My lord--
Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "Shift, then," he said, struggling to keep hold of his temper. "Since it's quite obvious you've been shifting behind my back all along."
Malachi ducked his head, still quivering. My lord--
"Shift," Gabriel said from between clenched teeth.
It was only a small change. A sharpness in the bond between them, and not something Gabriel would normally notice.
Malachi stayed on his knees, his gaze downcast, every muscle in his body taut with tension.
"I did not mean to deceive you, my lord." He whispered the words, not daring to raise his voice. "The first time it happened was an accident. After that--I am sorry, my lord, but I could not resist."
Gabriel did not reply. He could not reply. If he opened his mouth, his fury would escape, and the Council's cursed binding did not forbid him to punish a Hound.
"I have been very cautious, my lord," Malachi whispered. "I swear--"
And he probably could have passed for a human if someone had seen him, Gabriel thought. He wore modern enough clothes--a cotton shirt and faded jeans--and he had cut his hair. There were scars on his pale arms and smudges of blood on his skin, though. But who would have noticed that?
"How many of the others can also shift shape?" Gabriel asked after a moment more of silence.
He thought he kept his voice neutral, but Malachi tensed even further, if such a thing were possible. And although he glanced towards the door, either hoping for deliverance or wishing for freedom, he did not reply.
"Malachi, do not lie to me," Gabriel let a thread of anger into his voice.
Malachi flinched and covered his face with his hands. "Please, my lord--"
With a considering glance at the sleeping girl, Gabriel walked out of the room and down the hall. The other Hounds waited in the main room--what would become the living room in a normal style house.
He stood and stared at them for a moment, trying to decide if they all were avoiding his gaze or if they merely wanted no part of this argument.
And then, without speaking, he summoned Malachi.
As soon as his Hound stood in the doorway, his eyes tightly closed, Gabriel faced the others again.
"I could force you to punish him for insubordination," he said quietly. "I could force you to Hunt one of your own."
He grabbed the front of Malachi's shirt and pulled him into the room. When Gabriel released him, Malachi lost his balance and fell amid the Hounds, where he rolled into a ball as if he expected to be bitten, his arms covering his head.
"How many more of you can shift?" Gabriel asked harshly, his fury finally released.
In reply, Nathaniel and Josiah shifted shape and knelt on the floor, their heads bowed. The other Hounds backed away, self-preservation overriding their curiosity.
How many years had it been since he'd seen their faces as humans? Josiah had been the youngest person he'd ever made into a Hound, and while he looked much cleaner now, he had not aged.
Nathaniel was a little older than Malachi, if Gabriel remembered aright, but he had not changed either.
"No more?" Gabriel asked, and wondered why the others hadn't joined in the deception.
"This is my fault," Malachi whispered, not daring to move. "I taught them how to shift shape. But I couldn't--the others are just Hounds. I couldn't--" He hesitated, and Gabriel saw the barest flicker of his eyelids as he tried to gauge his Master's mood. "I am sorry, my lord."
"Did she eat?" Gabriel asked, because he couldn't think of anything else to say. Everything else was to incinerating; too prone to fuel his fury.
Clearly, Malachi had expected to hear something else entirely. He uncovered his head and straightened a little, suspicion warring with wariness in his gaze.
"She ate canned fruit and a sliver of cheese before you returned," he said. "My lord."
Gabriel heard the faintest thread of hope in his voice--that he would not be punished; that his Master would allow them their human forms.
After all, if he managed to form wards around the house to keep the elves--and other curious onlookers--at bay, was there any real reason not to allow them to shift?
His first impulse was to punish them, but it was far too late for that. If he had discovered this earlier, perhaps; if he hadn't been so certain of his control over his Hounds--
"She did not wake up," Malachi whispered, trying his best to smooth things over. "So she does not--and will not--know." He hesitated. "I am--"
"I know," Gabriel said. "You are sorry. You've said that before."
The hope died in Malachi's gaze. Tears quivered on his lashes now, and though he tried his best to blink them away, he could not help their fall.
"If we are to stay here, then perhaps I should allow you your human forms," Gabriel said, ignoring his distress. "But you are not to show yourselves to anyone, and least of all our guest. Do you understand?"
Wide-eyed, Josiah met his gaze. "My lord, does that mean--"
"I give you leave to shift," Gabriel said, but felt no comfort when he saw the shocked surprise on their faces. "You should have asked me. Perhaps I would have agreed sooner."
Perhaps he wouldn't have. It was difficult to tell.
"Thank you, my lord." Nathaniel spoke for the first time. "We will--We will not disappoint you."
Gabriel nodded in response and glanced at his other Hounds. Was this the reason for Zechariah's anger? "I believe she might eat more, Malachi. But be ready to shift if she awakens."
"Yes, my lord," Malachi whispered.
"Since you took it upon yourself, she will be under your care," Gabriel said. "You are not to leave her side, save to fetch more food or anything she might need when she awakens."
"Yes, my lord."
"Go."
Malachi fled, as if he dared not stay for fear that Gabriel would change his mind.
"There is a body in the dungeons," Gabriel said to Nathaniel. "Bury it in the garden. I have my doubts we will find his kin."
Two of the other Hounds vanished through the open doorway to dig the grave. Nathaniel did not argue, but stiffly rose to his feet and followed Malachi down the hall.
Gabriel sent the remaining Hound to guard the cave entrance, leaving him alone with Josiah, who had not moved past that first, shocked exclamation.
In fact, even after receiving Gabriel's permission to shift, he seemed uneasy and anxious, his hands clenched at his sides and his knuckles white.
Gabriel could only think of one reason that he would be so frightened. "Who saw you?"
Josiah flinched. "There is--There is more, my lord."
"More?" Gabriel tried to imagine what the Council would do if they knew his Hunt could shift shape. Would they try to take them away? Free his Hounds? "Let me rephrase that question. Does anyone know you're a Hound?"
Josiah started to shake his head--an automatic reaction, Gabriel thought. But then he hesitated, slowly rose to his feet, and extended his hands out in front of his body. Concentrating.
For a moment, nothing happened, and then the space between his hands glowed with a bright flash of blue light.
"No," he said, his voice a bit stronger. "My wards are still in place. No one knows--or suspects--I am a Hound."
Gabriel blinked at this new development, but was careful not to let his surprise show. "Your wards?"
Josiah kept his gaze on the floor. "Yes. My wards."
"Who saw you?" Or, perhaps-- "Where have you been in human form?"
Josiah quivered. "I've been to Darkbrook," he whispered, tensing for a blow. "To the library. No one--no one notices m-me. And I can--I can read--"
"About magic," Gabriel said.
Josiah fell to his knees. "Please, my lord--I did not want--" his voice cracked. "I was afraid that you would be angry."
"You were afraid that I would refuse you the use of your talent," Gabriel said, surprised that he was still able to keep his voice so calm.
