someone wanted to find him very badly." She abandoned her efforts--for the moment, at least--and slid the other shackle off his wrist. "Kyren, there's an iron chain around his neck. Can you find something to remove it?"

"Must we stay here to do this?" Kyren shivered. "I realize you will think me even more paranoid, but I can't stop imagining Magdalen's presence in these rooms--" He heard a shiver of a sound behind him and spun around with a yelp.

But it was only the door in the mirror, sliding shut on its own.

"The chain first," Amalea said. "That way, if he has any sort of healing talent, his body will be free to use it to repair some of the damage."

The iron was so brittle that it crumbled at Kyren's touch. He picked up all the pieces he could find and deposited them into the hole in the floor--which vanished as soon as the iron canceled out Magdalen's spell.

"Hmm. Simple, but direct. I wish we'd have thought of that," Amalea said, and smiled at him. "There may be hope for you yet." She smoothed down the boy's tangled hair. "Josiah--if that is your name and you can hear me--you will be safe soon."

She stood, then, and held her hands out above his body. "I'm no Healer, of course, but we may need one if he doesn't wake up." She whispered a spell Kyren didn't know, and a gentle wind swept through the room, removing ten years of dirt and debris from Josiah's body and leaving clean skin and ruined clothing behind.

His hair was blond enough to be yellow, his skin wasted and pale. He looked so impossibly young that Kyren wondered if he didn't have some elvish blood in him. Magdalen would think that fitting, he suspected, if her prisoner was, in fact, a halfblood.

When he slid his arms underneath the boy's body, Josiah jerked awake in an instant, as if the alienness of touch had thrown a switch somewhere inside his mind. He rolled away from Kyren, saw Amalea, and changed direction, scrambling backwards until his back hit the wall behind the bed. Then he stopped, panting, his eyes wide with fright.

Kyren glanced at Amalea for direction, but she seemed as shocked as he was.

"We won't hurt you," he ventured, keeping his voice soft. "We're here to help you."

"Truly, we are," Amalea said. "My name is Amalea, and this is my cousin Kyren."

"Is--Is your name Josiah?" Kyren held out his hand. "Please--we are not here to harm you. I swear it."

Josiah's brow furrowed, as if he did not quite comprehend their words. After a moment of silence, he licked his lips and nodded. He made no move to speak. Was there something--some other spell, perhaps, preventing that? Althea had taken so much away from him already--

Amalea beat him to it. She approached Josiah carefully, as if he were a frightened puppy instead of a--a human shaped boy. With one slim finger, she touched his lips and whispered a spell--and something invisible burst into flames. The flames did not harm him, but he jerked back, hitting his head on the wall.

Kyren winced as Josiah collapsed on the bed, his eyes tightly closed. When he tried to push himself up with his wounded hand, it would not bear his weight.

"Can you speak now?" Amalea asked.

Josiah's cheeks were wet with tears when he raised his head. "Where--" He choked on the rest of his question and curled up on the bed, tucking his wounded hand against his chest.

"You're in Faerie," Amalea said. "In my family's castle. I would like to apologize on behalf of my kin. We did not know you were here."

Josiah's shoulders shook. Kyren wanted to strangle Magdalen--for starters--but he forced his mind to dwell on other things. Like the fact that Amalea had commented on Josiah's wounded hand, that someone had tried very hard to find him.

But would they still be looking, ten years later?

"Amalea, can you get that--that stone off his hand?" His voice was harsher than he intended, but Amalea took no offense.

"I can try again," she said. "But it's fused somehow. I might have to cut it free. And I'd rather do that in a medical setting, just in case there are complications."

"You said that the stone was the conduit for the spell," Kyren said. "Althea could use the spell, still, and--"

"She tricked me." Josiah's voice cracked. "Is--Is she why I am here?" His eyes were blue, Kyren noted. Blue and bloodshot and confused.

"Yes," Kyren said, and found himself close to tears.

"How long--How much time has passed?" Josiah started to shiver then, as if he dreaded the response to his question.

He was so weak; so frail.

"Someone tried to find you," Amalea said when Kyren did not reply. "The spell blocked their searching, but--if you leave this castle without that stone embedded in your hand, would they still be searching for you?"

"I don't know," Josiah whispered. "I'm all alone." He closed his eyes.

"Not anymore," Kyren said fiercely. "You're not alone anymore."

"No." Josiah's voice cracked again. "You don't--you don't understand. I'm all alone in my head. The bond is gone." Tears slipped down his face, but he made no move to wipe them away. "How much time has passed?"

