Heart's Desire

Heart's Desire, Part 43 and THE END

2008-10-14T08:09:00.007-04:00

Chapter 41

The summons had been subtle; Malachi hadn't even felt her spell claw its way into his mind before it was too late. No one had noticed his departure, and he had not used the bond to tell his Master of the spell; the nature of it prevented even that.

She had thought of everything to get him back. And as he crept through the forest, he tried to think of a way to escape, but the spell prevented that as well.

"Malachi?"

Eri's voice stopped him cold. He turned, his feet wanting to move the other way. "Go back."

"Where are you going?" She stood in the forest, her hair shining in the moonlight, a thin sylph of a child, easily killed.

"Go back," he repeated, and turned away from her again, despair washing away any hope he had of freedom.

"Malachi--" Eri touched his arm and he snatched it away from her, tears blurring his vision now as he fought with the spell.

"Go back!" He growled the words and ran from her, shifting into the form of a Hound for speed.
She caught up with him easily, and nipped at his back legs to slow him down. He snapped at her, half mad from the spell, inwardly cringing when he realized what he had done.

Go back!

There is something wrong, Eri said, not through the bond, but silently anyway, her lips drawing back from her teeth. What is wrong with you, Malachi?
I am--

Pain poured through his mind and he shifted shape, curled up on the ground with his arms pressed over his head. He bit his lip to hold back a scream, but even then Eri felt a portion of the pain and backed away, shifting into human form with a frown on her face.

"You are under a spell." She reached out to him, her touch burning into his skin. "Let me help you."

"No, child." Malachi recognized Stefan's voice even as he heard the growling of his remaining Hounds. "You cannot help him."

Eri stood up, her arms folded against her chest. "Who are you?"

"My name is Stefan. I--I once knew your Mother." Stefan bared his teeth. "And you do not want to fight me, child."

The spell continued its pull. Malachi crawled towards his goal now, even as his mind desperately begged him not to abandon Eri.

Why couldn't his cursed 'talent' break this spell?

He glanced back once as Stefan's remaining Hounds closed in on Eri, who shifted shape and fled into the night.

Stefan's Hounds did not follow her. Malachi supposed he could be thankful of that, at least.

He crawled on, the spell's relentless tugging forcing his arms and legs to move, despite his effort to stop his momentum.

"You will die here," Stefan said from behind him, his voice completely disinterested in Malachi's fate.

"I will curse you, then," Malachi gasped, and shifted shape so he wouldn't have to speak to Stefan again.

When he glanced back, Stefan had vanished with his Hounds, as if they had been mirages all along.

By then, it was too late. He had reached the house, which loomed in all its glory above him.

And the dampening spell prevented him from even attempting to contact his Master one last time.

He had heard Josiah's question through the bond, despite her spell, but he could not answer it.

The door was open; inviting him inside. In the form of a Hound, Malachi crept up the stairs, dreading Magdalen's touch and the teeth of Stefan's Hounds.

But when he walked into the parlor, only Magdalen sat there, with Seth's body lying in the middle of the rug, mocking him.

Without a word, Malachi shifted shape and knelt beside him. "You will die for this," he said, his anger pushing past the pain.

"I did not give you leave to speak," Magdalen snarled. "Leave him. He is a corpse now, and nothing more."

"He was one of us," Malachi whispered, ignoring her order.

She had drawn a circle around Seth's body, encompassing the entire rug. Malachi hadn't noticed it until now, and when he tried to step outside of its boundaries, something sizzled across his skin--a barrier of some kind.

He did not try again. Instead he glared at her and folded his arms. "What do you want?" His mind was clearer now, the pain almost gone. He could think again, however good that would do.

"I want the Wild Hunt," Magdalen said. "I want your Master. And I will have him. He will follow you here."

"Did you try to summon him?" Malachi asked. "And fail? The Hunt is free now. You will not bind him again."

He hoped his words were right, at least; there was always the faintest possibility of damnation.

Seth's throat had been torn out by teeth, not cut by a knife. So Stefan was responsible for his death. Malachi tucked that away for later. After he had a chance for revenge, if he lived through this.

"You do not know he will follow me," he said.

"Don't be naïve," Magdalen sneered. "Of course he will follow you." She walked around the circle, watching him from all angles. "You broke my spell again. It is strange, isn't it, that two of Gabriel's Hounds have some sort of talent?"

Malachi shrugged. "It's not so strange." He hesitated. "Did you know that Althea is dead?"

Even that only gave her a moment's pause. "Good riddance," she said, and spun away from him so he could not see her face. "She was a traitor to the Council."

"Yes, with your aid," Malachi said. "Surely you realize that this cannot end well for you. Too many people know what happened." He had lost much of his fear now--perhaps that stemmed from Althea's death more than anything. Oh, he realized she could kill him, but he wasn't afraid of her anymore.

"The only thing that matters is that I control the Wild Hunt," Magdalen said. "And I will."

"No. You will not."

Malachi almost laughed at the look on Magdalen's face when Gabriel appeared in the parlor. None of her spells had heralded his arrival. Perhaps Josiah had helped with that.

Gabriel glanced at Malachi. Do not react. Josiah is outside, attempting to destroy the dampening spell. Eri is safe.

"I have your Hound," Magdalen said. "He will die if you do not bind yourself to me." She motioned with one hand and half the floor vanished.

Malachi scrambled backwards as Seth's body slid into the water below, vanishing under the depths without a sound. The floor underneath him creaked and groaned under his weight, threatening both his safety and his life. He backed up too far and pain sizzled across his arms. And then, of course, he scrambled too far forward, and almost lost his balance.

Magdalen laughed as a board cracked under Malachi's weight. "The floor will not hold forever," she said. "And I can make sure he drowns."

"I will not bind myself to you," Gabriel said. He took a step forward, towards the circle, and the house shuddered.

Another piece of the floor vanished. But this time, Malachi thought that Magdalen had not intended that to happen since it was outside the circle.

"The Council knows what you have done." Gabriel stopped as a hole opened up in the floor right in front of him. He stepped around it, closer still.

Malachi perched on the edge of what was left of the floor, as close as he dared to the edge of the circle. "You did not ask how Althea died," he said, hoping to distract her.

Behind Magdalen, the walls cracked, burned and vanished in an instant. Stars shone overhead and then vanished as the spell regained its hold. How long could this go on?

"I don't care how Althea died," Magdalen snapped. "If you will not bind yourself to me, then your Hound is dead." But instead of making the rest of the floor vanish, she reached her hand through the circle and pulled Malachi back against the barrier. "Shadow take you, give me your light!"

Pain seared across Malachi's nerves. He felt his talent--or whatever it was--struggling to block Magdalen's spell, but it was too powerful, too vast. He screamed, but then--

Too much power breaks the spell, Josiah said inside his mind and used the bond between them as a conduit to add his own power to the mix--his own talent that Althea had lived on for ten years.

The floor collapsed, and for a moment, Magdalen's grip was all that held Malachi upright. But even she could not hold him forever, and when her grasp slipped--

Gabriel was there, a solid weight behind him, pulling Malachi to his feet as the circle collapsed, and adding his own power to tip the balance of the spell.

With all of his might, Malachi visualized a mirror.

And Magdalen screamed.

Mirrors weren't conduits. They reflected, nothing more, quite possibly the best kind of shield anyone could envision, despite what Lucas had said.

The house collapsed in an ungraceful mess. The backlash from Magdalen's spell bounced off the mirror as well, and that, in truth, was her downfall. She staggered back and tripped before she could attempt to harm anyone ever again, vanishing into a hole that grew wider as they watched, safe on the edge of the grass where Gabriel had pulled Malachi to safety.

The house continued to collapse, almost as if it protested the spells. The chimney fell first, and then the remaining walls, until all that remained was a pile of rubble to mark Magdalen's grave.

Malachi felt a hand on his arm long before he realized that the threat had ended. He would have banished his mirror if he knew how; his mind refused to believe that he was safe.

"Let me," Josiah said, and released it. "I didn't think she would use that spell."

Malachi blinked. "That--That was the spell Althea used on you, wasn't it?" Slowly, feeling returned to his arms and legs; he realized Gabriel was holding him up, and that Zechariah and even Eri were nearby as well, lending him strength.

"Yes."

"And you survived?" Malachi's mind felt flayed, almost, and a headache throbbed behind his eyes. He wanted to sleep, to escape the inevitable questions and the aftermath of this.

"Yes." Josiah's worried gaze met his own. "And you will too."

"I'm so tired," Malachi whispered. "Is it over? Can we go home now?"

"Is her spell broken?" Gabriel asked, breaking his silence for the first time.

"I--I think so," Malachi whispered. "I am sorry, my lord--"

"Hush. Josiah?"

"I don't sense any spells," Josiah said after a moment.

"Stefan wasn't with her," Gabriel said. "We will search for him, but later, after everyone is healed and rested."

"So that means we can go home?" Malachi asked, closing his eyes.

"Yes. Magdalen is gone. We'll return for Seth's body later." Gabriel swung Malachi up into his arms.

"Let's go home."

---end
god knows when (May 2005)-9/3/06 4:29pm
revision/addition 1/11-4/4/07 10:30PM

EPILOGUE

Lucas opened his door at the knock, half-expecting to see Malachi, or Zechariah, perhaps, sent to inform him what had happened. He knew bits and pieces of it, of course; he'd helped Gabriel raise Seth's body out of the destruction, but he had stayed away. The Hunt needed time to itself for a little while. Time to heal more than anything, but also time for Gabriel to decide on their new role in the world.

The other members of the Council had accepted his version of events, but Lucas had not gone into great detail. It was enough for them to know that Althea had been a traitor, working with Magdalen to get control of the Hunt. They didn't need to know that Malachi had effectively killed her. Lucas did not want to put him through any sort of a trial, even though it had been a clear-cut case of self-defense.

The Hound on his doorstep--

"Hello, Lucas."

Josiah held himself as if he wasn't quite sure of the reception he would receive. He had not aged, but he was much paler and thinner than before, and his gaze reflected some thin thread of his ordeal.

"Gabriel let you come here alone?" With Stefan still somewhere at large, Lucas couldn't believe Gabriel would be so lax, especially so soon after Josiah's reappearance.

Josiah smiled and shook his head. "No. Zechariah and Thomas brought me this far. They'll come back when I am ready to leave."

"My house is open to them as well as anyone else," Lucas said. "They could have stayed."

"Our Master thought you might wish to speak with me alone," Josiah said. "And he wanted me to tell you--his daughter was born last night." He hesitated. "Her name is Chloe." A smile slipped past his lips, and he held his hands a span apart. "She is just about this big."

What did that make Josiah? Her older brother? "That is a fine name. I assume everything went well?"

"Our Master's lady is resting," Josiah said. "But yes. Sennet told us that everything would be fine."

"Are you--" For a moment, Lucas didn't know what to say. "How are you?"

"I am--" Josiah's mask of calmness slipped. He stood there for a moment, staring at Lucas, then sank down into a chair and covered his face with his hands. "I am here. I am alive."

"Come inside," Lucas said, holding the door open. "Do you wish to talk about it? I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do."

Josiah didn't move at first. He remained huddled on the porch chair, his shoulders shaking, his hair veiling his face.

"Josiah." Did Gabriel know that he was this affected? How could he not be affected? "You are free now. Remember that."

"Yes, I know." Josiah's voice caught. "But I--"

"What are you afraid of?" Lucas asked gently.

Without looking up, Josiah whispered, "I am afraid that someone else will die. And that the bond will be broken again. And that I will be alone again." He took a deep breath. "That's what I'm afraid of."

"I would like to assure you that no one else will ever die and that the bond will never be broken again, but I can't do that," Lucas said. Especially since Stefan had yet to surface. "And you know that I can't. Neither can your Master."

"I know all of this," Josiah whispered. "But--But it--"

"It doesn't help."

"No." Josiah's voice was very small. "When I--I--"

"Come inside," Lucas said again.

This time, Josiah slid off the chair and straightened up, his eyes bright with unshed tears. When he stepped into Lucas' house, some tension seeped away from his bearing, and he actually managed a smile before gesturing to the couch and chairs. "You--You changed things."

"Yes, a bit," Lucas said. "But there's one thing that hasn't changed around here."

"What would that be?" Josiah asked, still staring, as if he had never ventured inside a house before in his life.

"The library at Darkbrook," Lucas said. "Oh, there are more books, I'm sure, but the library itself has stayed the same. And I'm certain you would just as welcome there as you were before."

"We haven't spoken of--of Darkbrook yet," Josiah said. "I think--I think Our Master wishes me to stay home, at least for a little while."

"I imagine he would," Lucas said. He wanted to--to reach out to Josiah; as he would any other student, but Josiah was not--in any way--any other student. "Is he listening to this conversation?"

Josiah shook his head. "No. He dampened the bond between us. We are--effectively--alone, for the moment, at least."

Did that make it worse, then, knowing that Gabriel wasn't listening? "You know what happened, then--when you disappeared?" This was almost as awkward as his first attempt to find out if Josiah was truly a Hound.

"My Master blamed you," Josiah whispered. He glanced away, just as uncomfortable as Lucas. "Malachi would have died that night if you hadn't intervened."

That was the first time Josiah had even mentioned Malachi's name. "How is Malachi?"

This seemed to be a safer topic. Josiah's shoulders straightened. "He is supposed to be resting. Magdalen--she trapped him before she died. And she used the same spell on Malachi that Althea used on me."

Lucas had managed to find a tiny bit of information about that spell in the week and a half since Magdalen's timely death. "And he lived?"

Josiah shrugged. "I helped him overcome it, but he's still--recovering. He is under Sennet's care." He added that last part almost fearfully, as if he expected Lucas to demand access to Malachi at any moment.

"Good." Lucas hesitated. "We could talk further in my library, if you'd like. I'll make some tea--I have cookies and leftover cake from my niece's birthday celebration--"

Josiah hesitated.

In that instant, Lucas realized what was wrong. It wasn't the awkwardness of fear--truly--it was the awkwardness of what neither of them could bring themselves to say.

"Josiah, I am more happy than you realize that you are safely home," Lucas said gently. "And I don't expect we can just pick up where we left off. I know that. But I don't want you to be a stranger, either. I don't want you to be lost to me--or Darkbrook--forever."

Josiah's lower lip quivered, but he did not lose his composure this time. Instead, he nodded, his eyes bright. "We can--We can speak more in the library," he whispered. "I--I would like a cup of tea. If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind," Lucas said. "Wait here--or wait in the library if you wish. It hasn't moved. I'll be right back."

Josiah smiled, and for a moment, he looked like the boy he had seemed to be before. "Thank you."

Malachi opened his eyes. For a moment, he couldn't remember why he lay in a bed, under a thin quilt that had seen better days, but then he remembered Magdalen, and her spell, and his reaction to her venom.

"What do you remember?" Sennet asked from where she sat across the room.

Malachi licked his lips. "I--I don't know. What should I remember?"

"Your name?"

He stared at her. Was she joking? "Malachi?"

Sennet nodded. "You didn't know that before."

Coldness settled in Malachi's stomach. He clutched the quilt around him, shivering despite the warmness of the air. "I did not? My own name?"

"No." Sennet stood. "May I approach?"

"Of course," Malachi said, confused. "Did I prevent you from approaching before?"

"You could say that," Sennet said, and smiled at him. "You learned your lesson a little too well, I think. If you really wanted to, you could block your Master from your mind."

This was worse, even worse than Magdalen. "No. Don't say that." He almost pulled away when she took his hand, but let her take it at the last minute. "Don't--"

"You've done it already," Gabriel said from the doorway, his voice soft and unthreatening. He held a tiny bundle in his arms--a bundle wrapped in a soft swatch of cloth.

Malachi closed his eyes. He remembered something about a baby; something fleeting and quick in the midst of confusion.

"Her name is Chloe," Gabriel said. "It is more of a human name, but Emle likes it."

It was a lovely name.

"Would you like to hold her?"

When Malachi opened his eyes, his Master blurred in his vision. "Are you certain you can trust me to hold her?" he asked, not really knowing the answer to his own question.

"I think the worst--this time, at least--may be over," Sennet said, and squeezed his hand.

With her help, Malachi managed to sit up and lean back against a stack of pillows. The room briefly reeled around his head, but it settled quickly as Gabriel approached to place the sleeping bundle of baby in his arms.

She was tiny and perfect, with near-invisible eyelashes and wisps of pale hair peeking out from under a knitted cap. When Malachi touched her tiny hand, she curled her fingers around his finger and wouldn't let go.

She is--She is beautiful, my lord.

Yes. She is. Aloud, Gabriel asked, "How do you feel?"

Malachi considered the question. "I--I'm confused, my lord." He had no free hands, so he settled on a shrug. "Sennet said I did not know my own name."

"You did not, last time," Gabriel said. "Josiah says it's a leftover effect of Magdalen's spell."

"Your mind is still casting out her influence," Sennet said. "And it will pass."

"Do you know that for certain?" Malachi asked.

"Of course not," Sennet said. "You and Josiah are the only two people who have ever survived that spell, muchless lived to talk about it afterwards. But I am hopeful of your complete recovery."

Still, even with the miracle of Chloe in his arms, Malachi could not leave the matter to rest. "And if I do not recover? What then? My lord--" He tightened his grip on the baby and she squawked and opened her eyes.

Hardly daring to breathe, Malachi stared into her gaze. I am sorry, little one.

Something--something soft and unformed, but also powerful and curiously alive--washed through the bond. It wasn't an invasion, truly, but more of a question, and Malachi felt the others' shock and interest just as he realized what had happened.

He would have dropped her if he had been standing. Instead, she nestled in the crook of his arm, smiling up at him with toothless gums.

"What exactly did you say to her?" Gabriel asked, his voice fighting for control.

"She--" Any other time, his tone of voice would have caused Malachi to flinch, expecting punishment, but he did not even hesitate. "She used the bond, my lord!"

"I know," Gabriel said. "What did you say to her?"

"I--I told her I was sorry," Malachi whispered. "I woke her up. I didn't mean to."

"I guess you didn't know this would happen?" Sennet asked, keeping her voice low.
Your name is Chloe, Malachi said through the bond. You are beautiful, and I will never let you come to harm.

This time, her response was less aware and more sleepy. She closed her eyes and gave a little sigh, almost as if the initial use of the bond had been much too exhausting for a tiny baby.

And perhaps it was. Malachi glanced up at his Master. "She's asleep again." He kept his voice low and soft.

"I see that," Gabriel replied. "Would it surprise you if I said I don't know what would happen if you do not heal?"

Malachi had almost forgotten his unanswered question. He considered every possible reply, then sighed. "No. It wouldn't. At least not anymore."

"We will wait and see," Gabriel said. "But for now--Chloe needs to sleep, and so do you."

Sleep held no peace in Malachi's mind. "But what if I don't wake up myself?" he asked--a possibility that frightened him more than he cared to admit.

"You will," his Master said. "Now sleep. The worst is over. Magdalen is gone."

But Stefan still remained. Malachi closed his eyes as Gabriel lifted the baby from his arms. Despite the fact that she weighed almost nothing, he could still feel her absence. But her smell clung to his skin and followed him down into the deep healing darkness of sleep.

Perhaps the worst was over. But even then, the spectre of Stefan haunted his dreams.

THE END FINALLY!

If you've gotten this far, thank you so much for reading. Authors love comments! Please feel free to leave one. :)

House St. Clair Home

Heart's Desire, Part 42

2008-10-13T08:40:00.003-04:00

Chapter 39

The basement had not returned to normal this time. Stefan checked it again and found the water even higher--the stench almost too much to bear.

Perhaps it was time to cut his losses and escape before Magdalen's downfall became his own. She had never seemed so close to failure.

And if, by any chance, she succeeded in her quest to control the Hunt, what then? Would he end up tossed aside like the elf she had killed?

He had talents of his own, after all. And since Gabriel had stolen one of his Hounds, a score to settle as well. Not to even mention the fact that Gabriel had stolen his swan, saved her life, and impregnated her with his seed.

It was almost too much to bear.

Without speaking, he summoned his remaining Hounds and walked past the parlor that was Magdalen's stronghold; the only room in the house that had not changed.

She had dragged the Hound's body into the middle of the room as if to cast a spell, but what kind of spells could you cast with a corpse?

"I will bring you an elf," Stefan said, hoping she would accept that excuse so he could slip away.
Magdalen waved her hand. "It doesn't matter; the Council's binding has changed. I can feel it."

"Then summon Gabriel here and end this!" Stefan snapped. "You cannot hold this spell much longer; you said that yourself!"

"In due time," Magdalen said. "I still need a hostage."

"Althea is not going to return here with Gabriel's whore," Stefan said, anxious to leave.

One of his Hounds whined and he snapped at it, growling.

"I can still summon Malachi," Magdalen said, almost purring. "And Althea dares not disobey me. She has a lot to lose, after all."

"He lives?" That was a surprise in itself. "How do you know?"

"I know."

And it was just like her not to share anything with him; she thrived on mystery. And deceit.

"Do you still need elven blood for your spell?"

Magdalen waved him away. "If you wish to find an elf, feel free. If you find Kyren or his Cousin, all the better. But don't be long."

Stefan could be at the other end of the forest before she realized he wasn't coming back, and he intended to do just that.

Under cover of the darkness--and through Faerie to slip past the scouts who watched the house in the human world--he shifted into the form of a Hound and vanished into the forest.

His score with Gabriel would be settled soon enough. Until then, he would lie low and let the furor die down after Magdalen's defeat.

He had no true hope that she would win.

Chapter 40

Josiah awoke to find he lay on the bench in the living room, not a comfortable bed by any means, but a marked improvement from the cell behind the mirror.

He heard soft voices first--an argument of sorts--his Master and Sennet; the former wanting to wake him and the latter protesting that he needed his sleep.

"Althea is dead," Malachi said, close by. "I thought you would want to know."

Josiah opened his eyes. Malachi sat on the floor on the other side of the bench, watching the argument. "You knew I was awake," he said. And then, "Althea is dead?"

"I killed her," Malachi whispered, and covered his face with his hands, as if he still could not quite believe that he had done such a thing. "It was an accident."

Josiah glanced at their Master--and saw a beautiful woman standing next to him. The woman smiled at him, then touched their Master's arm.

"I believe you can stop arguing now," she said. "He is awake."

"She is our Master's lady, Emle," Malachi said for Josiah's benefit.

"I remember her," Josiah said, and sat up. There were more people in the room as well--Amalea, sitting stiffly on the hearth, and Brenna, still a Hound, her eyes wide with fear. A girl who looked a lot like Gabriel sat on the other side of the bench. Thomas stood in the doorway leading to the cave, and Zechariah was there as well. Nathaniel, however, was nowhere to be seen.

"Nathaniel is guarding the cave," Malachi said. "And it was Seth's death we felt."

"And Althea is dead?" Josiah could not mourn for her, not after what she had done to him. "She trapped me, my lord. With a spell that Magdalen gave to her--"

"Yes. I know that now," Gabriel replied. "I am glad--no. I am much more than glad to have you back, Josiah." He crossed the room to where Josiah sat, and gently touched his face. "You are home now."

At his touch, the bond bloomed in his mind, whole and complete as if it had never been broken.

My lord-- Malachi reached out to their Master, and Zechariah as well. Thomas moved into his embrace, and even Nathaniel appeared, much restored, so the bond could be renewed.

"Without Sennet's aid, the bond would still be broken between us," Gabriel said. "So we owe her our thanks as well."

Sennet frowned, but did not argue, as if she had finally given up protesting.

Gabriel motioned to the girl. "This is my daughter, Erianthe. Eri, this is Josiah. We are family now."

Josiah glanced at Emle, and saw a smile on her face.

"Malachi, you told Brenna you would try to help her shift." In the corner where she had cemented herself, Brenna sat up and eyed their Master warily. "See what you can do."

Without speaking, Malachi rose to do his bidding.

Josiah watched--they all watched, in truth--as Malachi knelt in front of Brenna and held out her hand. She sniffed his fingers, still wary, but allowed him to touch her head, and he placed his hand right between her ears.

Less than a minute later, she screamed--a raw, angry shriek that trailed away into sobs as she curled on the floor in human form, her hair matted, her skin filthy, her clothes gone.

Josiah averted his gaze as Emle covered her with a blanket, helped her up, and led her away. Sennet vanished with them, her mouth set into a thin line.

Did the Hound he killed have a human form too?

As if he had read his mind, Malachi shook his head. "She told me that the others were Hounds, nothing more."

"Tell me what happened," Gabriel said. "All of you. I want to know the whole of it."

The story--in its whole--took less time than Josiah thought it would to tell it. Everyone said their part, the others listening in, until the entire sordid tale lay exposed and writhing in the light of their scorn.

Even Brenna said her piece in a halting, tiny voice, freshly washed and clothed, with her hair cut as short as Malachi's, right below her ears.

By dawn, after endless cups of tea and plates of food for everyone, there was no real decision as to what to do with Magdalen and to a lesser extent, Stefan, only that something had to be done.

Josiah had almost fallen asleep again, curled up against Nathaniel in Hound form, when something pricked at the edges of the wards outside.

He raised his head, but Gabriel had felt it too.
Friend or foe? Josiah asked, but the wards did not answer. Perhaps they did not know.

He followed his Master out into the garden with Zechariah and Amalea, where an elven horse had stopped at the edge of the wards.

There were two people riding on the horse, but only one of them was an elf.

"Kyren!" Amalea raced through the wards before anyone could stop her, just as her cousin slid to the ground. He wasn't conscious when Zechariah helped her carry him through the wards, but his charge--a young human boy--would not leave his side, even for Sennet.

"You are welcome here," Gabriel said to the boy, who seemed a bit skeptical until he saw Emle standing in the doorway.

"Oh." He glanced at Gabriel, then at Emle again. "I--I didn't know you were with the Hunt."

Emle smiled. "Why don't you clean up a bit and change your clothes, and then we can talk about finding you somewhere to sleep," she said. "I'm glad to see you, Jordan." She led him away, into the house.

As they passed through the doorway, Josiah heard Jordan ask about Malachi.

Which was odd, because Malachi had stayed inside.

Josiah drifted back into the house as Sennet worked on healing Kyren, expecting to see Malachi still asleep in front of the hearth, but he was gone. He wasn't in the cave, either, and Thomas swore he had not passed through the cave at all.

He wasn't in any of the bedrooms, the bathroom, the kitchen, or the library. He wasn't in the garden--Josiah stopped right outside the door. He had forgotten the bond.

Malachi, where are you?

But Malachi did not respond.

He tried again, with no better luck.

"My lord--" Josiah spoke aloud so that everyone could hear. "Where is Malachi?"

He asked that question just as Emle appeared in the doorway. "Where is Eri?"

And then he knew. No one had thought to check if Magdalen's spells had been broken; they had just assumed, and Malachi had not mentioned anything out of the ordinary. And perhaps--perhaps she had cast a spell to force his return to her stronghold, which meant he was trapped inside her dampening spell.

Had Eri followed him?

"He is gone," Gabriel said after a moment. "Damn her! But at least we know where he will be."

"And Eri?" Emle's fists clenched, as if she could not bear to think of her daughter captive again.

"Perhaps she followed him," Nathaniel said. "I did not see her leave, my lord."

Josiah was halfway across the garden before their Master stopped him through the bond.

"Where are you going?" There was no anger in Gabriel's voice.

"I'm going," Josiah said.

"So am I." Zechariah stepped up beside him. "This needs to end."

"Gabriel?" Emle appeared in the doorway. "What of our daughter?"

"Perhaps she followed Malachi," Gabriel said without much hope. "Either way, we will find them both, and bring them home. You are right. This has to end. Now."

(Last update: October 14th)

House St. Clair Home

Heart's Desire, Part 41

2008-10-12T08:47:00.003-04:00

Chapter 37

Emle's garden had never looked so beautiful, even in the dark. Nathaniel opened the carriage door as the horses stopped at the edge of the wards and gently shook Josiah.

"We're home."

The younger Hound opened his eyes. For a moment, panic bloomed in his gaze, and then he took a deep breath. "Home?"

"Yes." Nathaniel glanced at Amalea. "Will you wait? Please?"

"I have no wish to anger your Master," Amalea said. "But if you'd like, I'll wait with Brenna until he gives us permission to enter."

"You've been here before," Josiah said. "When our Master killed the troll." He stood, and hesitated before climbing out. "The wards will let you pass."

"I came here with Kyren to claim my brother's body, yes," Amalea said. "But I think I should wait out here."

Nathaniel did not like the thought of Amalea by herself outside the wards, but she could take care of herself. With one glance back at the carriage, he followed Josiah into the garden.

So far, no one had noticed their arrival. Nathaniel did not want to speculate what that might mean.

Josiah fell back as they approached the house. "Not a lot has changed," he said, and tears trembled on his lashes. He wiped them away. "I am sorry. I just--I never expected to see our home again."

By mutual consent, Nathaniel stepped through the door first. And although he expected their Master to be waiting in the doorway--or the living room, at least--the house was dark and cold and silent.

Josiah ran his hands across the nearest wall and the house responded with its peculiar ambient light. "Do you think something--Do you think something happened?"

"When I left, Lucas and Sennet were here," Nathaniel said. "I don't understand." Without the bond, he could not open it to contact any of the others, or to find out who was still alive.

Could something have happened? Had Magdalen attacked and spirited them all away?

The first place to check, of course, would be the cave, just in case their Master had left anyone on guard. Nathaniel took a step towards the doorway and heard a small sound behind him. He turned.

"You are alive," Zechariah breathed. "Then--" He spotted Josiah, paled, and took a step back. "Josiah?"

"Where is our Master?" Nathaniel asked.

"There is a traitor in the Council," Zechariah replied, still staring at Josiah. "He went with Malachi to Lucas' house to tell him."

"The traitor's name is Althea," Josiah whispered.

"Malachi felt well enough to leave?" Nathaniel asked.

Zechariah shrugged. "Probably not. But he did not protest." To Josiah, he asked, "You are truly here?"

A smile brightened Josiah's pale face. "Where else would I be?"

"Our Master will be pleased by your return," Zechariah said.

"He won't be so pleased when he discovers what happened," Nathaniel said. "Is Sennet still here? Josiah is still weak."

"She is with Thomas, in the cave," Zechariah said. "I'll go to Lucas' house--"

"Wait a moment, please." Nathaniel had no right to ask him to wait, in truth. But Zechariah did not protest. "Seth is gone, then, if Malachi is alive. He was ambushed, I think. I followed him, but he vanished. And then the bond--"

"We were all affected; Malachi even more," Zechariah said. "He almost died." Gently, as if he were afraid that Josiah might bolt, Zechariah approached him. "Are you well?"

"I am here; that is well enough," Josiah said. "Nathaniel, there is much we need to tell our Master--"

Which was true. Nathaniel closed his eyes. He was not used to making decisions that would affect the entire Hunt. "Where is Sennet?"

"I'm right here," Sennet said, appearing in the doorway. "Gabriel asked me to stay behind, just in case you returned." She saw Josiah then, and glanced at Nathaniel, confused. "Who is this? Seth has black hair--"

"This is Josiah," Nathaniel said. "I found him." He sighed. "No. I found Amalea, the elf who is waiting outside the wards. She found him."

"Seth is dead," Josiah whispered. Zechariah steadied him as he swayed, but Sennet knew when she was needed. She helped him to the bench against the wall, her hands already glowing.

"Someone has to go to Lucas' house," Zechariah said. "Either you or me or Thomas." He cocked his head. "And you said there is an elf waiting outside the wards?"

"And one of Stefan's Hounds, claiming sanctuary. She claims she saved Malachi's life."

"Zechariah, you go to Lucas' house," Sennet said. "Leave Thomas on guard. Nathaniel, you don't look like you would last the journey."

"You are wounded," Zechariah observed.

"Be careful." Nathaniel wondered what his Master's response would be to their return. "Tell him--Tell him I am sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Zechariah said, confused. "You brought Josiah back."

"But I let Seth die," Nathaniel whispered.

"That was not your fault." But Zechariah seemed to realize that his words would not change Nathaniel's mind. "I'll be quick. Don't leave again." He shifted shape and ran out of the room before Nathaniel could prolong the argument.

Josiah was curled against Sennet now, his eyes closed.

"I'm surprised he made it this far," she said. "He is very weak."

"He killed one of Stefan's Hounds by himself," Nathaniel said. "He's stronger than you think." He did not know what to do about Amalea's presence--and Brenna's request. Malachi would have made a decision already, despite the possible consequences. Nathaniel cursed his indecision.

"Would he truly mind?" Sennet asked, as if she knew what he was thinking.

"I don't know," Nathaniel said. "I--want to say he wouldn't mind, but I don't know."

"And what would be the consequences?" Sennet asked. "His displeasure?"

"That's a--a bigger thing than you realize," Nathaniel whispered. "But yes, he would not be pleased." Did that matter now? His Master's displeasure would not mean a death sentence, even in the vilest of incidents.

"I always ask myself 'What's the worse that can happen?'" Sennet said. "When I am afraid to do something."

Nathaniel couldn't imagine Sennet being afraid. "You--" He shook his head. "But you are a Healer."

"Healers aren't immune to fear," Sennet replied, and turned her attention back to Josiah.

What was the worst that could happen? He had borne his Master's anger before, and this time, Josiah's reappearance would temper some of that. "I think--I think I will see if Amalea and Brenna want to wait inside."

He thought he saw Sennet smile, but she did not raise her head.

"That may be best." Her voice held no humor; no inkling that she thought his fears unfounded.
But her words helped calm those fears, and Nathaniel did not hesitate when he walked out the door and into the garden.

Chapter 38

The child slept with one arm wrapped around a pillow, her face smudged by shadows, her hair fine silk across her cheeks. Althea stood and watched her for a moment, then stepped inside the room. She did not know where the child's mother was--or Lucas, for that matter, and that meant she would have to move quickly.

The house's silence belied the urgency of the situation. Althea only had one chance to get this right; one chance to keep her reputation intact and escape from the fallout without a scratch.

She had decided, after much deliberation, that it would be easier to kidnap the child and murder Gabriel's whore. The loss of his whore would drive him mad, and Magdalen could hold his daughter for ransom--and demand that Gabriel bind himself to her as payment for his daughter's life.

It would be an offer he could not refuse.

With the utmost of care, Althea closed the door behind her, then crouched beside the child's bed. The girl awoke as soon as Althea shook her lightly, her eyes widening when she saw Althea's face.

"I'm sorry to wake you up, but Lucas asked me to bring you to the library." She kept her voice friendly, but not overly so. Not fake. "There's nothing wrong, but your mother is--" What to tell her? "Your mother is having the baby a bit early, that's all. Lucas went to find your daddy, and--"

The child scrambled up. "Is she okay?"

"She'll be just fine," Althea assured her, although the opposite would be true, in the end. "If you just come with me, I'll take you to her." She held out her hand.

The child hesitated, as if she heard something false in Althea's tone of voice, but she took Althea's hand after a moment. "Is someone going to tell my papa?"

"Of course," Althea said. "Lucas sent someone else to tell your papa." He'll be along in a minute, I'm sure." She tugged on the girl's hand. "We have to hurry, though--Lucas told me to hurry."

"But--But Mama went to see Sennet, and Sennet told her everything was fine!" With surprising strength, the child pulled her hand from Althea's grasp. "Where is my Mama?"

"She'll be dead soon if you don't do what I say," Althea heard herself say, and inwardly cursed the knowings of meddling Healers. "Do you understand?" She made a grab for the girl, but the freak shifted, and the teeth of a young Hound closed over Althea's wrist.

She shrieked, despite herself, and threw the dog down onto the floor with a strength born of desperation. As it rose to attack again, Althea kicked it in the ribs, and the creature yelped--a sound that would no doubt alert her mother and anyone else who happened to be listening.

"You were supposed to live," Althea growled, and picked up the nearest heavy object--a bookend--she could find. "I intended to spare you and kill your mother, but since you won't cooperate--"

Human hands reached up to grab the bookend as Althea brought it down. The child twisted out of the way as the door opened behind Althea, and Emle's voice brought everything to a standstill.

"Eri? What--" Althea heard Emle gasp. "What are you doing?"

With exaggerated care, Althea grabbed the child's arm before she could escape and pulled her up. Tears left dusty tracks across Eri's cheeks, and a bruise darkened her arm, but she was largely unhurt.

"Close the door behind you, my lady," Althea said. "And do it slowly if you want your daughter to live."

"She wants to kill you, Mama!" Eri tried to twist out of Althea's grasp, but a small spell of binding left her helpless, bound hand and foot with invisible ropes.

"If you say another word, I'll gag you, child," Althea said. "Your mother and I have a lot to talk about."

"We have nothing to talk about," Emle said, her eyes narrowed into slits. "Let my daughter go. I'm not sure who you're working for, but you cannot imagine you'll get away with this!"

Althea could feel her smile stretching almost ear to ear. "Oh, but I do intend to get away with this," she said. "I only have to deliver one of you as ransom; the other will die. Which one of you will live, my lady? You or your daughter? The baby dies with you, of course, if you choose yourself."

Emle's hand strayed to her belly, as if attempting to shelter her unborn child from Althea's words. "You cannot expect me to make a decision like that!"

"Then I'll make it for you." Althea called up a suitable spell and dragged the child farther into the room. Emle followed, as she must, of course, her hands clenched into useless fists.

"Please--"

"You have a decision to make," Althea said, her voice as hard as steel.

Emle did not respond. And before Althea could cast her spell, Eri--that damned brat--shifted shape again, and in her Hound form, the ropes fell away like they were made of water. She snapped at Althea and twisted out of her grasp, bounded off the bed, and cowered behind her mother.

"Your mother can't save you, little Hound," Althea growled, and took one step towards the two of them, her hands raised to kill them both.

Magdalen could clean up the mess by herself.

Inexplicably, the doorbell rang, audible even through the closed door. Althea hesitated as it rang again, and then she heard muffled voices--Lucas, yes, and someone else. Who? Gabriel?

She readied her spell, but knew at once that she was out of time as the door burst inward, and let in the destruction of her dreams.

Emle assumed Althea intended to cast a spell, but she never got a chance to begin. Gabriel burst through the door, closely followed by Malachi and Lucas.

Althea bared her teeth, her hands still outstretched. "Lucas?" She seemed not to notice Gabriel or Malachi.

"Althea, I think you have some explaining to do," Lucas said, his voice grave. "Gabriel just informed me--"

As Gabriel enfolded Emle into his arms, Althea noticed Malachi's presence for the first time. "You!"