Perhaps it was because Josiah was his youngest Hound. Perhaps it was that Josiah was the only person to ever actually beg to become a Hound. Whatever the reason, Gabriel could not bring himself to punish him.
His talent could be useful, after all.
Josiah twisted his hands together. "I--Yes," he whispered. "Yes."
"You can create wards?"
"Yes, my lord." Josiah risked a glance at Gabriel's face. He must have liked what he saw, because he did not hesitate to continue. "I--I have used them before, to protect our sleeping places. I could create more for the house. If that is what you wish for me to do, my lord."
"That is what I wish for you to do," Gabriel said. "Around the perimeter of the garden, if you please, and take care not to be seen."
"Yes, my lord." Josiah's lips twitched in what might have been a smile.
Zechariah and Thomas returned from their digging just as Josiah left the room. Again, Gabriel saw the anger in Zechariah's gaze--jealousy, he realized.
He called Seth inside and regarded his remaining three Hounds.
"I do believe Malachi did his best to try to allow you to shift," he said.
Not hard enough, Zechariah said through the bond.
"I don't think he could have figured it out," Gabriel continued, ignoring Zechariah's venom. "I am your Master, after all."
You are their Master as well, Seth said, a kernel of hope trickling through the bond.
"Yes, but they gave me their lives and their loyalties freely, and you did not," Gabriel said. "I will not condone how you became my Hounds--at least not anymore. But I would ask for your loyalty."
Zechariah whined. We are your Hounds, my lord.
And it was true that they could not disobey him, at least as Hounds. They had every ability to argue with him as humans, but could they disobey?
He did not wish to be forced to police their every thought and action while in human form. He would--He would have to trust them.
"There is no turning back," he said. "Either I have your loyalty and you keep your human forms, or you remain Hounds. So as long as you abide by the rules I gave the others, I will allow you to shift."
You never asked before, Thomas said, breaking his long silence at last.
"I am asking now," Gabriel said. "Make your decision--but take your time to make it. We are in no hurry to leave here."
Please, my lord. Zechariah spoke first. Please.
"Once you've made your decision," he said to the others, "Come and see me in the library." He turned away from Seth and Thomas and walked with Zechariah down the hall.
As soon as they were alone in the library, Gabriel turned to face his Hound.
"Nothing else will change, you realize. You are still my Hound, no matter what shape you wear."
Yes, my lord, Zechariah said.
Gabriel touched his forehead, concentrated, and let him shift shape.
Zechariah collapsed, his eyes tightly closed, his cheeks wet with sudden tears.
What clothes he wore were rags, barely recognizable as clothing from an earlier era. His feet were bare, his hair a long and tangled mess.
"I will find you clothing," Gabriel said, strangely guilty to see one of his Hounds so vulnerable.
Zechariah gasped in a watery breath. "Thank you, my lord."
"Stay here."
Gabriel had noticed the closets in each bedroom, but had not explored their contents as of yet. If there were no suitable clothes left from the sorcerer's reign, then he would send Nathaniel, perhaps, into the human world to find something that would do.
In the first bedroom, the closet was empty except for a feathered cloak--white feathers, like the one he had found in the dungeon. It was far too pretentious for anyone to actually wear, and for a moment, Gabriel sympathized with the swans--for surely they were swan feathers--that had died to make such a monstrosity.
Perhaps he would bury it as well, just to rid the house of their memory.
In the second bedroom, he found clothing--nothing modern, of course, but shirts and breeches that looked like they would fit Zechariah and the others--if the others decided to shift. And since he had searched two closets, he decided that he might as well search the third as well, and check on the girl from the dungeon.
Not that he didn't trust Malachi, of course. But he had a responsibility to her as well, and he could not seem to banish the fear in her gaze--and her beauty--from his mind.
When he entered the room, Malachi jumped and panicked, almost sliding off the bed in his haste to rise.
"Stay where you are," Gabriel said, keeping his voice low. "I only wanted to see that she was well." He set the pile of clothing on the end of the bed. "I was looking for clothing for Zechariah."
Warily, Malachi set the plate of fruit on the edge of the bed. He had cleaned up the mess--Gabriel saw a small pile of garbage pushed against one wall.
"What about the others?" He flinched as he spoke, as if he expected to be punished just for speaking.
"They have not yet decided to give me their loyalty freely," Gabriel said. "And I refuse to force a human form on anyone." He focused his attention on the girl's lovely face. "She has eaten more?"
"More fruit," Malachi said. He did not seem to fear speaking about her; indeed, he relaxed a little as he spoke. "But she hasn't--"
The girl opened her eyes. In an instant, Malachi was a Hound, as if he had practiced quickly shifting shape.
"Take the clothes to Zechariah," Gabriel said quietly. "I'll stay here with her."
The light seemed to hurt her eyes--she squinted, at least, as she stared at him--but Gabriel had no idea how to regulate it. "I am sorry," he said. "I would leave this room in darkness, but the spell is not mine."
When she did not reply, he picked up the plate Malachi had discarded. "Would you like more to eat?"
Hesitantly, she nodded, still silent.
Gabriel held out his hand, not wanting to frighten her. After a moment's hesitation, she placed her hand in his and he helped her sit up. "My name is Gabriel. My Hunt and I killed the troll who had taken this house as its lair, and I found you in a cell in the basement."
He helped her choose a piece of fruit, and watched as she ate it on her own. Still silent. Would she ever speak?
She licked her lips. "Your--Hunt?" Her voice was soft, and hesitant, but just as lovely as her face.
"Yes." He waited, then, for the inevitable fear to appear in her gaze, or hysterics, or worse. But she only picked up another piece of fruit--a chunk of strawberry--and ate it in silence.
"I--I have heard of you, I think." Tears trembled on her eyelashes. "The--The Wild Hunt?"
"Yes. But I only wish to see you well," Gabriel said. "Nothing more than that. I did not expect to find you here." Behind him, he heard Malachi enter the room again, and sit near the foot of the bed.
He could not leave Zechariah alone for long.
Did you tell Zechariah that she woke up? He asked through the bond.
Of course, Malachi replied. And Seth and Thomas are waiting for you in the library.
"I--" The tears spilled down her cheeks. "I am lax in my manners, then. My name is Emle. You said--a troll was here? What happened to--" She frowned. "Did you find anyone else?"
Her voice faded a bit, and Gabriel helped her sit back against the headboard and lean against a pillow.
"We found a body in another cell," Gabriel said. "But I do not know what happened to the sorcerer who lived here before."
"The sorcerer--" Emle closed her eyes. "He was--he was human."
"Here in Faerie?" There weren't many humans in Faerie. The elves did not look kindly on interlopers. "The elf I spoke to said he was a shapeshifter."
She shook her head and turned her face away. "He wanted to be a shapeshifter. He--"
Gabriel did not wish to cause her unnecessary distress. "You are safe from him now," he said. "Rest, and regain your strength."
"And then?" Her voice cracked.