"Were you connected to someone, then?" Amalea asked. "Is that why they tried so hard to find you? Once we get that out of your hand and if you leave the castle, your bond will return, unless it is well and truly broken."

"Ten years," Kyren said.

Josiah opened his eyes. "Ten--" He flinched then, and drew in a sharp breath. The heartblood stone had begun to glow.

"Oh, no," Amalea said, distressed. "No!" She grabbed Josiah's hand as he writhed on the bed, his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw clenched against a scream. "Kyren--a knife! I need a knife--she's using the spell!"

The only knife Kyren had in his possession at the moment was a tiny silver penknife that he used to cut reeds for his instruments. But the second Amalea touched the blade to Josiah's skin, his eyes flew open and he snatched his hand away.

"No!"

"It's a fatal spell, Josiah." Amalea said, practically begging him. "Please don't try to fight it alone. We've removed all the barriers--"

Josiah bared his teeth. "That--" He clenched his wounded hand tight, and the red light spilled from between his fingers. "Is--" He was panting again, his eyes narrowed in concentration. "All I need."

The heartblood stone exploded, leaving a hole in Josiah's hand that quickly filled with blood. He lay still for a long moment, staring up at the ceiling. "I will not stay here."

"That should not have been possible," Amalea murmured.

Kyren risked a glance at Amalea's face. "I daresay that after that you can go anywhere you desire."

Josiah nodded and let his eyes slide shut. He did not protest when Amalea wrapped a strip of cloth around his bleeding hand, nor did he awaken when Kyren carried him out of the room a few minutes later.

"That should not have been possible," Amalea said quietly as soon as they reached her rooms.
"He's had ten years to think up a defense to that spell," Kyren replied. "I imagine Althea's not in a very good mood at the moment." He lay Josiah on the bed he himself had so recently vacated, and stepped back.

"And I can't imagine that no one felt that, if the bond he spoke of still exists," Amalea said, staring down at him. "I'll be right back. Will you stay here with him?"

"Where are you going?" Kyren asked, a little apprehensively.

"To the kitchens, for food," Amalea said. "After a spell like that, he'll want to eat when he wakes up."

"If he wakes up," Kyren murmured.

"As you said, he had ten years to perfect that defense," Amalea replied. "Surely you don't think that in ten years he wouldn't leave himself enough strength to survive that spell's destruction?"



Next Update: August 17th or 18th


House St. Clair Home

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Heart's Desire, Part 21

Chapter 6

Emle watched Sennet until she vanished in the trees. She liked the Healer; but then again, she'd only once met a Healer she did not like. Sennet's personality seemed to combine all the endearing qualities of humans--compassion, kindness, and seriousness--with a willing to use her talent to serve others.

Not that Healers had much of a choice, in truth.

If current events were a bit different, Emle wouldn't have minded to befriend her, just to have someone else to talk to. She turned away from the broken window, expecting to see Malachi behind her, but no one stood under the archway that led into what had once been a lavish room.
She found him in the parlor, sitting in the middle of the floor in a pool of sunshine, surrounded by broken glass from the shattered windows that spanned the room. His eyes were closed; his face turned up towards the sun.

"Can he hear us?"

Without opening his eyes, Malachi shook his head. "He closed the bond as soon as we arrived. He hasn't done that since--" He glanced at her, as if trying to decide how much he should say.

"Since Josiah vanished ten years ago?" Emle perched on the edge of a wobbly chair and let the heat of the sun seep into her bones. "Gabriel told me that much, but I have a feeling he left some of it out."

"He--He did." Malachi stared at her, considering.

"Will you tell me?" She had to ask, despite the fact that she knew he would refuse.

"I--I don't know if my Master wants me to tell you," Malachi said. He opened his eyes and scrambled up, ignoring the glass beneath his feet. "I apologize, milady. I'll take you back now."

"You can call me Emle. And if you'd like to stay here for a little while, I think that will be okay." She could not deny him a moment of peace.

Malachi shook his head. "The longer we stay, the greater the chance for discovery. We should go back." But he made no move to leave.

Emle hesitated. "If he closed the bond, does that mean he won't know what happened here?"

"He can tear it from my mind if he wants to," Malachi said, his gaze hooded now. "And have no doubt he will do just that." He started past her, only stopping when she touched his arm.

"You are part of our family, and you should be allowed to shift shape," she said. "Will he deny you again?"

Malachi bit his lip and glanced down at the floor before replying. "Our Master had his reasons for not allowing us to shift." This time, his hesitation was longer. "As Hounds, we must obey," he whispered. "We have--We have no choice."