She cast her spell before anyone could stop her, throwing something vile and black through the air. Emle shrieked, Lucas yelled, Eri screamed, Gabriel lunged for his Hound, but Malachi--

Malachi threw up his hands, flinching back as the spell reached him. He fell against a table and knocked everything on it to the floor. Then he slid down the wall, lurching sideways, his eyes closed.

Lucas reached him first, throwing up what Emle presumed was a ward to block any further spells. She had to grab her daughter to prevent her from disturbing Lucas--Eri sobbed against her belly, her whole body shaking.

When Lucas touched Malachi's shoulder, Malachi jerked awake, his eyes wide now, staring over Lucas' shoulder at Althea.

Gabriel was an immobile rock beside her, his arms around her still, his face remote as he, too, stared at Althea.

Emle had to crane her head to look at her. As soon as she did, she wished she hadn't looked--the spell Althea had cast had very obviously not hit Malachi, as she intended.

"Lucas--" Gabriel kept his voice low. "I think Malachi learned well."

"What do you--oh." Lucas turned around as Althea collapsed.

"She--put a truthspell on me," Malachi whispered, and Emle thought that he looked close to collapse. "She was there, with Magdalen and Stefan."

"You can check the truth of his words," Gabriel said. "To see who cast that spell."

"I am sorry." Malachi sat up and leaned against the wall. "I could only think of a mirror, my lord. I--"

"May I?" Lucas asked, and held out his hand. Malachi hesitated, then placed his hand in Lucas' grip, glancing at Gabriel as if for permission--or reassurance. When Lucas released Malachi's hand, his mouth was set in a grim line. "You're right," he said, and glanced at Althea--Althea's body, Emle supposed. "Did she have something to do with Josiah's disappearance as well?"

He stood, and bent over Althea for a moment to check her pulse. "She's dead."

"You said yourself that you had to take someone's name off that list to place Josiah's name on it," Gabriel said.

Emle gently disengaged herself from Gabriel's arms and knelt next to Malachi. "Are you okay?"

Eri stopped crying long enough to peer at him. "Malachi?"

He was shivering slightly, a natural reaction to Althea's venom. "She's dead?"

"But to go this far?" Lucas shook his head. "She could have reapplied."

"And would you have accepted her?" Gabriel's voice had deepened to a growl. "Lucas, she lied to you to get what she wanted. I know she knew what happened to Josiah."

"She would have killed you," Emle said, trying to reassure him.

"She was a member of the Council," Malachi whispered, and closed his eyes.

"Malachi?" Eri touched his cheek and he grasped her hand. She took that as an invitation and threw her arms around him. He stiffened, then relaxed, hugging her back.

Emle smiled.

"She could not have known that he was a Hound," Lucas said.

"She didn't," Malachi whispered. "Magdalen forced me to tell her--she wanted to know who created the wards. She didn't know." He shuddered. "She wasn't pleased when I told her."

Emle glanced at Gabriel and saw his lips tighten. "I heard Eri cry out, and I found Althea with her--"

"She told me you were having the baby early, and that I should come with her," Eri said, her voice muffled against Malachi's chest. "But I didn't go with her."

"And I'm glad you refused," Lucas said. He almost sounded--embarrassed. "Gabriel, I apologize for this. If I had any inkling that she was involved when Josiah vanished, I--"

"I know," Gabriel said softly.

"My house is obviously not safe," Lucas said. "And I've been a foolish old man, it seems. Gabriel, Emle and I were talking--" He tucked his hand inside his jacket.

The doorbell rang before he could finish his sentence. Gabriel stiffened. Malachi growled.

"Surely you don't believe this Magdalen would be so bold?" Emle asked. "Could it be someone else?"

"I'll find out," Lucas said. "Wait here." He hurried down the hall.

"My lord, I killed a member of the Council," Malachi whispered.

"I know," Gabriel said. His voice held no inflection.

"Gabriel--" Emle struggled to her feet. "Must you punish him? He thinks--"

"You learned what I asked you to learn, and you protected yourself," Gabriel said. "You did well."

Malachi nodded. Emle stayed close to him, just in case her presence helped his fear. But he seemed more at ease now than he had any other time before. Perhaps Eri's presence helped.

Lucas returned a moment later with Zechariah in tow.

"You left Thomas alone?" Gabriel asked, his voice harsh.

Zechariah didn't even bother to flinch. "No, my lord. I left Thomas with Nathaniel and Sennet. Nathaniel--" He stopped, then, when he saw Althea's body, and his eyes widened. "Nathaniel found Josiah, my lord."

While Emle's heart soared at that news, Zechariah's words also meant that Seth's death had broken the bond and shattered the Hunt into pieces.

"Josiah is alive?" Gabriel asked, his voice soft.

"Sennet is caring for him," Zechariah said. "There are others, too, my lord--a Hound named Brenna--"

Malachi stirred at this news. "My lord, she saved my life. I told her I would try to help her shift shape."

"Then do so when we return home," Gabriel said. "But you said others?"

"And an elf--Nathaniel did not tell me the whole tale, my lord. I came right away." He glanced at Althea's body again. "Josiah said that she--Althea--was a traitor, but I guess you already know that."

"Althea tried to kill Malachi," Lucas said. "And he blocked her spell quite--effectively. I would have liked to question her, of course, but she should never have been a member of this Council."

"There is still Magdalen and Stefan," Gabriel said. "This isn't over yet."

"Oh, I think it's over," Lucas said. "They haven't realized that they've lost quite yet. Gabriel, before you go, there is something I have to do." He pulled a folded piece of parchment from his jacket pocket. "Emle suggested this, and I see no reason why such a thing cannot occur." He hesitated. "Five years ago, I assumed control of the binding. No one wants to admit that the Council holds you in slavery; the other Council members would rather retire the binding as soon as possible."

"They only have to wait a week and a half," Gabriel said, frozen in place as he stared at the piece of parchment.

Could he feel it? Did he know that was the real binding? Even Eri had raised her head, her eyes wide.

"I don't want to wait a week and a half and discover that you are now our enemy," Lucas said. "That is not fair to you, your Hounds, your lady, or your children."

"That is true, but if the curse still stands, I may have little choice in the matter," Gabriel said, his voice soft. "Lucas, I will find a way to escape her if that is true. I have no wish to become your enemy."

Lucas held out the parchment. "I believe this truly belongs to you," he said. "I took the liberty of drawing up another codicil--"

Gabriel took it with shaking hands, the only outward sign of his distress. He unfolded it, stared down at the edicts and the codicil, then glanced up at Lucas. "What does this mean?"

"You are free," Lucas said. "I signed the binding over to you, at Emle's suggestion." He hesitated when Gabriel did not reply. "Your children should not live in slavery."

Emle moved to stand beside Gabriel, since he seemed frozen still, staring down at the binding. She touched his arm and he let her embrace him, but his silence was a bit unnerving. "Gabriel?"

"Thank you," Gabriel said. If Emle did not know him any better, she would have said he was close to tears. "No one has ever done such a thing before."

There were tears on Malachi's cheeks, and even Zechariah's eyes were suspiciously bright. Eri's lower lip quivered.

"The Council will not interfere in your quest to be rid of Magdalen and Stefan unless someone else gets involved," Lucas said quietly. "But I am available to help as much as I can. I want this ended as much as you do. Please don't shut me out."

Methodically, Gabriel folded the parchment in half, then tucked it away into a pocket of his pants. "You do realize--even if the curse still stands--"

"I don't think it matters anymore," Emle said. "Even if it isn't, the binding is yours now."

Gabriel smiled down at her. "Lucas I will not forget this kindness."

Lucas nodded. "Will you tell Josiah that I've never forgotten him?" he asked, almost wistfully.

"You may tell him yourself, once he is well," Gabriel said. "I will not hide him--or any of my Hounds--from you again."

"Thank you," Lucas said.

"You're not leaving me behind again," Emle stated. "My place is with you, Gabriel. Not closeted away like a breakable doll."

"Me neither," Eri said, and jumped up, as if ready to fight for her place in the family.

For once, Gabriel did not argue. And they left, together, a moment later, leaving Lucas alone with a corpse and an ocean of unanswered questions.

(Next Update: October 13th)

House St. Clair Home

Heart's Desire, Part 40

2008-10-11T08:13:00.005-04:00

Chapter 35

Malachi awoke to find that he lay in the spare bed, alone. He lay still for a moment, fighting with confusing chunks of memory that told him a little less than nothing. Something had happened. He wouldn't be in bed otherwise. But the details were lost, mixed up in what was left of the soup of his mind.

His stomach growled. At least that part of his body seemed to be working right.

When he climbed out of bed, he almost fell, his legs wobbling when he tried to stand. He made it as far as the door before sagging against it and closing his eyes.

Wasn't there a better way to do this? Couldn't he call his Master through the bond they shared?

The bond that was gone?

He had not noticed its absence until now.
Someone died, his memory supplied, a quiet little voice in the back of his mind. You almost died. You probably shouldn't be out of bed.

But he was too hungry to lie in bed and wait for someone to appear.

No one met him when he walked down the hall to the kitchen. Emle's pot of stew had been put away, but it only took a moment--well, more than a moment, since he had to stop and rest after each step--to warm up a bowl.

Part of his mind wondered where the others were. But the largest part of his mind was only concerned about the food, and the fact that some of the fog began to seep away once he had remembered how to use a spoon.

It was difficult to eat and keep his eyes open at the same time, however. And the kitchen wasn't as warm as the bedroom. He shivered.

"If you were hungry, all you had to do was ask." Gabriel's voice was more relieved than angry. "I left you alone for five minutes."

The spoon dropped from Malachi's fingers. "I am--"

"Don't apologize," Gabriel said. "You've done nothing wrong." With exaggerated care, he picked up the spoon, wiped it off, and placed it next to Malachi's bowl. "Would you like something to drink as well? Tea? Something else?"

"What happened?" Malachi asked. His mind refused to obey his demand for knowledge. "I feel strange."

"You should be in bed," Gabriel said. "You are not yet fully healed."

"I--" Malachi closed his eyes. He didn't realize his head had fallen forward until his Master gently lifted him up. "I'm so tired."

"Then rest," Gabriel said. "I'll help you back to your bed."

"No." Malachi couldn't find enough strength to open his eyes, but he realized--somewhere deep down inside--that he needed food. For whatever reason, he had to eat. "I--I need to eat."

"Then let me help you," Gabriel said.

He vanished for a moment, and Malachi almost fell asleep with his head pillowed in his arms. The gnawing hunger in his stomach would not let him rest, though, and he pried his eyes open long enough to accept a mug of piping hot broth--a much easier meal than the stew. The warmth of the mug seeped through his hands as he raised it to his lips.

When his strength failed, his Master's hand caught the mug and tipped it up again so he could drink.

And slowly, some of the desperate hunger faded.

He drank another batch before he felt strong enough to hold the mug again. "The bond is gone between us." He shivered, only now realizing what that meant. "Who--"

"I don't know," Gabriel said. "Not yet, at least. There are three Hounds missing, and one is dead."

"Josiah--"

"Seth, and Nathaniel." Gabriel glanced towards the kitchen door. "Thomas and Zechariah are in the cave on duty. Sennet is still here--she's sleeping in the other bedroom. I told her I would watch over you."

"I--I was--attacked," Malachi whispered. That felt right, at least.

"Yes. By Stefan's Hounds, as far as I can tell." Gabriel studied him. "Do you remember anything at all?"

Malachi frowned and closed his eyes. His memories were still in pieces, but some of something had fallen into place. "I remember--" His mind obediently supplied a piece of memory. "Althea's truthspell. She wanted to know if Lucas knew we could shift shape."

”Althea?" Gabriel asked.

For a moment, Malachi couldn't even remember what he had said. "My lord?"

Gabriel stood. "You said--You said that Althea cast a truthspell and wanted to know if Lucas--"

"Knew we could shift shape." Malachi rubbed his throat. "Yes."

"Althea was there?"

"With Magdalen and Stefan," Malachi whispered, trembling as the memories swam to the forefront of his mind.

"Althea Dunning," Gabriel stressed. "A member of the Council."

"Yes. I--I did not expect to see her there." Malachi closed his eyes. "I tried not to answer their questions, my lord--"

Gabriel's fury washed over him like a wave of boiling lava. Malachi shrank back into his chair even as he realized that none of his Master's anger had anything to do with him.

"My lord, please--" He did not have enough strength to defend himself from his Master's anger.

"I sent Emle and Eri with Lucas," Gabriel whispered. "Thinking they would be safe." He stared down at Malachi. "Is there more? Was Lucas there?"

"No," Malachi whispered. "And I would swear to that. Lucas is no traitor."

"But Althea is." Gabriel closed his eyes, but only for a moment. "Would you--Are you strong enough to tell this to Lucas?"

"I do not know much else," Malachi whispered. "Only that she was there--the first time. Not the second." He hesitated. Was he strong enough to walk to Lucas' house? "I don't know if I can make it, but I am willing to try, my lord."

"If Althea discovers that Emle is in Lucas' house--" Gabriel stopped then, staring blankly, as if he, too, had lost his mind. "Oh, Josiah."

"Not dead--" Malachi whispered, and watched his Master's face blur through sudden tears.

"Why would they leave him alive?" Gabriel asked. "For ten years? Why?"

"But we felt--"

"This is worse than I thought," Gabriel said. "Much worse." He hesitated, as if unsure whether or not to share his revelations with Malachi. "Do you remember what happened right before Josiah vanished?"

"He was chosen to be tutored by Lucas Lane," Malachi whispered. He could remember that just fine.

"Lucas had to take a name off his list before he could add Josiah's name to it," Gabriel said. "I thought nothing of it, in truth. I truly did not suspect."

"Whose name was taken off the list?" Malachi asked, even as he suspected he already knew the answer. "Althea's?"

"Yes," Gabriel said. "Whatever she did--whatever she agreed to do--" He paused. "No. More like whatever Magdalen gave her--I felt Josiah in Faerie, somewhere--"

"Lucas needs to know this," Malachi whispered. "And I am well enough for travel." He braced himself, then slowly stood. This time, at least, he managed to stay on his feet without swaying.

"I am not sure of that," Gabriel said. "But you are correct. Lucas needs to know."

"What does Lucas need to know?" Sennet asked from the doorway. "I looked in on Malachi, but I got a little worried when you weren't in your bed."

"I was hungry," Malachi said. "Did I thank you for healing me?"

"Seeing you standing there is thanks enough," Sennet replied. "What happened?"

"There is a traitor in the Council," Gabriel said. "And that is what Lucas needs to know."

"And you intend to take Malachi with you?" Sennet frowned. "He shouldn't be out of bed, Gabriel."

"He got out of bed himself," Gabriel replied. "And yes. Malachi is my proof. Lucas will be able to tell who cast the first truthspell."

Malachi shivered. "Will he--will he have to cast another one to tell that I am telling the truth?" The thought was almost too much for him to bear.

Gabriel must have seen something on his face, because he gathered Malachi up into his arms before replying. "No. I won't allow it. Even if he doesn't believe you," he said when Malachi would have asked.

Malachi nodded and closed his eyes. He let his head fall against his Master's chest. For the first time since he awoke, he felt--almost--safe.

"He really isn't well enough to travel anywhere," Sennet murmured.

With an effort, Malachi roused himself, pushing the weariness away. "I will live."

Sennet smiled. "I daresay you will. I can stay here with the others if you wish."

"That may be for the best," Gabriel said. "If Nathaniel returns--or Seth--"

Or Josiah, Malachi wanted to say, but he held his tongue.

"I will find a way to contact you," Sennet said. "At the very least, I can contact Lucas."

"Thank you," Gabriel whispered. "Truly, I cannot repay you for what you have done."

"Go." Sennet briefly touched Malachi's shoulder, feeding in a bit of strength to help him on the journey. "And be careful. I don't need any more business tonight."

"It is not far to Lucas' house," Gabriel said. "Malachi? Are you ready?"

"Yes." He would make it to Lucas' house. But after that--

"Then let's go, before something happens and we are too late."

Chapter 36

The door at the top of the stairs opened at Kyren's touch, but he could see nothing beyond it. For a moment, he stood there, trying to force his eyes to adjust, but then he realized that this absolute darkness was not a natural occurrence.

How cruel was it to keep a young child bound and locked in a closet with no way to shout for help and under a spell of darkness?

And yet he did not dare banish that spell. Not yet, at least. Magdalen might not notice the destruction of a small spell like the gag, but she would notice something like this.

Blind, Kyren knelt in the doorway. "Child? Are you here?"

Something shifted against the far wall, a small, furtive movement as quiet as a mouse.

"I am not here to harm you," Kyren whispered. "I saw you--when the Hound died. My name is Kyren."

Before he could continue, the closet door opened--a heartbreaking glimpse of Beth's room before Magdalen hauled the boy out and closed the door again. Kyren stayed stock-still, unable to believe that she hadn't noticed his presence. He had no wild chameleon talent that allowed him to blend in.

Had they discovered his absence already? Was Magdalen intending to try to force the boy to find him somehow?

Or worse?

He heard murmured voices, and then the sound of a slap against flesh. The boy made no protest until Magdalen removed the gag--he was crying by then, and only sobbed for a long moment as Kyren inched closer to the door to listen.

"She wants to betray me, doesn't she?" Magdalen hissed, her voice carrying enough for Kyren to hear her clearly.

"I--I don't know!" The boy's voice rose. "I didn't know she was here--"

She who? Kyren wondered. Althea? He shrank back as the door opened again, but Magdalen only shoved the boy inside. Perhaps--and this was almost too much to hope for--she couldn't see past her spell of darkness either.

The boy wriggled to the opposite side of the closet--as far away from the door as he could get--then whispered, "Are you still there?"

Kyren reached out in the darkness and found the boy's bound legs. "What is your name?"

"J-Jordan." His voice hitched. "I saw you too--when the Hound died."

"Why is Magdalen keeping you here?" Kyren worked at the knots on the ropes that bound him, wishing he had more talent so he could magic them away.

As soon as his arms were free, Jordan tried to help, but every movement sent him hissing in pain as the circulation returned to his arms and legs.

"I--" He was crying again, silently, but Kyren could hear the tears in his voice. "I have a wild talent."

"That is no reason to keep you locked in a closet," Kyren said.

"I can read minds." Jordan rubbed his arms and flexed his fingers with Kyren's help. "Human minds. Not yours."

"You were wounded, before," Kyren said, storing this information away for later. "I have no healing talent, but if I can get us past Magdalen's spell, are you strong enough to run through the forest?" He didn't dare travel through Faerie, not so close to the house. That meant--That meant he would have to find another place for sanctuary. "Do you know where the Healer Sennet lives?"

"Yes." For the first time, Jordan's voice held a thread of hope. "I know where her house is. I've seen it before."

"Can you find it in the dark?" Kyren asked.

A damp, fetid stench rose up from the basement--the spell had slipped again, and the water had returned. Quickly, before it vanished, Kyren tugged the boy up, half-carrying him to the top of the stairs.

"The house you see is a spell," he said. "Can you swim?"

"I don't know," Jordan whispered, staring down at the lapping water. It wasn't very far up the stairs, but a strange luminescence had appeared--moonlight?--that reflected off the dark water below.

"The true house has burned," Kyren said. "Magdalen's spell slips from time to time. If we--if we find a place in the water, we may be able to escape." He would figure out how to escape from the drowned basement later. He could not whistle a tune for both of them, and he refused to even consider leaving the boy behind. "It may be our only chance."

In the dim light, the boy's face was gray, the patch over his eye hanging askew. "Then I will try to swim," he whispered, and shivered.

On that note, Kyren helped him down the stairs. As before, the water was full of debris--but a coating of slime covered everything now, and Kyren bared his teeth as he waded through it. Jordan's breath escaped his clenched teeth in a steady whine, but he made no true protest; he seemed to realize that this was their only hope for freedom.

The water kept rising, knee-high at first, chest-high as they reached the center of the room where the furniture moldered in the dampness. Kyren lifted Jordan up onto a pile of wood--it would not do as a perch if the water reached the ceiling, but they could try to swim then, at least.
The stars appeared again--and the moon, shining down into the hole that had once been a floor.

"Can we climb out?" Jordan asked, shivering as he stared up at freedom.

"I don't know." Kyren had intended to stay in the basement and wait until the spell stopped struggling, but it made sense to try their escape now. The stairs were gone--only jagged hunks of charred wood remained. But surely they could climb up onto a pile of debris--

Jordan had already begun to climb. Kyren followed him more slowly, trying to ignore the splinters that snagged his skin, or the slippery rot that already covered the remains of Jacob Daulton's house.

Jordan slid once--at the very top--and lost his eyepatch. His ruined eye was scar tissue, nothing more, but the moonlight cast shadows across his face that showed the track of his tears.

Kyren hauled him to his feet and held him for a moment until his shivering subsided. "Who did that to you?"

"My--My father," Jordan whispered. "He--He thought my talent would fade if I couldn't see." He pushed away from Kyren's grasp and stumbled across the field of destruction, intent on the forest--and freedom.

At the very edge of Magdalen's dampening spell, Kyren tripped over something and lost his balance. When he fell, he twisted his ankle and heard something pop--the pain left him breathless, unable to call out to Jordan to wait.

As Kyren watched, a shadow detached itself from the forest and approached the boy. At first, Jordan tried to run, but the shadow spoke--and whatever it said must have made sense, because Jordan turned and pointed back to the ruined house.

Another shadow joined the first. And then a third--clearly this was not some force of Magdalen's, but someone else's scouts watching the perimeter.

Had Amalea left them there?

Kyren crawled forward, sinking in ash, tearing his hands and his clothes on melted glass and chunks of wood.

He managed to stand just as someone's hand appeared in his line of sight to help him up.
"We thought you were dead."

Kyren knew the girl by sight, but not her name. "I thought I was dead," he said. "Is Jordan--"

"He'll be fine." The girl hesitated. "We can't bring him back to the castle, you realize. Amalea said nothing about a human child."

"Do you know where the Healer Sennet lives?" Kyren asked, grateful for her assistance as he limped across the grass to where Jordan waited with the others. "We'll go there. I think--I think it would be best if I don't go back to the castle just yet."

"We will loan you a horse, then," the scout said. Kyren knew she wouldn't argue with him--in the peculiar hierarchy of the elves, he outranked her by blood alone.

"Thank you." He hesitated. "I am sorry; I know I've seen you before. I do not remember your name."

"My name is Iria," the girl said, and smiled at him. "It was--It was good of you to save the boy, Kyren."

Kyren closed his eyes and leaned back against the nearest tree. "It was the only thing I could have done," he whispered.

Iria touched his arm a moment later, and he opened his eyes to find that she had brought him a horse--a stately steed of elvish stock, as gray as ash. It knelt so he could mount--and even that was almost beyond his strength.

Jordan climbed up behind him. "We are going to Sennet's house?"

"Yes." Kyren waited until the other two scouts had melted away before addressing Iria again. "I owe you my thanks for the horse," he said. "And the aid." And then, because he had forgotten, he asked, "Where is Amalea?"

"She went back to the castle," Iria said. "But she is not there now. The last time I spoke with her, she was on her way to deliver Josiah to his Master."

From the way she said that, Kyren doubted Amalea had told her scouts of Josiah's origins.

"I thought Josiah disappeared," Jordan whispered at his back.

"Yes, but we found him again," Kyren said, keeping his voice low, just in case the scouts were listening. "And I know where Amalea is headed."

"Where?"

"To the Hunt's lair." Kyren closed his eyes for a moment and tried to decide if he had enough courage to go there instead of the Healer's house. He had Jordan to think of now, after all, and he did not want to frighten the boy.

"Josiah is a Hound?" Jordan asked.

"Yes." Kyren tried to flex his foot to work out the sprain, but it throbbed in time with his heartbeat, drowning out everything else.

It would take them all night to reach the Hunt's lair at this pace. Perhaps that was a good thing.

"Are we going to the Hunt's lair, then?" Jordan asked.

"I think we should." Kyren whispered the new instructions into the horse's ear. Then he settled back, closed his eyes, and tried to conserve his strength for the battle ahead.

(Next Update: October 12th)
House St. Clair Home

Heart's Desire, Part 39

2008-10-10T06:35:00.003-04:00

Chapter 33

Emle found Lucas in his living room, staring down at a piece of parchment on his lap. "Is there anything I can do here?" she asked. "Might I have a book to read, at least?" Although reading wouldn't be her first choice, she would embrace anything that helped keep her mind from worrying about Gabriel and the Hunt.

Eri had fallen asleep--even a ten-year-old child couldn't stay awake forever. But Emle could not sleep.

Lucas glanced up at her, almost as if he was surprised to see her there. "Oh, I am sorry," he said. "This has all been a bit--difficult for me." He sighed. "I know what I should do, but what I should do and what I want to do are two totally different things."

"You will not punish him for showing you--" Emle couldn't bear the thought.

Lucas shook his head. "Oh, no. No." He smiled at her and motioned to the couch. "Why don't you sit down? We could talk--if you don't mind, that is. Did--Did Eri fall asleep?"

"I don't mind," Emle said. "And yes, she's asleep. I don't know how long she will sleep; this has been a stressful time for all of us."

"Yes," Lucas said. "I imagine it has been."

Emle sat down on the couch, sinking into softness. "I will talk to you, but if you're looking for more secrets, I don't know them. Gabriel didn't tell me the Hounds could shift shape until yesterday morning." She hesitated. "He didn't allow them to shift shape until yesterday morning."

"Ten years ago, he did," Lucas said. "Before Josiah vanished. You do know about Josiah, don't you?"

"Yes." Emle smiled. "Finally."

"I wanted to speak to you about the binding, in truth," Lucas said, and handed her the piece of parchment.

It was heavier than it seemed, and not an innocent piece of paper at all. Emle glanced at it, realizing what it was only after she saw the signatures on the bottom, and the dates.

"This--This is--" She could not imagine why he had let her hold such a fragile--and important piece of parchment.

"Yes."

Emle glanced up at him, her eyes wide. "And what would happen if I tore this up right now?" she asked fiercely, almost angry that he had handed it to her. As if it didn't matter. As if it hadn't ruled Gabriel's life for the past hundred years. "Would you try to stop me?"

"Do you know if this curse he speaks of is still in effect?" Lucas asked, not answering either of her questions.

"We both heard about it at the same time," Emle said. "I do not know. I hope not. But as you said, there is no real way to check." She tried to hand the binding back to Lucas, but he would not take it. Instead, he handed her another piece of paper--this one newer.

A codicil to the binding, naming Lucas Lane as the only member of the Council who controlled it. Which meant Lucas was, in essence, Gabriel's Master.

"Why do you show me these things?" Emle asked.

"Because I don't think I can wait a week and a half to see if the Council will have to bind the Hunt again," Lucas said, quite seriously.

Emle almost crumpled the binding in her hand right then and there. "I don't think Gabriel will agree to another binding," she said carefully, not quite sure of his intentions.

"If he has to choose between the Council and Magdalen, who would he pick?" Lucas asked. "He may not have a choice, if the curse still stands. And I know the Council will not allow Magdalen to control him. Not from what she's done--or tried to do--already."

Emle thought this over. His words made sense, especially if the curse still held. But how would they know? The binding had to expire first, and it would not expire for a week and a half. As Lucas had said, too long to wait.

She wished Gabriel had confided in her about some of this earlier. Not knowing--or worse, finding out the same time as a member of the Council--made her feel as if her place as Gabriel's lady wasn't as permanent as she would have liked.

"How long have you been with him?" Lucas asked gently, as if he knew where her thoughts had led.

"He--He found me, and saved my life, when he killed the troll," Emle whispered, and glanced down at the binding in her hand. She forced herself to read the words, since Gabriel had never told her of the binding's essence.

"That was almost thirteen years ago," Lucas said. "He hid you for that long?"

"No." It was a list of rules, in truth, this binding, a list of things the Hunt was not allowed to do. "I left for a while, after he found my skin for me." Before he could ask, she offered, "My people lived as swans. The wizard who lived in that house before the troll captured me--years and years ago. He wanted to be a shapeshifter."

"So he stole your skin?" Lucas asked, appalled. "Does this happen often?"

"None of my kin remain," Emle said. For once, the old sadness was just an ache now, a mournful remembrance of times past. "The wizard who wanted to be a shapeshifter killed them all."

"This wizard--did he have a name?"

Emle shook her head. "If he did, I do not know it. Most of the books in the library belonged to him, I think. But I do not believe he built our house."

There was a clause at the bottom of the binding, a time off for good behaviour addendum. The binding could be ended early. Was that why Lucas had given it to her?

"He kept you a prisoner."

Of course Lucas wanted to know the story; he was the Council Historian, after all. Emle almost smiled.

"He kept me prisoner until Gabriel found me," she said. "And he--Gabriel--treated me with the utmost respect. I stayed with them for many months, and I was happy there."

"But you didn't see the Hounds shift shape," Lucas said. "Was that before he allowed them to do so? If I remember--"

"It was around the same time," Emle said. "And I don't remember seeing them in human form--they could have hidden that from me. I was not well for a little while after my release." She hesitated. "But I was happy. The wizard had told me he destroyed my skin, but I asked Gabriel to search for it anyway."

"And he found it?" Lucas asked.

"After over a year," Emle replied. "After I had given up, and accepted my place with the Hunt. After I had stopped hoping to find my kin."

"After you fell in love with him?" Lucas guessed.

Emle smiled. "I would not have admitted that to myself then," she said. "But yes. And you don't realize--you can't realize--how it feels." She shook her head. "I am explaining this badly. For centuries, humans and wizards have stolen our skins to trap us. The same happens with Selkies, I hear. They keep us captive and use us--until we find our skins again and have a chance to escape." She heard bitterness enter her voice. "It is expected."

"But you said that Gabriel found your skin," Lucas said. "He did not steal it--"

"No. But I thought it had been destroyed." Emle bit her lip. "And I--I did not expect him to give it to me, even if he found it. That's not the way it works." She had never explained this to anyone, because Gabriel already knew how she felt. "And he knew I would leave when he gave me my skin. I had to. I had to see if any of my kin had survived." She paused. "You know a little of it, I'm sure. There is a code, of sorts, in Faerie--and here as well, in places--that if you do something for someone, you owe them a debt that has to be repaid."

"Yes. Gabriel has spoken of that before. But he seems to accept it when I tell him he owes me nothing. Others do not." Lucas shook his head. "It is a curious custom."

"He told me that as well, but I didn't believe him, at first," Emle said. "When I found no sign of my kin, I returned to the forest. But when I left him, I was pregnant. And I stumbled into an animal trap. Sennet found me, and after the baby--Eri--was born, Gabriel welcomed me back."
She had left out a lot, but Lucas truly did not need to know every inch of detail.

"And you've been there ever since." At Emle's nod, Lucas asked, "When is the baby due?"

"Right around the time of the binding's expiration," Emle said. "That is why Gabriel has been so--tense of late. I persuaded him to allow me to contact Sennet yesterday morning. And then, all of--all of this happened."

"If I destroy the binding and the curse still stands, Gabriel will never be free," Lucas said. "And neither will you--or your children--if you stay with him."

"If you are trying to persuade me to leave, don't." Emle tried to quell a flash of irritation. "I will not raise my daughters without their father, curse or no." This time, when she tried to hand the binding back to Lucas, he took it, albeit reluctantly.

Perhaps he wished she had made good on her threat? But why? Why would he allow her to destroy it?

Or had he just wondered what she would do?

"Why did you give me that?" she asked.

Lucas sighed. "Fifty years ago, there was a push from the current Council members to be rid of this binding," he said. "They were of the mind that the Hunt had been--for want of a better word--civilized, and that Gabriel should be free to do as he pleased, within reason, of course."

"Fifty years ago?" Emle wondered if Gabriel knew. "What happened? The binding still remains."

"I'm not certain who nixed the idea," Lucas said. "But it was discussed, and discarded. Not because anyone believed the Hunt would then turn on the Council; it was unlikely, even then. But because no one knew what would happen once the binding was broken. We didn't know about the curse. I'm sure that would have made a difference."

"You cannot think to extend it," Emle said in protest. "You've already said you do not wish to create another binding."

"No. The Council does not condone slavery," Lucas said. "A hundred years ago, the binding was seen to be the only way to corral the Hunt without killing Gabriel and the rest of the Hounds. It worked, but what if the curse still stands? What if Magdalen gains control of the Hunt and orders Gabriel to attack the Council? Or Beth-Hill? Or Faerie? I cannot wait a week and a half to find that out."

"Then what do you intend to do?" Emle asked.

"Find a way to break that curse, if it still stands," Lucas said. "Otherwise, the Hunt would be too dangerous to free."

His words were true, but Emle could imagine Gabriel's response. "Why don't you let Gabriel make that choice?"

"What do you mean?" Lucas asked curiously.

"You have to remember that I'm biased in this," Emle said. "But it seems to me that Gabriel had never been--he's never been allowed to make his own decisions about his future. First it was the curse, and the the binding for the last century. No one has ever bothered to ask him what he wants. They have always assumed he will serve them without question."

"He questions me," Lucas said, but Emle heard a thread of interest running through his voice now. "But you are right. He has never had that chance."

"Give him that chance, then," Emle said. "Instead of waiting to see what happens when the binding expires, give him the binding. You had it signed over to your control--sign it over to Gabriel."

Lucas stared at her as if he had been poleaxed. "Is that even possible?"

"I don't know," Emle said, suddenly weary. "It is your binding, not mine. But that is what I would do."

Muttering under his breath, Lucas left her then, and vanished into the other room. She heard a door open--the library?--and wondered if she had spoken wrong. Perhaps he had wanted her to say something different. Perhaps he had wanted her to agree that the binding should never be broken, but he should have known she would not say such a thing.

Emle yawned. She would much rather stay up and wait for news from Gabriel, but she needed to sleep. She would be useless otherwise. Perhaps she would sit here and rest for a little while, just to recharge a bit.

Despite its comfort, the couch was cold, and lonely, unfamiliar and strange. Emle lay there for the longest time, the ache in her chest refusing to go away. She wished--Well, she wished for a lot of things, but Gabriel's presence would have eliminated much of her worry.

She should never have allowed him to send her away.

Chapter 34

There was no dead elf lying on the rug this time--Althea could be thankful for that, at least. But the Hound still lay against the wall, his sightless eyes dull now.

Stefan's Hounds had not touched him. In fact, they seemed to avoid the body, even going so far as to stay out of the room.

Or maybe Magdalen had forced them to leave.

"I thought I told you not to come back here," Magdalen said sharply.

"Emle and Gabriel's child are with Lucas," Althea said. "I thought you'd want to know."

"He suspects something," Stefan said. His voice sounded angrier than normal. Had something happened?

"Where are your Hounds?" she asked.

Stefan glared at Magdalen and stalked out of the room.

"What happened?" Althea asked.

Before Magdalen could reply, the house shifted, and a fine rain of ash fell down from the sky. Althea stepped back, suddenly remembering what the house looked like in the Human World. "What's going on?"

"The Veil is fighting my spell," Magdalen said, the calmness in her voice belying her words. "It is not supposed to be here, after all. So it fights to return to where it is supposed to be."

The house rocked. For a moment, Althea stood on nothing--a hole in the floor where a rug had been mere moment before. She stared down into reeking darkness.

And then, the house was restored again, immaculate and elegant, before she could actually fall.
"The Hound's blood was no use to my spell," Magdalen said.

"Then sacrifice one of your prisoners!" Althea snapped.

Magdalen ignored her. "Tell me what you discovered," she said. "Do you know why Gabriel sent Emle and the child with Lucas?"

"I assumed because he thought she was in danger," Althea said. "I--Oh." She had forgotten about the binding. "Lucas took the binding. I think he might free the Hunt. I think he feels sorry for Gabriel." Although how anyone could feel sorry for the Master of the Wild Hunt--

"Then why are you here?" Magdalen asked, and rose from her chair for the first time. "I need your knowledge, child. I need you to be there, not here." She grimaced. "Stefan! The spell needs more blood!"

"Then kill one of your prisoners!" Stefan growled from the other room.

The house dimmed, then, and Althea stepped back, knowing that she couldn't run fast enough if the spell self-destructed. Magdalen bared her teeth and raised both arms, as if lifting the entire weight of the world with the extent of her power.

And the house returned.

"Very well," Magdalen said, composed now, her voice cold. "Bring Kyren."

Less than five minutes later, when Stefan returned, his hands were empty and something--some knowledge haunted his gaze, as if he had seen something that Magdalen would rather have been left in the dark.

"I told you to--" Magdalen's eyes narrowed. "Where is he?"

"He's gone," he said, interrupting her with a scowl. "Your spell has failed. The basement is full of water."

Magdalen swept from the room in an instant, but Althea could not see why Stefan would lie about such a thing. "Did Kyren drown?"

Stefan shrugged. "I saw no sign of him. But the water is almost halfway up the stairs."

Althea studied the walls around her with deep suspicion. She wanted to believe Magdalen hadn't lost control of her spells, but she had a very bad feeling about this. If Magdalen failed in her quest to control the Hunt, then Althea would lose her place in the Council, and possibly her life.
Perhaps she needed to think about herself--and her future--for the time being. But how to ensure she didn't lose everything if Magdalen failed?

The object of her thoughts appeared in the doorway, disheveled for the first time Althea remembered. "He is gone. I found the ropes, but not Kyren. Could he have escaped?"

"If he did, knowing what he knows, then you'll have to kill him when you find him again," Stefan said. He seemed unconcerned by Kyren's disappearance.

"My spell still needs blood," Magdalen said, and the look in her eyes chilled what was left of Althea's soul.

"You won't get any from me," she snapped. "Send Stefan to find another elf if that's what you need." She turned, then, intending to leave, but Magdalen's question stopped her cold.

"Can you return to Lucas' house without raising his suspicions?"

"I was supposed to cast an aversion spell around the ruins of this house," Althea said. "I haven't done it yet. And my obligation to you has ended. I gave you the means to cast the Hunt into chaos." Quite suddenly, she did not want to be involved in this. She wanted to live out the rest of her life as a member of the Council, not as a fugitive.

"But I don't have my hostage," Magdalen said. "What cause does Gabriel have to bind himself to me?"

"I thought you were sending someone to fetch Josiah," Althea said slowly. "Or that you would call Malachi back."

"Josiah--Josiah--killed one of my Hounds," Stefan said abruptly, and now Althea knew why he had been so angry before.

"You sent a Hound after a Hound?" she asked. "Inside the castle?"

"Of course not," Magdalen said. "I need Emle, Althea. Emle or the child. I cannot make this work without one of them. The Hounds are no matter to me now."