"And then you may do as you wish," Gabriel said. "I am certainly not going to keep you here. But I do not wish you to leave until you are recovered." He hesitated, and wondered if his next question would be met with more tears. "Do you have family my Hunt can contact for you?"
"I do not know," Emle whispered, her face still turned away. "But I--I thank you for your kindness."
"I will leave one of my Hounds here with you," Gabriel said, standing. "And he will contact me if you need anything."
He opened the closet before he left, but this one was just as empty as the first, save for a length of moth-eaten wolfskin lying in a pile on the ground.
"I will be in the library," Gabriel said to Malachi.
I will stay here, my lord. Malachi settled down beside the bed and laid his head on his paws.
Gabriel had never been one to collect human weapons or tools, but he needed a pair of scissors now. He found Nathaniel waiting in the living room in human form, struggling to clean the dirt from his hands without anything to wash them with. There was a sink in the kitchen, but no guarantee that it still worked after all these years.
"If we are to stay here, we'll need supplies," Gabriel said before he could speak. "But test the water first. When Josiah is finished, will you go with him? Whatever you think we may need, and what you can comfortably carry?"
"Of course," Nathaniel said. "Is--Did the others--"
"Zechariah is in human form," Gabriel said, and walked through the drying blood to get to the kitchen. "The others will be soon enough. But I need a pair of scissors."
Now that Emle had told him the sorcerer had been human, Gabriel saw signs of a human's presence in the kitchen, at least. He doubted the sorcerer had built this house, but he had definitely left his mark on the kitchen.
The troll had largely ignored this room. There were dishes in the cupboards--no doubt where Malachi had found the plates for Emle's food--and cutlery in a drawer, including a pair of scissors.
When he walked back into the living room, he saw a girl standing just beyond the confines of the garden--a black-haired, brown-skinned faerie child.
"Shift," Gabriel said to Nathaniel. "We have company." He did not wait to see if his Hound obeyed, but stepped outside.
Josiah had already shifted shape. I am finished, my lord, and just in time, it seems. The wards will allow us to pass without incident. And you can allow others inside, if you wish.
Gabriel nodded and walked to the edge of the wards. He felt just a tiny pull of their presence when he stepped through them to face the girl.
"I am here for your boon," she said simply.
"You are a brownie?" He had expected someone older, at least from folklore.
She grinned at him, her teeth blinding white, and gave him a little bow. She wore next to nothing; a thin shirt and ragged pants, and her hair was a mass of tangles. "I am. Meg O'Banion, at your service."
Gabriel realized he still held the scissors in one hand. Without being obvious about it, he tucked them into his pocket. "Then follow me. Did Amalea warn you of the mess?"
"I have cleaned battlefields," Meg said, serious now. "This will not take me long."
And yet, when she stepped through the door, her mouth tightened. "There was much suffering here." She glanced at Nathaniel, who sat quietly in the corner of the room, his feet still dirty. "Not just the troll."
"There was a sorcerer here before," Gabriel said.
Her gaze was still on Nathaniel. "Yes. I know of him." She glanced at Gabriel. "That's not all."
Could she tell--? "My Hounds and I had a--disagreement, earlier," Gabriel said. "There was no blood shed. And we are now at peace." Or as close as the Wild Hunt could ever be at peace.
Meg nodded, apparently satisfied, then shooed him away. "Leave me alone to work for a little while. I will send one of your Hounds to tell you when I am finished."
"Very well," Gabriel said. "I will be in the library." He hesitated in the doorway, and caught Nathaniel's eye. If you want to stay, feel free. But don't get in her way.
Yes, my lord.
Josiah seemed satisfied to stay in the garden for the time being, so Gabriel opened the library door and stepped inside.
Zechariah had managed to shed his old clothes and put on the new ones, which helped his appearance quite a bit. Thomas and Seth sat beside him, waiting patiently.
"I found a pair of scissors," Gabriel said, setting them on the library table. "But first--Thomas? Seth?"
We are your Hounds, Thomas said, and a moment later, Seth echoed his words.
"Very well," Gabriel said, and touched their foreheads, releasing the constraints he had put upon his newer Hounds.
Zechariah watched in silence as they shifted shape, their bodies twisting through the change. Gabriel left them to compose themselves--with a surge of guilt that he had not asked them for their loyalty before now--and motioned to Zechariah.
His Hound slowly rose to his feet and took a few tottering steps towards the library table. Without speaking, Gabriel had him sit down on the hard wooden chair. It would have been nice to find a comb with the scissors, but he would leave that until the Hunt procured some additional supplies.
Gently, so as not to startle him, Gabriel combed out his hair with his fingers, then cut the long, tangled locks until Zechariah looked more like a Hound and less like a madman. He could not complicate the cut with an old pair of scissors, so he kept it simple, cutting it just below his ears.
When he was finished, Zechariah ran one hand through his hair and shuddered.
"I will have to ask you to stay here for a while," Gabriel said. "The brownie is cleaning the rest of the house."
Zechariah nodded and sat for a moment with his eyes closed. "Can I--" He swallowed hard. "Could I--" May I have something to eat, my lord?
"All we have is fruit and some cheese, perhaps, if Emle hasn't eaten it all." Gabriel said. "I will find something after I take care of Seth and Thomas."
Zechariah nodded jerkily and levered himself out of the chair. "Thank you, my lord."
Seth was curled up on the floor, his eyes tightly closed, shivering uncontrollably. Thomas sat near him, his eyes also closed, but he opened them when Gabriel approached.
"Seth?"
I remember things I had forgotten, Thomas said through the bond.
Gabriel nodded, but that didn't explain Seth's reaction at all. Unless he had remembered something best left forgotten.
Seth was, after all, only a little older than Josiah.
"There are clothes for you on the table," Gabriel said to Thomas. "Change your clothes and wait for me. I'll cut your hair."
Seth, you are my Hound. He had torn them away from everything they had known and forced them to serve him for over eighty years. Without any thought or care for their well-being, other than that they lived while the others died. I am sorry to cause you such distress.
Seth drew in a strangled breath. My lord--I don't know what to do.
"Breathe," Gabriel said aloud, aware of the others behind him. He knelt down and gathered Seth up into his arms. "Breathe."
He should have expected that one of them would react like this. Thomas and Zechariah were older, of course, but even they seemed a bit shell-shocked after the transition.
Seth clung to Gabriel until he came to his senses, still shivering, but not as badly now. I am sorry, my lord.
"No. It is I who should be sorry," Gabriel said aloud. "I forced you into this--and it is something I cannot undo. You are still my Hound. But you need not remain in the form of a Hound for the rest of eternity."
With that said, he carried Seth over to the chair, lowered him down, and carefully cut his coal black hair until he could have passed for at least a semi-presentable human. Then he cut Thomas' hair as well, fearful that the brownie would not keep her promise to not stray past the library door.
"Stay here," he told them, and stepped out into the hall.