"Tell me about Josiah," Emle begged. "Help me understand."

"I can't," Malachi whispered, shaking his head. "Not without our Master's permission." He closed his eyes, then, as if bracing himself for Emle's protest, but she did not pursue it.

"Then let's go home," she said, trying to allay the tension in the room. "And I'll ask Gabriel. I don't want to put you in a position to be punished."

Malachi nodded, a single jerk of his head, and opened his eyes. He stared at the room around him for a moment, then took a shaky breath. "Thank you."

"I should thank you for your company," Emle said. "Gabriel trusts you--"

"No!" Malachi spun around with both hands pressed across his mouth, as if holding back the words that wanted to be spoken.

"He let you come with me," Emle said, confused. "Why--"

Malachi lowered his arms, still facing the wall. "He cannot trust me. I betrayed him." He said this last in a whisper, his voice cracked and broken. "I disobeyed."

"I thought you said you couldn't disobey." Emle glanced outside at the sun, relieved to find that it was still the afternoon and not dusk quite yet. "Surely if he wanted to punish you, he would have already--"

"He promised Lucas I would live," Malachi whispered. "But--but what happens when the Council's binding no longer holds the Master of the Wild Hunt?" He struck the wall with one closed fist, and a shower of plaster fell down from the ceiling.

Emle grabbed his wrist before he could cause an avalanche. "Perhaps it would be wise not to do that again."

Malachi stared at her. There were tears in his eyes--along with a raging storm of emotion that clouded both his judgement and his common sense. If he were any calmer, she wouldn't have been worried, but his arm trembled in her grasp.

"You will not die by Gabriel's hands," Emle said firmly. "If he wanted to kill you, he would have done so, despite his promise to Lucas."

She saw disbelief in his gaze now, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to believe that Gabriel could be so merciful.

"I will fight him for your life if I have to," she said, and realized she meant it.

"You can't mean that," Malachi whispered. "We are his Hounds." He shook his head. "You don't understand."

Emle did not release his arm. "You're right," she said. "I don't understand. But even despite that; you are a member of our family, Malachi. And he will not kill you."

He had regained some of his hard-won calm, but it was a fragile, tenuous thing. "I will try to believe you, milady." He tried to smile, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. "Are you ready to leave?"

Their conversation was not over; only postponed, and Emle knew the subject would come up again. But now--now, they had to return home before Gabriel sent the Hunt out to find them.
"I'm ready," she said, taking one last look around the parlor. "Let's go home."


Malachi made her stay inside the house as he scanned the forest for any sign of trouble. At his signal, she joined him on the porch.

"We're not that far from Darkbrook here. Or the road. Did you see anyone?"

The forest outside was quiet and serene. Birds hunted for grasshoppers in the tall grass, and a hawk flew overhead. It was every bit the epitome of a midsummer afternoon.

"Not a soul. I don't think anyone has been in this house for years." Emle hesitated, wondering if she would open yet another can of worms with this admission. "I--I explored a bit while you were gone."

Malachi choked on a breath and whirled around to face her. "You did what?" He tensed as soon as he spoke. "I apologize. Milady. But Our Master will hold me responsible if you come to harm."

"I walked around," Emle said, embarrassed since he truly did not need to apologize. Gabriel had made him responsible for her safety, and if she had done something stupid, he would have been punished. "I'm fine, Malachi. He said for you to leave me here. Did you think I would content myself to stand in one place and not move a muscle until you returned?"

He flushed. "No, of course not. Did you--did you find anything interesting?"

"Just an echo of old magic," Emle said, glancing back over her shoulder at the house as Malachi led her down the steps. His gallantry was touching, if a bit annoying. Even pregnant, she was not a helpless idiot. "It--" In one of the upstairs windows, a curtain shifted, as if someone on the other side had moved it a little so they could see out. Her voice caught in her throat. "It was a beautiful house in its prime."

"The man who owned it was not a beautiful man," Malachi said, not noticing her lapse. "But you're right. It was a beautiful house."

Emle dared not take her gaze away from the window. As Malachi led her away from the house, the curtain moved away entirely and a figure appeared in the dusty window. A child. She could see that even from here. A human child.

"What are you--" Malachi turned to look and the child froze, his mouth a perfect 'o'. And then, in a rush, the boy vanished from the window, leaving the curtain rocking against the glass.

"Malachi, it's only a child," Emle said, somehow convinced that he would rush back to the house and attack the boy to escape Gabriel's punishment.

He was immobile beside her, his body frozen in place as if he could not quite believe what he had seen. As far as she could tell, he wasn't even breathing.