"They're under Lucas' protection!" Althea protested. "Do you truly expect me to cross the Council to help you?" And yet, even as she said it, she knew that Magdalen would expect just that. "I could--"

"Don't speculate, just bring them here. Or kill one of them if you wish and bring the other," Magdalen ordered. "And try to find out if Lucas intends to free the Hunt. I need you, Althea. Don't abandon me now."

Despite her misgivings, Althea nodded. "I will do my best," she said, and wondered if she even wanted to do her best. Was it too late to back out now?

She could--

She could have the Hunt for herself, after all.

For a moment, she couldn't believe that she had thought such a thing. She didn't want the Hunt. She wanted to be a member of the Council. She had always wanted to be a member of the Council. Nothing more.

"Do better than your best," Magdalen said, and patted her on the cheek as if she were a tiny child. "Bring her here or bring the child."

Before Althea could muster any indignation; before she could snarl that she wasn't a child anymore, Magdalen swept out of the room. A moment later, Althea heard her walking up the stairs.

To fetch Jordan? If she brought Jordan downstairs, he would read her mind and know her thoughts. And Magdalen would force him to tell her what she was thinking--which would be disastrous.

"I should go," Althea said to Stefan, who shrugged. "I'll be back."

Stefan smiled. "Of course."

If Althea controlled the Hunt--if she could hide the fact that she controlled them from the Council--then she could destroy everyone who knew of her involvement with Magdalen. If Kyren had drowned, then he wasn't a threat anymore, but Jordan knew, and Kyren's cursed Cousin; the elves in general, and Magdalen herself.

Althea stopped with her hand on the doorknob. Of course she wouldn't dare to do such a thing. Magdalen wanted the Hunt. Althea only wanted her seat on the Council.

She shoved all thought of treachery out of her mind and left the house as quickly as she could, all-too-aware of Jordan's presence.

If she controlled the Hunt, the first person to die would be Jordan, if only to eliminate the danger of his continued existence.

Monsters did not deserve to live.

(Next Update: October 11th)
House St. Clair Home

Heart's Desire, Part 38

2008-10-09T05:49:00.005-04:00

Chapter 31

Nathaniel opened his eyes and found that he lay--still in the form of a Hound--at the bottom of Josiah's bed. He raised his head, scenting the air for Amalea or anyone else, but Josiah was the only other person in the room.

"She came in a moment ago," Josiah whispered without opening his eyes. "She said she would be right back."

Nathaniel shifted shape and sat up, only wincing when the movement pulled the wound in his side. "She said that before as well," he said. "How do you feel?"

Josiah's eyes were clear now, the shadows around them faded. "Better." He hesitated and glanced at the windows, where the sun's light had moved on to dusk. "But I want to go home."
There was an empty plate beside him--empty, save for crumbs. Nathaniel's stomach growled at the thought of food. "Did Amalea bring more food?"

"She brought some meat and cheese and bread," Josiah said. "I had a sandwich. There's more over there on the table if you want some." He stared at the blood on Nathaniel's shirt. "Amalea told me what you did."

"I did nothing," Nathaniel said, trying to rub away the dried blood that clung to his skin.

"She said you saved her life." Josiah waited a moment, then slid out of bed. Before Nathaniel could stop him, or comment on the fact that he was actually walking, he tottered over to the table and quickly made two sandwiches.

"Should you be out of bed?" Nathaniel asked.

"I'm fine," Josiah said, but when he turned with the plate in his hand, he swayed just enough for alarm. Nathaniel rescued the plate and his dignity by giving Josiah an arm to lean on, and joined him back on the bed for an impromptu picnic.

He only wished that the sandwich tasted like food instead of fear and worry.

Just as he finished the last of his sandwich, Amalea returned, her face brightening when she saw him awake.

"I have our carriage ready to leave," she said. "Are you well enough to walk down a flight of stairs?"

"Our carriage?" Josiah asked. "Where are we going?"

"To your back door," Amalea replied. "I had to get permission, of course, but the trees will move out of the way, and there are spells to make a path. You needn't worry. I will get you home."
"And your brother?" Nathaniel had to ask.

Amalea's face darkened. "When he awoke, he tried to kill himself. Magdalen's hooks run deep." She sighed. "He is with our healers now." And then, "Those same healers who refused to treat a Hound. I am sorry about that. They are not of the same--vocation, I guess, as your Sennet."

"If the carriage is a problem, we can share a horse," Nathaniel said, despite the fact that he barely remembered how to ride one.

Amalea shook her head. "It is no problem. My parents are happy to see you leave."

"I am surprised they allowed you to come with us," Josiah said. "Since they are so happy to see us leave." He slipped out of bed again, and gathered up his empty plate. "Do you want these somewhere?"

"No--leave them," Amalea said, and Nathaniel thought that she had tears in her eyes. "Leave them. They are no matter. I am glad you're feeling well enough to walk."

The trip through the castle was memorable only in the fact that they saw no one--not a single soul. It did not seem that Amalea took them on a roundabout trip, either; they walked down one short flight of stairs, across a hallway, and then down another. By the time they had walked down another flight of stairs--to what had once been stables, Nathaniel thought, the wound in his side was throbbing steadily, and even Josiah, with his newfound strength, seemed close to collapse.

The carriage was a simple thing, nondescript and plain, with two pale horses that shied away from the scent of Hounds.

There were no reins, and no place for a coachman to sit. After Josiah climbed inside and Nathaniel climbed in after him, Amalea took the third seat and the carriage jerked into motion.

"It is a spell?" Josiah asked, showing interest in its workings for the first time.

"A location spell, but a permanent one," Amalea said. "It will take us directly to your home. The pathway it creates will fade after a while, but it will last long enough for me to return to the castle."

"You weren't supposed to come with us, were you?" Nathaniel guessed.

Amalea bit her lip. "No. But I feel responsible for your safety. And I have failed once already, with Kyren. I do not wish to fail again."

"Our Master may not allow you inside," Josiah said. "You realize that?"

"He doesn't have to," Amalea said. "I only wish to see you safely home. You can explain what happened--I trust you will tell him the truth. And if he wishes to contact me later, that is fine."

"I will tell him that," Nathaniel said, and wondered how his Master would reply.

They rode in silence for a little while, and Nathaniel stared out the window at the passing trees, He had failed Seth, but found Josiah. Disobeyed, but had not died. Was Malachi still alive?

The carriage stopped. At first, Nathaniel assumed they had reached their destination, but Amalea frowned and murmured something under her breath.

Nothing happened.

"Can this spell be blocked?" Josiah asked, and made some sort of movement with his fingers, as if flicking away an invisible bug.

Again, nothing happened.

Amalea did not have a chance to try again. The carriage lurched--a horse screamed--and something outside growled. A Hound? Or something worse?

"Stay here," Nathaniel said, and opened the door. He shifted shape long before he emerged from the carriage, just in time to dodge a set of snapping jaws.

It wasn't a Hound. Not a Hound of the Wild Hunt, at least--this Hound was black, intent on death and nothing more. But there was only one of them--and despite the wound in his side, Nathaniel knew he could handle one--albeit barely. But then Josiah appeared, in the form of a Hound, his eyes blazing, his teeth bared.

When Amalea appeared--still inside the carriage, but with a sparkling ball of fire in one hand--the black Hound retreated. It did not flee, but it backed away, wary now, and outnumbered.

"That is one of Stefan's Hounds," Amalea said. "If that house is Magdalen's stronghold, then it probably followed us from there."

Stefan. Malachi's Stefan. That meant Malachi's wounds had probably been caused by Stefan's Hounds. With Josiah at his side, he watched the black Hound and waited for it to attack. He wanted to attack first, to avenge Malachi's pain, but he dared not leave Josiah or Amalea alone.
No one thought that there might be another until Amalea vanished with a startled yell--and the black Hound took advantage of that distraction to attack.

It truly never had a chance. With some desperate strength, Josiah had the Hound pinned almost before Nathaniel realized what had happened. He had no choice but to kill it, but he took no pride in its death.

Inside the carriage, the struggle had ceased. Nathaniel turned, half-expecting to find Amalea dead, as Josiah shifted into human form and vomited bits of blood and fur at the edge of the path.

I saved Malachi's life! The Hound inside the carriage had not harmed Amalea. In fact, it seemed that she--yes, she--had only startled her--but Amalea had a sword in her hand now, and it did not waver from the black Hound's throat.

"What do you want me to do with it?" she asked.

"Wait!" Josiah appeared, wiping the blood from his lips. Despite his impressive kill, he had obviously used up most of his strength. He sagged against the side of the carriage and would have fallen if Nathaniel hadn't shifted shape to hold him up. "She said--she said she saved Malachi's life."

Gabriel's conversation with Malachi had not been blocked. Nathaniel had heard most of it, as had the others. But he had been more relieved to hear Malachi talking, and he could not remember exactly what he had said.

"One of Stefan's Hounds did save Malachi's life," he said. "Perhaps it was this one. Perhaps not."

None of the others can speak to you this way, the Hound said. Please--Malachi said he would teach me to shift shape.

"No. He said he would try," Nathaniel said, speaking aloud for Amalea's benefit. "But our Master could just as well--"

The Hound trembled. No! Not your Master!

"He will not kill you," Josiah said. "If that's what you're afraid of."

No.

"Your name is Brenna," Nathaniel said, remembering now. "You are Stefan's daughter. And you were once a Hound, like us."

"When was this?" Amalea asked, sheathing her sword, since the danger seemed to have passed.

"Before the binding," Josiah said. "It is old news."

Amalea's lips twitched. "Not to me."

"Stefan was once a Hound," Nathaniel said. "He was also once a member of the Council. He volunteered to become a Hound to save his daughter--"

To serve himself, Brenna cut in.

"He was not a nice person, even as a Hound," Josiah said. "Can we go now?"

"And what shall we do with your prisoner?" Amalea asked. "Is she coming with us?"

Nathaniel wished the bond had returned so that he could communicate with Josiah--away from Brenna's hearing. But Josiah nodded, even before he asked.

"I think she should, if she saved Malachi's life." He glanced at Nathaniel. "What do you think?"

"I think--" Nathaniel glanced at Brenna, who was trembling now, her eyes wide, as if she did not believe they would allow her to come. Or--Was her Master calling her? "Does your Hunt have a bond like we do?" What if Stefan saw through her eyes and realized that there were two Hounds for the taking?

He cannot--see what I see, Brenna's thoughts were full of fear. He can--He can order me to come--Please-- She closed her eyes, still trembling. I don't want to go back.

"He will know that one of his Hounds are dead," Josiah whispered.

"And call the survivor?" Amalea asked. "I can place a spell around this carriage, but it will block your bond as well, if it returns."

"That is no matter," Nathaniel said. "We will be home soon."

When Amalea cast her spell, Brenna sat up straight for the first time, and shook all over, as if casting out Stefan's touch inside her mind. Thank you.

"She says thank you," Josiah translated.

"You are welcome," Amalea replied, and waited until Nathaniel had helped Josiah into the carriage. "Let's go, then, and hope we finish our journey without any other interruptions."

Nathaniel clilmbed inside and sat beside Josiah. Brenna had curled up under the seat, pressing herself in the smallest space possible.

Despite his misgivings, Nathaniel felt a bit sorry for her. What do you know about Magdalen? he asked.

Brenna shuddered and whined. She is--She is determined.

"Leave her be," Josiah whispered. "There is plenty of time for questions once we arrive."

You heard me? Was the bond slowly returning?

It has not returned. Had Josiah read his mind? But I can hear you.

Is it a good idea to bring one of Stefan's Hounds home with us? Nathaniel asked the question that he'd wanted to ask before.

Probably not, Josiah replied. But you said she did save Malachi's life. If she did not return with us, Stefan would punish her.

Which was true, like as not. And despite the fact that Nathaniel dreaded his Master's reaction to his return, he knew he would not likely be punished. No, Gabriel would be too shocked at Josiah's reappearance to punish anyone.

What would happen at their return? Had Malachi survived the breaking of the bond? The carriage plodded along, far too slow for Nathaniel's impatience. He wanted to run home, with Josiah at his side, of course, with no thought for carriages and agreements and platitudes.

But instead, he had to wait.

With a sigh, he settled back against the carriage seat and watched the trees move out of its way as they inched through the forest.

They were almost home.

Chapter 32

When Kyren opened his eyes and found that he was still alive, he almost went back to sleep in the hope that he would never awaken. Magdalen had made her point with her display of power--it was obvious that he would truly never make it out of the house alive.

So why bother to keep him alive, then?

Dully, he stared around the basement, trying not to remember the human boy's fear or the sound of snapping teeth and tearing claws.

Or the fact that he had witnessed a terrible murder.

He shivered, which awoke the pain from his fall, but he doubted anything was broken. The pains he felt were nothing compared to what had happened to Gabriel's Hound, which meant that he would not die from his wounds.

To die, then, he would have to find a way to kill himself, or let Magdalen have her way with him. Neither choice sounded very promising.

But what could he do, bound hand and foot, with a spell preventing him from screaming and no way out of the basement? What could he do, lying here, with only his mind free?

He managed to roll over--lurching across the floor like a turtle on its back, and lay there panting, staring up at the cobwebby ceiling. His legs were numb, no doubt from the ropes, but his arms still had some feeling. His arms were crisscrossed with welts and bruises, but his fingers moved when he asked them to.

He tried not to flinch when he traced the path of Magdalen's nails across his face.

Traced? With his fingers?

He froze, then, and stared at his hands. The rope--He spotted it a moment later, hanging from a nail halfway up the stairs.

Snapped. Cleanly in two, which meant that he could free himself now, however good that may be.

He sat up, his arms barely supporting the weight of his body, and leaned back against the nearest piece of furniture. It moved, almost pitching him down again, but he caught himself and hissed a curse under his breath as pain jolted up his arms. The ropes had cut off his circulation for far too long.

It took a long time to unwind the ropes. Longer still for him to massage a bit of feeling into his legs. When he finally thought to make the attempt to stand, the sky outside the tiny basement windows was as black as Magdalen's heart.

He hesitated before tearing off the spell that blocked his voice, fearful that she would notice, but nothing happened when it burned into ash.

Now that he was free, something niggled at the back of his mind about the Daulton House's basement. A tunnel out of the house would be nice, but Kyren knew of no tunnels. However, Jacob Daulton had been a wizard. Surely there was something in his basement workspace that Kyren could use.

He limped towards the bookcases and stared at the hodgepodge of bottles and jars. Some seemed empty, others were full of strange, unlabeled herbs and spices, dusty and unused.

How far back had Magdalen brought the house? Had all of these supplies burned in the human world? Did this house truly sit in Faerie alone, or had Magdalen done something even worse to break it off from the usual aspect of things?

He turned away from the bookcases in disgust. Unlabeled bottles would not help him. He could break one, yes, and use the shards to cut his wrists, but strangely, the urge to kill himself had passed, at least for the moment.

In a small room adjoining the larger main room, Kyren found a circle inscribed on the floor--an intact circle--its symbols and spells burned into the stone as if from a very detailed beam. A laser, perhaps, not that he knew anything about lasers. It was a circle that could not be broken, unless the very stone itself cracked.

What had Jacob Daulton used it for?

And, on the tail end of that thought: If Magdalen had pulled the house back in time, was Beth still alive somewhere in the house?

When he saw the door set in the wall, he remembered what he had forgotten. There was a passageway--more than one, in truth, but this one led to Beth's bedroom so her father would not be seen. She'd described his midnight visits on more than one occasion. Sickened, Kyren had assured her that she would never have to go back to such horror.

He had lied, of course. Or been totally naive. She had returned, pregnant with his child, and he had murdered her father. The shock of his death had driven her mad.

Kyren bowed his head, mourning the girl he had known and the woman who had died many years later. Mourning their remaining child--the other twin had died--and his mistakes both before and after Jacob Daulton's death.

Was there still time to redeem himself? And if so, then how?

Kyren stepped away from the door--and into water. At first, he did not realize what had happened--he stared at the rising water that poured across the floor and tried to figure out where it had come from. Was this, too, from the past?

The water deepened, covering his boots, then creeping up to his knees as he stood there. Much quicker than any mundane flood could have risen. It carried debris now--and the stench of decay. The basement walls turned black with mold and rot. The bookcases charred before Kyren's eyes.

No. This was not from the past, but the present. The Veil fought against Magdalen's constraints and struggled to bring the house back into the real world--or whatever the real world truly was, if the house was not entirely in Faerie.

Shadowy shapes appeared--and stars overhead as the ceiling vanished--Kyren bumped into a floating and charred table as he backed away.

And then, everything shifted, and the basement returned to normal in an instant, leaving Kyren standing on dry ground, his pants soaked almost to his hips. But still he stood there, staring, because he had found a weakness in Magdalen's spell.

Magdalen's power was not absolute. And perhaps, if he had tried to escape when the spell had faltered, if he had whistled a tune to transport himself away from the house--perhaps it would have worked.

And he would have been free, at least until she realized he was gone and sent Stefan and his Hounds to find him.

Kyren sat down on the edge of a low table. He could wait until the spell slipped again and try to escape. He could then--what? Had Amalea found the Healer and brought her back to the castle? Should he abandon all hope of surviving and find the Hunt's lair to warn Gabriel of Magdalen's intentions?

And then, almost as an afterthought, he remembered the human boy. Remembered the fear in his gaze and how he had seemed so helpless, so lost.

And he knew, in good conscience, that he could not escape without trying to free the boy as well. This boy was just as alone as Josiah had been for the past decade, and Kyren had failed him.
He would not fail the boy as well.

With a heavy heart, he found the door again, and opened it. The darkened stairway loomed in front of him, leading upwards, to Beth's room and the second floor of the house.

Althea had dragged the boy down the stairs. He remembered that much of it. It was almost too much to ask to think that his prison would be the closet, or even Beth's room, but it was a plausible place to hold him.

But first-- Kyren left the door open and looked for a weapon this time, not something to end his life, but something to prolong it. If he encountered one of Stefan's Hounds, or Stefan himself, then he would need to fight.

He had no doubts that he would lose, but he would still need to fight.

He found a length of iron--a fireplace poker--propped between two bookcases, and he wondered if Jacob Daulton himself had forgotten it down here or if someone else had left it for Kyren to find. Either way, and despite the fact that the iron stung his skin, he had a weapon now. And a plan, however thin it may be.

At least, if he died and the truth reached Amalea's ears, she would not believe that he died a coward. He could console himself with that.

(Next Update: October 10th)

House St. Clair Home

Heart's Desire, Part 37

2008-10-08T06:07:00.004-04:00

Chapter 29

"My lord?"

When Gabriel opened his eyes and saw the relief on Thomas' face, he knew that his momentary lapse into weakness had ended.

Despite the fact that the bond's destruction still throbbed through his mind, Gabriel knew he could not hide in the library forever.

He would have to make an effort to discover who had died. He would have to ask Sennet about Malachi's status, and try to find a safe place for Emle and Eri to stay, because the Hunt's home was no longer safe for her. He would have to ignore the weakness, because he could not afford to do anything else.

"My lord, Lucas wants to know if there is anything he can do."

Gabriel considered that request for a long moment before replying. "Yes. There is something he can do. But I will see Malachi first. And then I will speak with Lucas."

It took an effort just to walk--the short rest had not helped the weariness that threatened to consume him. But he made it to the bedroom without falling, and locked the weakness behind one of his habitual masks.

Sennet sat beside Malachi, her talent still working to repair the damage the bond's destruction had wrought. Despite the mask, she grimaced when she glanced up at Gabriel.

"You don't look much better off than your Hounds."

"Is he--" Gabriel did not want her attention--or her talent--taken away from Malachi until he was stable.

"He'll live--I think," Sennet said. "And he may be okay. The mind is a remarkably resilient thing. But he may not remember anything that has happened."

"I would rather he forget than die," Gabriel said softly. "I did not see this coming."

"I don't think anyone did," Sennet said. She stood then, and removed her hand from Malachi's limp grasp. "He needs to sleep. Is there anyone else who needs my help?"

"Thomas is awake," Gabriel said. "He spoke to me just now. I don't know about Zechariah yet--"

"What about you?" Sennet asked, as he knew she would.

Pride was one thing, but Gabriel could not refuse her help and find his missing Hounds. Healing would lessen the pain of the bond's destruction, and it would also hasten its renewal, and give him a bit of strength to function.

"My Hounds first," he said. "They are hurting too." He struggled to find the right words--to lessen the urge to tell her nothing. "The bond between us--it connects us together. When it is torn away--"

Sennet nodded. "I understand."

"I will sit with Malachi," Gabriel said. "See to the others, if you don't mind."

When she was gone, he sat next to his Hound and stared down at his face. Malachi's eyes were ringed with shadows still, but he breathed on his own, and he seemed in no danger of dying. With only Malachi to see him once he dropped his mask, Gabriel closed his eyes and let down his guard.

Who had died? He had been so intent on ferreting out what Malachi knew that he hadn't paid any attention to the others. Who had died?

"M-My lord?" Malachi's voice was a faint, raspy whisper.

"I am here," Gabriel said, shoving all worry from his voice. "The bond is broken. Someone is dead, but I don't know who."

A minute passed before Malachi replied. "I felt--" His body twitched, as if in remembrance of the pain.

"Hush. Lie still. You almost died." Gabriel hesitated, then took Malachi's hand. "You will recover."

Malachi licked his lips. "You--Did you find out what you wanted, my lord?"

"No. Not enough of it," Gabriel said. 'But it is no matter now. You are alive. That is enough."

A quiet knock on the door prevented Malachi's reply. As Gabriel rose to answer it, he wondered if Malachi would remember this conversation, since he had yet to open his eyes.

Lucas stood on the other side of the door with Emle and Eri behind him, his hand raised to knock again.

"I am sorry to intrude, but Thomas said I could do something to help?"

"How is he?" Emle asked.

"He was awake a moment ago," Gabriel replied, and realized he had forgotten to hide his weariness behind a mask. Did it matter now? Lucas knew every single one of the Hunt's secrets, save for the actual origin on the Wild Hunt. "Sennet says he will recover." Before either Lucas or Emle could reply, he continued, "Lucas, if you will, I'd like you to take Emle and Eri to your house until this is resolved. They will be safe there."

At once, Emle opened her mouth to protest. "You cannot just send us away!"

"No!" Eri's eyes filled with tears. "I don't want to go--"

"This house is no longer safe," Gabriel said. "I cannot vouch for Josiah's wards, and I cannot protect you from an invisible enemy." Despite Lucas' presence, he took her hand and drew her into his arms, then enveloped his daughter into their embrace. "Please. Don't fight me in this."

Emle laid her head against his chest. "I do not like this. I have no wish to leave."

Eri quivered against him. "I don't want to leave either."

"And I have no wish for you to leave," Gabriel said, stroking his daughter's hair. "But what other choice do I have?"

"Lucas could supplement the wards--" But even as Emle suggested that, her voice trailed away.

"I could do such a thing," Lucas said. "However, it won't answer the question that you don't know the answer to, Gabriel. What will happen once the binding has expired? Will Magdalen summon you? Is the curse still in existence?"

"I don't know," Gabriel whispered, which was the truth. "And I won't know until the binding expires." He hesitated; this was difficult enough without admitting everything under the sun. "I have reason to believe that the death of one of my Hounds was a distraction, nothing more. Magdalen intends worse. I don't think she expects the curse to be valid after all this time." And surely it wouldn't be. Curses couldn't last forever, and the binding had--hopefully--broken the curse. "But I can still be bound. And there are two ways I could be bound again. By force--and I doubt Magdlaen has enough power to do what the Council did--or by deceit."

"You think we're in danger," Emle said. "You think she will try to get to us to bind you."

"Who else?" Gabriel asked. "Either you or one of my Hounds, and if she has one of my Hounds, I will know soon enough. We know that she asked Malachi about you. He claims she knows nothing of Eri, but what if she does?"

"I understand." She hugged him tightly, then moved away, dabbing at her eyes. "I'll pack some clothes."

Eri did not release her grip around Gabriel's waist. He lifted her up and she buried her head against his neck. "I don't want to leave."

"It is only for a little while," Gabriel said, and hoped that was true.

"I have a spare bedroom you both can stay in as long as you need," Lucas said. His voice was completely sincere. "What about Malachi? If you're attacked--if Josiah's wards fail--"

"I think Sennet will say that he is not stable enough to move," Gabriel said. "Emle and Eri are the targets. Keep them safe."

"I think you are the target," Lucas said quietly.

Gabriel smiled. "Yes. But I am not asking you to shelter me."

"You told me that you knew Magdalen 'of old'," Lucas said. "Was she the person who cursed you?"

"No." Out of long habit, Gabriel hesitated. "The person who cursed me was her mother." Another hesitation. Why was it so difficult to talk about this? "I killed her mother. Magdalen swore revenge."

"But her mother cursed you?"

"She--Magdalen's mother created the Wild Hunt after I refused to serve her." It was a bare explanation to everything that had happened, but it would do to soothe Lucas' curiosity. "As punishment. She cursed me when she died."

"Ah." Lucas did not press for a more detailed explanation. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but perhaps he realized that Gabriel did not know the answers to his questions. "If something happens and you need additional help, don't hesitate to send someone to my house."

"Thank you." And then, as he knew he must, Gabriel said, "I will remember your kindness. I--"

"You owe me nothing for this," Lucas interrupted. "And I know what you're going to say. If you wish, think of this as repayment for serving the Council all these years."

Gabriel nodded, too weary to argue. "Very well."

"I am ready." Emle appeared again, a small bag in one hand. "You will send word?"

"I will send word," Gabriel promised. He did not want to see her leave, but what choice did he have? Emle and Eri would be safe with Lucas.

He hugged them and kissed them one last time, and then watched them leave, certain that he would never see his family again--but unable to call them back.

This was, after all, for the best. Lucas would keep them safe.

He hoped.

Chapter 30

Despite Magdalen's order for Althea to stay well-away from the Wild Hunt, she found that she couldn't leave them alone. Now that she knew what she knew--now that the Hunt was in chaos and despite Magdalen's assurances that they had won--she wanted to know more.

What else had Gabriel hidden from the Council? Or, rather, from the rest of the Council, since Lucas had been inside the Hunt's lair.

She combed through the files in the Council's vast library, searching for any indication that this secret had only been kept from her.

She found nothing. Oh, vague references, and all the usual histories, but nothing more than that. Nothing to show that the Council--save for Lucas, the traitor--had been aware of Gabriel's secrets.

In fact, there had been a push to destroy the binding fifty years after its implementation, on the grounds that the Council no longer wished to force the Wild Hunt to serve them.

Nothing had come of it, of course, but that little footnote in the histories made Althea wonder if the binding could be broken early.

Is that what Lucas intended to do?

The damning evidence of his desires never appeared. In fact, it was a glaringly obvious omission.
She could not find the binding itself.

She knew it was on paper--any spell that was set to expire had to be written down so it could be destroyed when the time was right. She had seen a copy of it once, long ago, soon after she began her instruction and training to become a member of the Council.

Since everything else to do with the Hunt was kept in the Council's library, Althea had assumed that the binding would be kept there as well.

Had Lucas--taken it?

Long ago, he had created a permanent portal from his library to the Council's library--a shortcut so he didn't have to drive between the two buildings all the time, and also a way to share his own extensive library with the rest of the Council. There were no rules to pass through the portal, per se, but Althea did not want to have to answer his questions about why she was looking for the binding, either.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to see if he had taken it, for whatever reason. With that in mind, she opened the door that closed off the portal.

Lucas' library was set up like the Council's library, with a row of oak file cabinets along one wall and bookcases--filled, of course--covered every other available surface. The room had been two bedrooms once, and he had removed the wall between them, doubling the space.

The first closet held extra files, the second had been converted into a tiny workstation for students who needed some private space to research.

Althea searched the file cabinets first. She found an empty file folder under the heading "Hunt, Wild", but nothing else that could have contained the binding. And would Lucas have left such an important spell out in the open like that?

She found it, finally, in the closet, in a small wooden box, along with a codicil signed by Lucas and three other members of the Council--Althea not included. The codicil transferred the binding into Lucas' grasp alone, which meant that he controlled the Hunt.

Niklas--the dragon--was named as a backup if something happened to Lucas.

The codicil was dated five years ago.

For a moment, Althea considered tearing up every single piece of paper in the box. Five years ago, she had been a new member of the Council, and no one had mentioned such a thing. The Hunt was supposed to be at the Council's beck and call, not only subject to Lucas' whim. It was no wonder that they had largely dropped out of sight in the past five years--Lucas had kept them in the background, no doubt by Gabriel's request.

She could have no more summoned Gabriel to meet with Magdalen than she could have forced him to sign a new binding. She was powerless in that respect.

She stared down at the brittle parchment nestled in the bottom of the box and forced herself to read it closely. Forced herself to search for some loophole that would negate Lucas' addendum and make it null and void.

The only thing she could work with was a very small note--almost an afterthought--at the bottom of the page.

If the Council deems that the Hunt has served in good faith, this binding can be removed before its ending date.

But if Lucas had every intention of freeing the Hunt, why hadn't he already destroyed it? Didn't he know the note was there? Had he ever read the binding in its entirety?

The Hunt may harm no one without just cause. The Hunt may not harm a member of the Council.

It was a list of rules more than a binding, a guideline of sorts, forcing Gabriel to become a more--civilized creature. And even Althea realized the binding had worked. Gabriel had learned his lesson.

But that had nothing to do with Magdalen's desire to control the Hunt.

She heard voices then--Lucas and someone else--and crept towards the open door that led to the rest of Lucas' house. When she recognized Emle's voice, she almost knocked over a stack of books in her haste to stay unseen.

What was Emle doing in Lucas' house? Was the child with her?

"...spare bedroom," Lucas said, his voice a low murmur. "And down that hallway is the library--I'll show you it in a moment. The bathroom is through that door--"

Quickly, Althea shoved the paperwork back into the box and put it away. Then, trying to think of a valid reason to be there in the first place, she pulled a handful of books from the shelves--aversion spells--yes--that would do--and settled down in a chair to read.

The Council would want an aversion spell around the remains of the Daulton House. That was obvious, unless someone else had beaten her to it.

She wanted to hear Lucas' excuse for Emle's presence.

"Make yourself at home here," Lucas said, his voice growing louder. "I'm sure you'll be back home soon. In fact--" His voice trailed away. "Althea?"

Althea glanced up as he stopped in the doorway, and held her place in her book with one finger. "Hi Lucas." She ignored the fact that he did not return her smile. "I went back to the Daulton House again--just to scout around a bit. I thought someone needed to put an aversion spell around the house, but I didn't know any offhand. Sorry--I didn't know you had a guest?"

It was too late now, of course, to hide Emle's presence. Or the presence of Gabriel's child, hiding behind her mother, her eyes wide. "Yes, but she's only staying until her house is safe for her again," Lucas said smoothly. "An aversion spell is a wonderful idea. I'll leave you in charge of that."

He made no attempt to introduce Emle or the child, so Althea pretended she did not sense the slight and smiled at the woman. "Hi. I'm Althea Dunning. Sorry if I startled you. I'm almost finished," she said to Lucas. "I'll be out of here in a minute--"

"It's no trouble," Lucas said, but Althea thought she heard annoyance in his tone of voice.

"It is good to meet you," Emle said, but did not give her name or hesitate when Lucas led her away. The child glanced back at Althea, curiosity plain in her gaze. Could she work with that? Entice the girl away from her mother?

A moment later he was back, his face troubled. "I would appreciate it if you don't tell anyone they are here," he said.

"I won't tell anyone," Althea replied. "Let me know if it's anything I can help you with, okay?" She finished copying the spell and closed the book.

Lucas crossed the room to the closet where the binding was, and took down the narrow box. "I'll let you know," he said, and tucked the box under his arm. "For now, casting that spell would be very helpful. I meant to do it earlier, but--"

Earlier had been Malachi's rescue, and Lucas' appearance at the Hunt's lair. Althea nodded, careful not to show any curiosity about the box. "No problem. I can do it now; I'm not busy."

"Thank you." He waited until she had put her book back before turning his back to her--and waited until she passed through the portal before opening the box. The last thing she saw before she closed the door was Lucas holding the binding, as if bracing himself to tear it in two.

She would tell Magdalen, at least. Now that she had an excuse to be at the ruined house, she could cast her spell and give her report all at the same time.

And perhaps she could get out from under Magdalen's thumb sooner than later.

Perhaps. If Lucas destroyed the binding, that would benefit her more than the Hunt itself. And that would be just fine.

(Next Update: October 9th)
House St. Clair Home

Heart's Desire, Part 36

2008-10-07T06:31:00.000-04:00

Chapter 27

For a long moment when Josiah opened his eyes, he thought he had to be dreaming again. As far as he could tell, he lay in someone's bed in a small cozy room, and the silken sheets cradled his body like the hard floor of his cell had not.

He had to be dreaming, and yet this did not feel like a dream. And didn't he remember--Yes. Two faces. Two elves. Talking to him. Telling him that he was safe.

As if he could ever be safe without his Master's constant presence in the back of his mind.

More memories surfaced as he lay staring out the windows at the sunlight outside.

Outside was such a lovely word.

He remembered the red stone that had fused to the bones in the palm of his hand. He remembered Amalea and Kyren--the elves, yes--removing the spells and the iron that prevented him from fighting back, and he remembered gathering the last tiny bits of his talent to break Althea's spell.

And he had broken it. That was probably why he felt so weak.

"You're awake," a new voice said, and another elf appeared at the foot of the bed. She was old, this elf, and dressed in a faded purple velvet dress. Despite its age--and her age--Josiah thought she looked like an ancient Queen. Regal, but not cold. Her eyes were kind as she looked down at him.

He opened his mouth and licked his lips. "I'm awake."

"You're very weak, so don't try to get up," the elf said. "My name is Mirella. Your Master will be very happy when you return."

Josiah's mind was still sluggish, or else he would have been alarmed much sooner at her words. But he couldn't seem to summon up enough strength to do anything but stare at her.

Her eyes were bird-bright and bright blue. Kind eyes. And vaguely familiar, as if he had seen her once before, perhaps a long, long time ago.

"You know." What would his Master say? Josiah felt tears trickle down his cheeks, surprising him. He hadn't realized how much faith he had stored away with the faint hope that he would somehow push past the spells and feel his Master's presence in his mind again.

"I know," Mirella said. "I've known about you for many, many years. Not here--if I had known you were here, I would have killed Magdalen myself!" The kindness was gone from her gaze and anger replaced it, soon followed by fury, but not at Josiah. "You were caught in a mess that we allowed to happen, Josiah. And I realize our apologies won't mean much to you, but that is all I have to give." She hesitated. "Kyren and Amalea should be on their way back with a Healer for you. That way when we contact your Master, at least you'll be a bit stronger."

Josiah sensed a strange mix of fear and reluctance from her, as if she did not wish to set him free. Or, perhaps more likely, she was afraid of what his Master might do, once he learned what had happened.

"Thank you," he whispered, and hoped they did not imprison him again. He would have to fight them, and he barely had enough strength to keep his eyes open and speak at the same time.

Kyren knew as well. Josiah remembered telling him--but that had been an accident. He sighed.

The reluctance fled. "Child--" Mirella shook her head. "You might be older than me, Josiah. And I am calling you a child." She smiled at him. "You will return to your Master. I am only concerned about his reaction to the news that you are not dead as he--and everyone else--thought."

It was a valid concern. Gabriel was not known for his patience or his even temper. And Josiah could even sympathize with Mirella's dilemma. But he did not want to wait.

Unfortunately, he knew without even trying that he did not have enough strength to leave the castle on his own. Not yet, at least.

So he would have to wait.

Perhaps he should have taken Kyren up on his offer, before. Perhaps then, he would be with the Hunt instead of still trapped in this castle with its dampening spell that he could not break.

He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the throbbing pain from his wounded hand and the desperate weariness that still threatened to drag him down into darkness.

"Amalea left some food--are you hungry?"

Josiah's stomach cramped at the word food, but he doubted he had enough strength to actually eat. "Yes."

It was broth, at least, and easy to swallow. Mirella had to lift him up and feed him like a tiny baby because he was too weak to hold the delicate cup in his hand.

And it helped give him a ledge to stand on against the draining weariness, and lessened the horrible pounding in his head.

He drank the whole cup, and then another, without choking once. By the time she had refilled the cup for the third time, he felt strong enough to sit up with the aid of pillows--and drink it himself.

"You spoke to Kyren, before," Mirella said abruptly. "Did he offer you anything?"

Josiah stared at her for a long moment before replying. 'He offered to carry me out onto the balcony and allow me to contact my Master," he said, hoping his words did not get Kyren into trouble.

Mirella's eyebrows rose. "And you--you refused?"

"I told him that I would rather not have the bond between us vanish again if I had to go back inside this spell," Josiah said. "And that was the truth. But I--I regret that I did not allow him to contact my Master. It would be--" He felt tears gather in his eyes now, and tried not to let them fall. "It would be nice to know that I have not been forgotten."

"Ah, child--" She sighed. "I wish--"

Josiah closed his eyes, fighting to push past the crushing disappointment. "I understand."

"No, damn it all. You shouldn't have to. Not anymore. Can you walk?"

Mirella helped him sit up without the aid of pillows this time, and he managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed on his own. But that was all he could manage; the thin ledge of strength was eroding fast, and when he opened his eyes, his vision was ringed in black.

"You are not ready for this," Mirella said. "But if you ask, I will help you onto the balcony."

"Please?" Josiah's muscles quivered as he tried to hold himself up. "Will you be punished?"

Mirella laughed. "No. The Queen will not like my decision, but she will not punish me. Tell your Master we've summoned a Healer so he doesn't think we are cruel." Mirella put his arm around her shoulders and lifted him up. "You weigh nothing, child!"

Josiah did not reply. He was too busy trying to remember how to walk--one foot in front of the other. His legs refused to hold him for long, however, so Mirella had to bear most of his weight.

The second he stepped into fresh air, he tensed as the bond bloomed in his mind. He felt his Master's presence for the first time in ten years, filling a hole inside his mind that was long empty.

But even before he made his presence known, he realized that all was not well with the Hunt.
The bond was faded, dampened, he thought, as Gabriel worked to ease something from Malachi's mind. It was a spell, or something, that required all of his concentration. If Josiah were to break in now--He shivered. It would be disastrous.

"I cannot contact him now," he whispered, and dampened the bond himself as Mirella lowered him into a chair. "He is--Something happened to Malachi, and he is trying to find out the details."

"Something bad?" Mirella asked.