Meg O'Banion stood five feet away, frowning. "I am finished with the worst of the carnage," she said. "But there is still suffering here. Are you certain you won't allow me to go any farther?"
"I am certain that I do not wish to be beholden to you," Gabriel said. "We have only just arrived. I am certain there is more here, hidden, and it will take me weeks to find it all."
Meg cocked her head, studying him. "It would take me half an hour to find the parts and pieces that should be cleansed," she said. "My people don't only clean surfaces, you realize."
As Gabriel stared past her at the living room, he did realize what she meant. The room itself seemed--not only larger, but filled with late afternoon sunlight that softened the stone's cold edges. "I see that," he said, and wondered what she would say about Emle. "But I still do not wish--"
"My people also cannot leave a job unfinished," Meg said. "It's a failing of ours, really, because it has gotten us into much trouble over the years." This time, her smile was quick and fleeting. "I would do it only because that which once was is no more, and this house deserves a better Master."
Gabriel raised an eyebrow at that. "I am the Master of the Wild Hunt, you realize. And I have Hunted your people before."
"Yes." Meg stood still and cocked her head, as if listening to some faraway voice. "I will not proceed without your acquiescence. But if the house is not cleansed of sorrow, the cycle might continue. Your Hunt could very well be destroyed, or fall into madness like the sorcerer who lived here before."
It was not a threat, but she spoke very seriously, trying to convince him of the possible danger.
"Very well," Gabriel said. She could cleanse the dungeon, and then he would brick up the door and never open it again. "Follow me. I will show you what I found."
He led her down the stairs and into the darkness beyond, surprised that she did not balk at following him. She was almost as disconcerting as Amalea in that respect, without a single shred of fear in his presence.
Meg stood in the dungeon for a moment, her eyes closed. "Yes. This is what I felt."
"Shall I leave you alone, then?" Gabriel asked. "One of my Hounds has buried the body we found here this morning."
"Good." She walked down the corridor, her hands out to touch either side of the wall. And as she passed, something--something changed. The air itself seemed lighter, somehow, as if the morass of hopelessness had finally lifted.
She lingered longest over the last cell, vanishing into its depths for what seemed like a long, long time.
Since she hadn't told him to leave, Gabriel waited, keeping tabs on his Hounds through the bond. He would have to find something for Zechariah to eat after Meg's departure. And then, perhaps, they would not be interrupted for the rest of the night. The calm in the dungeon was so complete that Gabriel leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.
"Where is she?" Meg whispered, her voice carrying in the silence.
Gabriel opened his eyes. Meg stood near the first cell, holding the white swan feather he had found in the alcove.
"Where is she?" she asked again.
For a moment, Gabriel considered refusing to reply, but he truly did not want to keep Emle a prisoner. He would allow her to leave once she recovered her strength, just as he had said.
"Upstairs, in one of the bedrooms," he said, warning Malachi through the bond of their imminent arrival. "One of my Hounds brought her some food from the human world. She has been resting, but I have spoken to her."
"Will you permit me to see her?" Meg asked.
"I do not wish her harmed," Gabriel said. "And to take her away from here--" he hesitated. "She is weak. She will recover, but she needs her rest."
"I have no intention of harming her," Meg said softly. She still held the feather in her hand. "But there was much sorrow here. Let me see her. Please."
Did he truly have a choice? If he refused, Gabriel had no doubt she would insist, and he did not wish to hurt her, either. "Very well," he said, retreating into his habitual response. "Follow me."
She followed him back up the stairs and to the bedroom, where Emle still lay asleep, and Malachi waited for them beside the bed.
Despite Gabriel's fears, Meg made no mention of the half-eaten plate of food. She crossed to the bed, took Emle's hand, and murmured something too low for Gabriel to hear.
Whatever she said must have helped, because Emle's face subtly brightened. But she did not awaken.
"Have you found her skin yet?" Meg glanced back at Gabriel, her dark eyes stormy.
"Her skin?"
"She was not born in this shape," Meg said, and released Emle's hand. "She might tell you, perhaps, but it would be best if you found it and offered it to her first. It would be a gesture of goodwill."
"I will do my best to look," Gabriel said, thinking of the wolf skin he had found in the closet. "There may well be more hidden places in this house."
Meg nodded. "The sorcerer who lived here before--he wanted to be a shapeshifter."
"That is what Emle said," Gabriel said. "That he wanted to be a shapeshifter."
"That body in the dungeon--"
"The boy, yes."
"He wore the skin of a wolf," Meg said. "Not as a werewolf, but as someone would wear a piece of clothing."
Gabriel crossed to the closet, opened the door, and pulled out the moth eaten wolf skin. "This?"
It was even more distressing to realize that a human sorcerer had been allowed to do such a thing. Why hadn't the elves--or the Council--acted?
"It may well be," Meg replied. "Search thoroughly, and don't hesitate to give it back to her."
"I won't." It was as close to a promise as Gabriel could give, especially since he had no idea what kind of skin to look for.
For all he knew, she could be a dragon, or a selkie, or a--a swan.
But surely the cloak in the other closet had been made from more than one swan and not just Emle. Surely.
By the time Meg left, it was full dark, and the shadows under the trees stretched past Josiah's wards and into the garden, turning the lump of stone into a surrealistic sculpture. Gabriel stood in the doorway for a moment after she vanished into the forest and stared out at the unfamiliar landscape.
At times, he preferred the Human Realm, since he had lived in those forests for more than eighty years. But there was a silence in Faerie that the Human Realm could not replicate; a vast silence that soothed his soul.
A footstep behind him announced Josiah, and as Gabriel turned to regard his youngest Hound, he saw that Nathaniel had shifted shape as well.
The others were still in the library, waiting for word that it was safe.
"Nathaniel, the others are in the library. Will you tell them that it's safe to come out?"
"Yes, my lord." As soon as Nathaniel had vanished down the hall, Josiah started to speak, but Gabriel held up one hand to stop his flow of words.
"Wait. Hear me out, Josiah."
Josiah bit his lip. "Yes, my lord."
"How long have you been visiting Darkbrook?" Gabriel did not have to open the bond to know what Josiah wanted to say--the fear was plain in his gaze that he would not be allowed to return.
"S-Six months. Or so," he whispered. "I have learned a lot, my lord."
"I imagine you have," Gabriel said. "Come walk with me in the garden." He stepped outside, Josiah following him like a puppy at his heels.
"I--I saw Lucas call up a light right after Malachi showed us how to shift," Josiah said without prompting. "It looked so--so easy that I tried to do it. And it worked."
Gabriel was no wizard--at least not how the Council defined wizardry--but from his interactions with the Council, he knew that calling up a light was both a very basic ability and also something that was used to gauge the amount of latent power young wizards possessed. It wasn't a test, per se, but sometimes it helped the evaluators realize the child's potential.
"And how bright a light were you able to produce?" He stopped on the other side of the lump of stone that had once been a troll, and folded his arms, waiting for Josiah's reply.