"Malachi?" She took his arm.

There were tears in his eyes when he turned to look at her. "I did not come here to die," he whispered. "But our Master will murder me if we were seen."

Before she could stop him, he abandoned her and fled into the house.

"Malachi, wait!" Emle started after him, clutching the folds of her skirt in one hand. Peversely, she envied Sennet and her comfortable pants. Her skirt snagged on a nail on the steps, and the heavy fabric tore when she pulled it free.

The baby enjoyed this exercise--she kicked right under Emle's cushioning hand as she hurried through the front door again and looked for Malachi. Something crashed above her on the second floor. Emle ran towards the stairs as chunks of plaster fell from the ceiling. One glanced off her shoulder. Another hit her head hard enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Someone shouted up above, and a horrendous crash threw up even more dust--but from the back of the house. Coughing, Emle hurried down the hallway towards the kitchen, where a door she had noticed in her previous wanderings now stood open.

The boy from the window had just managed to stagger to his feet when she appeared in the doorway. He twirled around, his eyes wide, as Malachi descended the last few steps at a run.
"Wait," Emle said, holding out her hands. "Wait, please. We're not going to hurt you."

Malachi stopped and stared at her, his eyes as wide as the boy's. She could hear his harsh breathing in the dusty air, and see the tracks of tears on his cheeks. "Milady--"

"Malachi, we have no reason to hurt this child." Emle wondered if Gabriel would truly force him to do something so terrible.

The boy had backed away as they spoke, inching towards the kitchen door. He wore an eyepatch over one eye, and his dusky skin was covered with dust. His clothes were worn, but well-mended, his hair in need of a cut.

As far as Emle could tell, he was well and truly human.

"All we need is your promise that you won't tell anyone you saw us here," Emle said to him, keeping her voice low and calm.

"Milady--" Malachi's voice broke. "If he finds out what you have done--what we have done--"

"What did you intend to do, kill him?" Emle asked bluntly.

Malachi flinched. "No. No, of course not. I--" He sank down on the last step and put his head in his hands.

"I won't tell anyone," the boy said quickly.

"If someone comes here after us, looking for us--if someone saw us in the forest, would you be able to withstand them?" Malachi asked. "I have my doubts of that."

The boy stared at him for a long moment. "I won't be here. I have other--I will gather my things and go elsewhere."

"You live here?" Emle stared at him. "But you--how old are you, child?"

"My name is Jordan," the boy whispered. "And I'll be--I'll be eleven next month."

"And the Council allows you to live in the forest by yourself?" Malachi stared at him, shocked. "There are--" He glanced at Emle. "There are those in the forest who would eat you for breakfast, Jordan."

"I'm not afraid of the Wild Hunt," Jordan said.

Emle didn't dare look at Malachi for fear of bursting into helpless laughter. "You are not? Why not? Most people are."

"Lucas told me that they wouldn't hurt me, and that if I saw a Hound, I should just turn around and walk the other way."

It was the strange logic of a child, but Emle could not fault Lucas' recommendation.

"Perhaps he was correct," she said. "But still, you are only a child. Why aren't you with your family?"

Jordan turned away from her and wrapped his arms around his middle. "I don't have a family," he whispered. "And I can't live in town. Lucas told me about this house. He said I'd be safe here."

"I know who you are," Malachi said, breaking his silence. "I remember--I heard someone talking about you. You--You can read minds." His voice cracked.

"Not yours," Jordan said quickly, as if he expected them to flee. "And I can't control it. I--That's why I'm here. The Council can't help me."

He put on a brave face, but Emle sensed a surge of pain through his words. As if he believed the Council had done everything they could, but in the same breath, he thought they had given up far too quickly.

Malachi exhaled. "At least there's that," he said. "Perhaps I won't die today."

"Why should you die at all?" Emle asked. "It's obvious--" She had to stop herself from speaking Gabriel's name. "It's obvious he didn't know Jordan was living here. Or else he would have told us to meet Sennet somewhere else."

"I can't read her thoughts either," Jordan whispered. "But I--I can read the Council's thoughts. That's one of the reasons why--"

"They don't want you around," Malachi said.

"Yes."

Emle smiled at him. "Well, I still think it's not right that you have to live like this," she said. "Malachi, can I speak with you for a moment? Jordan, will you promise not to run away?"

"I promise," Jordan said, and sat down against the wall.

Malachi joined her in the hallway, his face full of foreboding. "I know what you're going to say," he said before she could speak. "And while I think it's a noble thought, I don't believe our Master will allow what you wish to happen."