"Bad enough for him to almost close the bond between us," Josiah whispered. "He--"

He would have continued, but something terrible severed the bond in that instant--and the only thing that could sever the bond was the death of a Hound.

Malachi?

Josiah collapsed, sliding off the chair and landing on the balcony floor, deaf as well as blind as the shock reverberated through his soul. He heard someone talking--or, rather, felt the vibration of their speech--but he could neither hear nor understand their words.

Something had gone wrong. A horrible something that left him bereft again, alone.

The voice faded as he tried to make sense of what had happened. He felt cold stone beneath his cheek, wet with his tears, and tried to struggle against the darkness, but it carried him away before he could muster enough strength to stay.

Chapter 28

"...some sort of spell? He collapsed, Grandmother. What else was I supposed to do?"

Amalea, Nathaniel's mind supplied. Her name was Amalea.

"I would have said leave him there." This voice was older, and half-familiar, as if he had heard it before. But he did not know its name. "However, before you protest, I do believe you did the right thing. He isn't under a spell. Something broke. I helped Josiah onto the balcony--"

Josiah? Josiah was here?

"You did what?!" Amalea's voice rose.

"I helped him onto the balcony," her Grandmother said. "It would be another month of delays if we waited for approval, and unlike Kyren, who offered him the same thing, I am fairly immune to any sort of punishment."

"What happened?" Amalea asked.

"He told me that something bad had happened to Malachi--I assume that's another Hound--and that his Master could not be disturbed at the moment. Whatever happened--"

Nathaniel forced his eyes to open. For a moment, he couldn't comprehend where he lay; the shadows and vantage points were all wrong until he realized that he lay on the floor.

"The bond shattered," he whispered, not really caring if they heard him. Someone died. But not Josiah, evidently. "Where is Josiah?"

Amalea appeared in his line of vision and extended her hand to help him up. "He's lying on the bed right above you. I'm sorry--I only have one bed."

After a moment's hesitation, Nathaniel took her hand and let her pull him up. He did not attempt to stand--the bond's destruction had left him weak and aching. "And he is alive?"

"He is unconscious, but breathing," Amalea's grandmother said. "I assume he was affected as you were."

"Yes." Nathaniel leaned his head back against the bedframe and closed his eyes. Everything ached, but his head pounded in time with his heartbeat, dulling his senses. But he couldn't sit there and take their word as truth that Josiah truly lay in the bed, unconscious. They had no real reason to lie to him, but after ten years-- With a groan, he pushed himself to his knees and opened eyes that were suddenly blurred by tears.

Josiah did lay in the bed. He had not changed from the last time Nathaniel had seen him--his face had not aged at all. The shadows around his eyes were new, and his paleness--Josiah had always been pale, but this went beyond the simple avoidance of sunlight. This was the sickly paleness of weakness and hunger, something that the Hounds had never known.

"Amalea did not give me your name," her grandmother said. "Might I have it?"

"If you give me yours in return," Nathaniel said. "I am Nathaniel."

"Mirella."

He recognized the name, even though he did not remember ever meeting her. "Ah. I see. And the cousin Amalea lost?"

"His name is Kyren," Amalea said.

"He--He was the elf who murdered Jacob Daulton." Josiah's voice was soft and uncertain, as if he did not quite believe in Nathaniel's presence. He blinked, his eyes heavy with weariness, and glanced at Amalea and Mirella.

Did he expect them to claim Nathaniel's presence a hallucination?

"We won't be staying here," Nathaniel said, well-aware that they could very well keep them both prisoner without much trouble at all.

"I didn't expect you would," Mirella said.

"Are you truly here?" Josiah asked, his voice breaking as tears spilled down his cheeks.

Nathaniel struggled to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed. When he touched Josiah's hand, the younger Hound burst into tears--loud, wracking sobs that would tax his strength even further--or help him heal.

Nathaniel glared at the elves, despite his efforts to remain civil. "Will you leave us alone for a moment?"

Amalea looked as if she wanted to protest, but Mirella drew her away, her own eyes bright with tears. They did not go far--the other end of the room--but that was far enough. Awkwardly, Nathaniel drew Josiah into his arms.

The Hunt wasn't overly demonstrative of affection. Gabriel punished more than praised, and every kind word was a diamond in a sea of coal. But after ten years away from the bond and the Hunt, Josiah needed comforting. And he needed to know that he was no longer alone.

"W-Who died?" His voice was muffled from where he had pressed his face into Nathaniel's chest.

"I don't know," Nathaniel whispered. "I had followed Seth--and I think he may have walked into a trap." He hesitated. "I don't think it was Malachi." It hurt to even consider any possibility, but someone had died.

Josiah glanced at Mirella and Amalea. "What did she tell you?"

"That you were alive and that a witch named Magdalen was involved." Nathaniel rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ease away the pain. "But we didn't have much time to talk." He hesitated. "She guessed I was a Hound."

"It is not just Magdalen who is involved in this," Josiah whispered. "And it is not just me. What happened to Kyren?"

"According to Amalea, he was lost inside the Daulton house, although I do not understand how that is possible," Nathaniel said. "I saw Seth vanish inside it as well--or, inside of its influence, but--"

"Althea Dunning made a bargain with Magdalen to give her the Hunt in exchange for a spell," Josiah whispered. "All she ever wanted was to be a member of the Council, and Magdalen helped her achieve that."

"By imprisoning you? For ten years?" Nathaniel shook his head. "A member of the Council would do such a thing?"

"When Lucas put my name on the list, he had to remove someone else's name," Josiah said, struggling not to cry again.

"Kyren was involved, as well."

Nathaniel had not noticed Amalea's approach. Mirella was gone--he had not noticed her departure, either.

Was there a spell, here, too, to dull his mind and instincts?

But Josiah did not seem concerned. He kept a tight grip around Nathaniel's waist, but his tears had stopped.

For the moment.

"What do you mean, Kyren was involved?" Since Amalea held the keys to their departure, Nathaniel thought it prudent not to alienate her, especially now.

"He was involved with Magdalen," Amalea said. "He approached Althea for the initial meeting, among other things. He did not know of Josiah's presence in the space behind the mirror, but he knew what Magdalen and Althea planned."

"Then he is just as guilty as--"

Josiah cut him off before he could finish that sentence. "Magdalen ordered him to kill me and he didn't. Give him that, at least."

Amalea's surprised glance told Nathaniel that she had not expected Josiah's words. "I don't wish to condone what he did, but Magdalen is a very powerful witch. I don't think he had much choice, after that first incident. She used his royal blood to establish herself in this castle until we banished her almost a month ago. The Stefan who hurt your--who hurt Malachi is her Hound."

"Have you told the Council?" Nathaniel asked. He wasn't about to comment on Kyren's involvement without knowing more information.

"Not yet," Amalea said. "And before you protest, we realize they need to be contacted. But the delays are political, in truth. And my grandmother decided to forego all the delay and allow Josiah to step outside the dampening spell."

"Did you--Did you contact our Master?" Nathaniel asked.

"No. He was--occupied with Malachi," Josiah said. "I didn't want to disturb him--it might have been disastrous."

"And then the bond shattered--Is Malachi alive?" Nathaniel closed his eyes and wished he was anywhere but this castle. "We have to leave."

"Truly--" Amalea's voice was soft, but insistent. "Josiah is in no shape to travel."

Nathaniel glanced down at him and saw that Josiah's eyes had closed again. "The Healer is at our house," he said.

"Then go and fetch her," Amalea said. "Or, better yet, I'll go with you. My grandmother can stay here--"

"That worked well when you left with your Cousin," Nathaniel said. He didn't realize how his words had to sound until Amalea flinched. "I am sorry."

"No, you speak the truth," Amalea said. "I did leave him to his fate. There is little I can do if I cannot get past those spells." But her gaze was haunted by guilt, as if she wished she could do much more. "I have--scouts watching the perimeter at the moment. Until we find a way past her spells, there isn't much more we can do."

"They are Magdalen's spells, then?" Nathaniel asked. "How can that be true? Malachi was the one who Magdalen took, not Seth."

"It is Seth's death, I'd guess, that shattered your bond," Amalea said. "I am sorry. Kyren is probably dead as well, but I have no way to tell. Magdalen would not have been pleased with his inability to obey her orders."

Was Jordan in the house as well? Nathaniel thought that might be a possibility, but how was the house still in existence and not in existence at the same time? "Was the house burned down when you saw it?"

"It was at first," Amalea said. "But we crossed the Veil and it wasn't. It was restored. Kyren saw it first--he was--he was rather maudlin about seeing it whole again."

"We cannot stay here," Nathaniel said, but he was loathe to leave Josiah alone. What if he vanished again? What if awoke and thought Nathaniel's presence had been a dream?

"He is in no shape to travel," Amalea said. She would have said more, but someone knocked on the door--a sound that reverberated through the adjoining room.

Josiah twitched in his sleep.

"Who would be knocking?" Nathaniel asked.

"My brother, Airis," Amalea said with a frown. "That's strange--" But she showed no hesitation when she left the room to answer the door.

Nathaniel sat beside Josiah and wished there was another way out of her rooms. Even a portal would have been preferable to only one door; he wanted an escape route if he had to flee the castle quickly. And the balcony didn't seem to offer much in the way of escape.

He heard voices now--sharp voices, as if Amalea did not like the news her brother bore. Habit made him strain to listen in, if only because the news probably had something to do with the Hunt.

"This is not any more pleasant for me, Amalea," her brother said, his voice low, as if he didn't want anyone to overhear. "But just as you cannot ignore a summons, I cannot ignore an order." He paused. "The Hound will keep. Magdalen is gone from the castle, and cannot return. She cannot harm him here."

"I am not leaving until Grandmother returns," Amalea said. "And you can tell Mother that--summons or no. I will not leave--" She stopped then, and Nathaniel could almost feel her retreat. "How do you know he is a Hound? I only just found out myself."

"Someone must have told me," Airis said, but Nathaniel heard the falseness in his tone of voice. "Grandmother, perhaps--"

"No. She didn't tell you." Amalea sounded angry now, and perhaps a little frightened. "We decided not to tell anyone, save Mother, and even then--Who told you, Airis?"

"Does it matter?" Nathaniel heard a thunk, as if Amalea's brother had tried to push open the door--and failed. "Amalea, have I ever lied to you before?"

Quietly, so as not to alarm either elf, Nathaniel slid off the bed and tiptoed to the door. It was obvious that Airis' informant did not know of his presence--and that would be a good thing, if Amalea's brother had somehow been compromised.

He saw them now--Airis was a taller, more masculine version of his sister--but they did not notice him at all.

"No. You've never lied to me," Amalea said, but she didn't step away from the door. "But Josiah's presence here was supposed to be a secret. If someone has--"

It was a small gesture, nothing more. Nathaniel didn't even realize that Airis had cast a spell--or tried to, at least.

Amalea laughed, but her laughter seemed forced. "Brother, how long has she had you in her thrall?"

"You don't understand," Airis said urgently. "This is all. She will have no hold over me after I take care of the Hound." He tried to get past her, but she blocked him--both with force and magic, Nathaniel thought.

Airis blanched and stepped back--Amalea tried to close the door, but he persisted, his face bathed in sweat and desperation, his eyes wide. "Do not attempt to stop me, Amalea. Please. I beg of you--"

And then--outside of Amalea's line of sight, Nathaniel caught a glimpse of something long and thin tucked into the waistband of Airis' silken breeches. A hilt. And as Amalea struggled to close the door, her brother drew the dagger from his belt.

It was still out of Amalea's line of sight. If he struck quickly enough, she would die before she had a chance to defend herself.

And then--what would happen to Josiah?

Without considering the consequences, Nathaniel shifted shape and burst through the doorway in a dead run, leaping even before Airis had a chance to do the unthinkable.

Instead of stabbing his sister while he had the chance, Airis pushed her away, his eye on a bigger prize. Perhaps he thought Nathaniel was Josiah, miraculously restored. Perhaps he didn't care, and only wanted to fulfill his obligation to Magdalen by killing a Hound.

Either way, he thrust too soon, and the dagger merely glanced off Nathaniel's ribs, slicing through skin and muscle, yes, but the wound was hardly fatal.

He did not have a chance for another thrust. Nathaniel's momentum knocked him to the floor of the empty hallway. His head bounced against the stone wall--again, not a fatal wound, but painful.

Nathaniel had no desire to tear out his throat, and Airis showed no sign of wanting to attack anyone. Indeed, the elf's eyes slid shut and he collapsed under Nathaniel's weight, unconscious.

The dagger lay near his outstretched hand. Nathaniel kicked it away.

Only then did he glance up at Amalea, who stood there, disheveled and frozen in place, her eyes wide.

Warily, Nathaniel slipped past her, back into the room. When he shifted shape, the wound across his ribs pulled painfully, and it took him a moment to stand.

"You're hurt," Amalea whispered, then cleared her throat and repeated the words. "I--I--Thank you. I think--You saved my life."

It hurt worse to stand. Nathaniel sank into a chair, and tucked one hand under his shirt. His skin was already slick with blood. "I saw the dagger--" He started to shrug, then winced as the movement pulled at his wound. "I think he would have stabbed you to get to Josiah."

"Magdalen is--" Amalea's face darkened. "Damn her. My own brother!"

"He may not have had a choice," Nathaniel said. "What will happen now?"

"I--" Amalea rummaged in a basket filled with linens and pulled out a swath of cream-colored fabric. "Here. Wrap this--No, you'll hurt yourself if you do it--Pull up your shirt." She smiled when Nathaniel hesitated. "Please. Slowly, so you don't hurt yourself."

Nathaniel managed to pull up the pertinent side of his shirt with one hand, but he couldn't raise his arms without wincing from the pain. He flinched at her touch--and before he could protest, she smeared some sort of salve over his wound, then wrapped the cloth around his ribs as a makeshift bandage. Her hands were hot--too hot, almost--and a flush stained her cheeks when she glanced up at him.

"That will have to do until you can get to a Healer," Amalea said, and stepped away from him, as if seeing the wound was almost more than she could bear. "This won't be her only attempt, you realize. She has to have others--just waiting to have their chance."

"We should go, then," Nathaniel said. "I thank you for what you've done so far, but Josiah doesn't belong here, and neither do I." But when he tried to stand, his legs threatened to collapse and send him crashing to the floor.

"Wait. Just a moment more, please," Amalea said. "Let me find my grandmother, and take my brother to a secure place. And then you can leave, but I'm coming with you--at the very least within sight of your home."

Nathaniel thought to argue, or protest, but the glint in her eye gave him pause. And did he have any real reason not to allow her to come? He closed his eyes, tired beyond belief. "Very well."

"I'm going to lock the door," Amalea said. "No one will be able to get in--and you won't be able to leave, either--I'm sorry about that, but I won't be long. I promise you that."

Nathaniel nodded without opening his eyes. It didn't really matter--he had no idea how to get out of the castle, save for climbing down the balcony, and even then, he would need a rope.

He expected to hear the door close, or to feel some indication that Amalea's spells had been put into place. And perhaps he drifted off for a little while, because when he next opened his eyes, he was alone.

The wound was not the worst part. It was the combination of the bond's destruction, Josiah's reappearance, and the cut across his ribs that drained his strength away.

He managed to walk into the bedroom and sink down on the edge of Josiah's bed. Despite the fact that Josiah barely made a dent in the fluffy mattress, there was not enough room on the bed for two Hounds--at least in human form.

In the end, Nathaniel shifted shape, curled up at the foot of Josiah's bed, and fell asleep, trusting that Amalea's spells would keep them safe.

(Next Update: October 8th)

House St. Clair Home

Heart's Desire, part 35

2008-10-06T06:28:00.004-04:00

Chapter 25

Something sharp and cold slid down one side of Kyren's face, leaving a hot streak of pain behind. He flinched back, awareness returning in an agonizing instant, his memory of what had happened far too distressingly clear.

Blood or sweat--he did not dare open his eyes to find out--stung his eyes and trickled down his cheeks.

"Open your eyes," Magdalen said, her voice both cold and kind.

Another sharp streak of pain joined the first, and Kyren cried out, struggling to escape her ministrations, but his arms were bound and numb, and so were his legs.

He opened his eyes and Magdalen retreated, towering over him like some sort of mythical monster sent to kill him.

"So good of you to join us," she said. "But I certainly did not expect to see you here."

"What did you do?" A flash of light sparked in Kyren's eyes--the reflection of sunlight off windows that had not been whole in many years. The floor underneath his body shone as if it had been newly waxed, and the softness of the rug under his face only heightened his confusion. "How is this possible?"

"It is a difficult spell," Magdalen allowed, and stepped away as another figure took her spot. Stefan. Magdalen's Hound.

Would he be torn limb from limb, then?

"But not one I could not manage," Magdalen continued. "Take our guest to the basement, I think. I'll decide what to do with him later."

"Magdalen, you can't--" Kyren gasped when Stefan lifted him--by the ropes that bound his arms, wresting them backwards with another jolt of pain.

"I can do what I wish," Magdalen said.

He saw, over her shoulder, a blonde woman staring at them, a familiar sneer on her lips. For a moment, Kyren didn't recognize her. After all, he hadn't seen Althea in years, especially after he lost sight of Magdalen's desires.

"Wait," she said, and pushed past Magdalen. "Where were you going with that--that girl?"

"That girl is my Cousin Amalea, and third in line to the throne," Kyren said, struggling to keep his fear from his voice. "You could have had a better prisoner than me."

Magdalen's hand whipped out, and her fingernails raked the side of his face, narrowly missing his eye. "Answer her question!"

Kyren shivered at the venom in her tone of voice. But he could not tell them the truth--if they discovered Josiah was still alive-- Althea couldn't use her cursed spell, of course, but Magdalen might still have sympathizers in the castle who would be more than willing to try to get past Amalea's wards to murder Josiah.

But his mind refused to disgorge a possible explanation for their presence in the forest.

"Kill me," he whispered, struggling to speak over the throbbing pain. He tasted blood--of course--but did not dare to spit it out. "Amalea knows what you've done, and so does her grandmother. It's over. You will not win." Despite his fear, he kept speaking, staring at Althea, whose face was frozen now, as if she couldn't quite believe his words. "You've lost."

"You--" He hardly recognized Althea's voice. "You--dared--"

"Althea, see to your preparations," Magdalen snapped. "Your quarry will be here soon."

Quarry? What quarry?

"But if they know--" Althea's hands clenched into fists.

"Where were you going with your precious Cousin who could not help you?" Magdalen asked sharply, as if she did not wish to hear or acknowledge her defeat. When he didn't answer, she pushed him away and out of Stefan's grip.

Kyren tried to catch himself before he fell, but he could not find his balance, bound. His head slammed against the edge of the doorway, leaving him dazed and bleeding on the floor.

Stefan watched impassively. "If they do know, will they warn the Hunt?"

And then, as if she had finally come to grips with the destruction of her dreams and had nothing left to lose, Althea had a dagger pressed against his throat.

"Answer her question," she growled, and spittle splashed in Kyren's face. "Answer it!"

Kyren couldn't concentrate enough to lie any longer. "We were on our way to the Healer's house," he whispered.

"For what?" But just as she asked that question, she knew. He saw the dawning knowledge in her gaze as she drew back her hand to bury the dagger in his heart. But instead of killing him, she turned towards Magdalen and left Kyren lying on the floor. "You were right. Josiah is alive."

"Of course I was right," Magdalen said.

"Have Stefan send his Hounds to kill his precious Cousin. If she tells anyone what we have done, I swear to you I will--"

Magdalen took the dagger from her hand and dropped it on the floor. "This is not the time for threats, Althea. We are close to our goal."

"So you say!" But she made no move to regain her weapon.

"It is almost midnight," Magdalen pressed. "If you are going to set your trap, then set it!"

"There is more," Althea said. "I was not finished when you decided to play with your prisoner."

Out of the corner of his eye, Kyren saw a group of dark shapes lying against the wall. He realized what they were just as the nearest Hound growled at him.

Stefan's Hunt. He was not bound to Magdalen as the Wild Hunt was bound to the Council, but Stefan rarely did not do Magdalen's bidding. Kyren shuddered.

"Then speak," Magdalen said, dismissing Althea's words with a toss of her hair. "Unless Gabriel is hiding something else--"

Althea's grin was sharp and feral and transformed her face into something Kyren wouldn't wish on his dearest enemy. "Emle is pregnant, yes. But Gabriel has another child."

This simple declaration caught Magdalen's complete attention. She stared at Althea for a long moment, her mouth half-open in surprise as she considered this new wrinkle in their Master Plan.

"Another child?" Stefan asked, breaking the silence. He sounded doubtful.

Magdalen turned on him. "The Hunt lives where you once lived--did you know that?" she asked.

"No," Stefan said, and Kyren heard his surprise in the tone of his voice. "I--Gabriel killed the troll?"

"Thirteen years ago," Magdalen said. "I'm surprised you hadn't noticed."

Kyren remembered the troll. He had gone to the Hunt's house in Faerie with Amalea to bring back her brother's body. Had that only been thirteen years ago?

"I see," Stefan said with a very strange look on his face. "This Emle--what does she look like?"

Althea shrugged. "Like an elf, I suppose. She has long white hair. I only saw her from the back."
"And the child?"

Kyren watched Stefan's hands clench and unclench. Something Althea had said did not sit well with Magdalen's Hound.

"She is just as pale as her parents," Althea said, puzzled by his anger. "She has Gabriel's eyes, but that's really all I noticed."

Without speaking, Stefan turned and buried one fist into a nearby wall.

Instead of plaster, ash sifted down onto the floor.

"It is near to midnight," Magdalen said, watching him.

"What do I care?" Stefan snapped.

"You did not kill her, did you?" Magdalen was smiling now, like a cat who had eaten a delectable bird. "You told me she was dead."

Kyren watched as Althea looked from one to the other, as if waiting to be enlightened, but neither Stefan nor Magdalen paid her any mind.

"She should have been dead!" Stefan shouted, and stormed out of the room before Magdalen could reply.

A moment passed. Kyren held his breath, hoping against hope that they would forget about him and leave him alone.

"It is near to midnight," Magdalen said again. "Your bait is upstairs, in the closet of the first bedroom you'll come to."

"Am I to know what happened just now?" Althea asked.

"That is not my story to tell," Magdalen said. "Fetch your bait."

As soon as Althea had stomped up the stairs, Magdalen turned to torment Kyren again.

"You were on your way to the Healer's house because Josiah is weak, am I right?" Magdalen asked. "He is alive?"

Kyren licked his lips. Since she already knew, did it really matter if he answered her questions? "Yes."

"Did he tell you that he was a Hound?"

In that instant, Kyren knew that he truly had no hope for escape. She would not have told him that if he had a chance to live.

So it didn't matter, then. Whatever happened next, neither pain nor shame mattered. "Yes."

"Why would he tell you such a thing?"

"It was an accident," Kyren whispered. "He did not mean to tell me." He stared at her, curiously unafraid. "You did not know, before. You had no idea of his origins, did you?" Impossibly, he felt his lips turn up into a smile. "You didn't know."

Magdalen had not known. She might know now, but if she had known, she would have used Josiah's presence in her room to her advantage, and she would have enslaved Gabriel much sooner than now.

The laughter that bubbled into his throat was more like a wheeze than true mirth, but the irony of Magdalen's blindness was too amusing not to laugh, despite the situation. She had possessed a bargaining tool for the past ten years, never bothering to explore Josiah's origins or even cast a simple spell that would have unmasked him as a Hound.

But how had she discovered the truth?

Magdalen's foot connected with his ribs, effectively silencing his laughter. "You will not be laughing much longer, Kyren."

Kyren's ribs ached where she had kicked him, and it hurt to take a deep breath. But despite the fact that he knew he would not survive this, he felt a bit better knowing that Magdalen's powers did not extend this far. She hadn't known. That alone kept him from despair.

What bait? His mind would not release those words. Were there other prisoners here?

He found out soon enough when Althea returned with a dark-skinned young human in tow.

The boy's single eye widened when he saw Kyren lying bound on the floor, but his struggles only truly began when he spotted Magdalen. There was no visible restraint over his mouth, but he didn't speak--an ominous sign. Or, perhaps Magdalen had used the same spell to hold in his screams as she had with Josiah. His other eye was covered by a patch, dusty and dirty, stained with sweat.

"It's almost midnight," Althea said. "And we need to finish this."

The boy's struggles intensified when Magdalen jerked him out of Althea's arms. Althea picked up the dagger.

"Althea!" Kyren could not lie there and watch her murder the boy in front of his eyes. "If you must kill anyone, kill me instead!"

Althea laughed. "You weren't so noble when I saw you last," she said, and drew the dagger across the boy's thin wrist--not deep enough to kill him, but deep enough to hurt.

Blood spilled over his skin and dripped on the floor. The boy wet himself--not that Kyren blamed him--and fainted, his eyes rolling back into his head until only the whites showed.

"That may be for the best," Magdalen said, and threw a spell at Kyren--the very same spell that prevented the boy from screaming.

He could still breathe--and eat, he presumed, but he couldn't make a sound.

Why was this worse? If they were going to kill him anyway, then why did it matter?

He could not protest when Stefan returned to drag him away from the door and against the far wall--still within view of the front door and the hallway. It was brighter here, but not by much--or, perhaps, the shadows were already crowding around his vision, ready to carry him away.

Althea smeared the boy's blood on the front doorstep, then laid him right inside the parlor doorway. "Do you want him to see this?" she asked, indicating Kyren.

Magdalen only spared him a small glance. "Perhaps he'll be more receptive to my desires if he sees my power," she said. "Leave him be."

Coldness lodged in Kyren's stomach. Were they setting a trap for Amalea? Surely she was long gone by now. She wouldn't try to push past Magdalen's spells and rescue him, would she?

He knew she would try. But he didn't want to die with her death on his conscience along with everything else he had done.

Magdalen did something with her hand--some sort of spell, he thought, and he watched his surroundings dim. It was almost as if she had summoned a fog to mask their presence from their quarry--only the boy lying in the doorway and the hallway were clear. Kyren had trouble seeing Stefan's Hounds as they spread out around the room, keeping to the shadows, and even Althea--with her yellow hair--was hard to spot.

They waited for what seemed like aeons. Kyren's eyes slipped closed, but he did not give in to darkness. Not yet. When the front door opened--he heard the click and the faint creak as it swung open--he opened his eyes.

There was a--a Hound standing in the doorway. A white Hound, glowing in the darkness, and then a boy, just as quickly as that.

A boy with black hair and a pale face, dressed in human clothing, but moving with a Hound's wariness, his eyes narrowed.

Suspicious. But not suspicious enough.

He spotted the boy lying on the floor immediately, but took his time approaching. He had left the front door open, but it swung shut on silent hinges as Kyren watched.

The Hound only noticed when the locked clicked into place.

For some reason, he spoke Josiah's name. When he didn't receive a reply, he knelt in front of the boy, letting down his guard and sealing his death sentence.

Because in that instant, Stefan's Hounds attacked.

They paid no mind to the boy, whose body would bear both bruises and cuts from their fury, but swarmed over him in a wave of dark fur and flashing teeth, strangely silent, bearing him down under their weight.

Gabriel's Hound shifted shape, twisting sideways to be rid of them. He fought--oh, he fought well--but one Hound was no match for four. And when Stefan joined the mix, Kyren knew that Gabriel's Hound would not live through the attack.

It was a muffled din, now, of yelps and snaps and scrabbling claws. Kyren closed his eyes, unable to watch as Gabriel's Hound went down underneath Stefan's white teeth--now stained with blood. But Althea's dagger pricked his throat, and when he opened his eyes, she stood beside him, scowling.

"You should watch this," she said with a terrible smile.

Kyren shuddered, but complied, turning his gaze to the hallway again, where the boy had awakened and tried to roll out of the way; where Stefan's teeth closed over the white Hound's throat; where that blindingly white fur was now darkened with blood.

Gabriel's Hound shifted shape just as Stefan tore out his throat--a desperate attempt to shove off his attackers with human arms, to kick at Stefan's Hounds with human feet. He shuddered once, his mouth opening in a silent scream as blood poured from his lips and the terrible wound in his throat, and then lay silent, dead.

Dead. There were tears on Kyren's cheeks, but he could not sob to release his sorrow.

Dead.

Would he be next? Or were they intending to kill the boy, too?

Stefan shifted shape and dragged the Hound's body into the parlor, leaving a trail of gore behind.
"It is done," he said, and dropped the body at Magdalen's feet.

The Hound's empty eyes were full of moonlight now, reflecting silver, his face serene. He lay on the floor like a broken doll, with only the blood from his wounds enough to show that he had once been alive.

"Now what?" Althea asked as the fog faded away and the house returned to its previous state.
"Now we find Josiah," Magdalen said. "And you return to your house. You lured him here--you should not be seen here again."

"So you're going to kill both of your prisoners, then?" Althea asked. "Why not kill them now?" She let the moonlight play across the edge of her dagger.

Kyren glanced at the boy, whose eye glittered in the light. He wanted to do something, but his mind was the only thing free, and his paltry powers were nothing compared to Magdalen's might.
He could do nothing. And even knowing that, he could not abandon hope.

"They may still be useful," Magdalen said, and knocked the dagger out of Althea's hand. "And as you say, they are my prisoners. Go home."

"What about Emle?" Althea asked. "And what about Gabriel's child?"

"I will have that child," Magdalen said, and smiled at her. "We have a little more than a week until the Council's binding expires. Gabriel will be busy with his Hunt. I will contact you." She smiled. "Don't fear. We have won."

That wasn't entirely true, and Kyren thought that Althea knew full well that they hadn't won yet. But she only nodded and walked out the front door without stopping to retrieve her dagger.

"Take him back upstairs," Magdalen said to Stefan. "Kyren can wait for me in the basement."

"What about his cousin?" Stefan asked.

"Send two of your Hounds out to find her," Magdalen said, and smiled when Kyren tried to protest. "I will find Josiah myself. There are those in the castle who owe me favors. Now is the time to call them in."

"And the child?" Stefan asked. "And Emle, damn her?"

"Malachi is still alive," Magdalen said in a tone of voice that made Kyren feel sorry for this Malachi, despite the fact that he had no idea who Malachi was.

His thoughts raced. Was Mirella powerful enough to withstand Magdalen? She had been banished from the castle, yes, but if she managed to lure Josiah outside--or if her pawns in the castle pushed past the spells--

And if she did, what could he do about it? He was helpless. For all intents and purposes, he might as well be dead himself.

Kyren made no move to help Stefan drag him down the hall. In fact, he wasn't certain he would have been able to help at all, even if he had tried. He tried to brace himself for the fall when Stefan opened the basement door to throw him down the stairs, but he had nothing to brace himself with, and the darkness that rushed in to claim him was the only cushion he could find against the pain.

Chapter 26

Gabriel was not used to gentleness. He had always torn what he wanted from his Hounds' minds, not caring whether or not his touch caused him pain.

Or, rather, not allowing himself to care.

With Malachi, and since Magdalen's spell still held firm despite his Hound's efforts to free his mind from its binding, he had to ease each and every sliver of information from Malachi's mind.

It was exhausting work, and slow. Magdalen's spell fought his efforts at every turn.

He had dampened the bond between the Hounds at the beginning, just to spare them Malachi's pain if his efforts did not bear fruit.

He did not expect the bond to shatter while he was deep inside Malachi's mind.

It was a sharp sword thrust; a rending; an attack of monstrous proportions. In the instant between realizing what had happened and losing touch with Malachi's mind, he felt his Hound's muscles seize--a movement that left him stiff and unyielding as his mind and body collapsed under the strain.

He choked, then stopped breathing, his hands scrabbling against the sheets. His eyes were wide open, but they did not register Gabriel's presence at all.

The bond between them was gone. Broken, shattered, leaving the Hunt in tatters behind its destruction. Desperately, Gabriel cradled Malachi in his arms--he was limp now, a rag doll tossed aside by some uncaring child. Unresponsive.

But not dead. Not yet, at least.

Someone else had died. But who? He could not test the bond to check; and everyone had been present and accounted for when Lucas came to call. Except Josiah, of course--

Without thinking of the consequences, he delved into Malachi's mind, forcing a tentative bond by touch alone. Malachi seized again, his muscles twitching in protest, a scream dying on his lips before it had a chance to break free.

A bond. If anything, he had to save Malachi's life. Gabriel closed his eyes and dug deeper, unmindful of the damage, only wanting his Hound to breathe again.

It worked, after a fashion; Malachi screamed at the intrusion, his eyes closed now, weakened, but struggling to escape.

Surely the scream would summon Sennet. Gabriel had to hold onto that hope. Or was she caring for the others, if they also collapsed?

What had happened? Who had died?

"Papa? What happened?"

Eri's voice had never sounded so lovely.

Without turning, without daring to break the connection with Malachi's mind, Gabriel struggled to answer her.

"Bring Sennet." He heard Emle's voice now, and Eri's quick response to her mother's question. Their daughter fled down the hall.

Emle gasped. "Is Malachi--"

"Bring Sennet!" It was an order--the only thing he could say without breaking his concentration and giving in to the pain that threatened to consume him. It was bad enough that Malachi was still very close to death. But someone else had died.

A moment later, Sennet appeared beside him, her hands already glowing with the light of her talent. "Zechariah and Thomas are unconscious. Lucas is with them--what happened?"

Without speaking, Gabriel grabbed her wrist with his free hand and showed her. She understood at once, her eyes narrowing in concentration as she tried to repair the damage he had wrought.
But even with her presence, he did not dare release Malachi from his grasp.

The tremors still ran through his body and a bright rivulet of blood ran from the side of his mouth and his nose. Gabriel wiped it away with the edge of his shirt and listened to the sound of Malachi's faltering heartbeat through the bond he had created.

"I don't know if I can heal him," Sennet murmured. "He's not responding to my talent. You're keeping him alive, yes, but I cannot sense his mind at all."

"He will not die," Gabriel whispered, and redoubled his efforts to bring Malachi back. The effort cost him dearly, especially since the bond's destruction had torn through his soul, but he did not care about the cost.

If Malachi lived, then even damnation would be worth it.

And then, long after Gabriel feared his strength would run out, Malachi stirred under Sennet's touch. He did not awaken; his mind was too bruised for that.

Gabriel did not want him to wake up. Not yet.

"Let him go," Sennet whispered. "Emle's here."

And she was, right beside him, her face grave and worried. "Gabriel, please. Let him go. Allow Sennet to do her work."

It was safe, now, to release him. He was breathing on his own now. Unconscious, but breathing.
What would happen when he awoke?

"Gabriel." Emle touched his shoulder. "Please. Come with me."

He had never felt so weak before. Never showed such weakness to anyone, much less the woman he loved. What would she think of him now?

"The others?" He barely managed to speak the words without pitching over onto the bed.

"Zechariah and Thomas are here," Emle said. "I don't know where Nathaniel and Seth are."

Which meant either Nathaniel or Seth had died, unless the death had been Josiah's.

"I never meant to hurt him," he whispered.

"You saved his life," Sennet said. "I'm not sure how, but you saved his life. He'll thank you later."

Gabriel let her ease Malachi out of his arms. From somewhere, he found enough strength to stand. But walking--ah--walking was too complicated at the moment. He couldn't walk and stay upright at the same time.

He glanced down at the bed, and met Sennet's gaze.

"How much of his pain did you take, Gabriel?" she asked.

"Enough to keep him alive," Gabriel whispered, and managed to turn.

Emle grabbed his arm before he fell. "Lean on me," she whispered. "No one will ever know." To Sennet, she said, "I'm taking him to the library."

He loved her for that; she had offered him her strength without a single qualm.

"I'll be there as soon as Malachi is stable," Sennet replied.

Gabriel roused himself enough to protest. "No. See to the others first. And tell Lucas what happened."

"I'll tell Lucas," Emle offered. "Eri is with him now."

"Did I--Did I frighten her?" He had not meant to frighten her at all.

"No. She is fine. Worried, but fine. Now rest."

It was too tiring to protest. Gabriel had enough presence of mind to have her shut the door before she left him alone in his chair in the library, but by then he was truly too far gone to care whether or not Lucas saw him weakened.

Someone had murdered a Hound. Was it Nathaniel? Seth? Or had Josiah reappeared, only to vanish again?

He let his head fall back against the chair and closed his eyes. It hurt to release his iron control on consciousness, but he could not recover without some semblance of healing. Not from this.
Someone had murdered a Hound. That thought followed him down into a darkness far too deep for dreams.

(Next Update: October 7th)

House St. Clair Home

Heart's Desire, Part 34

2008-10-05T08:13:00.004-04:00

Chapter 23

The Hunt's lair held homage to the stories only up to a point. The entrance was a cave, but the wooden door set in the very back of the cave made it obvious that the Hunt's lair was not as simple as it seemed.

There was a Hound on guard who shifted shape at their approach. Lucas didn't recognize him, which only meant that he had not shown himself at all up until now. He did not speak, but nodded to Lucas and moved to stand against the wall.

Gabriel hesitated when he opened the door. "I would--if you don't mind--"

"Take care of Malachi," Lucas said. "I'll wait out here until he is safely in Sennet's hands."

The Hound blinked, as if he hadn't expected to be left with Lucas, but he did not protest.

"Thank you," Gabriel said.

When he vanished through the door, Lucas settled back against the wall. There were no chairs in the cave, of course, just sand on the floor. But despite the fact that the floor looked quite inviting, Lucas didn't think he would be able to get back on his feet if he sat down.

"Are you permitted to talk to me?" he asked.

The Hound smiled. "It depends on what you want to talk about." His voice was low and unafraid; he seemed both at ease and wary in Lucas' presence.

"May I have your name?"

"Thomas." The Hound cocked his head. "I knew your ancestor, Nathan."

"You knew him? But--I was under the impression that the Hounds created after Jacob Daulton's death had died in the binding," Lucas said. "Is that not true?"

"Does it matter now?" Thomas asked. "That was a century past."

Lucas offered him a smile. "I am the Council Historian," he said. "It may not matter to anyone else, but it matters to me."

"Fair enough. When our Master came here, he had three Hounds: Nathaniel, Malachi, and Josiah. They are the eldest. Nathaniel and Malachi have been with him since the very beginning."

"I did not know their names, before," Lucas said. "No one knew much about the Wild Hunt before the binding." He could not apologize for the binding. The alternative would have been to find a way to destroy the Hunt. And no one had wanted to destroy them, even then.

"No one knows much about us now," Thomas said. "Except, perhaps, for you."

The door opened then, but instead of Gabriel, a woman stepped out into the cave, hesitant and wary. She was--lovely came to mind, but that did not do her justice.