"It frightened me," Josiah said as if he hadn't heard Gabriel's question. "I did not know what to do." He glanced down at his clenched hands. "I thought you might cast me out, my lord, if you--"
"I will not cast you out," Gabriel said, not allowing him to finish that thought. "Show me." The wards he had created were nicely done. He had used a simple spell, but it was very elegant in its simplicity. Perhaps that was the result of self-learning--Josiah had not been forced to adhere to a certain mindset that could very well stunt his talent.
Josiah took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He stood still for a moment, as if gathering his courage, and then he snapped his fingers.
The resulting nova lit up the garden as if it were day, outlining every tree and shrub and flower that surrounded them. Without turning to look, Gabriel felt the others' interest--but they did not need to see the light to know what had happened.
Evidently, Josiah had done this before.
When Gabriel made no comment as to the intensity of the light, Josiah banished it, plunging them into darkness once more.
"I am sorry, my lord. If I hadn't tried to--"
"What do you do at Darkbrook?" Gabriel asked, almost blind in the darkness after Josiah's light. He blinked to clear his vision, but it didn't really help. It was very evident, however, that he could not leave Josiah untutored. But how to go about enrolling him into Darkbrook without the Council catching wind of his involvement?
"I--I stay in the library," Josiah whispered. "No one bothers me, and no one has ever asked if I should be there."
"Have you attended any classes?" Gabriel asked, curious now. He could not fault Josiah--his Hound had been extraordinarily cautious in his time at Darkbrook. Or so it seemed.
Josiah's head snapped up, his eyes wide. "No! I--I wouldn't dare, my lord. Someone might notice my presence and then--"
"Then you would have no place to learn," Gabriel finished for him when his voice trailed away.
Josiah bit his lip. "Yes."
The after effects of Josiah's light were finally fading. Gabriel turned to stare into the dark forest and wonder at his options. He thought he could figure out a way to enroll Josiah into Darkbrook without raising the Council's suspicions--after all, they had no reason at all to believe Josiah was anything but a human boy. Or even if they would not accept that he was human, the Council had no reason to get involved. But was Josiah willing--and able--to participate in such a deception?
"It is very obvious to me that you need additional training," Gabriel said. "And to do that--properly--you would have to enroll at Darkbrook. Have you thought of that at all?"
"I am your Hound, my lord, and one of many," Josiah whispered. "I--I do not wish to be singled out." He seemed more unhappy than pleased about this turn of events, but Gabriel had no idea why.
"An untrained wizard is much more dangerous than a trained wizard," he said. "I have heard Lucas say that for years."
"Yes, my lord. I have heard him say that as well. But I--"
"If I can make it so the Council is not suspicious of your presence at Darkbrook, would you be willing to enroll? That will mean keeping your presence in the Hunt a secret, and I can understand if you don't think you could maintain such a deception over an extended period of time." He would not force Josiah to enroll. But he needed training.
Josiah cocked his head. "You are--You are giving me a choice?"
"Yes, and you needn't answer now," Gabriel said. "I need to speak with the others tonight, and then we all need to get some rest." Perhaps he would relieve Malachi of Emle's care and sit with her until dawn. "Think on it," he suggested. "And we'll speak again in the morning."
"I will," Josiah said. "My lord, I--I know what I want to reply, but I do not know if I can do such a thing."
"I trust you will make the right decision," Gabriel said, and left him there by the stone troll to think it over.
The others awaited him inside, but it had been a long and tiring day. "Unless you have something pressing, we'll talk in the morning," Gabriel said as he entered the room.
Seth and Zechariah were already asleep, sprawled out on the floor in human form.
"I will need someone to stay in the cave to guard it until Josiah can fashion some wards there as well," Gabriel said. "It would not do for anyone to stumble upon the cave tonight and find us here."
"I'll go," Thomas said. He struggled to his feet, then stood there, frowning. "How do I turn back into a Hound, my lord?"
"I'll show you," Nathaniel said, as if he suspected Gabriel would not know. He took Thomas' hand, and closed his eyes.
Gabriel supposed they were communicating through the bond, but he heard nothing between them. Which was an interesting quagmire in itself. Could they close him off? Had Malachi somehow figured out a way to circumvent the bond as well as teach the others to shift?
The bond--and his Hounds--had been such simple things when he created them. It made a certain amount of sense that they would evolve just as he had evolved under the Council's binding, but he had not expected that they would be so--so--individual.
He waited until Thomas had shifted into a Hound and padded through the door before confronting Nathaniel. "You told him what, exactly?"
"I showed him more than told," Nathaniel said after a moment, wary but unafraid. "It wasn't easy to shift back into the form of a Hound that first time. We had to figure it out together." He hesitated. "I am sorry, my lord. I should have asked your leave."
Gabriel nodded. "Perhaps that is true. But my question was just that: a question. It is late. Get some rest."
"Yes, my lord." Nathaniel hesitated, then shifted shape and padded towards the door. I will sit with Thomas for a while.
And that left only Malachi, since the others were already asleep.
When Gabriel opened the bedroom door, Malachi was already in the form of a Hound, dozing at the foot of Emle's bed. He raised his head at Gabriel's approach, however.
My lord?
"I would speak with you in the library, if you don't think she will awaken," Gabriel said.
It is late, and she is weary, Malachi said through the bond. She has not stirred.
"Then follow me."
As soon as Gabriel closed the door behind Malachi, his Hound shifted shape and stood in the middle of the floor, with his head down, as if waiting for punishment.
"Tell me how you taught the others to shift shape," Gabriel said, choosing to ignore his expectations. He sat down in the chair so recently vacated by Seth, Zechariah, and Thomas, and waited for Malachi's reply.
"I don't know," Malachi whispered. "There was--a--a trigger. And I released it." He glanced up, quickly, then looked back down at the floor again. "I don't know how to explain it, my lord."
"Can you call up a light like Josiah?" Gabriel asked. Malachi would not pass for a student at Darkbrook. Josiah was just the right age to blend in, and he seemed much younger in human form. But Malachi--if Malachi also had some sort of a talent--
"No!" The denial flew from Malachi's lips far too quickly. "Josiah is--Josiah has the talent, my lord. Not me."
"And yet you figured out a way to shift shape," Gabriel said, wondering at the cause of his anxiety. Was it just the novelty of speaking? "And you taught the others how to as well. That has to count for something, Malachi." And then, he remembered, long ago, right after the Hunt had been bound by the Council. One other time that his control had slipped. "You are the Hound who shifted in front of Lucas' great-uncle, Peter. How long have you been able to shift?"
Malachi clenched his fists, but did not speak. And perhaps his voice was frozen inside his throat, since he no doubt expected to be punished--or killed--if he answered.
But the time for killing Hounds had long since past. "Answer me," Gabriel ordered, backing his words with the power he held over all his Hounds. "Answer me or I'll be forced to tear it from your mind--and I do not want to do that, Malachi." He kept a damper on the bond with the others, not wanting them to hear this. Not yet, at least.