"It wouldn't hurt to ask," Emle protested. "He's only ten! A child! Living out in the forest by himself!"

"We can't bring him back with us," Malachi said a little wildly. "Not if you don't want to push our Master to fury. You've never angered him, milady. You wouldn't know."

Emle hesitated. His words rang true. And what if Gabriel drove her out--or worse--for wanting to help him? "You're right, of course," she said, suddenly weary. "And you've been a Hound far longer than I've been your Master's lady. I will defer to your judgement on this, Malachi. If you don't think we should proceed, then I all I will request is that you check on Jordan from time to time. A child should not be living in the forest alone."

Malachi closed his eyes, as if he did not want the responsibility of the decision. But instead of denying it, he sighed. "I think--I think if he agrees to your request, then he might--he might just allow us to keep our human forms. Milady."

"Then I will make my request," Emle said. "Will he pull the information from your mind before we return?"

"I have no way of knowing," Malachi said. "If he does, then I will die." He stared at her, his gaze bleak. "You will have to tread carefully when we return."

"Then let's see if Jordan will stay here until we send word," Emle said, trying to push away her apprehension. She did not want to put Malachi at risk, but she had to try. And the Hunt's house in Faerie would be a perfectly secure place for a child to be comfortable. Especially a child as unique as Jordan. He was just a little older than Eri, after all. Surely Gabriel would see that--
When they returned to the kitchen, Jordan was in the process of removing a cache of canned goods from the ancient refridgerator. He turned at their approach and dropped a jar of peanut butter on the floor.

It rolled to a stop at Malachi's feet.

"You shouldn't have to leave because of us," Malachi whispered, bending to pick up the jar.

Jordan shrugged. "I'm used to moving around."

"A resourceful boy such as yourself must have many places to hide in the forest," Emle said, struggling to keep her voice light. "What would you say if I told you we may be able to find you someplace safe to sleep every night?"

"I apologize, ma'am, but I would say that you must be dreaming." Jordan spoke without a single ounce of emotion in his voice. "I have a wild talent. No one wants me around."

Emle's heart ached at his words. They were--undoubtedly--true, but even someone with such a wild talent deserved a bit of friendship. "Will you stay here for a little longer? If I can, I will send Malachi back to tell you of my--my husband's decision."

Husband was as good as a word as any.

"But what if someone saw you in the forest?" Jordan asked, glancing at Malachi. "Are you in trouble?"

The obvious response would be for Malachi to stay here with Jordan, and allow Emle to return on her own, but she knew he would never agree to that.

"What if--"

"No," Malachi said, as if he had read her mind. "I am fairly certain no one saw us. And if they did, I would not have been able to hide us from their presence anyway." He took a deep breath. "Jordan, if you decide to stay and await my return, please don't show yourself to anyone."

"If the person you're so afraid of is a wizard, I might not be able to hide from them," Jordan said with the wisdom of the obvious.

"The person I'm afraid of is my Master," Malachi whispered.

Jordan glanced at Emle. "Your husband?"

"Yes," Emle said, and wondered if they had lost him. She could not force him to go back with them, after all, and what would he say once he realized where they were going? There was no easy way to tell someone that the WIld Hunt had room to spare for a homeless human child.
"I'd rather not, then," Jordan said. "He doesn't sound like he's a very nice person if Malachi's so afraid of him." He smiled at Emle. "Thank you for the offer, though. I'm sure I'll be fine."

Malachi handed him the jar of peanut butter. "I truly don't think he would harm you."

"But he will harm you, if he finds out I saw you here?" Jordan asked quietly. "Even though it wasn't your fault?"

"It would be my fault, despite what you believe," Malachi said. "I apologize for chasing you. I--I overreacted."

"What if I--" Jordan but his lip and glanced at the floor. "Could I come with you and explain that you couldn't have known I would be here?"

It was a very brave offer, but Emle imagined Gabriel's reaction and shook her head. "I will explain and send Malachi back to fetch you. Please?"

"What if he doesn't come?" Jordan asked. "Should I--Should I stay here?"

Malachi glanced out the window. "If I do not return by dawn, then go to one of your safe places." He hesitated, then glanced at Emle. "We should go. Now."

Far too much time had passed. The shadows had lengthened beneath the trees. Gabriel would worry, and every second they remained in the house meant that he could very easily open the bond and know everything that had happened before she had a chance to explain.

"Jordan?"

Jordan hesitated. "Until dawn," he finally agreed. "But after that, I'm leaving."

"Thank you," Emle said, and turned to follow Malachi out the door.



Next Update: August 10th




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