Heart's Desire, Part 34

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

Read more!

Heart's Desire, part 33

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

Read more!

Heart's Desire, Part 32

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

Read more!

Heart's Desire, Part 31

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

Read more!