"I--" Malachi shuddered and wrapped his arms around his chest. "My lord, I know you could know the answer to your question without my leave. My mind is yours, as is my life. But still I hesitate. I do not wish to die. Not now. Not like this."
But his voice held no hope that he would walk back through the library door.
What had he done to them? Guilt was not an entirely alien feeling, but it was new when it came to his Hounds. To see them so frightened, so--so beaten, so subservient--awoke a pain in his heart that he knew he could not fix with a simple gesture. It was bad enough that the newer three had been bludgeoned into the Hunt and treated like disposable things for so many years.
They all had, in truth.
For a moment, Gabriel despised the Council's binding that had forced him to see this. If he hadn't been bound to them, he would never have considered allowing them to shift.
And if they couldn't shift, they would not have reminded him of the ugly truths that lay in the past behind the shadows.
His first inclination was to retreat; to refuse them their human forms and forget that he had obviously hurt them. But one look at Malachi's face--and the knowledge of Josiah's talent--crushed that notion.
He just could not bring himself to do such a thing to them. Not again. And especially not now.
With that thought in mind, he chose his words with care. "I know you won't believe me, but I truly wish you no harm. Before, yes. I would have taken the knowledge from your mind without a single thought. But I cannot do that now. And if I did, it would be in anger. I am not angry with you at the moment, Malachi."
"I have always been able to shift," Malachi whispered, but there was still no hope in his voice. "There were years where I wouldn't for fear of--of what you would do, my lord, but then something would happen and I would--I would find myself human again." His breath hitched into a sob. "I--I knew you could know whenever you wanted, and I--I wanted to tell you, but I didn't want to die, my lord." His voice dropped. "I still don't."
"You will not die from my hands," Gabriel said. "Not now." How did humans comfort each other? It had always seemed so alien, so strange. "Speak freely and do not fear retribution."
"Josiah--Josiah saw me one day," Malachi whispered, daring to raise his head. "And he begged me to teach him, but I--I didn't know what to do. And I am sorry, my lord, but I wanted someone to talk to and I didn't want to give myself away to anyone who might suspect I am a Hound."
"And you figured out how to release this trigger," Gabriel said. "And Josiah was able to shift as well. And then Nathaniel?"
"And then Nathaniel," Malachi said, still unhappy, but not as tense now. "And I tried to help the others, but I--I couldn't figure it out. Zechariah threatened to tell you weeks ago."
"I think Zechariah now has what he desires," Gabriel said, and wondered if there would be residual resentment on both sides. "You are not at fault. If I had known--"
If he had known, Malachi might not have lived through his fury. He sighed. This change would be difficult for everyone involved. "Are you certain you have no talent?"
"No," Malachi said, his voice firming. "I--Josiah asked. Nothing happened when I tried to do what he wanted me to do."
"And what did he want you to do?" Gabriel asked when Malachi did not elaborate.
"Make a light, as you asked," Malachi said. "Nothing happened when I tried."
"Nothing happens when I try that particular test, either," Gabriel said, trying to put him at ease.
That, as nothing else had, broke through the pall of fear that ran through Malachi's mind.
He blinked, considering this, and then glanced up to meet Gabriel's gaze for the first time. "Truly?"
"Truly. That is why Josiah's talent will be so useful, especially if we stay here."
"I would like to stay here," Malachi said. "It would be nice--It would be nice to have a home, my lord."
That word again. Home.
Gabriel nodded. "I believe we shall stay here," he said. "It suits our needs, and it will be nice to have a home. Go and rest. We will talk more in the morning."
"Shall I return to watch over Emle, my lord?"
"No. I will sit with her until dawn." Gabriel stood. "Use one of the bedrooms if you wish--and rest. This has been a--difficult night for all of us."
"Yes, my lord." Malachi turned to go, and hesitated with his hand on the door. "Thank you."
"For what?" Gabriel asked, surprised. He had done nothing to deserve anyone's thanks.
"For my life," Malachi whispered, and fled, slipping out the door before Gabriel could reply.
Josiah slipped into the bedroom before dawn, moving so quietly that Gabriel did not notice him until he made his presence known through the bond.
"I have made my decision, my lord." His voice shook, just a little, but it was not from fear.
No, more from excitement.
"And what is your decision?" Gabriel glanced at Emle, but she did not awaken.
"I think--I think if you know of a way to make sure the Council is not suspicious, I would be honored to enroll in Darkbrook," Josiah said, struggling to keep his voice soft. "I will do my best not to arouse their suspicions so I can continue to learn."
"It will be difficult," Gabriel said. "You will have to constantly watch your words and actions so no one guesses who you truly are."
"Yes, my lord," Josiah said. "I know."
"And if they do become suspicious, your position will become even more precarious," Gabriel said. "Do you understand what might happen if the Council discovers that you are a Hound?"
"We would not be permitted our human forms," Josiah said. "I--I talked to Malachi. After--After you did not kill him."
"And what did Malachi say?" Gabriel asked, trying not to belittle the seriousness of the situation. Had Malachi truly expected to be killed for such a simple thing?
And why should he be so surprised? He had killed Hounds for less, Before. And Before, Malachi's admission would have been a death sentence.
"He said I should accept your offer," Josiah said. "And that since he was still alive, then perhaps things have changed."
"Perhaps they have," Gabriel agreed. "If you can investigate how students become enrolled at Darkbrook, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you become a proper student." Perhaps he would have Josiah pass himself off as an orphan. And if money even entered the equation, Gabriel knew of no less than three places where long-buried treasure could be brought to good use.
"Thank you, my lord," Josiah said, and a smile slipped past his lips. "Thank you."
Gabriel nodded, uncomfortable with the praise. Why hadn't he allowed them their human forms much sooner than now? Why had he waited for so long?
"Go and rest now," he said, certain that Josiah had not slept at all. "You can begin your investigation in the morning."
"Yes, my lord," Josiah said, and slipped out of the door, leaving Gabriel alone again with Emle and the silence that failed to soothe his soul.
When Emle awoke the next morning, Gabriel watched her for a moment before making his presence known. She seemed more--calm now, her face composed, her eyes brighter. And she smiled when she saw him.
"I thought you were a dream, in truth."
"I have been a nightmare, but never a dream," Gabriel said. "But you are not dreaming. You're free to go as soon as you're able."
"And might I--Might I be permitted to sit outside in the garden?"
"Of course," Gabriel said, and wondered how he would keep his Hounds' secret safe if she stayed for too long. "And I'll send my Hounds into town to find you something clean to wear."
For the first time, Emle seemed to realize what she was wearing. She plucked at the white gown, still spotless, and shivered. "Yes, please. But first--if it is at all possible--may I have a bath?"
Josiah's talent came in handy again for heating the water--another spell or something had created plumbing out of nothing. Gabriel wondered if the shapeshifting wizard had built this house, or if he had found it abandoned and empty and only created the spells to make life in Faerie more bearable for a human.