And by her obvious pregnancy, Lucas thought he now knew the depth of Gabriel's secrets.
Had he truly expected the Council to--what? Take her away? Refuse him his bride? And what of the child?

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Lucas realized that Gabriel had expected such treatment. And why not? The early years of the binding had not been pleasant for anyone. The Council controlled each and every aspect of his life, and they would have been very interested to discover the Hunt's ability to shift shape. They might have tried to pry the Hunt from his grasp, and leave him with nothing. They could have easily done the same with the lady standing in front of him whose smile would illuminate the darkest of rooms.

"I bid you welcome to our home," she said. The cadences of her words marked her as Faerie-born, but her appearance would have told Lucas that. She had the look of a stately swan about her, perhaps, or royalty.

"Thank you," he said. "I am honored to be here." He fought the urge to bow, since he was a member of the Council. "But I told Gabriel I would be happy to stay here until he--"

"It is no matter," the woman said, and her smile cut off Lucas' words. "He asked me to welcome you. My name is Emle, and this is our daughter, Eri." She moved aside so Lucas could see yet another piece of the puzzle--a child of nine or ten years of age, with her parents' pale hair and Gabriel's eyes. "Please, come inside."

Thomas stayed behind as Lucas moved to do her bidding. And Lucas supposed that even now--especially now--the cave needed guarding.

The child--Eri--smiled at him as he passed, but her smile was troubled and sad. "Thank you for saving Malachi," she whispered.

"You're welcome," Lucas said, resisting the urge to ruffle her hair or give her pointless platitudes. "I hope your--ah--father realizes that I would have come at any time."

"Thomas, do you need to be relieved?" Emle paused in the doorway with Lucas at her back.

"No, I am fine," Thomas replied. "But I wouldn't mind a bowl of your stew when you have the time."

"I will send someone out with a bowl for you," Emle said, and closed the door.

"This house--has it always been here?" Lucas asked, trying to remember when the Hunt's lair in Faerie had been pinpointed on the maps. Over five thousand acres of forest, not to mention the vast forests in Faerie through the Veil--had made it quite difficult to pinpoint anything on a map.

"There was a troll here at one time," Emle said, leading him through a long dark hallway that seemed to be carved out of stone. "And before that--" her voice caught, just enough for Lucas to notice. "A wizard who wished to be a shapeshifter."

The hallway opened up into a large room that would have been a living room in any mundane house. A large hearth took up almost an entire wall of the room, and a wooden bench--with a couple of faded pillows its only decorations--sat underneath a window that looked out onto a magnificantly wild garden. There was a Hound sitting on the hearth--Zechariah, tired and pale--and another one standing in the doorway of what Lucas presumed was the kitchen, if the wonderful smells of baking bread and some sort of stew were truth.

"Our Master is with Malachi and Sennet," the Hound in the doorway said. He watched as Eri walked past them, down the hall where she vanished into shadow.

"And you are--?" Lucas asked.

"Nathaniel." His smile did not reach his eyes. "Does Thomas want company?"

"Thomas wants food," Emle said. "Would you mind bringing him some?"

"Of course not," Nathaniel replied, and nodded to Lucas before vanishing into the kitchen again.
"This is a beautiful house," Lucas said. Despite the fact that it was rather sparsely furnished, it seemed--comfortable nonetheless. Lived-in.

"You can wait for Gabriel in the library if you wish," Emle said, staring after her daughter. "I could bring you a bowl of stew--or a cup of tea--"

"The library?" Lucas asked, unable to keep the surprise from his voice. What kind of a library would the Master of the Hunt possess?

Emle's laugh was like the tinkling of little bells. "He said you might like to see the library."

They passed another Hound on their way down the hall--not that it was far. This Hound seemed no older than Josiah, with jet black hair and green eyes. He was also the most shy of the them all, actually jumping when he saw Lucas.

He seemed on the verge of protest when Emle showed Lucas into a magnificent library, but he did not speak, even after Emle asked him what was wrong.

Rows and rows of books stretched farther back than the room should have stretched, farther than the light truly reached. These were old books, not new tomes, carefully lined up along the shelves and free of every speck of dust.

A battered oak table--a true library table--sat in use as a desk with a leather-clad chair holding court behind it. There were books piled up on the table, and a single dried rose--a forgotten bouquet in a cut glass decanter--perched precariously on the very edge of one corner.

Gabriel's desk, and Gabriel's chair. The entire room pulsed with his presence.

"He spends a lot of time here, doesn't he?" Lucas asked before he could consider the impact of his question.

"Yes, he does," Emle said. "This is his--" She stopped then, fumbling for the word.

"His sanctuary," Lucas murmured.

"Yes."

He sensed chagrin from her now, and regret, perhaps for speaking so freely.

"And yet I am here. Why is that?" He turned to face her, confused by Gabriel's sudden trust. "If the Council is not what he fears the most--"

"Lucas," Gabriel's voice was soft, without inflection. "I need--Malachi needs your expertise." He appeared in the doorway, looking almost weary for the first time since Lucas had known him.

"Tell me why I'm here," Lucas said. "You mentioned someone earlier--"

"Yes." Gabriel took Emle's hand and drew her to him, a move not lost on Lucas. It was an unconscious movement, familiar and smooth. "A witch who I believe is working with Stefan. Her name is Magdalen."

"And you have proof of her involvement?" Lucas asked.

Gabriel hesitated. "No. Not yet. But Stefan--Stefan was a member of the Council, yes. But he was not this devious, Lucas. He would not think to use such spells on one of my Hounds. He would favor a more--direct attack."

"It has been a century since he has been seen," Lucas said. "How do you know he hasn't learned these things since then?" But even while he protested, he realized that he could not see Stefan as the key player in any of this. From what he had read about him, Stefan's personality was not apt to change, even with a century of study.

"Right after the last time I saw Stefan, Magdalen appeared to me," Gabriel said. If he had any reservations about telling this to Lucas, they didn't show up in his tone of voice. "She had been tracking my Hunt for years, and she assumed she had finally caught up with me."

"But the Council had already bound you by then," Lucas said.

Gabriel nodded. "She tried to break the binding, but it was too strong." He hesitated, and in that hesitation, Lucas realized Gabriel was only telling him bits and pieces of the story--enough for him to understand its import, but not every detail.

Perhaps there would be time for details later.

Perhaps he didn't need to know.

"And?"

"And then she vanished," Gabriel said. "She said she would return when the binding was set to expire, and that she would then assume control of my Hunt." He paused. "Of me, truly." His gaze silvered. "I know her of old."

From the look on Emle's face, this was news to her as well, but Lucas did not comment on her surprise. "How did she intend to control you?"

"Before the Council's binding, anyone who summoned my Hunt--me--controlled us for a while," Gabriel said. "That piece of the story is true."

"A curse?" Lucas asked, remembering his early research of the Hunt.

"Yes." Gabriel's gaze was hooded now, and Lucas wondered how long he would answer such questions before retreating into his usual silence.

"Is the curse broken?"

Gabriel smiled, but the smile never reached his eyes. "That is what I don't know," he said. "And what I am--" He stopped, then, and turned his head to look out the door. Sennet stood there, waiting patiently.

"He's asking for you."

"I know."
Through the bond, of course, Lucas thought.

Gabriel glanced at Lucas. "Will you come?"

"Of course," Lucas said, and wondered what Gabriel had been about to say. What I am afraid of? What would happen if the curse reasserted itself once the binding expired? "Have you thought of what might happen once the binding expires?"

Gabriel's lips twisted. "Of course," he said. "But I will not know for certain until after the binding is lifted. And neither will Magdalen." He bent to kiss Emle, whose gaze was troubled now, as if she had just realized the import of Gabriel's admissions. "I am sorry, my love."

"Is there not a way to check?" Emle asked. "The expiration of the binding should be a joyous thing, not a terrible time of uncertainty."

"I agree," Lucas said. "If the Council knew about this beforehand--"

"You are lucky to know about it now," Gabriel whispered.

Lucas knew when to back down, but this was important. What would happen if this Magdalen gained control of the Hunt? "And I thank you for your trust," he said. "But--"

"We can speak of this later," Gabriel said, almost pleading. "Please, Lucas."

"Very well." When he caught Emle's gaze, he saw that she had tears in her eyes, as if the possibilities that Gabriel had confessed were almost too much for her to bear. "All is not lost. We'll figure something out."

She barely managed a smile before turning away and hurrying out the door. She met Eri in the hall, and hugged the child before leading her away.

Gabriel watched them go, his mask slipping enough for Lucas to realize the depth of his attachment to both his lady and his daughter.

"We will figure something out," he said again. "There has to be some way around this curse of yours--if it even still exists."

"Yes." But the Master of the Hunt did not seem hopeful at all.

The bedroom Gabriel led him to was lit by the same unidentifiable lights that had made the library so cozy. But they were softer here, as if in response to the room's current use. Malachi lay on a large bed, dwarfed by its size and cleaner now, the blood and filth gone from his skin.

His eyes were closed and ringed with shadows, but Lucas didn't think he was asleep.

"His right arm was broken, his ribs were cracked, and he had a chunk torn out of his leg and his left arm," Sennet said. "He is very lucky to be alive."

Malachi opened his eyes. "My lord--" He caught sight of Lucas and struggled to sit up, only managing to do so with Sennet's help and a stack of pillows.

"You need to rest," Gabriel said. "But you also need to break that spell that prevents you from telling me what happened."

"Spell?" Malachi asked, confused. "What spell?"

"Do you remember Stefan?" Gabriel asked.

"Stefan--" Malachi blinked. "He has Hounds. Four of them. One of them asked me if I would teach her how to shift shape."

"And what did you say?" Gabriel asked, as calm as if they were talking about the weather.

Lucas couldn't tell if he was angry at this admission, or just curious.

"She saved my life," Malachi whispered, his gaze unfocused now. "I told her I would try. She said she would help me escape. And s-someone pulled me out of the water--" He closed his eyes and shivered violently.

"That would be Brenna, I imagine." Gabriel said. "Stefan's daughter."

"You didn't force him to tell you that, did you?" Sennet asked.

"No. Eventually, he will break that spell. But I do not wish him to drive himself mad to break it." Gabriel gently touched Malachi's bowed head. "And I dare not order him to leave it be."

"Because then he would accept it, and it would never be broken," Lucas said, understanding a piece of it now.

"Yes."

"What is it that you would have me do?" Lucas asked.

"Teach him a blocking spell," Gabriel said, his voice cold.

"A blocking spell against what?" Lucas asked.

"Everything."

"My lord, I am no wizard," Malachi whispered, cringing away from his Master's hand.

"You may not be, but if Magdalen calls you again, I want you to be able to protect yourself."

"But--"

"It will do no harm to learn the spell," Lucas said, hoping to ease Malachi's mind. "Anyone can learn spells. Take Althea for example. She has a wonderful talent for booklearned magic."

Malachi's eyes widened. He seemed about to speak, but then he closed his eyes and sighed. "Very well. If you insist."

Lucas saw Sennet hide a smile as she turned away from her patient.

"Can you teach him something to break a spell as well?" Gabriel asked abruptly.

"I can try," Lucas said. "But it would be a lot easier to do if I knew what spells he intended to break. There is no general 'breaking' spell.'" He tried to wrack his brain for an example. "Like--a truthspell. Although that's not a very good example, since it would take a very powerful talent indeed to break one of those."

Malachi was quivering again, his eyes still closed. Lucas wondered if Magdalen had used a truthspell on him, and what would happen if another one was cast. Would they cancel each other out?

"I am asking Lucas to do this to spare you pain, Malachi," Gabriel almost whispered the words. "I could tear it from your mind, but I am not certain what traps Magdalen has left for me."

"I know," Malachi said. "But I wish--what if it is too important not to tear from my mind?"

"Let Lucas try his spells first," Gabriel said. "If that doesn't work, then we'll try something else. I do not wish to lose another Hound, Malachi."

"Josiah--Josiah isn't dead," Malachi whispered, then froze. "At least I don't think he is dead. I don't think Magdalen knows for sure."

Gabriel glanced at Lucas, the torment in his gaze enough to make Lucas realize that this was Malachi's talent in evidence again, surfacing from his subconscious, and likely without his knowledge.

"What spells did she use?" he asked quickly.

Malachi shuddered. "A truthspell. And then, she bade me forget what I saw. I am to return if I survive, so she can use me as bait if she doesn't--" his voice trailed away.

"If she doesn't what, Malachi?" Gabriel asked.

Malachi opened his eyes. "My lord?" Confusion showed plain on his face--it was quite obvious that he remembered nothing.

Gabriel growled in frustration.

Malachi flinched--habitually, Lucas thought. Gabriel had made no move against him.

"This spell is draining you," Sennet said, and took his unresisting hand. "If you're going to teach him something, Lucas, I'd do it soon."

"I am sorry, my lord." There were tears trickling down Malachi's pale cheeks now, tears of both frustration and weariness.

Was he strong enough to learn anything, much less a spell?

"You have done nothing wrong," Gabriel said.. "Lucas--if you please?"

Lucas moved up to stand beside Malachi's bed. The Hound was so knotted with tension that even his breathing sounded labored.

"The first thing you need to do is relax, Malachi," Lucas said, pitching his voice soft and low.

"That is--difficult to do at the moment," Malachi said, but he was staring at Gabriel as he spoke.

"I will leave," Gabriel offered.

"No!" Panic bloomed in Malachi's gaze. "I would rather you stay, my lord. I will try to relax." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Slowly, his trembling eased.

"The key to any sort of block or shield is your imagining of what such a block looks like," Lucas said. "Some people think of a wall. Others, a smooth surface, like--"

"Like a mirror?" Malachi asked, and opened his eyes.

"A mirror reflects," Lucas said. "So no, not unless you wish the spell to bounce back on the caster." He smiled. "Sometimes that may work to your advantage. But you would need to know what sort of spell your spell is reflecting, just in case--well, just in case you want your opponent alive."

"A smooth surface," Malachi said. "Or a wall." He nodded and let out another deep breath. "Okay."

"I'll need to take your hand again, to show you this next part," Lucas said, and extended his hand. When Malachi placed his hand in Lucas' grip, Lucas showed him the formation of the shield.

"Anyone with even a small amount of talent should--at the very least--know rudimentary wards," he said.

Malachi's eyes widened. "But I am no wizard!"

"That may be true, but something inside of you is working to break that spell," Lucas said. "That usually means that you have some talent, whether it be large or small. Did you break the truthspell that Magdalen cast? Or is it still in place?"

"I don't think it worked for anyone but Magdalen," Malachi whispered. "I broke it once, when she asked me--she asked me--" His muscles twitched under Lucas' grasp. "She asked me about Emle, my lord."

"And what did you tell her?" Gabriel's voice fell like slabs of lead on Lucas' ears. The light dimmed, heralding, it seemed, the advent of Gabriel's fury.

"Relax," Lucas murmured, keeping a loose grip on Malachi's hand. "He will not harm you. I swear it." To Gabriel, he said, "If she truly used a truthspell, he would have had no protection from that. Truthspells are useful, but they are also used as a last resort. And Malachi did say that he broke her spell. Perhaps Magdalen didn't get any information at all."

Malachi's grip on Lucas' hand was so tight that Lucas feared for his circulation. "She does not know about Eri, my lord. I swear--"

"You do understand why I need to know what he knows," Gabriel whispered, his voice cold.

"I understand," Lucas said. "But frightening him to death will not help him break the spell."

"Can you help him break it?" Sennet asked, venturing a question only after Gabriel showed no sign of replying.

"I don't know," Lucas said honestly. He could not lie; not to Gabriel. Not when the very lives of his Hunt, his children, and his lady might hang in the balance.

"No," Gabriel said, as if he had forgotten he wasn't alone with his Hound. "I promised Emle I would not do that again."

Malachi opened his eyes. He was calmer now, as if he had accepted some dark fate, or the news of his impending death without fear. He released Lucas' hand without a quiver.

"But I am your Hound," he whispered. "My life is yours to do with as you will."

Stricken, Gabriel glanced at Lucas. "There is still time," he said. "We have a week and some days until the binding expires. Surely--"

"What is it that he wants you to do?" Sennet asked. She directed her question to Gabriel, but Malachi answered.

"Our Master can remove Magdalen's spell," he whispered. "And see what I saw. And hear what I heard."

"And destroy your mind in the process," Gabriel snapped. "I will not do that."

"You might not have a choice," Lucas said quietly. "But must you kill him to remove the spell?"

Malachi flinched a little, as if Gabriel had sent some protest--or order--through the bond they shared.

"Is there not a way to do it gently?" Sennet asked.

It was like asking an elephant to walk across a field of eggs without breaking a single one, Lucas thought. Gabriel was not a gentle person. He had learned a lot, yes, through the years, and his interactions with Emle and his daughter spoke volumes of how far he had come, but his Hounds were a different story.

"Leave us," Gabriel whispered.

"I cannot--" Lucas began, fearful now that he would witness the death of a Hound.

"Please," Malachi said. "It's okay. If I--If I cannot trust my Master, then who can I trust?" But there were tears in his eyes as he spoke, as if he didn't quite believe Gabriel could leave him intact.

"I will try my best not to hurt him," Gabriel said. "But I cannot assure you that I will not." He hesitated. "Sennet, if you would stay--Lucas--"

"I will stay," Lucas said.

"Thank you."

Despite his misgivings, he would stay. He owed Gabriel that much, at the very least.

Chapter 24

Nathaniel knew what Malachi had allowed their Master to do. They all did. When Gabriel dampened the bond between them, he realized that their Master did not expect to succeed in this, and if Malachi died, he wanted to spare the rest of the Hounds as much as he could.

That did not set well on Nathaniel's mind, but what could he do? Malachi had given their Master permission, for want of a better word, and he could not argue that the need to find out what Malachi had seen was very important.

But not at the cost of his life.

He thought Thomas understood when he slipped back into the house as a Hound, and padded across the living room without speaking to anyone.

At least Sennet was already here, he thought. And even Lucas did not look pleased at this turn of events.

He stepped out into the garden and saw a Hound pass through Josiah's wards--Seth? But it was close to midnight. What business did Seth have in the forest?

Curious now, Nathaniel followed him, careful to stay out of his sight. Seth seemed to have a roundabout destination; he stayed in Faerie, but moved closer and closer to town. Eventually, the Veil would force him to step into the Human World, where he should have stayed in the first place.

There were no rules about the Hunt in Faerie, of course. But the Hunt had no treaty with the elves, and they had stuck to the Human World since Jacob Daulton's order had been supplanted by the Council's binding.

Why would Seth leave now, when Malachi's life hung in the balance?

Nathaniel almost opened the bond to inform their Master of Seth's desertion, but he knew without even making the attempt that Gabriel's attention did not need to be on a wayward Hound at the moment. He would follow Seth to his destination, and then decide whether or not to bother his Master.

The Veil never faded. Nathaniel walked long after he thought it should end. In fact, he started to recognize bits and pieces of the forest soon enough, and realized their destination long before the forest opened up to clearing and he saw the ruined house.

Had Seth come here to mourn? Malachi was not yet dead! He watched from the shelter of the trees as Seth approached what was left of the house. The dampening spell their Master had spoken of hid Seth from Nathaniel's mind long before he reached the edge of the ruin--and farther, still, than Nathaniel expected it to reach.

Just like the Veil.

They were still in Faerie, though the Veil was thin here, and Nathaniel saw something sparkle in the burned grass around the house--a spell, or something similar that caught the moonlight and dazzled his eyes. He blinked and glanced away from it, searching for Seth, although he couldn't have gone far in an instant.

But Seth was gone.

Gone as if Nathaniel had been following a ghost and not a Hound at all.

Wary now, Nathaniel cast around for his scent, just in case he had been deceived. But the scent was Seth's, even though the trail stopped at what was left of the house's front door.

His hackles rising, Nathaniel backed away from the house. There was no sign of a spell other than the dampening spell; no sign of habitation or a portal or anything wrong. But something--something was not right in this. Seth could not have vanished without a trace.

He turned back then, intending to contact his Master as soon as the dampening spell lost its hold, but the Veil shifted, then, a shudder that sent the world careening around him and threw him into the Human World.

Nathaniel blinked and staggered to his feet. Seth's trail was gone now, but the house remained the same. The dampening spell reached only to the edge of the destruction and no farther--it was weaker, even, than it was in Faerie. Weaker, yes, but still strong enough to prevent him from contacting anyone through the bond.

There was one small difference. The sparkle he had seen from the edge of the trees wasn't just a sparkle anymore. Instead, it had formed itself into a net--a spell, Nathaniel thought. Someone's spell, lying forgotten in front of a ruined house.

No. Not forgotten. There was a shape underneath the net, and a pale hand half-hidden by a pile of debris. A hand.

Jordan?

It was much easier to pull the net free in human form, so Nathaniel shifted shape and did just that. The person underneath the net was not Jordan, but an elf--a girl with honey colored hair and a frown on her lips.

A frown that changed into a grimace when she opened her eyes.

Nathaniel retreated, but she had already seen him. She sat up, her fine clothing none the worse for wear, and stared at him for a moment before struggling to her feet.

One glance at the burned house drew her ire--she snarled something at the nearest wall and it burst into phantom flames that faded as quickly as they appeared.

When she turned towards Nathaniel, he held up his hands and backed away. "I saw you lying there. I meant no harm." It would be just his luck to find an angry witch instead of someone helpful, like Jordan or Seth. Or even Josiah, however slim that chance.

But she smiled at him--a genuine smile, he thought. "My apologies. I am not angry at you. But my Cousin was stolen from me by a devious--" She stopped, staring at him. "May I have your name?"

"If I may have yours," Nathaniel replied.

"Amalea," the girl said. "My Cousin's name is Kyren." She turned back to face the house and muttered something else--another spell that did not work.

"My name is Nathaniel." It was easier just to tell her, and doubtful that she would connect his name to the Wild Hunt. No elf had ever cared about the Hunt's proper names before; why should they start now? "I followed--I followed someone here and he vanished as well. But I lost his trail in Faerie." He hesitated, then, not knowing how much information to give her. "I did not know the Veil reached this far."

"It didn't, before," Amalea said. "Or at least that's what Kyren told me, and he had no reason to lie. There is a spell here--"

"A dampening spell," Nathaniel said. "It--It prevents me from contacting my Master."

He said that without thinking, then froze, wondering if she would unmask him as a Hound.

And she did hesitate before speaking, her eyes alight with curiosity now, but there was nothing unfriendly in her manner or tone of voice. "Your Master?"

"Yes," Nathaniel whispered, and decided to leave it at that. "There is one more person who vanished from here--a child by the name of Jordan. I think the Council fears he was lost in the fire, but--"

"That is unlikely, I think," Amalea said. "Who is your Master?"

"I cannot say," Nathaniel said. "And please do not ask me again."

Amalea seemed to take his words without any insult. She nodded, then said, "Kyren and I were on our way to the Healer's house. Do you know her?"

"Yes." Nathaniel hesitated, but then again, if she wanted Sennet, traveling the rest of the way to her house would be a wasted trip. "But she isn't home. Not now, at least."

"Is she searching for Jordan as well?" Amalea did something with her hands that set off a fireworks of blue sparks. "I can't seem to get inside, and stepping through the Veil may not help. What is the closest door to Faerie from this house?"

"The Hunt's--" Nathaniel's throat closed. Surely she couldn't mean to--What would his Master say if he returned with an elf? "The Hunt's lair." At the very last moment, he remembered not to say house, even though their house was one of the unspoken but well-known secrets in Faerie. But then, on the tail end of that, he realized that a normal human, even one obviously at home with magic, would not necessarily know about the door into Faerie. And Amalea was shrewd enough to pick up on that.

"Who are you?" Amalea took a step towards him, her eyes alight with curiosity. "As far as I'm aware, even the Council doesn't know about the door in the Hunt's lair. How is it that you know?"

"I cannot stay," Nathaniel whispered, both cold and hot at once. He backed away from her, frightened now--of both his Master's eventual response to his lapse and of her knowledge.
He should have left her where she lay. He should not have gotten involved.

She made no move to stop him as he backed away. She was still working things out in her mind.
"You said the Healer wasn't home. Where is she?" Her voice was very soft. Calming, even, as if she did not wish to startle him into flight.

"I can't stay," Nathaniel whispered. "I'm sorry." He backed away from her, poised to run.

"Please," Amalea held out her hands. "Don't leave because of me. My Cousin vanished inside this house somehow, and I can't seem to get past the spell. Can you see it?"

Nathaniel hesitated. "I truly cannot stay," he said. "I have to contact my Master to tell him about Seth's disappearance. I cannot stay."

"Your Master," Amalea said. "I see."

How much did she see? Nathaniel motioned towards the house. "I see only ruins. I feel the dampening spell, but I cannot see it," he said, hoping that would appease her. "I am no wizard."

"Is your Master a wizard?" Amalea asked.

"No." Why hadn't he left by now? "I must go." But he made no move to leave, and her next words stopped him cold.

"Do you--Oh, there isn't any tactful way to say this, and I'm sorry. Do you know the name Josiah? He--"

He did not give her a chance to finish the sentence. Anger fueled by fear replaced any hesitation he might have had. "What do you know about Josiah?"

Nathaniel had felt--and the others had felt as well--something through the bond just before they were permitted their human forms. If Amalea had information about Josiah--what would his Master say if he returned without that information?

"If I ask you a question, will you answer it truthfully?" Amalea asked, her voice oddly intense. "And please don't say yes and then lie to me."

"I should go," Nathaniel whispered, torn. What would his Master say? The bond's absence ate into his mind, casting all of his assurances into chaos. He took a deep breath. "Do you have--" Did he tempt death just by talking to her? His lips were almost too numb to speak. "Do you have news of Josiah?"

"Is Gabriel your Master?" Amalea asked.

Nathaniel shuddered and wrapped his arms around his stomach. When he glanced up at her, he saw no deceit in her gaze. She seemed only to want a truthful answer--validating what she already suspected. "Do you have news of Josiah?" he asked again, unable to force himself to tell her either the truth or a lie.

"Yes," Amalea said. At first, he thought she would leave it at that and wait for his answer, but then she spoke. "He is alive, and in my family's castle, where he has been held for ten years without my knowledge."

Nathaniel's first reaction was disbelief. On the tail end of that, fury--a fury so deep and so dark that he had to take another step backwards for fear of hurting her. He tried to push past the dampening spell with this news, but it remained firm. He was alone, alone with this terrible knowledge, and she would expect repayment for her information.

She would want to know that he was a Hound.

"He is very weak," Amalea continued. "And that is why my Cousin and I were in search of the Healer. My grandmother Mirella said she knows of his origin--and who would have wanted to find him so badly. He said there was a bond--but the dampening spell around the castle wouldn't let it through." She spoke quickly now, her hands loose at her sides, but sparkling with the first strains of defensive spells. As if she expected him to attack. "I am sorry if I thought wrong, but he spoke of his Master and so did my grandmother. And the only Master that I know of is the Master of the Wild Hunt."

Her words flowed through Nathaniel like ice water, dousing his fury and leaving him cold and shaken. His knees collapsed and he sat down hard, his mind whirling with the news.

"I am sorry if I caused you distress--" Amalea began, but he cut her off, his voice harsh.

"Distress? Distress?" He forced the words out of a half-closed throat. "You don't understand. Without the bond, we are nothing. And to have it gone for ten years--" It was a wonder Josiah was still sane.

Nathaniel struggled to his feet and stood in front of her, swaying a little with the import of her news. "Our Master will not allow him to stay in your castle. You must realize that."

"We wanted him healed before your Master saw him," Amalea said. "Perhaps that was wrong of us, but I do not wish a war with your Master. Gabriel is your Master?"

"Yes." He saw no way to hide that--not anymore. "I--" He wiped one hand across his mouth and tried to imagine the horrors Josiah had endured. "If you--If you didn't know he was in your castle, then who brought him there?"

"Can you tell this to your Master through the bond you share?" Amalea asked.

Nathaniel shook his head. "Not until I step outside this spell." He thought to stop then, and give her nothing else, but the words fell from his lips. "The Healer you seek is at our house in Faerie. Malachi was wounded today--here--and my Master--My Master is trying to break the spell that forced him to forget what happened." He had to take a deep breath before continuing, and his eyes filled with helpless tears. "If he lives through the breaking."

Should he mourn for Malachi now? Or wait until the bond was broken by his death?

Amalea's face paled at this news, and she closed her eyes. When she opened them, guilt warred with the sadness in her gaze. "I am sorry," she said. "Does your Master know who did this to him?"

"He knows a Hound named Stefan was involved," Nathaniel said. "And possibly a witch, named--"

"Magdalen."

"Yes," Nathaniel stammered, wondering now if confiding in her had been the right thing to do. Did he have a choice? "Who is Magdalen?"

"You are right in thinking she is a witch," Amalea said. "And perhaps your Master is the only one who knows the entire story as to why she wants to control the Wild Hunt. All I know is that she is a very powerful foe."

"I must tell my Master this; you realize that," Nathaniel said. "I cannot keep this a secret." And what about Seth? He would have to tell his Master that he had followed Seth and lost him.

What would his Master say?

He was not worried about dying, like Malachi always seemed to be. The time for death had passed many, many years ago. Punishment was more likely, but death--

Death--

The dampening spell prevented Nathaniel from using the bond, but it didn't prevent the pain of its destruction.

The bond could only be destroyed by the death of a Hound.

He tried to tell that to Amalea, but his mouth would not form the words. Instead, he fell to his knees, all strength gone, his mind cringing from the pain. Now he knew how Malachi felt each and every time their Master tore his memories from his mind. Now he knew, since Gabriel had never done such a thing to him.

"Nathaniel?" Amalea approached, her hands outstretched, worry plain in her gaze. "What's wrong?"

He tried to tell her, but the words could not pass the chaos in his mind.

She grabbed his arm. Pulled him across the burned grass, towards the shelter of the trees.

She wanted to help, he thought, unable to force his arms and legs to move. She thought it would help, to be free from the dampening spell.

Who had died? Malachi?

Seth? Josiah?

He tried to struggle out of her grasp, but he could not move.

He could not free himself from the pain.

She thought to help, but it was worse without the dampening spell's small measure of protection.
Who had died? The question haunted him, even as he lost himself to darkness, and he had no way to find its answer without pushing past the pain.

(Next Update: October 6th)

House St. Clair Home

Heart's Desire, part 33

2008-10-04T09:12:00.006-04:00

Chapter 21

Althea's research had led her straight to the Hunt's lair in Faerie--which resembled an English manor more than a servant's home. It was a rambling stone structure built into the side of a mountain that did not exist in the human world, and the wild garden around it--ringed by very effective wards--lent the house an air of refined neglect.

She had debated with herself whether or not to risk being seen. Curiosity had won out, aided by the fact that she was, after all, a member of the Council. And like it or not, Gabriel was still bound.

So she had driven home, called Lucas and excused herself from the initial response to the fire, and given herself an alibi by informing him that she planned to join the search.

The wards ensured she could not see inside the house, but she could not tell if they would work just as well if someone stepped out of the house and into the garden. No one was in evidence when she slipped out of the shadow of the trees to approach the edge of the wards, and she saw no sign of habitation.

If there were Hounds left inside, they were not in the garden.

In truth, the house should have been empty, since the Hunt should have been searching for Malachi. But Althea did not dare show her hand just yet. She would take the essence of the wards back to her house and dissect them in the comfort of her own workplace. With the remnants of Josiah's power that she still held, she should be able to find a way through them--or, at the very least, rework them a bit to allow herself passage.

They had been trained to feed from Faerie's currents of magic, a very efficient way to ensure that long-standing wards did not drain the energy from the wizard who created them. That meant, of course, that they would continue, even after Josiah's death.

The strange thing was that the original spell involved was very simple and direct--a child's spell, almost, that had been added to and improved over the years.

But not recently. In fact, they had not been updated for over a decade. That probably meant none of the other Hounds had talent--and that Gabriel would not notice a small revision here or there.

Bolder now, she coaxed their workings out into the open. Perhaps she would not have to go home at all to finish this. She had Josiah's power, still. Could she possibly--

She realized that she was still kneeling at the edge of the garden in plain view to anyone inside. Before she lost her nerve, she closed off her own meager talent and the Council's shared power, leaving her only with what she had stolen from Josiah.

And then, tensed to flee if she failed, she stepped past the wards and into the garden.

Nothing happened. The wards did not shiver. They let her pass as if she were one of their own.

She stood there, breathless, and found herself curiously unwilling to walk away. Now that she had breached Josiah's wards, she wanted more. Without quite realizing she had moved, Althea found herself halfway across the garden.

There was a door in the garden, of course, and a window looking out, but she saw no one and no movement inside. And when she touched the wooden door, it swung open on silent hinges, giving her a shadowy glimpse of the Wild Hunt's domain.

She stepped inside as if in a dream, hardly daring to believe that she was standing inside the Hunt's house. Moving quickly, she determined that the--living room, for want of a better word and what was obviously a kitchen were empty. A pot of stew bubbled on the stove. There were no visible lights, but she had no trouble seeing--some spell, she supposed, but she did not investigate to find out if Josiah had created this one as well. The sun did not reach through the windows quite yet.

A closed door led to a hallway and another door--more than likely the door to the Human World. She did not test that door, just in case Gabriel had left a Hound on guard in the cave.

Silently, thankful of the stone floors that would not creak, she slipped through an open doorway and down another hall.

Gabriel had a library that rivaled the Council's--books in endless rows that stretched far into shadow where the light did not reach. When she approached those far-away bookcases, the light brightened, leading her to believe that it was also responding to Josiah's talent.

There was a mirror hanging at the end of the hall, and Althea had to stare at her shadowy reflection for a moment before she realized just how far Josiah's influence had spread. After all, she was blond, like Josiah, and they were both petite. But the face in the mirror was most definitely not her own.

Would Gabriel think she was Josiah if he returned to his lair before she slipped out? Would she smell like Josiah to the Hounds?

How long would the talent she had stolen last if she continued this deception?

She had taken a dagger from her stash of weapons after calling Lucas. If worse came to worse and she was discovered, she could kill a Hound and escape while the Hunt was in disarray. If she smelled as well as looked like Josiah, then perhaps she could vanish and leave them thinking that she had been a ghost.

There were two rooms on either side of the mirror at the end of the hallway. One was empty--a child's room, complete with a crib.

A crib? Was Gabriel breeding Hounds now?

Only after her mind had registered that shock did she realize that the room was not empty.
A woman stood with her back to Althea, busy folding a pile of tiny baby clothes and baby things. She wore a dove grey gown--Althea couldn't demean it to call it a dress--and her moon-pale hair hung in a braid halfway down her back.

Emle. Gabriel's whore, no doubt, and pregnant with Gabriel's child.

Fury almost lost Althea the advantage of surprise. The Council had been cuckolded by the Hunt for almost an entire century--and they would escape scott-free if she didn't punish them for their crimes. Lucas wouldn't raise a finger against the Hunt--he was obviously compromised.

For a moment, Althea considered attempting to have his membership in the Council revoked, since he probably knew about Emle as well as the Hunt's ability to shift shape. How could he have kept that a secret all these years?

It was the old feeling of exclusion all over again. Althea wondered if the other Council members knew as well. Was she the only one who hadn't been told?

What could she do? Should she kidnap Emle now, and leave the Hunt alone? That wouldn't work if Josiah was still alive--a Hound had to die, regardless.

But where were the Hounds?

Fury briefly colored her vision red. If Magdalen had killed Malachi when she had the chance, this wouldn't be necessary. She could have stayed away as Magdalen had suggested--cementing her alibi for whatever was to happen.

Instead, Magdalen had forced her to risk everything. While she sat in her damned house--her fortress--waiting for the completion of her plans to fall into her lap.

What was she doing about Josiah? Was the damage already done?

A door closed, somewhere ahead, echoing in the silence. Althea slipped into the library and ducked behind a bookshelf as someone walked down the hall--on human feet, not paws.

She saw his face as he passed by the door. A boy, no less, with black hair and pale skin. A Hound. And behind him--behind him, a child. Gabriel's child. She knew that pale hair, that certain set of her chin.

Stunned, Althea slipped down one row of bookcases. There were two children. One unborn, yes, but two! The child seemed to be nine or ten years old, which placed her birth right around the time of Josiah's disappearance. Gabriel had been hiding her for ten years! That meant Emle had been with him for at least as long; she was obviously the child's mother.

Ten years!

Some whisper of her presence must have alerted the Hound, because he paused in the doorway, staring into the library as if he expected to see his Master inside instead of shadows.

"Hello?"

"There's no one there, Seth," the child said, puzzled.

"I thought I heard--" the Hound--Seth, Althea reminded herself--shook his head. "Go on along. I just want to make certain."

For a moment, Althea thought the child would protest, but she only nodded and hurried down the hall, leaving the Hound alone.

Hardly daring to breathe, Althea stepped out from behind the bookcase. She wasn't even certain why she had shown herself until she saw his eyes widen in recognition.

"I don't have much time," she whispered. "Please--do not tell--" What did they call him? "Do not tell our Master."

"Josiah?" The Hound fairly breathed the name.

Althea motioned him inside. He came willingly enough, still wary, but not on guard. No. Not in the comfort of his own home.

"I am not truly here," she whispered. "And I--" she searched her mind for a plausible excuse. "I am very weak."

He seemed to accept that as well, and did not approach her.

"Please do not tell our Master--"

"I won't," the Hound said. "But he may know it anyway--you know that, Josiah. He would welcome you back--where are you?"

"I--I don't know," Althea said, struggling to sound puzzled. "I am--"

"Seth?" Another voice. Another Hound? "Is there someone else here?"

The Hound whirled around, then glanced back at Althea, as if reassuring himself that he wasn't imagining her presence. "No--No one--"

She had not asked him to keep her presence from other Hounds, only their Master. But that would do as well. While his back was turned, she slipped into the shelter of the bookcase and hurried to the very back, out of sight.

She heard him return a moment later, and whisper Josiah's name, but she did not reply.

She had to think.

And she couldn't stay here. Two Hounds, the child, and Emle were too much. She did not want to kill too many of them; after a while, Gabriel would assume he had nothing left to lose.

She had to get him out of the house and into the forest. That was the only way.

With bated breath, she coaxed a thread of awareness into the hallway, and found the Hound--Seth--standing just outside the library door.

With Josiah's power, she breathed his name. He jumped, rabbit-quick, but came willingly enough, his eyes wide.

"Can I tell anyone else?" He kept his voice low this time, so no one else would hear. And there were other voices now, in the living room--more Hounds. Would she have to go out the window?