But self-sustaining spells were far out of Gabriel's knowledge. As Emle prepared her bath with a few sprigs of lavender Gabriel had found in the garden, he sent Seth and Nathaniel to find her some clothing. And then, after leaving Malachi in front of the bathroom door to listen for any sign of distress, Gabriel entered the library in search of clues.
He was still there an hour later when Emle knocked on the door. "May I enter?"
She insisted that we not call you, Malachi said through the bond.
Gabriel closed the book he had found--a journal of sorts, with crabbed handwriting filling nearly every page. "Of course. You may go wherever you wish." Clean, her skin was milk-white, her hair just as pale. But her eyes were grey, a clear, true color that stirred something deep in Gabriel's soul.
She was still painfully thin. But she had managed to braid her long hair and tie it off with a scrap of leather, and her clothes--albeit worn--were clean.
But they were human clothes--a long-sleeved button-down shirt and a cotton skirt--and they did not fit her beauty.
"These books are all of magic," Gabriel said as she entered the room. "If they belonged to your shapeshifter, you are well rid of him."
"He was--" She sank down in a dusty chair without his leave and clasped her hands together. "I think--I think I remember that you found a body where you found me?"
"Yes," Gabriel said. "My Hounds buried him in the garden." He hesitated, not wanting to distress her. "The brownie who was here mentioned that he was not born in the skin he wore when he died. And that you were the same."
Her smile was brittle enough to crack at the faintest hint of movement. "That is why I said the wizard who lived here wished to be a shapeshifter," she said with no small amount of venom. "He was a coward. And he--"
"He used your skin," Gabriel said, knowing he was right. There were stories, after all, of seal-women and swan maidens. But in the stories, of course, the stealing of the skin was usually done for some human man's pleasure--or his version of love.
Somehow, Gabriel doubted that the nameless shapeshifting wizard had intended the theft for anything but ill.
"He tried," Emle said softly, her face now shadowed by some unimaginable pain. "And he failed. But he was able to wear the skin of the wolf, along with that of a dog, and hunt my kin. And he brought me their bodies, and sewed their skins into a cloak that he wore to taunt me." She twisted her fingers together in her lap.
"The boy in the dungeons--the brownie said he wore the skin of a wolf," Gabriel said. "And I found one in a closet, along with the cloak you speak of. I buried the wolfskin with the boy's body."
Emle nodded. "Good. But what happened to the wizard? Do you know?"
"Not yet," Gabriel said. "The elves said he had been gone for years. But their understanding of time is not always accurate." He did not know how to respond to the news that the swan cloak did not belong to Emle, but to her long-dead kin. Why had the wizard wanted the skin of a swan? "What happened to your skin?"
Emle glanced away, towards the bookcases. "He said--He said he destroyed it, and I have no reason not to believe him. Have you found anything?" Her voice fought against hope.
"Not yet," Gabriel said. "But I will look, and my Hounds will look. And if I find anything, I will tell you."
She nodded, clearly upset, and he saw the tracks of tears on her cheeks. "Thank you." Her fingers twisted again, a pale flutter against the dark fabric of her clothes. "I owe you my life. If you wish repayment, I have nothing to offer but my--"
Gabriel interrupted before she could finish. "I wish for nothing in return," he said, and hoped she would believe him. "Stay as long as you wish and recover your strength." He longed to comfort her--an odd feeling, that--but he did not know how she would react.
And it had been so long since he had comforted anything, that he wasn't quite sure where to begin.
"Thank you," she whispered, and covered her face with her hands.
Gabriel approached her slowly, still unsure as to what to say. He knelt in front of her and gently touched her hands. "You are free now." Would his Hounds react this same way if he freed them? If such a thing were possible? "Would you like to walk in the garden?"
"I would like to feel the sunlight on my face again," Emle whispered, and lowered her hands. Her eyes were dry now, at least.
Gabriel took her hand and helped her up. "Would you like my company?" He did not want to see her succumb to sorrow all alone. Not after what she had already endured.
"Surely--Surely you have other things to do," she said, but did not remove her hand from his grasp.
"Certainly. I have many things to do. But I will accompany you if that is what you wish."
That must have been the right thing to say, because she actually smiled at him, and some of the sorrow left her gaze. "Thank you. I would like to have company."
The sunlight outside illuminated the garden's wildness, and Gabriel realized that he would have to do something about the overgrowth before it enveloped the house. There were paths--of sorts--here and there, and the remnants of formality, but they were remnants, nothing more.
"Are you going to stay here?" Emle asked, sinking down on a moss-covered stone bench that had somehow withstood the test of time.
"The house suits my needs," Gabriel said, and saw Seth curled up in a patch of sunlight not far from the door. "And the doorway into the human world is a better prize that I could ever have hoped to possess."
"Because you are bound by the human's Council," Emle said, and then her hands flew to cover her mouth. "I apologize--I just remembered where I had heard of your Hunt."
"It is no surprise that you have heard of my Hunt," Gabriel said. "And the Council's binding is no secret. You need not apologize for something everyone knows."
Emle turned to stare out at the forest. "I did not wish to offend you," she said softly. "I did not wish to court your anger."
"You need not fear my anger," Gabriel said, glancing back at the house. "I will not harm you." And yet he wondered at her hesitation. Had she truly thought he would hurt her?
"You saved my life," she continued as if he had not spoken. "And although you say you wish nothing in return, you know as well as I do that nothing works that way."
"It can if you wish it so," Gabriel said. "Truly--I wish nothing more than--"
She stood before he could finish his sentence and unbuttoned her shirt. Gabriel did not realize what she meant to do until she let it fall and started to unbutton her skirt with shaking hands.
"All I have to offer is myself," she whispered, and stood in front of him, naked and beautiful, her hair wisping around her tear-stained face.
Gabriel stared at her for a long, agonizing moment and tried to think of what to do. He couldn't respond to her offer, and he dared not accept it without living the rest of his eternity with the guilt. But to speak to her like this--what could he say that she wouldn't interpret the wrong way?
In the end, he simply turned around and walked back into the house, leaving her alone and naked in the garden. When he glanced back through the window, he saw that she had crumpled to the ground, hunched over and sobbing, no doubt, like some lost little child.
"Bring her a blanket to cover herself," he said to Nathaniel, whose human face was carefully blank. "I will be in the library."
He did not wait to see what she did with this offering, but closed the library door and leaned against it, as if to bar the entire world from invading his space. Would she insist on this path? What would he do if she did?
It wasn't that she was not desirable. Once upon a time, he would not have hesitated to take her, but now, he couldn't bring himself to do such a thing. She had suffered enough. He did not need to become akin to the shapeshifting wizard. She did not need to be imprisoned again.
My lord, shall I stay with her? Nathaniel sounded worried, even through the bond.