"No. Not yet." Althea hesitated. What could she give him? "I have--I have news of Jordan. He's alive." She did not show herself this time. Let him think that her power was waning.

"Alive?" She heard the hope in his voice. "Where is he?"

Perhaps she could teach Magdalen a little lesson. Show her that Althea Dunning wasn't just a lackey to be ordered around. "The Daulton House has not been destroyed in Faerie," she whispered. "If you go there--through Faerie--you will find Jordan."

Perhaps she would allow him to see Jordan, just once, before he died.

"I will go," he whispered. "But can I tell--"

"No!" Althea did not mean to raise her voice, and it echoed through the room. "Tell no one."

"But if our Master--"

"If Our Master discovers what I told you, I will not be able to guarantee safe passage for you and Jordan out of the house," Althea said, and prepared Josiah's power to transport her past the wards. "There is--There is a witch involved. And I cannot keep her in ignorance forever." She hesitated, and wondered if she had him. "Jordan must be saved."

Seth nodded. "I will come," he said. "When--"

"At midnight," Althea said. It would take her that long just to convince Magdalen of the worthiness of her plan. And as soon as Seth stepped into the dampening spell, Gabriel wouldn't be able to access the bond between them anyway. Which would give her the slight advantage of surprise. "Tell no one. Please. Jordan's life depends on it."

"I won't," Seth whispered.

There were more voices now. A shout. Hurried footsteps, and a familiar voice.

Lucas? What was Lucas doing in the Hunt's lair? Althea was almost tempted to stick around and find out, but she did not dare risk exposure.

It was almost dusk, after all. Midnight was not that far away.

Seth had turned towards the commotion. Althea took that moment to pull on Josiah's power to slip away unnoticed, past the wards, which did not murmur, and further into the forest before she allowed her Council connections and her own meager power to return.

She kept just a hint of awareness in the library for a moment, to gauge whether or not her makeshift plan had worked.

There was no hue and cry. No Hounds streamed out of the house to Hunt her down. Lucas did nothing. And Seth kept his mouth shut.

Now, all she had to do was prepare for his arrival, and plot the next piece of her plan.

A Hound would die before the new day dawned. And no one--not even the Council--could stop her.

Chapter 22

"I have permission to bring the Healer here," Amalea said, keeping her voice low. "But little else, at least for now, especially since I haven't heard from Eilan since he agreed to go. Once he is healed--"

"You can't keep him here!" Kyren abandoned his chair and stalked towards the windows. "He does not belong here," he said, quieter now. "To keep him here any longer will only anger his Master more."

"You sound as if you know his Master's identity," Amalea stated. "Did he tell you? Because my grandmother is keeping her secret safe, even from my mother. And me."

"He told me," Kyren said. "And no, I'm not going to betray his trust. I've betrayed enough as it is. But we cannot keep him here, Cousin."

"He's right," Mirella said, dropping into the chair Kyren had just vacated. "The sooner you fetch the Healer, the sooner he will be free to rejoin his Master. I'll watch over Josiah--I suggest you choose someone you trust to accompany you, Amalea, just in case you run into trouble."

Kyren swallowed hard. "I'll go." It was the least he could do, after all.

"Not alone, you won't," Amalea said. "We'll go together. I know where the Healer keeps her house."

For a moment, Kyren thought about protesting, but then he saw the glint in Amalea's eyes and knew she would not listen to him. "Very well. But if Magdalen finds us and kills me, will you ensure Josiah is returned to his Master?" He felt tears prick his eyes--tears he dared not let fall, lest they think he had lost his mind again. "Please, Cousin?"

"If Magdalen finds us, she'll try to kill me too," Amalea said. "If you wish to stay here, I'll bring someone else with me."

"No." Kyren couldn't allow her to go alone, even with a guard. "I'll go with you."

"Then go," Mirella said, and made a shooing motion with her hands. "I'm not going anywhere, and the day grows dim. When you return, there will be letters ready to be sent to the Council and the Hunt. And it would behoove us to send the Hunt's letter with Josiah."

"You are sending them a letter?" Kyren choked back the rest of his protest when Josiah stirred and opened his eyes.

"Go," Mirella said without moving her gaze from Josiah's face. "And hurry back."

Before Kyren could finish his protest, Amalea took his arm and pulled him out of the room. "We fought for the letter," she said. "They were intending to force Josiah to tell his Master himself." She cast him a tight smile. "And before you protest at that, remember that my mother and the rest of the royal family do not wish to court anyone's anger because of this. No one knew of his presence, save you and Magdalen. And they do not wish this entire mess to drag down the castle, its inhabitants, or their way of life in Faerie."

"Then Josiah should be with us, and we should deliver him to his Master with out abject apologies," Kyren said, refusing to be placated by her explanation. "Healed or not, this is a delaying tactic, and nothing more. If you knew--"

"Hush," Amalea said as soon as they were out in the hallway. "Speak no more until we leave the castle. That is not the only reason, and Magdalen does have spies."

The sunlight in the Human World stung Kyren's eyes, but he ignored the discomfort as he followed Amalea through the forest. He was content to let her lead. After her comment about spies--and the chilling thought of what Magdalen would do if she knew Josiah was still alive--he tensed at every sound; every rustle.

This was the first time he had stepped into the Human World in years, and the forest had not changed. But as they made their way down some invisible path and their surroundings became more and more familiar, Kyren had to wonder if Amalea had gone this way on purpose.

"I don't remember the Veil this far into the forest," he commented as they walked. "This is near to where--where Beth's father lived." Even after all these years, her name still brought him sadness.

"Yes, I know," Amalea said. "And perhaps the Veil had drifted this far. This was the closest location to Sennet's house. It's not far."

Neither was that huge old house where Beth had lived--in fear--and where he had first set eyes upon her. Almost without realizing it, Kyren started towards the house, only intending to look.
But when he stepped out into the clearing and saw the destruction, he felt something break inside his heart--a little piece of what-once-was now lost forever.

"I will not fault you for wanting to see this, but must you torture yourself forever?" Amalea stepped up beside him. "The smoke's still fresh. This just happened."

"It was--It was a beautiful house," Kyren whispered, and found himself close to tears. "Who would have done such a thing?"

Amalea took his hand. "It could have been anything," she said. "Lightning, perhaps. Vandals. You couldn't expect that it would remain unchanged forever."

Nothing remained unchanged forever in the Human World. But Kyren could not tear his gaze away.

The sparkle of sunlight on the burned remains of the house had the unusual effect of mirage in places, and he caught a glimpse of a window--hanging unsupported above the wreckage--and then a chimney standing tall where one had fallen.

Flowers appeared and disappeared along a gravel driveway that was both visible and overgrown. He would not have been surprised if Bethany Daulton herself stepped out onto the porch to greet him.

"Kyren?" Amalea touched his arm and the vision vanished, leaving wreckage behind. "It is gone now, Cousin. Let's be on our way."

Without replying, Kyren closed his eyes and side-stepped into Faerie.

Which shouldn't have been possible, since the Veil had never come this far before.

When Amalea appeared next to him a moment later, he didn't even glance at her. All of his awareness was focused on the house that stood--quite unblemished--in the clearing twenty feet away.

"What are you--oh." Amalea fell silent as well, staring. "Did you--see this in the Human Realm?"

"Only bits and pieces of it," Kyren whispered, unable to tear his gaze away from the restored house. "I--I'm not quite certain I believe what I see is real." His voice shook.

"Well, if its an enchantment, we've both been taken," Amalea said. "I see the house as it probably looked a hundred years ago. Quite nice, for a human dwelling. What do you see?"

"I see--" Kyren blinked past a spate of sudden tears. "I see the house Bethany grew up in. And it is so real that I would not be surprised if her father appeared on the porch to drive us off."

"Her father," Amalea said. "The one you--ah--" There was no tactful way to put it.

"The one I killed, yes," Kyren said. "But that was much later, after I found out what he did to her. And what he wanted." He shivered, half-fearful that the memories would consume him as his fear had consumed him not so long ago.

"You do realize that by killing Jacob Daulton, you put in motion the events that led up to all of this?" Amalea asked.

"What do you mean?" Kyren asked, finally able to look away from the house. If he walked inside, what would he see? Beth? Or some forgotten ghost of the human he had loved?

"If you hadn't killed him, the Hunt would not have been free for the Council to bind." Amalea took his arm to lead him away from the house. "If the Hunt had not been bound by the Council, then Magdalen would not have any chance to try for the throne or whatever it is she really wants, because they would have been banished long ago."

"And Bethany--and my daughters--would have died," Kyren said. He tried to push past the hurt of her words, since he knew she did not mean to hurt him. "Or gone mad; either way he would have murdered them." He pulled his arm from her grasp. "Perhaps this is all my fault, then, and I was right. The only thing I regret about killing him is that my 'crime' was discovered before I could take both my daughters and Bethany to safety."

He had tears in his eyes again; tears that he blinked away before Amalea could see them. "We should go." But he couldn't force himself to turn away from the house just yet. Not while the memories of Bethany were still fresh in his mind.

"I am not faulting you for your actions," Amalea said softly. "And we must go. If you--"

Kyren saw a curtain twitch in what once had been Beth's room. He started forward before he could stop himself, and stepped into the clearing.

Amalea hauled him back. "Kyren, do you think this might be some sort of trap set just for you?"

Kyren blinked at her. "A trap? Here? Why?" He could not imagine such a thing. Why, he'd visited this very house just two days ago, when Beth's father was away on a trip.

Days? His mind protested at that statement. No, not days--Beth has been dead for over one hundred years--

"You were so fearful of Magdalen before--"

Kyren pulled away from her. "Magdalen?"
Magdalen. Yes. Your former lover, remember? The witch?

His mind knew, but something would not let him speak the words. And he watched--unable to stop himself--as he stepped into the clearing again.

"I'm not sure why you followed me, Amalea, but I have business here," he said aloud, which wasn't anything near to what he wanted to say.

Help--Amalea, help me--

Something snagged his hand and he tried to brush it away, but it clung to him, tenacious. Kyren turned to confront it, and his cousin flung something sparkling around him--a net?--and pulled him forcibly back into the Human Realm.

Kyren screamed as something tore loose from his mind. He fell to his knees on the forest floor, and the net coalesced into a woven web--like a spider's web--that settled over top of him. Protecting him. But from what?

"Spells," Amalea said through clenched teeth. "Damned spells."

Kyren raised his head and flinched away from the sharpness of the sunlight. "What--What happened?"

"Stay where you are," Amalea said to him, then raised her voice. "Don't move the net. It's the only thing keeping you from going back there, and I'm not sure--" Her voice trailed away.

Kyren stared at the ruin of the house. There was--There was a door, hanging in midair where the front door had been, whole and untouched by the fire. Even through the net, Kyren could feel it beckoning to him, which meant that Amalea had been hit by the full brunt of yet another spell.
Thinking seemed to be one of the things affected by the spell--or whatever it had been--because Kyren's mind was mush. "Amalea, don't!"

She ignored him as he knew she would, and stepped into the clearing.

"Amalea!" He struggled to his knees, but the net weighed him down. He did not dare cast it off--not unless he wanted to be caught again.

With the aid of a young tree, Kyren pulled himself to his feet. Clutching the net around him like a blanket, he staggered after Amalea. She did not even turn from her path to investigate his presence.

He caught her arm and pulled her back. "You wouldn't let me go, Cousin. I'm not going to let you go, either!"

With a surprising show of strength, she pushed him away. Her eyes were blank, fixed on something Kyren could not see. "Leave me be, Kyren." Her voice was perfectly modulated.

She had moved, somehow, since Kyren had caught up with her, and now, she reached out for the door, which opened at her touch.

A portal hung behind it, pulsing in the sunlight.

Desperate now, Kyren gathered the net in his hands and flung it over Amalea, just before she stepped through the portal. She swung around, her eyes wide, her face dead white.

Something caught Kyren's arm from behind and hauled him backwards before he could move away. He struggled, briefly, but the spell's power drowned out any protests he might have made and the grip on his arm did not falter.

The door slammed shut.

Kyren fell back onto a hardwood floor, his strength fading as the spell vanished again. He saw double for a moment--two half-familiar grinning men bent over him until they coalesced into one--and then the world--or vertigo--crashed into place. He tried to protest when Stefan took his arm and pulled him backwards across the floor, but when he saw the figure waiting for him in the next room, all coherent thought flew from his mind.

"Ah, Kyren," Magdalen said, a smile illuminating the madness in her gaze. "So nice of you to join us."

This betrayal was too much for Kyren's mind to take. He gaped at her, frozen in place, his mind reeling from the blow of both her spells and her presence in the house. Consciousness trickled out of his mind as if it were a sieve, and he could not stop its progress.

He closed his eyes, too weak to keep them open--too weak to fight--and realized that he would not survive this.

He would not leave this house alive.

Somehow, that thought did not frighten him as much as it should have, and made it all the easier to surrender to the darkness when it rose to carry him away.

(Next Update: October 5th)

House St. Clair Home

Heart's Desire, Part 32

2008-10-03T06:14:00.000-04:00

Chapter 19

When Josiah had vanished ten years before, Gabriel had kept a hyper-awareness of his Hounds' presences through the bond for a long while. Over the years, he had relaxed his guard again, even going so far as to keep the bond closed while Emle met with Sennet, even though the result of that had been disastrous.

In the two days since Jordan's disappearance and the Daulton house's destruction, he had kept out of Malachi's mind. If he were to trust his Hounds as Emle suggested, then he would have to learn to leave them be. And after his lapse, he knew Malachi needed to heal.

Despite Malachi's distraction--and his short temper--Gabriel had not given in to temptation to find out what was truly wrong. He had already torn the memories of meeting Jordan from Malachi's mind. He did not wish to harm him even further by demanding even more.

When Malachi vanished from the bond, Gabriel wondered if he had been too lax with his trust. Malachi had vanished before, no doubt while passing through a naturally dampened area, like the waterfall. But now, Gabriel had last noticed his presence near the Daulton House. And then he had vanished.

The possibility of some sort of dampening spell from the Council crossed his mind, but why, then, hadn't Malachi conveyed that much through the bond? He had been so irritable of late. With growing unease, he went in search of Emle. He had sent her out to speak with Malachi, hoping she would find some cause to his distress. And he had not spoken to her since.

He found her in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for a stew that simmered on the modern-style stove. It ran on the strange magic of the house, not electricity, which made it quite difficult to work with at times, but Emle's cooking always seemed to come out correctly.

"I spoke to Malachi," she said when Gabriel appeared in the doorway. "Although I don't think I helped him much. He said he was not wounded, and that perhaps his unease was just from the impending end of the Council's binding."

"He is gone," Gabriel said. "Vanished. I can't find him." More emotion trickled through those few words than he intended to allow her to see, but she did not miss the import of this.

"Not--Not like Josiah--"

"No. Not the same, at least. Similiar. And perhaps he wandered into a place in the forest where the bond will not work. They exist, in certain spots. But he has not wandered out again." Which meant that he could be hurt, or worse. Not dead, though; Gabriel doubted that even a dampening spell could block a death from the bond they shared.

"Perhaps he went in search of Sennet on his own," Emle said, but her gaze was full of worry now, as if she suspected something far worse.

"I will send Nathaniel to see if he did," Gabriel said, and did just that. Nathaniel asked no questions and made no protest against the order. But as soon as he left, Gabriel couldn't help but wonder if he, too, would vanish. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for more loss.

"Where did you sense him last?" Emle asked.

"Near the ruins of the Daulton house," Gabriel replied. "I think--I think it is time to dispense with the secrecy. I will go and search that area myself if he is not with Sennet."

"Only if you take one of the Hounds with you," Emle said, and clutched his arm. "If you would vanish--"

"At least then I would know who is stealing my Hounds," Gabriel said. "Don't be afraid for me, Emle." He tried the bond again--nothing. "I will find him if he can be found." But he could not help but wonder if this was a repeat of Josiah's disappearance, and if he would again be thwarted by some unnamed enemy of the Wild Hunt.

Was it Magdalen? Surely by now she would have shown her face or challenged him. He had not known her to be subtle, or patient.

Fifteen minutes later, and over Eri's protests, after Nathaniel found Sennet's house empty and cold, Gabriel left with Zechariah, leaving Seth and Thomas behind to stay with Emle and Eri.

But the ruins of the Daulton House were cold and silent, the smell of decay heavy on the air. Zechariah found Malachi's scent quickly enough, but he lost it right inside the burned ring of grass that surrounded the rubble.

Had Malachi seen something? Gabriel called to Zechariah through the bond, but nothing happened. His Hound ignored him--no. There was a dampening spell around the perimeter of the house.

"Zechariah." At Gabriel's voice, Zechariah raised his head. Gabriel could not hear his question through the bond, but he saw the panic looming in his gaze when he realized what had happened. "Could Malachi have seen something? Could he have gone to investigate and fallen through?" The house had a basement, after all, and he had no doubt it was now filled with water.

There is too much ash, Zechariah said, joining him on the other side and shivering violently. Too much decay.

If he had fallen through, he might have hurt himself. Gabriel did not think he was dead--his absence was, in fact, similar to Josiah's absence from the bond.

Similar enough, even, to be suspicious.

"You could hear my voice, inside the spell?" What would happen if he stepped inside the dampening spell and tried to use the bond?

Zechariah nodded. Yes. Just as clear as you're speaking to me now.

"But you cannot communicate with me," Gabriel said. "I give you leave to shift."

My lord-- Zechariah glanced around at the forest. Are you certain?

"If that is the only way," Gabriel said, "Then yes."

After a moment's more hesitation, Zechariah shifted shape. "Do you want me to call for him?"

"He may not be able to answer," Gabriel said. "But look for him. And be careful. I will look for him as well." He realized, then, that the dampening spell meant Zechariah--and Malachi--could defy him. They would be, essentially, not under his control.

That only gave him a moment's pause. He had no indication that Malachi had vanished into the dampening spell on his own, or if he was even in the area. But he had to search.

Right before he stepped into the spell's influence, he realized that it could well be a trap. He was usually more cautious when it came to magic--especially magic whose origins he did not know.

"Gabriel?"

For a moment, he did not recognize the Healer's voice. But when he turned and saw her standing behind him--with no car to herald her arrival--he remembered the sound of her voice. Her presence was a boon he could not repay.

But Nathaniel still waited at her house for her to return. As he instructed his Hound to stay put, just in case Malachi wasn't trapped in a watery grave, he said, "I sent Nathaniel to your house an hour ago."

"I was with Lucas," Sennet said. "Is something wrong?" She saw Zechariah, who was still in human form, and glanced at Gabriel. "Are you still looking for Jordan? Lucas asked if I would try one more time to sense his--his body, but--"

"No. I'm looking for Malachi," Gabriel said. "He vanished earlier. I had rather hoped he was with you." It was easy enough to tell her this, but any explanation would strain Gabriel's reticence. But if she had any clues at all of his whereabouts, that was a burden Gabriel would have to bear.

"He vanished?" Sennet repeated. "From your--your bond?"

"Yes," Gabriel said. "There is a dampening spell around this house, and I fear he may have come to harm."

"Healers can usually sense a life in pain--if that is the case--but I sense nothing beyond the spell you speak of. I can't even sense your--" She hesitated then, as if not wanting to name Zechariah a Hound without cause.

"His name is Zechariah," Gabriel said. "He is one of my Hounds. But we cannot communicate through the bond when he passes through the dampening spell, so I allowed him to shift into human form." He hesitated. "I--I would rather not be absent from the bond if one of my other Hounds had to get in touch with me." That was a better excuse than thinking this dampening spell might be some sort of a trap.

"When Malachi came to me the other night--" Sennet stopped again, as if debating whether or not to tell him anything at all.

"He came with my permission," Gabriel said, just in case she had not realized that.

Sennet nodded. "I know. But he was hurt. It looked to me like he had been bitten, but I sensed nothing when I helped him heal."

"Bitten?" For a moment, Gabriel could only stare at her. Malachi had not mentioned anything happening on his way to Sennet's house. He had been anxious, and short with everyone, but he had not seemed fearful or even act as if he was trying to hide something from his Master.

"I thought--perhaps--that he had been punished for something, but he assured me that was not true." Sennet waited, as if expecting Gabriel to reply to that, but he remained silent. "And he also told me that he did not know how the wounds had happened."

"How could he just forget something like that?" Gabriel asked.

"He did question that as well. He said you wouldn't punish him and then make him forget the reason for the punishment," Sennet said. "But I do wonder if his disappearance has something to do with his wounds."

"He did not mention anything to me," Gabriel said, even though it pained him to admit that he had missed something so important from one of his Hounds. "But I had--I had recently torn something from his mind, so I let him be. I did not wish to harm him again so soon after the first time."

"Let me see what I can find," Sennet said, her voice passing no judgement on his actions. "I feel nothing at the moment, not even your Hound. But that would be the dampening spell, I expect." She hesitated again. "I will say one thing: This spell was not here yesterday morning when I met Emle and Malachi. Because I sensed Emle's presence just fine."

When she stepped across the edge of the dampening spell, she sucked in her breath sharply. "Hmm."

"What do you feel?" Gabriel asked.

Without replying, Sennet walked across the debris, carefully picking her way to the back of the house--where the kitchen had once been, and the basement's warren of rooms. Gabriel walked along the edge of the dampening spell, pacing her, until he stood only ten feet away at the most, in clear view of a series of gaping holes in what was once the floor--perhaps where the appliances had fallen through during the fire.

"You'll need to send a Hound for Lucas," she said, turning to face him.

"Is Malachi--" Gabriel hesitated on the edge of the dampening spell.

Zechariah inched his way across the destruction to where Sennet stood. She caught his arm as he started forward, and he flinched away from her.

"I sense someone down below," Sennet said. "And it's not Jordan. There's too much residual magic from the dampening spell for me to tell exactly who it is, but--"

"It--It smells like Malachi, my lord." Zechariah shivered. "Malachi's blood." He bent down and scraped at something on the edge of a jagged section of burned wood. "I will go to Lucas' house."

"You could try to come inside the dampening spell and contact him through the bond, but I'm not sure it will work," Sennet said. "Whoever fashioned this spell knew what they were doing." She knelt down at the edge of one hole and peered down into the darkness.

As soon as Zechariah stepped outside, Gabriel stepped inside the dampening spell for the first time and tried to open the bond.

Nothing happened. He tried again, redoubling his effort, and felt something--something intangible--shift.

It was like trying to access the bond through glue. But even a faint connection was enough to assure Malachi's unconscious mind that he was no longer alone, and ensure he was not going to die before Lucas arrived to magic him out of the basement. Provided Lucas could be persuaded to do just that.

But even then, Gabriel noticed there was something wrong. Malachi's mind was in turmoil, a single name repeated in an endless loop over and over again, as if he had tried his best not to forget it.
Stefan. His name is Stefan. Stefan.

Gabriel had not heard Stefan's name for a hundred years. An entire century with no word, no evidence that he had survived.

Would he have survived on his own?

That in itself was doubtful. Stefan had been a member of the Council, and therefore a wizard, but he had not impressed Gabriel with his knowledge or his ability to adapt to his unique situation. If he was alive, then that probably meant Magdalen had taken him under her wing, so to speak, and that Malachi's fall had not been an accident at all.

But if that were the truth, then why had he not remembered? It was almost as if something had blocked the memories from his mind, as Sennet had said of Malachi's reaction to his wounds.

"Gabriel, whatever you're doing is hurting him." Sennet's voice broke through Gabriel's thoughts. "I can feel his pain."

"No. It is not me," Gabriel said, realizing it had to be a spell. "Malachi has a talent for slipping through spells. If there is a spell blocking his memory, his subconscious won't stop fighting it unless he accepts it, and he's unlikely to do that." He closed his eyes and pushed through the interference of the dampening spell again, attempting to soothe Malachi's mind. "He has no control over this talent. He won't even admit it exists." He hesitated. "To me, at least."

It was an effort to step outside the dampening spell and leave Malachi alone again, but he wanted to put the others on guard, just in case Stefan or Magdalen--or whoever was behind all of this--had planned this to attack. But if it was Magdalen, Gabriel doubted she would make her move until much later. The Council's binding wasn't set to expire for a week and a half. Why attack now?

He sent Nathaniel back to the house to help guard Emle and Eri. Three Hounds would have to be enough. That with the steadfast power of Josiah's wards--But what if Josiah's wards were compromised? Did Malachi know what they planned to do?

Tearing the spell from his mind would cause more harm than good. Gabriel knew that without even making the attempt, but it was still a tempting solution to his problem. If Josiah's wards were breached, he could lose his entire Hunt, as well as Emle, Eri, and his unborn daughter. And then he would have no choice but to give Magdalen her dearest wish, if she was responsible for this.

And that was looking more and more likely.

"Gabriel? Any word on Lucas?"

He had not realized that he had been pacing back and forth on the very edge of the dampening spell, lost in his thoughts again. Without replying, he opened the bond just as Zechariah reached Lucas' house. "He only just arrived." Would it take Lucas that long to return? Tell him this is treachery, he said through the bond. Tell him Stefan is involved. He would leave Magdalen's name out of this until he knew for certain if she was involved as well.

Zechariah hesitated with his hand raised to knock on the door. Stefan, my lord?

Lucas will know that name. Gabriel stepped into the dampening spell again and crossed to where Sennet waited at the edge of the hole. "Can you see him at all?"

"No." Sennet rose and wiped her hands off on her pants. "If I were a wizard, I could cast a light down there, but I'm not." She ran one hand through her short hair, leaving it stuck up in tufts. "I'm sorry."

"You are here, and you found him," Gabriel said. "You have nothing to be sorry for." He stared down at the black water below, and tried not to give in to despair. Malachi was alive. Malachi would still be alive by the time Lucas arrived. Until then, all he could do was wait.

Chapter 20

It was, Lucas thought, like seeing Malachi for the first time, only this time, the Hound was not afraid for his life.

He had sent Sennet on her--admittedly useless--errand less than an hour ago. When he opened the front door, he had not expected to see an unfamiliar face, much less a Hound.

"My Master bids you come, if you will," the Hound said, wary but unafraid. "He says that Malachi has fallen prey to treachery, and that Stefan is involved."

"Stefan?" That was a name Lucas had not expected to hear. He had come across Stefan's name in his research, of course, but there had been no sign of him for a century, at least as far as Lucas knew. And then, because he knew he had to ask, "Is Malachi alive?"

"He--" The Hound hesitated. "It was made to look as if he had fallen into the basement of the house that burned," he said. "But if Stefan was involved, I think he did not fall."

"That basement is probably full of water," Lucas said. "What was he doing there?"

The Hound shook his head, as if unwilling to speculate. "Will you come?" He cocked his head and closed his eyes, as if listening to someone--someone like his Master. "Sennet is already present, but she cannot help him if she cannot reach him."

"Of course I'll come." Lucas grabbed his car keys from the kitchen counter. "But I'm not traipsing through the forest with you. I'll drive; it's quicker on the road from here anyway." He hesitated. "If your Master allows, you are welcome to come with me."

Shock briefly widened the Hound's hazel eyes. He started to speak, then stopped, listening again. "There is a dampening spell around the house. My Master doesn't know who put it there, but Sennet says it wasn't there yesterday morning."

Lucas paused with his hand on the door. "That's interesting--as far as I know, it's not a Council spell. Are you coming with me?"

"I--" The Hound stared at him, his eyes wide.

"What does your Master say?" Lucas asked. "And what is your name? It doesn't seem right just to call you 'Hound'."

"Zechariah. My name is Zechariah." He hesitated, but Lucas did not get the impression that he was contacting Gabriel for permission. "I will come with you. If it's quicker."

"Where is your Master?" Lucas asked, locking his front door behind him. "Is there something else I need to know?"

"The dampening spell--" Zechariah backed away as Lucas approached. "It--It also dampens the bond between us. My Master could not feel Malachi until he stood inside of it."

"Which means you cannot contact your Master at the moment," Lucas said, and wondered if that was the only reason for Zechariah's sudden fear. "Have you ever ridden in a car before?"

"No."

"You have nothing to be afraid of," Lucas said, trying to sound reassuring.

Zechariah nodded, still unhappy. But he followed Lucas to the car willingly enough, and did not hesitate when Lucas opened the passenger side door for him and motioned him inside.

He did jump when Lucas started the car. But Lucas made no mention of his fear.

Five long minutes later, Lucas pulled into the overgrown driveway that led to the Daulton House. Zechariah was out of the car almost before Lucas put it into park, but there was no real reason for him to stay behind. Gabriel's whereabouts were obvious enough, and Sennet stood beside him, peering down into the hole that now led to the flooded basement.

And it was flooded. Lucas smelled the musty stink of brackish water as soon as he got out of the car. "What happened?"

The dampening spell was--interesting. Lucas only had his connection with the Council to worry about, and even it could not withstand the power of the spell.

With that thought came another one--would the binding be muffled as well?

Gabriel stopped at the very edge of the spell. "What do you know?"

"Zechariah told me that Malachi was pushed into the basement, and that Stefan was somehow involved," Lucas said. "He also told me about the dampening spell, but I would have known that as soon as I arrived. This is not a Council-created spell."

"I didn't think it was," Gabriel said. "I would have expected an aversion spell, perhaps. Not this."

"Where is he?" They could stand and debate the origin of the spell for hours, and Malachi would still be at the bottom of the hole. "Is he conscious?"

Gabriel hesitated. "No. There's a spell involved--the bond between us is difficult to reach even when I stand inside this spell. He doesn't remember anything that happened, save for Stefan's name. And I--" For the first time, Gabriel looked genuinely distressed. "I hesitate to tear it from his mind for fear of harming him further."

"I'll see what I can do," Lucas said, promising nothing. He walked across the debris with care, stepping over chunks of burned wood and blackened stone, until he reached Sennet's side. When he glanced down into the hole--and saw the black water reflecting nothing--he called up a light and sent it into the basement before either Sennet or Gabriel could ask.

At first, all he saw were lumps of unidentifiable things. A bottle bobbed in the water, miraculously unbroken. Jagged chunks of wood, already slimy with mold and rot. A rat swam past, panicked by the light. And then--

”There," Gabriel said. Lucas barely heard him speak.

A hand. White and cold, its fingers curled and stained with blood. It glowed in Lucas' light, illuminating the ledge Malachi had managed to find--the top of a bookcase, or something, almost covered in water.

His eyes were closed and sunken, his face scratched and pinched. There was a--a wound in his shoulder that glistened in the light, and another one on his leg. He held his right arm close against his body. Was it broken?

His lips were blue. And he was shivering, despite the heat.

Lucas cast a sidelong glance at Gabriel, whose gaze had not left his Hound. "I can lift him out of there with a spell, but you'll have to be ready to catch him," he said. "These spells never last long."

"I'll catch him," Gabriel said in a voice that brooked no chance of failure.

"I will do my best to be gentle," Lucas murmured, forming the spell in his mind. "But I may hurt him. I don't know how badly he is wounded."

Very carefully, he mimed tucking his hands under Malachi's shoulders and legs, then lifting up. Below, Malachi's body slowly rose, awkwardly at first, by inches, skating across the top of the water to reach the largest part of the hole--and freedom.

His head lolled back. Lucas tried to adjust his grip, but he did not want to drop him with Gabriel watching; the Master of the Hunt was tense enough, even now.

"If you can keep him unconscious, please do so," he said, deliberately keeping his voice low. "If he wakes up and tries to move--" He didn't elaborate on what would happen. Gabriel would understand.

"I will do my best," Gabriel said.

Malachi's body jerked once as it rose, as if he had almost awakened, or realized he was slowly rising through the air. But his eyes remained closed the entire time. By the time Lucas had lifted him high enough for Gabriel to reach, his skin had dulled to an ashen gray.

"He's in shock," Sennet said, reaching for him even as Gabriel gathered him into his arms.

"I think his arm is broken," Gabriel said. There was anger in his voice now--not directed at his Hound, of course, but at Stefan.

Lucas sighed. Stefan. Missing for a century, and suddenly appearing now? "Have you any sign of Stefan in the past century? The last mention of him in the Council's journals was right after the binding."

"That is the last time I saw him as well," Gabriel replied. "The same night your ancestor saw Malachi shift shape." He held Malachi close, unmindful of the filth or the blood. "I had thought he was dead."

"As did the Council," Lucas said. "He'll be difficult to track, if he's been hiding that long."

Malachi moaned. His eyes flickered open, dazed and unaware, and he tried to push himself out of Gabriel's arms. And then, he seemed to realize where he was, or, perhaps, recognize the feel of Sennet's power coursing through his veins, because he blinked, and whispered, "My lord?"

"You are safe now," Gabriel said. His tone of voice gave no such assurance, but Malachi took his words to heart and sobbed against his Master's chest, curled up like a little child.

Lucas averted his gaze, uncomfortable with this display of emotion. He had done his duty--perhaps he should leave Gabriel alone with his Hound and allow Sennet to do her work. He felt as if he were intruding on a private conversation, almost, or a meeting between two lovers.

"Do you wish me to leave?" he asked. "I can cast a spell around the house that will turn the curious away--"

"The spell may be a good idea," Gabriel said. "I'd hate to see what would happen if a human fell through that hole." He made no mention of Lucas' offer to leave.

"My lord--" Malachi's voice cracked. "What happened?"

"Do you remember Stefan?" Gabriel asked, very gently.

Malachi tensed again and twisted out of his Master's arms. He would have fallen, but Gabriel caught him, and Sennet kept her hold on his hand, feeding her power through his body. But even her efforts did not soothe Malachi's anxiety.

"This is not the right place for this," Lucas said softly. "My house isn't far from here--do you want to take him there?" He glanced at Zechariah, who stood on the outskirts of the dampening spell, watching everything with a worried gaze. "It's five minutes by car, Gabriel. Sennet's house may well be closer--"

"No--" Malachi seemed to see Lucas for the first time. He stiffened, then closed his eyes. "I--I just want to go home."

He sagged, then, his head nodding down on his chest, that desperate tension suddenly gone from his body.

"I'll take him home," Gabriel said, almost as a question, as if he did not expect Lucas to allow him to take his Hound home.

"Yes," Lucas said. "Perhaps you should. But--" He had never come right out and asked the Master of the Hunt where he lived. "Is your home safe? What if Stefan comes back?"

Without speaking, Gabriel left Malachi to Sennet's care and stepped out of the dampening spell. Lucas followed him, curious now, and couldn't help but notice that Zechariah stepped inside the spell as soon as Gabriel stepped out of it. It was almost as if Gabriel didn't want Malachi to be alone. Ever.

And that, as nothing else had, told him a bit of Gabriel's mood.

"You have never asked where we live," the Master of the Hunt said, staring out at the forest. "Your Council has never asked."

"Perhaps we never needed to know," Lucas said. It was entirely up to Gabriel whether or not to give Lucas his trust. He knew that, and he also knew that the Hunt's trust was a very special thing. "And I am not saying that I need to know. But is it safe?"

"You have always been honorable," Gabriel said. His voice held no clues to his state of mind; Lucas could not begin to tell where this conversation was headed. "Does your Council intend to free us--me--on Midsummer's Eve?"

"You have served us well," Lucas said. "We have no reason to prolong the binding, whatever you may think. If it helps at all, I hold your binding, not the entire Council. I don't think I've ever told you that." When Gabriel did not reply, he rushed to fill the silence. "I'm sorry. I should have told you."

"I see," Gabriel said, a faint thread of amusement now running through his voice.

"My uncle thought that having one person in control of the binding made the most sense."

"I had wondered why you were the only one who ever called me," Gabriel finally said. "But I did not think to ask." He hesitated. "You have never given me any reason not to trust you--"

"And I hope you never have a reason not to trust me," Lucas said.

"My Hunt has a house in Faerie," Gabriel said abruptly. "Josiah created the wards that protect us, but I have reason to believe they may be compromised. There are--" He sighed, then, and turned to face Lucas. "If you would accompany us to my house, I will explain there."

Lucas had never expected this. He stared at Gabriel, quite at loss for words.

"There are things about my Hunt--and other things--you do not know," Gabriel whispered, and the ghost of a smile drifted across his lips.

"I imagine so," Lucas said. "But--"

"Please." For the first time, Gabriel seemed uneasy. "This is not a topic for conversation here. The--The person who created that spell could well be listening to us speak, and I would rather she not know what I would tell you."

She? Lucas thought, but decided not to mention it just yet. "Very well. I'll come with you. But what I decide will not change, Gabriel. You have served us well."

Gabriel nodded, but did not reply. And when he entered the dampening spell again--and Zechariah stepped out of it--to gather Malachi into his arms, Lucas couldn't help but wonder what else he had hidden all these years. Was the Hunt's ability to shift shape only the tip of the iceberg?

It seemed, at long last, that Lucas was about to find out.

(Next Update: October 4th)

House St. Clair Home

Heart's Desire, Part 31

2008-10-02T05:39:00.002-04:00

Chapter 17

When Josiah opened his eyes, Kyren almost did not notice the fact that he was awake. He saw for a moment in silence, staring at him, half-expecting those blue eyes to slide shut again. But Josiah licked his lips and took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering.

"Where--Where am I?"

Kyren wished Amalea was not still stuck in meetings with her kin. She'd been in once over the past two days, and Mirella had even peeked in once or twice, but since Josiah's presence had to be dealt with in the most cautious manner possible--and to the royal family, caution was second nature--they had not yet decided if one of the local Healers would be called, or if they would allow Josiah to leave unmolested. Amalea's envoy to the Healer's house had never returned.

He had wondered, once or twice, if Mirella had broken her vow and told them what she knew. Looking into Josiah's gaze now, with the shadows still deep under his eyes and his face still pinched from pain, Kyren wondered if their caution was caution or just more cruelty Josiah was forced to bear.

"You are in Faerie," he said. "In my Cousin's rooms."

"And?" Josiah's voice cracked.

"And what?" Kyren asked.

"Am I--" He took another deep breath. "Am I to be allowed to--to leave?"

"My Cousin is in meetings with the King and Queen--" He fell silent, then, when Josiah turned his head away and closed his eyes. "They can't keep you here."

"They could," Josiah said, which was the truth.

"But they won't," Kyren said. "The meetings are--" He struggled to find the right words without distressing Josiah any further. "They do not wish an all-out war with your Master."

"I want to go home," Josiah whispered.

And was there any reason that he could not? What would happen if Kyren just--he shook his head. Just what? Just walked out of the castle with Josiah in his arms? "I am sorry," he said. "But it is best to stay here, at least for now. Magdalen is--" He sighed. "There is a lot you do not know."

"My Master--" Josiah swallowed the words and shook his head. "Nevermind."