If you wish, Gabriel replied. Where are the others? He had only seen Nathaniel and Seth. When he opened the bond to check on the others, he found Josiah at Darkbrook, poring over the rules and regulations for enrollment. Thomas was asleep right outside the cave, and Zechariah was rooting through the closet full of clothes, carefully laying each piece out on the unused bed.
I just wanted to see if we needed any more, he said when Gabriel opened the bond.
That's fine, and we will, Gabriel said, and focused his will on Malachi.
For a moment, he was absent from both the bond and Gabriel's awareness. And just as Gabriel realized what that might mean, he appeared in the human world, sitting beside the river that ran into the waterfall. Clean and damp and drying in the sun.
I am waiting for Josiah, my lord. He made no mention of his absence from the bond. And perhaps he did not know of it. Gabriel had always been able to find him before.
He may be a while yet, Gabriel said. He is in the library at Darkbrook, researching.
I know, Malachi said. I will return if you wish, my lord.
You may stay. He didn't need all the Hounds witnessing Emle's embarrassment.
What would she do now? Leave? He would hate to see her go, but if she kept insisting on repaying him, he could not allow her to stay.
And he couldn't hide in the library forever. He watched her for a moment more to see if she would flee, then opened the library door.
Seth stood outside in human form, his fist raised to knock. When the door opened, he took a step back and lowered his arm. "My lord, she is crying."
"And I do not know what to say to her," Gabriel said, surprising himself.
Seth hesitated, his eyes wide, as if he could not quite believe Gabriel had spoken so honestly. "I--I don't know, my lord."
Gabriel sighed. "I think it would be best if we found her skin and let her go," he said. "Will you search for it?"
"Of course, my lord. But--" Another hesitation, as if Seth did not wish to be the bearer of bad news. "But won't she insist on repaying you if we find her skin as well?"
Gabriel had not thought of that. "I hope not," he said. "Just look for it. Please."
"Yes, my lord."
When Seth had gone, Gabriel turned back to the window again, leaving the library door open. But Emle was gone, and so was Nathaniel. Before he could open the bond and find out what had happened, she spoke behind him.
"I have disgraced myself. I should go." Her voice was calm and without any indication of tears. "I just wanted--I wanted to thank you before I left."
"You do not need to leave," Gabriel said, and turned around to face her. "I desire nothing for you but happiness."
"You truly mean that, don't you?" She spoke the words as if she did not believe them, and he didn't blame her for doubting him.
"Yes." It was simpler to stick with the truth and not attempt to explain. He truly meant her no harm. How long would it take for her to believe him?
She stared at him for a long moment, then nodded, letting out her breath in a rush of air. "I suppose--I had not expected the Master of the Hunt to be so courteous," she said.
Gabriel thought of a thousand replies to that comment, but he settled on silence as a best defense, since he had already assured her--more than once--that he meant her no harm. To repeat himself again would not convince her of his intentions.
She bit her lip, then, and started to turn away. And then, despite what he had told Seth, Gabriel realized that he didn't want her to leave just yet.
"Perhaps--" He cast around for something she could do to help wrest the house back from chaos and make it a home. "Perhaps, if you wish it, you would be willing to do something about the garden? It seems that it was beautiful, once upon a time, but now--" He truly did not know the words he wanted to speak. "I know nothing of gardens."
She paused, the look on her face both fragile and full of hope. "You would have me tame it, then?"
"If you wish to tame it, then yes," Gabriel said. "Unless you wish to leave. I will not keep you here against your will."
"I will--I will work on the garden," Emle said, and favored him with a smile that melted some nugget of resistance deep inside Gabriel's heart.
When she vanished from the door, he almost called her back, just to speak with her again.
Months passed, and then a year. In Faerie, winter never touched the leaves of the trees or the blooms on the roses. Emle coaxed blooms from dead, blackened sticks and leaves from trees Gabriel would have discarded without a thought. They walked--often--amid the newly rediscovered paths through the garden, and more often than not, evening found them in the library, talking.
Just talking, which was novel in itself, since Lucas was the only person Gabriel had ever really talked to, and the specter of the binding never quite vanished from their careful relationship.
Her mentions of her skin were few and far between, but Gabriel could tell by the look on her face--when an owl flew past, or a heron--that it was never far from her mind.
After so long alone, he began to rely on her presence, and after a while, it only seemed logical that they share a bed. Emle initiated the pairing, silencing his protests with a kiss. And Gabriel found in her that last little something he had never quite discovered anywhere else.
But the house was large and varied, with rooms that appeared and vanished, seemingly at random sometimes. Gabriel found one more skeleton--a human man this time--but it was too old to mention to Lucas or anyone else, and he had Nathaniel bury it in the forest. Of Emle's skin, there was no sign.
One year and six months after the Hunt's arrival, the house disgorged another secret. Behind one of the library bookcases, the shapeshifter--or some other wizard, perhaps--had formed a secret door set into the wall. Behind it was a closet, and in a silk-lined wooden box, Gabriel found the carefully folded skin of a swan.
For a long moment, he stood and stared at it, marveling at the softness of the feathers and the suppleness of the skin.
He had no doubt it was Emle's skin. What other reason would the shapeshifter have for hiding it away?
And he turned with it still in his hand, intending to deliver it to her where she worked out in the garden and watch the joy light up her face, but then--if he gave it to her, he had no doubt she would leave.
And if she left--he crumpled the swan skin in his hand before he realized what he had done and shook his head, refusing to think of keeping it a secret. If he did not give Emle her skin, then he would be no better than the shapeshifter, keeping her a prisoner after he had sworn he would never do such a thing.
He could not keep her prisoner only for his desire for companionship. He had lived alone before, and he would live alone again when she left, despite the fact that a part of him would shrivel and die when she flew away.
The Hounds would be relieved, he thought, smoothing the skin so that the feathers lay flat again. They could move around the house without fearing to keep their human forms a secret from her--that was one thing he hadn't quite decided to trust her with, and now it wouldn't be an issue.
When he stepped out into the garden, his heart already heavy with the thought of her departure, she turned towards him, a smile illuminating her face.
"Gabriel!" Her smile faltered when she saw the skin in his hands, and dimmed even further when he held it out to her.
"I believe this belongs to you." He could not help the formality that drenched his words--it was his way of distancing himself from the pain to come.
For a moment, she merely stared at it, as if she couldn't believe what he had found. And then, she took the skin and held it close to her chest, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
"I will leave you alone now," Gabriel said, and turned away to walk back into the house.
"I had given up hope that you would find it," Emle said, her voice very small.
"It is yours," Gabriel said. "And you deserve to be whole."
He waited, then, with his hand on the door, to see if she would say something--refuse to leave, perhaps--but she remained silent, her silence speaking volumes nonetheless.
When he turned to face her again from the safety of the house, she was a swan, a beautiful, wild creature never meant to be caged. She flapped her wings twice, as if to thank him, and then--and then she flew away.
Free at last.
Next Update: March 30th
House St. Clair Home
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