"I don't know who your Master is," Kyren whispered, just in case that was the cause of his hesitation. "Mirella says she knows, but she also said she had promised your Master never to tell."

"I remember Mirella," Josiah whispered. "Will you tell me some of what I do not know?"

Kyren hesitated. No one had told him not to talk to Josiah, after all. "I don't know if you'll want to talk to me after I tell you my part in this," he said. "But I will tell you."

"You were not there when Althea tricked me," Josiah said, his voice a little stronger now.

"No, I wasn't," Kyren said. "But I was there when Magdalen gave Althea the spell that allowed her to steal your talent, and I knew you were behind that mirror for three weeks before Amalea forced me to tell her. And I did nothing to stop any of it." He let out a breath. "I am a coward, but that is no excuse for my actions. I was supposed to kill you."

"My Master asked me to enforce the wards around our--our house against a witch named Magdalen," Josiah whispered. "And if he was worried enough to do that, then perhaps you aren't as much of a coward as you think."

Kyren shook his head. "No. I am that much of a coward. But it is good to hear that your Master was on guard even then." He hesitated. Did he truly wish to know? "Is there any way that I could know your Master's identity?"

Josiah did not seem to hear him. "What has happened in the past ten years?" he asked. "Is--Is the Hunt free? You said Althea is a member of the Council--is Lucas still alive?"

"The Hunt is slated to be freed in--" Kyren realized he had no true sense of the date. "Less than two weeks, I think. Midsummer's Eve. And Lucas is still alive as far as I know. But--Magdalen wants to control the Hunt. That is her goal. After that--"

"Then why didn't she use me as bait?" Josiah asked, then froze, as if he had just realized what he had admitted.

With the coldness of impending doom, Mirella's comments fell into place. Kyren covered his face with both hands. "She didn't know--" His breath hitched. "She didn't know you were a Hound." The enormity of what he had almost done left him cold. "And she wanted me to kill you--How is that possible that you are a Hound?"

"We all have human forms," Josiah whispered, his voice dull and lifeless now. "Please--don't ask me to betray my Master any more than I have."

"I am sorry," Kyren said. He stood, then, unable to sit still, and busied himself with the food and drink Amalea had left behind. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"I just want to go home," Josiah whispered, and fell silent, his pale cheeks wet with tears.

Kyren walked to the door that led to Amalea's balcony and stared out at the sunlit world. He felt--cold, now, cold with the realization of what Magdalen had asked him to do--and what she had not known. She wouldn't have wished for Josiah's death if she knew he was a Hound. She would have used his presence to her advantage. He knew that without a doubt.

That meant Althea had not known. And Althea still did not know. Kyren knew of their agreement, and he had assumed that Althea would somehow deliver the Hunt to Magdalen. Which meant they had to have some sort of bait, as Josiah had said. Bait. Would they kidnap another Hound, then? What else would Gabriel give up his freedom for?

All at once, he thought he glimpsed the enormity of Magdalen's plans. He had no idea what she planned to do with the Hunt, but if she controlled the Hunt, she could--conceivably--control anything else that she desired.

He shivered and lowered his forehead to the glass. "I'm so sorry."

"You didn't kill me," Josiah whispered. "Perhaps I should be thanking you."

Kyren turned. "Amalea said something about warning the Hunt, but I think--I think the warning might be best coming from you. If I--" He swallowed hard, trying not to think about the scope of his betrayal. "The dampening spell would not reach outside the castle. If I carried you to the balcony, you might be able to contact your Master from there."

Josiah's breath caught in his throat. Kyren didn't dare look at him for fear that he would see the hopelessness in his gaze.

"You will be punished for that, won't you?"

Kyren shrugged. "I am due to be punished for my part in this. If helping you means that your Master does not try to kill me--"

"He won't," Josiah said, but he didn't sound very sure of himself.

"You are a Hound," Kyren said. "I don't understand it--I don't--I never really liked the Hunt, in truth, but--no one deserves this."

"If you do this, your--your Cousin won't be pleased," Josiah said. "And neither will Mirella." He sounded as if he were trying to talk Kyren out of allowing him to contact his Master.

"Yes." Kyren sighed. "I know."

"I would like--I would like to feel the bond in my mind again," Josiah whispered. "But--I don't think I could bear to have it vanish again." He shifted around on the bed until he faced Kyren. "It would be like--like a hole in my heart."

"I think they were hoping that you healed a bit before they let you leave," Kyren said. "Amalea was supposed to have sent someone to fetch the Healer, but that was two days ago, and--and she has not come. I don't believe her--the person she sent ever reached his destination." He hesitated. "I--It is my fault, too, that you are in this predicament."

"Why?" Josiah asked.

"Bethany Daulton was my lover," Kyren whispered, the old pain still sharp enough to send a quiver through his voice.

For the first time, Josiah's gaze sharpened. "You are the elf who killed Jacob Daulton."

"Yes." Kyren could not dismiss Beth's memory with a shrug. "He--He was not a good man."

"Then, anyone who summoned the Hunt was not a good person," Josiah said. "I do not think my Master would seek your death."

"Do you--" Kyren motioned towards the balcony.

"No. Not now." Josiah's eyes slid shut. "I will rest first."

He was still asleep two hours later when Amalea returned.

Chapter 18

"Josiah was a Hound," Magdalen said without preamble, her voice intense.

Althea had not expected her arrival. She stepped back in the face of such an intense fury that set her wards singing, and carefully laid the paring knife on the cutting board that sat on the counter. "What did you say?"

"Josiah Hunt--damn him! Why didn't I see this?--Josiah was a Hound!" She stopped, then, struck dumb by something Althea couldn't begin to imagine. And then, after a moment, she began to smile.

"Josiah was a Hound? How is that possible?" Althea tried to laugh. "The Hunt--" Quite suddenly, the thought of lunch turned her stomach.

"The Hounds all have human forms," Magdalen said, dismissing this tidbit of news with a wave of her hand. "Malachi gave Josiah up quickly enough--"

"You spoke to him again," Althea said flatly. "Why didn't you send for me?"

Magdalen shrugged. "Who would I have sent? Stefan? You need to stay away from the Hunt for the time being, Althea. We still have time."

"What were you smiling about before?" Althea asked. "Did you think of something?"

"Perhaps." Magdalen said. She took an apple from the bowl on the countertop. "I suppose Jordan will need food to survive, don't you think?"

"You haven't fed him?" Althea turned to open the fridge. She snagged a bottle of water and half a loaf of bread. "Give him this," she said, then wondered why she cared at all if he lived or died. He was, after all, much more dangerous alive than dead.

Magdalen laughed. "You would have fed Josiah these past ten years. You have a soft heart, deep down inside."

"No I don't," Althea said, stung. "I want this to go the right way just as much as you do. But if you need to keep him alive for some reason, he'll need food." She hesitated, loathe for Magdalen to declare her soft-hearted again. "Where is Malachi now?"

"If he dies, we will know," Magdalen said. "When a Hound dies, the bond between the Hunt is broken, just as I said."

Althea blinked. "But that means--what about Josiah? I thought you said he was dead!"

"I have my doubts that a Hound's death would be blocked by the dampening spell around the castle," Magdalen said. "And since the Hunt's bond remains intact--"

"That means Josiah isn't dead." Althea gasped the words. "He knows what I did to him! He knows!"

"Josiah created the wards around the Hunt's lair," Magdalen said. "Do you have enough of his power left to get past them?"

"I don't know," Althea stammered. "What if he's--"

"Gabriel will be looking for Malachi," Magdalen said. "And so will most of his Hounds. He might leave one behind, perhaps, but not any more than two."

"What do you want me to do?" Althea asked.

"Kill whichever Hound you find," Magdalen said. "The Hunt will be in chaos, and then--"

"What about Josiah?" She couldn't help but ask. After all, he knew what she had done. And if he told his story--if he told his story to anyone at all--

"If Josiah is alive, then he will be our bait," Magdalen said. "I will fetch him. But we need the Hunt in chaos first. The bond between them has to be broken."

"Then kill Malachi," Althea said, wondering why she hadn't done such a thing already.

"No. I need him to live for a little while longer," Magdalen said. "He did not answer my question about Emle. And he broke my truthspell."

"Is that even possible?" Althea asked. Truthspells were powerful spells. If one of the members of the Hunt had enough power to break a truthspell--then why hadn't Gabriel sent him to Darkbrook as well?

"I don't think he knows how he did it," Magdalen said. "Either way, unless he dies on his own--and that may yet happen--I can still use his knowledge."

"This Emle--is pregnant," Althea said.

"Yes." Magdalen's smile held an almost predatory air.

"Is--Is the child--"

"Find out," Magdalen ordered. "If yes, then Gabriel's child would be a much better hostage than one of his Hounds."

That was true, but Althea didn't want to get stuck with caring for a squalling baby while they waited for the Council's binding to expire.

"But I should kill a Hound, regardless?" She had to admit--but only to herself--that killing a Hound was something she had always envisioned. And now that it was even more important that a Hound die--

"Yes," Magdalen said. "The death of a Hound--any Hound--will destroy the bond between them. Gabriel won't be able to communicate with any of his Hounds while the bond is broken. That will give us the time we need to make sure Josiah is dead."

Althea nodded. "And Malachi?"

"We may yet have use for Malachi," Magdalen said. "Either way, if the bond is broken, Gabriel might not find him in time. And that wouldn't be a horrible thing at all."

(Next Update: October 3rd)

House St. Clair Home

Heart's Desire, Part 30

2008-10-01T06:07:00.003-04:00

Chapter 16

Two days later, the unsuccessful Hunt for Jordan was beginning to wind down. Not one of the searchers had found any sign of him, and even the Council feared that he had been lost in the fire. But despite the fact that his Master had made no mention of forcing them to resume their Hound forms, Malachi could not shake the feeling that something was still very wrong.

Even his Master had noticed. But Malachi could not explain, and Gabriel had not pushed.

In fact, he hadn't insisted on anything, other than to request--and it was a request, not an order--that they be very circumspect when they were in human form.

He had even allowed the others to shift as well.

But that feeling of unease never left. It was almost as if his mind struggled against something--something he did not know--and would not let it rest. It even haunted his dreams. Even Eri's attempts to engage him had not worked, and he had snapped at her on more than one occassion.

In that respect, it was no surprise that he had taken to avoiding the others these past two days. Even in human form he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.

"Malachi?"

He jumped at Emle's voice, so intent on his thoughts that he hadn't heard her approach. "Milady?"

Emle settled down on the stone bench beside him. "Gabriel asked that I come out and keep you company. You are not yourself lately."

No, he wasn't. He was jumpy and irritable and confused. "I am sorry," he said aloud. "I don't know what's wrong. Perhaps it is the waiting for the Council's binding to expire."

"Perhaps." But she did not sound convinced. And in truth, Malachi didn't think that was the problem, either. No, it was something else. "Do you feel ill?" Emle asked. "If we called Sennet, do you think that would help?"

Malachi laughed. "I'm not dying. I have no wounds for her to heal." But she had healed him, two days ago. He had not told his Master of those wounds, and Gabriel had not remarked upon the fresh scars on his arm. Perhaps he had not noticed. Did they have something to do with the reason behind his foul mood? "I am sorry, milady. Perhaps it is merely the anticipation that something will go wrong."

He caught her stricken glance. "Not with you--but the binding. After living under the Council's rule for so long--"

"Lucas is an honorable man," Emle said. "I cannot see him forcing the Hunt into another binding."

"He is not the only one who will have to make that decision," Malachi said. He managed to dredge up a smile. "I am sorry, milady. I am certain my mood will pass, in time." I just wish I knew what was wrong. But he did not say that out loud.

Later, after she had left him, Malachi found himself at odds with the peaceful garden. With no thought but to find a bite to eat--a rabbit, perhaps, or a bird--he wandered into the forest, aimlessly roaming through the trees.

When he came across the clearing where the ruins of the Daulton house stood, he stopped at the very edge of the trees and stared at the destruction.

He had not returned to the site since the fire. Nathaniel had--and Seth, he thought--but he had stayed away. It had been bad enough seeing the house in flames and realizing that Jordan might be inside.

It had rained since then, and ash lay in wet clumps everywhere, staining the burned grass black and leaving its mark upon everything. The walls that still stood bore the angry marks from the flames, and here and there, bits of melted glass sparkled in the sunlight.

It was not a fitting monument for a ten-year-old child.

Malachi turned away from the carnage. But as he turned, a glint of something--metal? Glass?--caught his eye.

It was in a place no metal or glass should have been after the fire. Suspended in midair, with nothing to support it, was a window.

Malachi blinked. Yes, it was a window. Whole and unbroken, in the same spot as the parlor would have been if the house was yet intact.

Without even realizing he had moved, he found he had taken a step into the clearing. He froze, half-expecting some sort of alarm to sound, but nothing happened. The window stayed where it was, hanging in midair.

Only now--now there was a door as well. And as he watched, the rest of the house slowly appeared, in bits and pieces, until it was whole again.

He didn't realize that the bond was gone from his mind until he tried to contact his Master to tell him of this new wrinkle in Jordan's disappearance. For a moment, he froze in place, unable to comprehend the reason why the bond might be missing. Surely he hadn't been so distracted as to miss-- He took a step backwards, into the forest again and felt the familiar presence of the bond return. The house returned to ruins as well, much quicker than it had reappeared.

It had to be a spell, then, surrounding the house. Someone's spell. A dampening spell. If he knew more about magic, he might be able to combat it.

But if there had been a spell around the house as it burned, could Jordan have accidentally gotten caught in such a spell?

He owed it to the boy to find out.

Cautiously, he approached the house, watching as it restored itself again as soon as he entered the confines of the dampening spell. He padded up to the front door only after watching the house for a moment for any sign of habitation, and nudged it open with his nose.

The hallway beyond was restored as well, with shining wood floors, and furniture that would have looked right at home in a museum. The rugs on the floor smelled of silk and wool, costly things that muffled his footsteps as he inched down the hall.

Jordan had not seen him in the form of a Hound. Did he dare shift shape, just in case?

The house smelled strange. Empty, yes, but also filled with a presence that seemed to watch his progress, as if biding its time.

Strangely enough, somehow, he remembered seeing this house restored before.

"Now," a voice said, urgently.

Something peeled away from Malachi's mind. He screamed--yes, screamed--he had shifted shape in the moment between the spell's removal and the realization of what he had been forced to forget.

"I did doubt your word that he would return," Stefan said, and pulled Malachi to his feet before he could think to defend himself.

He saw two Stefans for a long moment--two Magdalens and eight black Hounds. His skin remembered the tear their teeth and the smell of blood on their breath.

He tried to think, but even that escaped him; he could not force his mind to hold any manner of sense.

"Hmm," Magdalen said. "A little too severe of a reaction, I think. Were you trying to escape my spell?"

She touched his face and he jerked back, a raw, animal reaction to her presence.

My lord--oh, please-- But the dampening spell still held, and he could not feel the bond in the back of his mind.

He had never felt this pain before, from any punishment he had endured. Had never thought to feel such pain. He whimpered, sagging in Stefan's arms, unable to reply to her question.

When she spoke the words of the truthspell again, he sobbed. He did not beg for his life. He knew she would not grant him absolution.

He could not fight her. Could not fight the spells, or her power. And yet, the knowledge he held about the Hunt--about Emle--

"How long will it take for your Master to realize your absence?" Magdalen asked.

"I don't know." Malachi did not recognize his own voice. Yet, even as he spoke, he realized that a piece of his mind was struggling to win free of her spell.

Perhaps it was the same piece of his mind that had managed to allow him to shift shape all these years. If he truly did have some sort of talent in that respect, he wished he had more control of it now.

"Why don't you know?" Magdalen asked. "How does it work, then?"

"H-He could open it at any time," Malachi whispered, his throat locking as he tried not to answer. "And he would realize I am gone."

"Did he miss you last time?" Stefan asked.

Last time, there had been another person in the room. Althea. Yes. A member of the Council. A traitor. "No."

"How can the bond be broken?"

"By--By the death of a Hound," Malachi whispered. Would he be that Hound? Did she intend to kill him?

Magdalen nodded, as if she had already suspected that reply. "Who created the wards that shield your home from the outside world? Gabriel is no wizard."

Malachi's mind hurt too much to even consider disobeying. "Josiah. Our Master asked Josiah to create them."

Inexplicably, Stefan began to laugh.

Magdalen spluttered, turned white, and spun away from him, the fury in her gaze even frightening the black Hounds. They slunk out of her way, as if expecting that she would attack at any moment.

When she did attack, Malachi could not defend himself.

She wrapped one hand around Malachi's throat. "Who did you say?"

"He said Josiah," Stefan said. "You heard aright." He released Malachi's arms, which put even more pressure on Magdalen's grip around his throat.

With an oath, Magdalen tossed him aside. He hit the wall and slid into a heap on the floor, gasping for air. Flee--you have to flee--but he could not sort out his arms and legs to make his way to the door. At least now he could think, though, and wonder why Josiah's name had thrown her into such a fury.

"Is Josiah a Hound?" She spat out the question, but didn't give him a chance to reply. "Is Josiah a Hound?"

Is? Malachi had only a moment to wonder before the truthspell forced him to answer. "Yes." He closed his eyes. Surely there had to be a way around a truthspell. Surely.

What if her next question was about Emle?

But now, it was Magdalen's turn to laugh. "Damn him!"

"I believe he is thrice damned already," Stefan said. "Are you certain Josiah Hunt is dead?"

Malachi struggled to comprehend their words. Did they mean--was Josiah alive? Even after the--the touch through the bond they all had felt, Malachi had not believed that Josiah still lived. Not after ten years.

"The spell was broken," Magdalen said, as if she had forgotten Malachi's presence. "So I'm not certain, no."

One of the black Hounds growled at Malachi. He stiffened, half-expecting another attack, but it just snapped at him on its way past.

It was only about ten feet to the door. If he shifted shape and ran for it, would the black Hounds hunt him down?

"Who is Emle, Malachi?" Magdalen's voice was soft now, and he realized that in a roundabout way, this was the question whose answer she desired the most. His struggles redoubled, but the compulsion was there despite his efforts, forcing his mouth to open.

And then--something cracked. A gush of hot blood poured from Malachi's nose for a moment, and he choked on the answer to her question and struggled to breathe. When he opened his eyes, he saw double again, but the compulsion--the truthspell--was gone. Its destruction drove daggers of pain into his brain, but his mind was clearer now than it had been for the past two days.

"Whoi s Emle?" Magdalen demanded.

"An elf," Malachi whispered. He had to force himself not to embroider his telling; he didn't want to raise her suspicions any farther.

But at least--at least he could protect Emle.

"What relationship does she have with your Master?" Magdalen asked.

"I don't know," Malachi whispered. "She--" He bit back the rest of that sentence and waited for her to demand that he finish it.

"She what?"

"She--She is very beautiful," Malachi said. Which was the truth. Magdalen couldn't fault that, at the very least.

"That is strange," Magdalen said, her voice suddenly soft. "Because I heard that your Master and Emle's husband were one in the same." She stood over top of him now, her gaze burning. "And if that is truth--and I doubt the child Jordan would have dared to lie to me--then you are lying to me And that should not be possible."

She had spoken to Jordan. That meant--perhaps--that Jordan still lived, and--perhaps--was a prisoner inside of this house.

Malachi knew that he could not allow her to force him to forget again. If she let him go this time. She knew about Emle. And that meant Emle was in grave danger.

And if Emle was in danger, then Eri was in even graver danger. He had a feeling, though, that Magdalen knew nothing about Eri. Yet.

Before he could flee, she hauled him up and pressed him against the wall. "How did you break my truthspell?"

Malachi shifted shape and twisted out of her grasp. He hit the floor hard, his left leg buckling, but he forced it to hold his weight and ran for the door without any thought as to how he would get it open.

But before he could reach the door, Stefan's Hounds attacked, appearing all around him with snapping teeth and tearing claws. There were far too many for even a Hound of the Wild Hunt to fight and they showed no mercy.

Malachi fought far beyond the threshold of any pain. Dimly, over the din of barks and growls and snapping teeth, he heard Magdalen screeching Stefan's name--no doubt to call of his Hounds. But their lust for his blood had destroyed Stefan's control.

They were not like the Hunt, in this respect. If Gabriel had ordered his Hounds to stand down, he would have been obeyed. But Stefan's Hounds did not obey.

One tore a hole in Malachi's shoulder, another latched onto his leg, bearing him down under its weight. He heard something snap, and suddenly, his front right leg hung useless in a whirlwind of pain.

But when Stefan's teeth closed over his throat, Malachi froze, realizing that he had failed in his bid for freedom.

The black Hounds drew away, leaving Stefan alone with his teeth locked around Malachi's throat.

"Release him," Magdalen ordered, barely suppressing her fury. She spoke the truthspell again--with much more force this time--and Malachi moaned as it latched itself into his mind.

Stefan shifted shape and stood, wiping Malachi's blood from his lips. "Is that necessary? He'll just break it again. How do you know if you can trust anything he says?"

"He won't escape this time," Magdalen said. "Can you force him to shift into human shape?"

Each breath was an agony now, and when Malachi tried to move, his ribs grated together. He could no more shift than he could contact his Master.

"Of course I can't," Stefan snapped. "He is not my Hound."

Magdalen's fists clenched. "Damn him and his Hounds." When she reached down for Malachi, he flinched away from her, desperate to prevent any further pain.

But she only--only?--spoke her spell again, the one that made him forget what he now knew. What he had to tell his Master. He closed his eyes.

"What if he dies from these wounds?"

"Then he will die and the Hunt will be in chaos." Malachi heard the shrug in Magdalen's voice. "He broke my spell, Stefan! He broke my spell!"

"Perhaps the Hunt isn't as powerless as you think." A pause. "Do you truly want Gabriel to suspect your involvement in his death?"

An even longer pause. Malachi thought--at first--that he had gone deaf.

"If your Hounds had not attacked him--"

"Do not blame this on me," Stefan said quietly. "My Hounds prevented his escape. Nothing more."

Stefan. His name was Stefan. Somewhere through the pain, Malachi remembered that. Stefan. He recited the name like a mantra, forcing his mind past the pain.

Would he get a chance to say that name to his Master?

"Then what do you suggest? We cannot keep him here--"

"You made Josiah disappear--make him vanish as well. Can you suppress their bond?"

No! Malachi wanted to shout the word, but he couldn't find the strength. A tiny voice in the back of his mind asked, She made Josiah disappear?

"The dampening spell suppresses the bond," the woman--Malachi could not remember her name--said. "But it's visible as well, and I don't want the Council poking around here just yet."

Stefan snorted. "Then you've failed. I may as well tear out his throat and put him out of his misery."

"No. If he survives, he will return here. We still may need the knowledge he possesses."

Malachi sensed a Hound's approach, and he tried to brace himself for another attack. He opened his eyes and tried to shift into a better position to defend himself, but the Hound stopped a few feet away--on the floor, not the rug--its manner unthreatening now. Wary, yes. But staring at him steadily, unafraid.

He had no idea if he could communicate with such a creature. Help me--

The Hound blinked. Its gaze darted towards its Master, who had not noticed a thing; Stefan's argument with the red-haired woman had not abated.

Can you teach me how to shift shape?

Her voice was strong for a Hound, clear and unwavering. In any other situation, Malachi would have demanded to know where she had learned to speak this way; he'd sensed nothing from the Hounds during the attack.

I--I can try, he said, and wondered if the others could hear their conversation. Wouldn't they inform their Master? Can anyone else hear this?

They are Hounds, nothing more, the Hound said, almost dismissively.

And you are not? He closed his eyes as a shudder twinged through his body, and he had to bite his lip to keep from shifting shape. If he shifted shape, she would ask him another question, and--

No. She hesitated when her Master approached, but he only bent down to press his fingers against Malachi's throat to make sure he still lived. I would try to help you escape.

He noticed that she didn't promise him anything, and he liked her for it. She could no more promise to help him escape than he could guarantee he would be able to teach her how to shift shape. She still had to obey her Master, after all.

Before Malachi could reply, Stefan grabbed both back legs and pulled him into the parlor.
"No one would question his presence here, and the dampening spell could be a result of the fire," he said.

When Malachi opened his eyes, he saw that Stefan held a dagger in one hand. The red-haired woman watched from a few feet away, her eyes bright.

Panicked, he tried to rise, but his broken leg buckled, sending waves of pain to smother him. He snapped at Stefan--a useless pursuit--but Stefan evaded his lunge without even trying.

When he sliced along the edges of Malachi's wounds, making them less like bites and more like gouges, Malachi collapsed, unable to bear any more of the pain.

"This will work?"

"He was investigating something--perhaps even the dampening spell--and he fell through a weak part of the floor. If Gabriel finds him in time, he won't become suspicious. I can assure you of that."

Stefan pushed his hand through the floor and emerged with a handful of ashes mixed with bits of glass, which he rubbed into Malachi's fur and lathered into his wounds.

"The basement is filled with water," the red-haired woman said, musing.

"Then he will drown," Stefan said calmly.

When the acrid stench of wet ash intruded upon his senses, Malachi knew he was back in the human world. He tried to stand, to struggle to his feet or, failing that, to crawl to the edge of the forest where the dampening spell did not reach, but he something snagged his back leg--and his front legs refused to support his weight. Before he could try to free himself from the obstruction--and what had he done to deserve this pain?--the ground opened up beneath him.

He fell--badly--tumbling down into brackish water filled with choking ash and chunks of debris--and sank like a stone into darkness.

A fitting grave. He only wished he could remember what he so desperately wanted to tell his Master before he died.

What had he done to deserve this pain?

Something tore at his shoulder, then latched onto his broken leg. It pulled, but even that held no hope to rouse him. He drifted now, in a raging inferno that would not be sated.

Breathe!

The voice seeped through the fog that surrounded his mind, tugging him back from the brink of death. He choked and shuddered and drew in a breath that made his broken ribs grate together.

He lay entombed, in darkness. His rescuer was gone, vanished, perhaps never existing. He had no strength to rise and find his way out of the dampening spell and into the forest, which meant he would die here, alone.

A shiver wracked his body and left him weakened in its wake.

When he shifted shape, it was in agony, his lips drawn back in a silent scream. But even that did not help him; despite the oppressive heat and the whine of mosquitos, he shivered in wet clothes, his wounds burning from the ash in the water.

In the end, spent and weakening, he curled up in the midst of the debris, closed his eyes, and gave himself up to the darkness. He had no strength left for living.

Next Update: October 2nd (2 chapters!)

House St. Clair Home

Heart's Desire, part 29

2008-09-28T09:12:00.004-04:00

Chapter 14

Inattention had been the death of many a hiker in the woods, and Malachi knew better than most to keep his mind on the path and not on other things. But when he stepped out of the forest and into a clearing--a clearing that should have been Sennet's stone cottage--he knew that something was very wrong, because the house in the clearing was most definitely not Sennet's house.

For a moment, he thought that he might have lost his way and doubled back on his own trail, but the house that sat in the clearing was not on fire. In fact, as he studied it from the shelter of the forest, it looked--whole.

It was the house he had just seen in ruin. The shape of the chimney and the porches could not belong to its twin. Surely not.

My lord, something-- He opened the bond automatically, or tried to, but nothing happened. His Master's presence did not appear. The bond had vanished from his mind, leaving a strange, aching emptiness behind.

But it was not broken. No one had died. Malachi doubted he would have been able to miss that kind of pain.

So that meant a spell of some sort, blocking the bond, perhaps the same way Josiah's kidnappers had blocked--

Malachi's thoughts stopped cold. Perhaps it was the same way Josiah's kidnappers had blocked the bond! He wished he knew more about magic so he could study it, and try to find a way to combat the spell. Even now, his mind struggled to contact his Master, even without the bond's familiar presence in the back of his mind.

With narrowed eyes, he studied the house.

There were no outward signs of habitation. No lights shone from the windows; there were no cars in the curving driveway and no furniture on the porches to show that the house was occupied. The flowers in the beds along the driveway were strange, though; gold and silver and shining in the sunlight.

Had he somehow slipped past the Veil into Faerie? But how would the house exist in two places at once?

Malachi tested the bond again, out of habit more than any hope that his Master would reply. What if--and this was a plausible thought, in truth--what if Jordan had somehow slipped into Faerie as well? And what if he waited in that house, not realizing the danger?

He had taken two steps into the clearing before he realized he had moved. And as he crept across the clearing--there was no real cover for him to hide behind--he wondered what would happen if his Master tried to open the bond and found him gone.

Malachi froze with his foot on the bottom step of the front porch, imagining his Master's rage. Should he risk his Master's anger to double check that Jordan was not inside the house? He could do a quick search and leave as quickly as possible. If he found Jordan, then perhaps his Master would overlook the dampening spell's effects.

The front door swung open at his touch, and Malachi stepped inside. What had been warped floorboards now shone in the sunlight, and the Oriental rugs that protected the floor were of fine quality and weave. There were trinkets on dark, polished tables and a glass-fronted bookcase along one wall.

And in the parlor, the eviscerated body of an elf lying in the middle of one of the rugs, his empty eye sockets turned towards the windows, his mouth gaping in a silent scream. Bloody gobbets of flesh glistened in the sunlight, as if whatever had--whatever had eaten him had been interrupted in its feast.

Suddenly wary, Malachi took a step backwards.

"Leaving so soon?"

The voice was female, cold and calm, but with an undercurrent of anger that reminded Malachi of his Master's fury.

Before Malachi could flee, someone grabbed his arms and wrenched them backwards. A black Hound appeared out of nowhere, snapping at his feet; Malachi tried to kick it, but a knife pressed across his throat soon disabused him of that notion.

"It would not be a good idea for you to move," his captor whispered, his breath reeking of blood.
The dead elf's body vanished in an instant. Malachi blinked, and a woman stood in its place--a woman dressed in red who seemed both familiar and strange. He stared at her, hardly daring to breathe.

What would his Master say now?

There were more of the black Hounds now--three more, all growling at him. Someone else stood on the other side of the room with her arms folded; Malachi did not realize who she was until she spoke.

"He is a Hound? Are you certain, Stefan?"

"I am as certain as I am certain that your hair is not naturally that yellow," Stefan snapped. "He is a Hound."

Malachi closed his eyes. What was Althea doing here? She was a member of the Council. This was worse than anything he could have imagined. Much, much worse. It would be best to die now at their hands instead of waiting for his Master to kill him later, if he managed to escape.

The knife vanished. Stefan shoved him forward, and he tripped over the edge of a rug and fell at the woman's feet.

He had to swallow twice before he found enough courage to speak. "I don't know what he's talking about. I'm sorry, but you have the wrong person."

The woman laughed. "Oh, no. Stefan wouldn't lie to me. How long has your Master allowed you to shift shape? I was under the impression that the Hounds were just that--Hounds."

"As was I," Althea said darkly. "Does Lucas know this little tidbit?"

"I'm sorry," Malachi said again, his throat dry. "I--"

"Stefan." It was an order, but Malachi didn't realize what it meant until a black Hound attacked, sinking its teeth into his arm before he could even think to defend himself. He cried out and twisted sideways as another one snapped only inches from his face, and another one sank its teeth into his shoulder and pulled him down. He kicked and fought them, but when the fourth one's teeth closed over his throat, he lay still and closed his eyes, waiting for death.

He had almost shifted. But that was what they wanted: proof that he was a Hound.

"Wait." The woman's voice spared him, at least for the moment. "There is an easier way to do this. Stefan, pick him up."

Malachi's legs buckled when Stefan hauled him to his feet. "I am no Hound," he whispered, barely able to force the words past the panic that had lodged in his throat. He felt blood slip down his arm--no doubt dripping on the floor where the elf's blood had been.

"I saw you shift a century ago," Stefan whispered in his ear. "I saw it."

Malachi closed his eyes. He remembered Stefan now, and remembered his doom; the accident that would now be his death. "I'm only nineteen," he whispered without much hope. "Surely if I were that old--"

"Silence!" The woman approached him now, her voice cold. "I can truthspell you, Hound. And I will do it if you don't stop lying to me."

"Do it anyway," Althea snapped, and spoke the words of the spell. "No. I'll do it. As a member of the Council, I'm entitled to know these things. Does Lucas know you can shift shape?"

Malachi fought against the spell, but it fastened its teeth in his mind as effectively as the absent bond. He bit through his lip in the effort to stay silent, but he knew it was only a matter of time.

"Does Lucas know you can shift shape?" Althea asked again.

The spell drove daggers of pain inside Malachi's mind. It was almost akin to the pain when his Master had torn his memories out of his mind, but this pain held an almost--familiar flavor.
As if Althea was using someone else's power to do this. Or was it the Council's shared power? Was the familiarity Lucas Lane?

"Answer me!" Althea shouted, and backed her words with power.

Malachi sagged in Stefan's grasp. "Yes."

"You fought well," the woman said, almost purring now. "But it's really hopeless. Are you one of Gabriel's Hounds?"

"Yes." The word slipped past his lips without a single effort on his part.

"How long has he allowed you to shift?"

He could have explained. About Josiah, and what had happened when he disappeared. He could have spent the next ten minutes telling them everything, but he realized after a moment that he didn't have to explain. The truthspell only wanted the truth. A simple answer. Nothing complicated.

"Since this morning."

Stefan shook him. "That's a lie! I saw you shift before!"

Malachi remained silent. The truthspell prodded him to defend himself, but Stefan's words had not been formed into a question.

"It is quite obvious that Gabriel did not allow him to shift when you saw him," Althea said, and Malachi heard some sort of triumph in her tone of voice.

"How long will it take for your Master to find you gone from the bond you share?" the woman asked.

Malachi stared at her. She knew about the bond as well? A part of his mind laughed at his surprise. Of course she knew. Why else create the dampening spell?

"I don't know," he whispered, which was the truth. "It could be minutes. It could be hours."

"Then we will not keep you," the woman said, ignoring Althea's shout of surprise. "Return here in two days. And remember nothing of this. Nothing."

"What?" Althea had left her spot by the wall now, her face suffused with rage. "Magdalen, you can't just let him go!"

The name Magdalen seemed familiar, but Malachi could not think through the fog that spread through his mind. He stared at the woman who stood in front of him, his eyes wide.

"Who--Who are you?"

"Impressive," Stefan murmured behind him.

"He won't remember a thing," Magdalen said. "And he will return here in two days. We don't want Gabriel to get suspicious--not yet, at least. We have two weeks to ferret out the Hunt's secrets."

"But you told me to kill one Hound and kidnap another. What about that?"

"Silence!" Magdalen's voice rose. "We have time, Althea. Plenty of time. This will work out better than I had ever hoped."

Darkness swam in front of Malachi's gaze now. He blinked and tried to clear his sight, but the darkness persisted. He couldn't see Magdalen anymore--or Althea. He couldn't hear their voices.

Whose voices?

"What about his wounds?"

Desperately, Malachi tried to fix something of this in his mind--in the hope that his Master would discover its presence and tear away the fog. But he couldn't seem to grasp it--any of it--and the darkness swirled around him, dulling his hearing as well.

"Hounds heal fast. And he won't know what happened. Even Gabriel cannot pierce my spells."
"You sound very certain of that."

"I am."

Chapter 15

"I regret that I have to contact you in urgency," Lucas had said when he called. "But there was a child living in the house, and I'm worried that he still might be inside. Can you come?"

And of course, Sennet had come. Only later did she find out that Jordan was living in the burning house with the Council's blessing--and that he was only ten years old.

Her presence, of course, had been useless. She's sensed no sign of Jordan earlier when she met Malachi and Emle at the very same house, and yet Malachi had claimed he was there. That meant Jordan had probably developed a talent the Council did not know about, and that also meant he might be very hard to find.

Even Gabriel's Hounds might have difficulty tracking him down--if he were still alive.

She had stayed with Lucas until the sun had risen, and then she had walked back home with an invitation to join Lucas at the house the next day--to see if they could find Jordan's body.

It had been years since she'd stayed up all night. And at first, when she saw Malachi sitting on her doorstep, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, but when he stood, uncertainty and fear plain in his gaze, she wondered if something had happened to change his Master's mind.

"I am--" His tongue tripped over the words. "I am to tell you what I could not tell you before." He held himself stiffly, almost as if he were in pain.

"With your Master's leave?" Sennet had wondered, after meeting Gabriel, if Malachi was, somehow, his Hound. But she did not know enough about the Hunt to answer her own questions, and asking Lucas had not seemed the right thing to do.

Malachi nodded. "He said that if something happened to Emle, he would rather you know now."

It was a wise decision, considering how cautious they had been yesterday morning. "Then let's go inside, where my wards are the strongest." When he hesitated, she smiled at him. "I can make some tea, if you'd like."

"Thank you," Malachi whispered after a moment of indecision. "I--I would like that."

He followed her inside and stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at the inside of her house as if he had never seen such a sight before.

And she noticed that his clothing was torn in places, and that he favored his right leg a little. "Are you hurt?" She felt no pain from him, only confusion and--dread.

"No, I--" His leg buckled, and he lurched against the kitchen table. "I don't know."

Sennet slid a chair under him, and he collapsed, burying his head in his hands. That movement made his sleeve slide up, and she saw a puncture wound on his arm--still seeping blood. "What happened?"

"I don't know." He stared at his arm as if seeing the wound for the first time. "I don't remember this--"

"Let me heal you," Sennet said, offering him her hand.

He shrank away from her. "No. I should--I should tell you what I came for first."

Sennet sat down across from him. "Then tell me. But let me heal you afterwards. Please."

Malachi rubbed his throat. There were marks there as well, but fading fast. "If my Master--"

"You have to get permission to be healed?" Sennet's voice must have risen more than she wished, because he flinched a little at her tone.

"I--" He shivered. "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. The last thing I recall is coming here, and I don't think I was attacked on the way." He tried to smile, but his smile did not reach his eyes. "I think I would have remembered that."

"Your Master didn't--" Sennet tried to fish around for words that would not anger him. "You weren't punished?"

Malachi shivered. "No." He stared at her, his eyes wide. "My Master--What would be the point of punishment if I forgot what I was punished for?"

"You're hurt elsewhere, aren't you?" Sennet prodded. "Your leg?"

"Hounds heal fast," Malachi whispered, and then froze.

"You are a Hound, then," Sennet said gently.

"Yes." He rubbed one hand across his face. "We all--We all have human forms."

"I see," Sennet tried to fit her mind around her impression of the Wild Hunt and the Hound sitting in front of her. "And Emle is--?"

"Emle is our Master's lady, of course," Malachi said, frowning. "Our Master saved her life, long ago, and she--well, she left for a while. But then she came back." He rubbed his arm again. "Can I--Can I use the same words Emle used?"

"You can try," Sennet said.

Malachi nodded. "Know nothing more than I would have you to know, then," he said, and extended his hand across the table.

When Sennet took his hand, she found that his wounds weren't nearly as bad as she feared. They were healing already, as he had said, Hounds healed fast. But she helped them along a bit, and by the time she was finished, Malachi's face had regained a little of its color.

He licked his lips. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Sennet said. The phrase had worked again--she knew nothing other than what he had already told her. "Would you like some tea?"

"If--If it isn't a problem," Malachi whispered.

"Does Lucas know about this?" Sennet couldn't imagine such a secret being kept a secret for very long. She filled the teapot and turned on the stove, setting out two earthenware mugs in the process.

"Yes."

"But no one else knows? Why didn't he tell the rest of the Council?" Sennet returned to her seat to hear his reply.

Malachi waited a moment to answer, as if he were waiting for a prompt. Or a response from his Master. It was obvious that the Hunt had some sort of bond, after all; how else could Gabriel send his Hounds to search the forest and not keep them under some sort of control?

"Is your Master listening to us?" she asked.

"Not now," Malachi said. He seemed to be a bit more relaxed now, as if the initial telling and the healing of his mysterious wounds had loosened some of his tension. "I asked him why Lucas never shared his knowledge with the rest of the Council."

"And?" From what she knew of the Council, keeping secrets was not something the rest of its members would look kindly upon.

"He said because Lucas is an honorable man," Malachi said as if he didn't quite believe that explanation. "His uncle knew as well."

"And you've kept this a secret from everyone else for how long?" Sennet asked.

"Almost a century," Malachi whispered. "A century in less than two weeks, now."

"Midsummer's Eve," Sennet said. It made sense now--Emle's worry, Malachi's cryptic references.

"Yes." Malachi seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say for a moment, but Sennet didn't think he was arguing with his Master. There was no fear in his gaze at the moment. And surely Gabriel would not punish him for obeying his order. "We were not--permitted our human forms after Josiah disappeared ten years ago."

"Josiah disappeared?" Ten years ago had been right around the time that she had found Emle in the forest, and subsequently delivered Eri, who was, of course, Gabriel's daughter. How could such a thing happen and no one be the wiser? "What happened?"

The teapot's whistle saved Malachi from replying, but only for a moment. As Sennet turned to pour hot water over the teabags, he continued the story.

"Josiah was a student at Darkbrook," he said. "He--He had a wonderful talent for magic, and our Master allowed him to attend classes for almost two years before he vanished. After that--" He had to take a deep breath to continue. "After that, we were not allowed to shift shape until last morning when Eri removed the constraints our Master placed on me, and Emle asked if she could visit you."

"You've only been human for a day?" Sennet asked, marveling that he had functioned so well. "And Eri did what?"

"It was a long day," Malachi whispered, and accepted the mug of tea when she handed it to him. He sipped it in silence for a minute, his eyes closed against the steam. "Eri wanted to know why I couldn't shift shape like she could. I tried to tell her, but she didn't listen."

Sennet studied him without speaking. He certainly seemed not to hold any animosity against his Master for forcing him to stay a Hound for the past ten years. "What did Lucas do when Josiah vanished?"

"Lucas--He--When Josiah vanished, our Master suspected the Council," Malachi said, opening his eyes. "I--I disobeyed him and went to Lucas' house in human form, hoping that Lucas would tell me the truth."

"Without your Master's permission?" Sennet asked, trying to imagine the cool, collected Gabriel she had met losing his temper. It was a horrifying thought. "What did he do?"

"He--" Malachi took a sip of tea, but his hand was shaking now, belying his reaction to her question. And then, stiffly, "It is enough that you know. I am not to tell you our entire history." He pushed his chair back and stood, carefully not meeting her gaze. "I should go."

"No, please," Sennet said, suddenly fearful that he would be punished for telling her too much. "That was my curiosity, nothing more. I have no need to know. Please ask your Master if you can stay a little longer."

Malachi bit his lip, but the news must have been promising, because he sat back down. "My Master says I can stay for a little while longer. They have found no sign of Jordan in the forest."
He picked up his mug again, and stared into its depths as if reading his fortune. "My Master was not--pleased--with me."

From his tone of voice, Sennet knew he was leaving far too much to speculation. But what could she do? He was not her responsibility, after all. And he was in no present danger as far as she could tell. His fear of his Master was not new.

"But you never found Josiah?" Would Jordan's disappearance end the same way? Did anyone care about him as much as they had obviously cared about Josiah?

"We found no sign of him," Malachi said. "No trail, no blood, no spells to mask his leaving. He just--vanished."

And the Hunt had retreated, Sennet thought. Gabriel had refused his Hounds their human form, and they had limped along for the past ten years, or, at least, until Emle wished to see a Healer. And then Gabriel had changed his mind. Eri had grown up in the midst of all this. What did Gabriel think of his precocious daughter?

And now Eri would have a sister.

"Can you tell me what Lucas said?" Sennet asked, hoping that this question would not anger Gabriel. "He must have convinced your Master that the Council was not involved."

"He swore to me that he knew nothing," Malachi whispered. "Josiah was to be his pupil. Lucas swore--" He stopped, then, and closed his eyes, listening to a voice only he could hear. "My Master says that of course he suspected the Council. Josiah had been chosen to study advanced magic, and my Master thought that Lucas might attempt to remove Josiah from my Master's influence. But Lucas denied any involvement, and my--my Master believed him, because Lucas has always been an honorable man."

Sennet hoped that his trust was in the right place. The Council would have been her first suspect in such a disappearance, but since Josiah had not been seen for a decade, she doubted they were involved. Still, she could ask Lucas about him and listen to his version of the story.

"Tell your Master that I will not betray his trust," she said.

"He says thank you," Malachi reported. He tipped up his mug to stare into the bottom, then set it down on the table again. "I should go."

This time, she thought he spoke for himself and not for his Master. "If you need anything, you'll let me know? If Emle needs anything?"

"I think I will be allowed to come," Malachi said, and pushed back his chair again. "Thank you for listening, Sennet."

"You're welcome," Sennet said. She wanted to smile at his serious tone of voice, but the Hunt's trust was a very serious thing.

And Gabriel had not impressed her at being a very trusting person.

She let Malachi out the front door, and watched as he slipped into the forest. Only after he had vanished did she realize just how tired she was.

But if she slept now, she would never manage to sleep at night. Sighing, she closed her front door and walked into the kitchen to drink the dregs of her tea and contemplate what she now knew about the Wild Hunt.

(Beginning October 1st, I will be posting daily until my birthday on October 14th, which will be the last chapter and the epilogue!)

House St. Clair Home

Heart's Desire, Part 28

2008-09-21T14:49:00.004-04:00

Chapter 13

Kyren awoke to murmuring voices nearby--Amalea and someone else. For a moment, he couldn't imagine why Amalea was in his rooms, but then he remembered Magdalen's present.

Josiah.

He opened his eyes and found himself in one of her chairs, his body covered by a finely worked quilt. His neck ached from the odd position he had fallen asleep in, but his mind felt refreshed--an improvement over the past few weeks. Perhaps the lack of wine had something to do with that. After all, he'd spent the last three weeks drowning his brain in alcohol.

Josiah still lay in Amalea's bed, his eyes closed and sunken, the bandage around his hand wet with blood. He was not awake as far as Kyren could tell. Which meant that Amalea had involved someone else in this--with a whispered oath, Kyren turned around to see who it was.

"I could not deny my grandmother entrance to my rooms," Amalea said, as if she expected him to protest.

Mirella was ancient, even for an elf. A tiny, bird-like woman with bright blue eyes, she had relinquished the crown to Amalea's mother many years before. That had not stopped Amalea's mother from naming her as Second to the Queen, which was a powerful position, indeed.

"Kyren, it is good to see you doing the right thing for a change," Mirella said, her tone of voice taking the sting out of the words. "I believe what Amalea has told me. And she believes you."

Kyren had to swallow twice to wet his throat. "That's a blessing," he said, "because I am not certain anyone else will." He glanced back at Josiah. "Has he--"

"Not as yet," Amalea said before he could finish. "Grandmother thinks we should summon a Healer for him."

It was past dawn, and the sunlight shone outside. But Amalea's rooms were still dim, no doubt to spare Josiah the pain of the light. After all, he had not seen sunlight for ten years.

"It would be disastrous if he died, especially now," Mirella said. "Do you even realize--no. Of course you don't. I have my doubts either Magdalen or this Althea person even knew who he was."

"You--You know?" Kyren asked, tearing his gaze away from the windows.

"Yes. But he'll have to tell you, since I promised someone long ago not to mention it." She sighed, as if remembering--and, perhaps, regretting--that long-ago promise. "It will suffice for me to say that he is not as young as he seems."

That gave him no clues, but Kyren supposed she hadn't intended her words to give him anything. He supposed he was lucky, even then, that she hadn't thrown him into the dungeons to rot like Josiah had for ten endless years.

"If we summon the Healer--" Kyren struggled to find the right words to ask his question. "Won't she insist on contacting the Council?"

"Healers are neutral," Amalea said with some impatience. "You know that, Kyren."

"Yes, but even in this instance?" Kyren asked. "This isn't some battle, or a simple wound. He was held prisoner in this castle for ten years!"

"I hope you aren't suggesting we keep him prisoner for another decade," Mirella said sharply. "Because if you are suggesting such a thing, I will begin to think that you've taken leave of what little senses you possess, Kyren. Josiah's place is with his Master, not us."

"His--His Master?" Kyren asked, his mind racing. He only knew of one 'Master' of anything, and that was Gabriel. But surely--surely that would not be possible.

Mirella pursed her lips. "I will say no more."

Kyren knew better than to pursue that line of questioning. "Did you--Cousin, did you tell her what Magdalen desires?"

"To control the Hunt?" Amalea asked. "Yes. We were discussing what to do to warn Gabriel when you woke up."

"It is what she desires once she controls the Hunt that concerns me," Mirella said. "Do you know, Kyren? She can't think that the Council will allow it--"

"They won't be able to stop it if she has her way," Amalea said. "And she could force the Hunt to hunt the Council."

"You intend to warn the Hunt?" Kyren shook his head. "We have no treaty with the Hunt. Gabriel could just as well--" All at once, he could not think of what Gabriel might do in response to the news of the plot against him. "And what of the Council, then? Shall we warn them as well?"

"It would be advisable to warn Lucas," Mirella said. "I knew his great-uncle, Peter, and I've spoken with Lucas before. He is a honorable man."

Kyren slumped in his chair. What would happen to him once the secret was out? "I will go ask the Healer to come, since this is my--"

"Kyren, this is not your fault." Mirella stood and crossed to where he sat, her gaze both firm and concerned. "And I believe you would do best to stay in the castle for the time being--at least until we know you will be safe."

He should have expected this. They wouldn't want him to leave the castle. This was just a pretty way to look at imprisonment. "Of course," he whispered, and huddled in the chair. "Am I to be allowed to stay in my rooms? Or will the dungeons do?"

"You can keep Josiah company until he's well enough to leave," Mirella snapped. "And stop feeling sorry for yourself. You're being pardoned, Kyren. You should be pleased!"

She stopped beside the bed and stared down at Josiah. "If I had known--" Her eyes were suspiciously bright when she glanced back at Amalea. "Is there someone in the castle you trust enough to send, Amalea? I'd rather you stay as well. Your parents will want to know a bit of this, and Kyren can stay here, just in case he awakens."

"What of the Hunt and the Council, then?" Kyren asked. "I feel as if I should do something to atone for this. I--I knew he was there three weeks ago." He glanced up at Mirella. "I should do something."

"You are doing something," Amalea said. "No one is blaming you for this, Kyren." She bit her lip. "I could send Eilan."

"Then do so," Mirella said. "The quicker he is healed, the sooner we can contact the Council and the Hunt. We have a little time, I think."

"I hope," Kyren whispered, staring at Josiah again.

Amalea left then, too intent on her mission to notice Kyren's fear.

"Kyren, you will worry yourself into an early grave." Mirella placed one hand on his shoulder. "While your part in this was not small, you have acted honorably. Even Gabriel will not be able to ignore that."

"I feel that there is something more I can do," Kyren said, frustrated. "That sitting here is--"

"Sitting with him is the best thing anyone can do at the moment," Mirella said. "Amalea's wards are in place and active, so do not leave this room."

"I won't," Kyren said, but even her assurances did not make him feel any more useful.

"I will be back soon," Mirella said.

When she was gone, and the silence in the room grew too loud for him to bear, Kyren pulled a thin reed flute from his belt. It wasn't finished yet--he'd abandoned it soon after Magdalen had summoned him to her rooms--but with the little penknife, he could finish it now.

The simple act of carving soothed something deep inside his soul. And when it was finished, he put it to his lips and began to play, hoping against hope that this small effort would enter Josiah's dreams and help him remember that he was no longer alone.

Next Update: September 28

House St. Clair Home

Heart's Desire, Part 27

2008-09-14T08:43:00.004-04:00

Chapter 12

Althea was in the library when the call came in about the fire, puzzling through a stack of documentation about the Wild Hunt. Most of it had been catalogued a long time ago by Lucas Lane, but there were still various journals and diaries of long-dead Council members that had yet to be touched.

Without risking a few exploratory trips to the Hunt's lair, she wanted to create a map of some sort that would help her plan her attack. However, she wasn't having much luck with the diaries of her predecessors--they had been inclined to leave the Hunt alone.

Her first potential clue had come from a very old map of what had then been Daultonsville, and a notation in the margins of said map, that a cave with a direct door to Faerie existed somewhere in the forest. The author of the note had not written what lay on the other side, but the cave's location was very near--as far as she could tell--the modern location of the Hunt's lair.

Did the Hunt have a house in Faerie?

Not a single Council member since then had bothered to see where the Hunt spent its time. For all Althea knew, Gabriel could have a palace deep in the heart of Faerie, laughing at his Masters behind their backs for almost an entire century.

The sheer enormity of what he could be hiding squashed her urge to research before acting. She wanted to summon Gabriel into her presence and force him to talk--and since she was a Council member, he would be bound to tell her everything, if there was anything to tell.

But that would also play her hand too soon, and put him on the defensive.

She didn't want the Council to renew the binding, after all; she wanted to force him to bind himself to Magdalen.

When the call came about the fire, she was tempted to ignore it, but Lucas would wonder why she hadn't responded and she needed to keep a low profile until the Hunt was bound again. So she drove out to the burning house, only to find it vastly changed from what she expected.

There were no fire trucks, for one. And no fire, either. The driveway--which hadn't existed in years--curled around the house like a sleepy snake, and the lighted windows sparkled.

Strange flowers bloomed on either side of the driveway--golds and silvers and reds that glowed in the light of the fading moon. It was almost dawn, after all, and the sun would drive away the darkness soon enough.

Althea parked her car and stared at the house. For a moment, she wondered if she'd somehow wandered into Faerie, but the Veil was a mile away at least, and this house had been in the same spot for almost two hundred years.

And yet, there was no fire. No flames. Just a house, restored.

She wasn't very surprised when a black Hound walked out of the front door and onto the porch. He shifted shape as she opened her car door, and bowed.

"Magdalen requests your presence."

Stefan always managed to twist the most mundane request into something obscene. Althea had never liked him.

The blood on his shirt gave her pause. She stared at him for a moment and tried to gauge his mood. Every once in a while, he would actually answer her questions.

"I was called about a fire," she said. "Is there--What did she do?" And what did this have to do about her plans?

"Magdalen will explain," Stefan said shortly. "And you're keeping me from my dinner."

He offered her his hand, but she shrank away from the blood that covered his skin. "No thank you."

With a leer, Stefan led her to the restored front door, opened it, and ushered her inside.

Magdalen sat in the parlor on a delicately carved chair upholstered in what looked to be raw silk. She wore a red gown, of course--Althea had never seen her in any color but red. Her hair was braided with strands of jet and emeralds, her jewelry equally fit for a Queen. Her chair was in front of a window and she stared in rapt fascination at the darkness outside.

The--the gored remains of an elf--she saw one pointed ear still attached to its skull--lay on the rug in the middle of the floor. Gobbets of flesh littered the rug and Stefan's Hounds, four black monstrosities, lay around the room, licking the remains of their feast from their fur. The smell was even worse than the sight. How could she stand it?

"Althea. So nice of you to come."

Althea swallowed hard, fighting the urge to vomit. Was this some sort of test? When Stefan walked into the room behind her and liberated a chunk of something from the floor--and popped it into his mouth--she had to turn away.

"Stefan, remove the remains of your meal." Magdalen's gaze held no warmth in it. "It is obviously bothering Althea."

"Let it bother her." Stefan shrugged.

With a sigh, Magdalen motioned with one hand and the body vanished, leaving a spotless Oriental rug behind. "Is that better, my dear?"

Althea tried to decide if she spoke out of honest concern, or if there was a bit of sarcasm running through her tone. She faked a smile despite the residual nausea, steeled herself, and walked across the rug where the worst of the carnage had been. Thankfully, nothing squished under her feet.

"What did you do?" she asked. "How--"

"I was in need of a place to stay," Magdalen said. "Stefan found this house for me. It was not--ideal, but it will do."

"But--what about the fire?" Althea asked.

"The fire does not burn in Faerie," Magdalen said. "Stefan's dinner was a regrettable sacrifice. I had to have fresh blood to move the Veil, and the human boy's blood just would not do."

"Human boy?" There were treaties between the elves and the Council, of course, and one of them specifically forbid the elves from kidnapping humans. "What human boy?" On the tail end of that, she asked, "And how did you move the Veil?" She glanced back at Stefan as she asked this, but the expression on his face gave her no clues.

Magdalen dismissed the boy with a wave of her hand. "Don't fret. I've taken care of him. Don't you want to see my handiwork?"

With a bit of trepidation, Althea looked out the window.

The wall was on fire. Flames had spread across the empty window--empty even as her mind insisted she was looking through unmarred glass--and engulfed the porch to her left. The grass outside was seared and burning in places, and a fire truck was parked in the same spot as her car, giving her a head-aching dose of double vision.

She jumped, despite herself, when a portion of the wall fell down, raining stones and burning wood and obscuring her view of the proceedings.

When the flames died down, she saw Lucas standing well away from the fire with a girl Althea didn't recognize.

"I believe her name is Sennet," Magdalen said before she could ask. "She's a Healer."

"Why did Lucas send for her?" Althea asked, and then remembered Magdalen's comment about the human boy. "Who is this 'boy'?"

On the far side of the clearing, Ben, one of the junior members of the Council, appeared, walking quickly towards Lucas and Sennet. He spoke to them for a moment, pointing back at the forest, and then Althea saw someone appear out of the trees, hanging just on the edge of the clearing, as if waiting for Michael to return.

Or, perhaps, waiting for Sennet, because the Healer hurried towards the waiting figure instead of Ben.

"Who is that?" Stefan asked.

"I'm not certain," Magdalen said. "Why don't you send one of your Hounds out to follow him? And bring the boy."

Althea squinted at the figure through the screen of the fire. She couldn't see him very clearly, even then, but he certainly did not look familiar at all.

One of Stefan's hounds vanished into the hallway, presumably to do Magdalen's bidding. The others ignored the proceedings. Stefan vanished as well, and Althea heard him walking up the stairs.

A moment later he returned, dragging a tightly bound young boy behind him.

"Ah, yes." Magdalen stood up from her chair, smiling, as if she received him as a guest and not a prisoner.

The boy's single eye was red-rimmed and panicked, and a gag similar to the one she had fashioned for Josiah blocked all notion of sound from his lips.

"This is the human boy?" Althea asked. Under the dirt and grime, he looked halfway familiar, but she could not place him. Was he a student at Darkbrook? That would be disastrous!

"He's a telepath, or so he says," Magdalen said. "Can he read your mind, Althea?"

The gag vanished from the boy's mouth. He coughed, drew in a breath, and tried to twist away from Stefan's grasp.

"Damn you," Althea snarled, recognizing him. "Magdalen, if he escapes--" There was no way to block Jordan's talent from reading her mind. The Council had tried, many times, and failed to help him control his talent.

"He won't escape," Magdalen said calmly. "Jordan, I shall leave the gag off if you do something for me."

The boy was shivering helplessly, even though it was quite warm in the room. "W-What do you w-want me to do?"

"Stefan, bring him here." Magdalen waited until Stefan had dragged Jordan to the window, and then pointed outside. "I want you to read their minds. The red-haired boy talking to Sennet. Who is he?"

She did something to the window that zoomed in on their faces, like magical binoculars.

Jordan stiffened as soon as she pointed him out. Althea could almost see the lie forming on his lips.

"You've seen him before, haven't you?" she asked. "Where? Who is he?"

"I--I don't know," Jordan whispered, crying now. "I saw him here. In this house, early this afternoon. He met Sennet."

"For what reason?" Magdalen asked. "And what is his name?" She smoothed down his hair when he did not reply. "It would not do for you to anger me, child. If you do as I say, I will not harm you."

Althea wondered if she spoke the truth. And if she did not, could she stand by and watch Magdalen kill a human child? Even one such as Jordan?

Jordan glanced over his shoulder at her, his eyes wide.

Althea glared at him. Of course he had heard that! Aloud, she said, "What is his name?"

Jordan closed his eyes. "His name is Malachi. I don't know anything else about him."

"Can you read his mind?" Magdalen asked.

"N-No. My--My talent only works on humans." He was shivering again, his face pale despite the darkness of his skin. "I don't know anything else about him," he said, almost desperately.

Which made Althea think that he knew something else. "You said he met Sennet here. She's a Healer. Why would he meet her here and not at her house?"

"Because he was hiding something," Magdalen said. "Of course."

"I don't know what it was," Jordan whispered.

Magdalen smoothed his hair again. "I think you do." She grabbed him from Stefan's grasp and pushed his face against the windowpane. "Do you see what is happening in the human world? Do you see the flames? All I have to do is let go of you and you will be dead, child. Burned to a crisp. They might find your body; they might not. But you will not survive the flames."

Jordan's sobs were the only sound in the room for a moment, He struggled in Magdalen's grip, but the ropes held him tight.

At first, Althea thought that he would not answer her; that he would not give up whatever he knew. But when a pane of glass cracked in the window, letting in a gust of searing hot air, he melted. Of course. A child was no match for Magdalen, after all. And he was merely a child.

"T-There was a lady with him," he sobbed, and fell to his knees when Magdalen released him. "An elf lady. She--She is going to have a baby, and she wanted S-Sennet to--to make sure everything was okay."

"What is her name?" Althea asked, ignoring the discomfort that was the part of her not entirely certain about torturing a child to get any sort of information.

"Emle. Her name is Emle." Jordan cringed away from Magdalen when she reached for him again, but she only handed him back to Stefan, who made no move to take him. In fact, Stefan was staring at the window with a very odd look on his face, almost as if he, too, had recognized Malachi.

"Can you read Sennet's mind?"

"N-No," Jordan whispered.

"But she is human!" Althea protested.

"She is a Healer," Magdalen said. "I doubted he could, but it never hurts to ask."

"What about Lucas?" Althea asked as Gabriel stepped out of the trees to join Lucas and Ben.
Malachi had already vanished; Sennet was on her way back to the group.

Jordan glanced at Magdalen. "He--He's thinking about someone named Josiah."

"Why is he thinking about someone named Josiah?" Magdalen asked as Althea furiously shoved all thoughts of Josiah Hunt from her mind.

"He--He always thinks about Josiah when he sees Gabriel," Jordan whispered. "He always thinks about how things could have been different, if Josiah had not--" He frowned. "He disappeared, I guess." He glanced at Althea. "He's also wondering where you are."

Althea felt her face flush. "You do realize that we can't let him live, Magdalen. You're going to force me to murder a child."

Magdalen dismissed her fears with a wave of her hand. "He will be useful yet," she said. "Child, what else is Lucas thinking?"

Jordan's eyes filled with tears. "He--He's thinking about me."

"Very well." Magdalen sat down in her chair. "Stefan, take him away."

"You--You can't just keep him here!" Althea tried to keep her voice steady, but it rose with every word. "What if he escapes?"

"Where would he go?" Magdalen smiled. "If he leaves this house, he will be lost in Faerie. He will not escape."

Althea couldn't understand how the house could exist in two places at once--and in one of those places, it was burning down. She glanced out the window again and saw that Sennet and Gabriel had vanished, and Lucas now stood alone, staring at the house while the firemen doused the rest of the flames with their hoses. Althea imagined that the destruction would look even worse in the daylight.

She heard a movement behind her and saw that Stefan had returned. He hesitated in the doorway for a moment, as if debating whether or not to speak.

"Magdalen, can you entice him here?" His voice held none of its usual sarcasm.

"Who?" Magdalen turned to stare at him.

"Malachi." Again, Stefan hesitated, and the Hound he should have sent to follow Malachi slipped into the room, glancing once at its Master before joining the others.

"I thought Magdalen told you to send a Hound after him?" Althea asked. "Why--Do you know who he is?"

"Yes."

For a moment, Althea did not believe him. But the look on his face--

"Then who is he?" Magdalen snapped.

"Entice him and I'll tell you," Stefan said, his voice oddly intense. "Put a dampening spell up around this house first--you'll need it. If you don't--"

"Who is he?" Magdalen asked again.

Stefan exhaled. "He is one of Gabriel's Hounds."

Next Update: September 21st

House St. Clair Home

Heart's Desire, Part 26

2008-09-07T17:25:00.003-04:00

Chapter 11

"Malachi, wake up."

His Master's voice was soft and free of anger, but Malachi flinched anyway, a residual response to the reason his head still hurt.

For a long moment he could not comprehend why he heard his Master with human ears and not the ears of a Hound. Or where he lay, or why he felt cold stone beneath him and not the sandy comfort of the cave.

He groaned and opened his eyes, wincing away from the dim light.

Gabriel stood above him, his face--his face was not blank. It wasn't quite concerned, either, but almost--almost worried.

"I--I decided to allow you your sleep, for a little while," he said, his voice low. "Emle is asleep. And I sent Nathaniel away."

Malachi's heart sank. "My lord, I swear I didn't see or sense him--" He wished--just once--that he could defend himself against his Master's anger. Not that he could win free of Gabriel in a fight, of course. But it would be nice to have some sort of ability for defense.

"Hush," Gabriel said. "Hear me out. I do not intend to punish you for this again." He held out his hand, and for a moment, Malachi couldn't imagine what his Master wanted him to do.

"Let me help you stand," Gabriel said gently.

Malachi blinked and took his hand, but his legs threatened to collapse when he tried to stand on his own. He did not protest when his Master half-dragged him to the kitchen and lowered him down in a chair.

There was--food on the table. Apples, and pears, and cans of chicken and tuna and beans. A cooked chicken in a plastic case. A package of hot dogs. A loaf of bread.

"Eat," Gabriel said. "It will help."

Malachi picked up an apple, but his throat locked with the first bite. He hunched over the table and forced himself to swallow. By the time he took a second bite, he was crying too hard to chew.

He did not understand such kindness. Fury was familiar--at least now, after Josiah's disappearance had changed everything--but kindness reminded him of the days Before, when he would not have hesitated to approach his Master with a request.

He had even dared to argue with him once or twice back then, and had lived to tell the tale.

"Malachi--" Gabriel sighed, as if he wished to say more, but couldn't bring himself to say the words. "I--I am at fault for your pain. I did not trust you, and I am sorry for that."

The apple dropped from Malachi's hand and rolled off the edge of the table. "I--My lord, I am your Hound. But I would rather be a Hound, than have this--" He motioned to the room around him, the food, the clothes he wore. "Than have this taken away from me again." He closed his eyes, certain that his Master would resort to fury again to punish him for his insolence.

Instead, he heard a strange hissing sound, and a moment later, smelled hot tea and honey and milk.

"Drink this," Gabriel said, and pushed a mug into his hands.

The tea did help to loosen the tension a tiny bit. Malachi breathed in sweet steam, sipped the hot brew, and opened his eyes.

Gabriel sat across from him now, cutting up the chicken with an ancient knife. It was such a strange sight that Malachi almost dropped his mug of tea, but he rescued it at the last second with only a small amount spilled.

"You will eat this," Gabriel said, and pushed a plate of bite-sized chunks of chicken across the table.

Malachi's stomach growled. "I--"

For the first time since Malachi awoke, his Master showed some signs of impatience. "Malachi, eat. Don't make me force you."

With shaking fingers, Malachi took a piece of chicken and popped it into his mouth. He ate steadily for a little while, only choking on a piece or two when the panic tried to clog his throat.

When the plate was empty and his tea grown cold, Gabriel poured him a new cup of tea and cut up an apple. By that time, Malachi's headache had faded and he no longer felt in danger of falling over if he tried to stand.

"Dawn is an hour away," Gabriel said quietly. "I believe you made a promise to Jordan to return by then?"

Malachi gaped at him. "But--my lord--"

"Emle was right," Gabriel said. "And I was wrong. A ten-year-old child should not live alone in this forest." Before Malachi could speak, he continued, his voice still calm. "I give you leave to tell him what you deem necessary. If he refuses to come, then all I ask is that you inform him that he will be placed under our protection--whether he likes it or not."

"Yes, my lord." Malachi tried not to smile. If Jordan refused to come back with him, he could just imagine what the child would have to say about being watched over by the Wild Hunt.

"I will leave you in peace to speak to him," Gabriel said, and stood. "But if you are in need of my aid--"

"I will use the bond," Malachi said, and pushed back his chair. "Thank you, my lord."

"Thank Emle," Gabriel said, turning away from his Hound. "She was the one who made me see reason. She was the one who changed my mind."

"My lord, may I take some fruit for Jordan?" The boy's stores had been meager enough, without fresh fruits or vegetables.

"Take as much as you wish," Gabriel replied. "And do not delay. Dawn will come soon enough, and if you have to track him through the forest, I fear you may not find him."

Malachi took an apple, which was enough, he thought, for an offering of peace. When he walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, his legs were only a little weak and the headache only a memory.

Nathaniel--in Hound form--was asleep in the cave but he awoke and shifted shape as soon as Malachi appeared.

"You are well?"

"I am to bring Jordan back if he will come," Malachi said, not at all certain how Nathaniel would respond to that news.

Nathaniel growled. "That's not what I asked! Malachi--"

"I am well," Malachi said, relenting. "Our Master's Lady convinced him that he was wrong and she was right."

Nathaniel blinked in surprise. "He--He said he was wrong?"

"He apologized, too," Malachi said, and shivered. "I told him--I said that I would rather stay a Hound than have all of this taken away again." He plucked at his shirt and stared down at his bare feet. "And I'm alive. Still."

"And what did he say?" Nathaniel asked.

"About what?"

"About--" Nathaniel leaned against the wall of the cave and folded his arms. "About staying human. And what about the others?"

"He didn't say." Malachi glanced out at the forest. Perhaps it was cruel for Gabriel not to have answered that question, but at least Malachi could hold onto hope for a little while longer. "I have to go. I promised Jordan I'd be back by dawn."

"Hurry back," Nathaniel said, and sat down on the sand. "Be careful."

"I will," Malachi said, and stepped out of the cave into the dark forest.

It would have been faster, of course, to be in Hound form for the journey, but his Master had not specified and Malachi wanted to treasure every moment he spent as a human this time, just in case--just in case something happened again that changed his Master's mind.

He did not smell the smoke until he was almost to the clearing, but the strobing lights from the fire trucks and the roaring flames were hard to miss.

Malachi stopped at the edge of the trees and stared at the burning mass of what had been a house mere hours before. There must have been a driveway off the road somewhere, because the firemen and women had managed to get two trucks into the clearing. He dropped the apple and froze in place, staring.

He saw a small blue car, too, and Lucas Lane, standing off to one side talking to Sennet.

It had been years since Malachi had seen Lucas. The Council Historian was still an old man, even older now, his dependence on the gnarled cane he still carried growing stronger every year.

There were no other Council members in evidence, but that didn't mean they weren't around. With the utmost of care, he inched back into the trees and opened the bond.

My Lord, there has been a--a complication. Gabriel could look out of his eyes if he wished, but his Master chose to rely on Malachi's word.

Lucas just called me, he said through the bond. To search for any sign of Jordan, since he fears that he was in the house when it started on fire.

It wasn't on fire when we left, Malachi said, staring at the flames from the safety of the forest.

I know, Gabriel said. Wait for me there. Keep yourself hidden; there could be searchers in the forest even now.

Even though the house was made of stone, when the supports to the upper floors gave way, a portion of the wall crumbled, throwing up a wall of flame that the water from the fire hoses could not touch.

Malachi stepped forward before he realized he had moved, trying not to imagine Jordan lying dead--burned beyond recognition.

"Friend or foe?" a voice asked behind him. "And let me warn you if you say foe, I am a member of the Council."

Careful, Malachi, Gabriel cautioned through the bond. Speak only as much as you need.
Malachi turned slowly, his hands outstretched in front of him. "Friend, of course," he said, struggling to mask his sudden fear. "I saw the lights and smelled the smoke."

"And came to investigate?" The young man--human--behind him had red hair and pale, freckled skin. Malachi had seem him once or twice, but he did not know his name. "May I have your name?"

My lord?

Tell him, Gabriel replied. He will be suspicious if you do not.

"My name is Malachi." All at once, he was glad of Sennet's presence. "Sennet knows me--I visited her house this morning."

My lord--Lucas knows I am a Hound. He knows my name. What would happen if Michael told Lucas of his presence, and Lucas then unmasked him as a Hound?

Gabriel hesitated. I know. But he gave Malachi no suggestions.

"Would you mind if I checked that out before I allow you to leave?" Michael asked, his voice still pleasant. "You're not in any trouble, but there was someone living in that house, and we can't seem to find any sign of him."

"Of course I don't mind," Malachi said, and was certain that he heard his voice shake. "But I--I would prefer to stay here, if I may. I give you my word I will not run away."

Michael looked as if he wanted to argue, but he nodded instead and started across the clearing to where Lucas and Sennet watched the flames.

They were too far away, and the roar of the flames too loud for Malachi to hear what Michael said, but Sennet immediately turned to stare into the trees when Michael motioned to where Malachi waited.

After a short discussion--in which Malachi had the impression that both Lucas and Michael had been outvoted--Sennet walked away from the fire and towards the trees. Alone, although Lucas was staring into the trees now, the expression on his face both curious and apprehensive.

Be cautious, Gabriel said through the bond. I am close.

Malachi did not want to meet his Master while in human form and pretend not to know him. There would be no possible way for him to succeed in that sort of deception.

"Malachi?" Sennet stopped twenty feet away, still in the clearing. "Do you know anything about this fire?"

What should I tell her, my lord? The dark sky grew lighter, now, as the sun's light touched the destruction. Had Jordan waited? Or had he fled as soon as he saw them vanish into the forest? Where would he have gone?

The truth, Gabriel said.

"No. The house wasn't on fire when we left." He hesitated, then stepped out of the trees. "But we--we met Jordan." There should have been a trail, somewhere, if he had left the house. Unless he had other talents in addition to his telepathy.

"So he was here," Sennet said. "He must have a talent to conceal himself, because I didn't sense him at all this morning."

"My lady Emle wanted him to come back with us, but we had to ask permission first," Malachi said, tensing as Gabriel stepped out into the clearing near Lucas and Michael.

My lord, I cannot work such a deception!

No one is asking you to, Gabriel said. Tell Sennet what you know, and leave. The others are already searching for Jordan.

All of the others, my lord?

I left Thomas with Emle and Eri, Gabriel said. You can return home and guard them as well.

"You had to ask permission from your Master," Sennet said, following his gaze. "What did he say?"

Malachi tore his gaze away from Gabriel. He did not want Sennet to get suspicious, even if she was a Healer, and neutral. "That is why I'm here," he said. "I came to see if Jordan wished to have a safe place to sleep."

"That was very noble of your Master, to offer to take him in," Sennet said. "I didn't believe Lucas at first when he told me he had allowed a ten-year-old boy to live in the forest alone. I think he would be interested in what you have to say, though. Will you speak with him?"

"No!" Malachi took a step back, towards the trees. "I--I can't. I have to go."

"This is a matter of life or death, Malachi," Sennet said. "I can't sense a thing inside that house. If he's in there, we'll never know. If he's not--" She sighed. "Gabriel's Hounds will be looking for him."

"They already are," Malachi whispered, then froze as he realized what he had said. "At least--I assume so, since they're not with their--"

"Their Master?" Sennet said when he could not finish his sentence.

Malachi dropped his gaze to the ground. "Yes."

Careful, Gabriel cautioned through the bond.

Does it truly matter? Malachi asked before he could stop himself. Since she will know when your daughter is born?

"Healers are wholly neutral," Sennet said quietly. "I would not betray your trust if you give it to me."

Behind her, the fire raged higher as another wall toppled, bereft of any supports. One of the chimneys had already fallen, but another one still stood tall, despite the flames.

Not here, Gabriel said.

Yes, my lord. Aloud, Malachi said, "My trust is not mine to give." He stepped back, prepared to flee. "I am sorry, but I have to leave."

"I will tell Lucas what you said, then," Sennet said. "If you see anything, will you contact me? Please?"

Of course, Gabriel said through the bond.

"Of course," Malachi whispered, relieved.

No one challenged him when he turned to move off through the trees, but he felt Sennet's awareness at his back, watching him until he vanished from her sight.

She suspects, Gabriel said.

I am sorry, my lord. It was an automatic apology. Automatic, too, was the fear that bubbled up into his throat as Malachi waited to be punished. He closed his eyes.

She was bound to suspect, I think, Gabriel said after a moment. And you are correct. She will know soon enough.

Malachi opened his eyes. The forest blurred around him, and he blinked furiously to drive away his tears. How long would this last? What if something happened to Emle and Gabriel refused to allow them to shift ever again?

Perhaps-- Gabriel hesitated for so long that Malachi wondered if he had meant to speak at all. She seems like an honorable person, and Emle likes her. And Lucas heard your name. He is dying to ask me why you were in human form.

Yes, my lord.

I give you leave to tell her, Gabriel said. You may go to her house before you go home, and tell her who--and what--you are. If something happened to Emle--

Malachi did not even want to consider the thought.

If something were to happen to Emle, or Eri, or any of you, then I would rather Sennet already know, Gabriel said. I will be with the others, searching the forest, but I have my doubts we will find him.

"I hope you do," Malachi said aloud.

Gabriel did not reply.

Next Update: September 14th

House St. Clair Home

Heart's Desire, Part 25

2008-08-31T09:05:00.004-04:00

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