Heart's Desire, Part 38

Chapter 31

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing happened.

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

Again, nothing happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Hound trembled. No! Not your Master!

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

No.

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

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

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

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

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

To serve himself, Brenna cut in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She says thank you," Josiah translated.

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

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

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

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

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

You heard me? Was the bond slowly returning?

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

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

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

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

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

But instead, he had to wait.

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

They were almost home.

Chapter 32

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

So why bother to keep him alive, then?

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

Or the fact that he had witnessed a terrible murder.

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

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

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

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

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

Traced? With his fingers?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What had Jacob Daulton used it for?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




(Next Update: October 10th)



House St. Clair Home

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Heart's Desire, Part 37

Chapter 29

"My lord?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sennet nodded. "I understand."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How is he?" Emle asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But her mother cursed you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hoped.

Chapter 30

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is that what Lucas intended to do?

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

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

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

Had Lucas--taken it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The codicil was dated five years ago.

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

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

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

The only thing she could work with was a very small note--almost an afterthought--at the bottom of the page.

If the Council deems that the Hunt has served in good faith, this binding can be removed before its ending date.

But if Lucas had every intention of freeing the Hunt, why hadn't he already destroyed it? Didn't he know the note was there? Had he ever read the binding in its entirety?

The Hunt may harm no one without just cause. The Hunt may not harm a member of the Council.

It was a list of rules more than a binding, a guideline of sorts, forcing Gabriel to become a more--civilized creature. And even Althea realized the binding had worked. Gabriel had learned his lesson.

But that had nothing to do with Magdalen's desire to control the Hunt.

She heard voices then--Lucas and someone else--and crept towards the open door that led to the rest of Lucas' house. When she recognized Emle's voice, she almost knocked over a stack of books in her haste to stay unseen.

What was Emle doing in Lucas' house? Was the child with her?

"...spare bedroom," Lucas said, his voice a low murmur. "And down that hallway is the library--I'll show you it in a moment. The bathroom is through that door--"

Quickly, Althea shoved the paperwork back into the box and put it away. Then, trying to think of a valid reason to be there in the first place, she pulled a handful of books from the shelves--aversion spells--yes--that would do--and settled down in a chair to read.

The Council would want an aversion spell around the remains of the Daulton House. That was obvious, unless someone else had beaten her to it.

She wanted to hear Lucas' excuse for Emle's presence.

"Make yourself at home here," Lucas said, his voice growing louder. "I'm sure you'll be back home soon. In fact--" His voice trailed away. "Althea?"

Althea glanced up as he stopped in the doorway, and held her place in her book with one finger. "Hi Lucas." She ignored the fact that he did not return her smile. "I went back to the Daulton House again--just to scout around a bit. I thought someone needed to put an aversion spell around the house, but I didn't know any offhand. Sorry--I didn't know you had a guest?"

It was too late now, of course, to hide Emle's presence. Or the presence of Gabriel's child, hiding behind her mother, her eyes wide. "Yes, but she's only staying until her house is safe for her again," Lucas said smoothly. "An aversion spell is a wonderful idea. I'll leave you in charge of that."

He made no attempt to introduce Emle or the child, so Althea pretended she did not sense the slight and smiled at the woman. "Hi. I'm Althea Dunning. Sorry if I startled you. I'm almost finished," she said to Lucas. "I'll be out of here in a minute--"

"It's no trouble," Lucas said, but Althea thought she heard annoyance in his tone of voice.

"It is good to meet you," Emle said, but did not give her name or hesitate when Lucas led her away. The child glanced back at Althea, curiosity plain in her gaze. Could she work with that? Entice the girl away from her mother?

A moment later he was back, his face troubled. "I would appreciate it if you don't tell anyone they are here," he said.

"I won't tell anyone," Althea replied. "Let me know if it's anything I can help you with, okay?" She finished copying the spell and closed the book.

Lucas crossed the room to the closet where the binding was, and took down the narrow box. "I'll let you know," he said, and tucked the box under his arm. "For now, casting that spell would be very helpful. I meant to do it earlier, but--"

Earlier had been Malachi's rescue, and Lucas' appearance at the Hunt's lair. Althea nodded, careful not to show any curiosity about the box. "No problem. I can do it now; I'm not busy."

"Thank you." He waited until she had put her book back before turning his back to her--and waited until she passed through the portal before opening the box. The last thing she saw before she closed the door was Lucas holding the binding, as if bracing himself to tear it in two.

She would tell Magdalen, at least. Now that she had an excuse to be at the ruined house, she could cast her spell and give her report all at the same time.

And perhaps she could get out from under Magdalen's thumb sooner than later.

Perhaps. If Lucas destroyed the binding, that would benefit her more than the Hunt itself. And that would be just fine.



(Next Update: October 9th)
House St. Clair Home

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Heart's Desire, Part 36

Chapter 27

For a long moment when Josiah opened his eyes, he thought he had to be dreaming again. As far as he could tell, he lay in someone's bed in a small cozy room, and the silken sheets cradled his body like the hard floor of his cell had not.

He had to be dreaming, and yet this did not feel like a dream. And didn't he remember--Yes. Two faces. Two elves. Talking to him. Telling him that he was safe.

As if he could ever be safe without his Master's constant presence in the back of his mind.

More memories surfaced as he lay staring out the windows at the sunlight outside.

Outside was such a lovely word.

He remembered the red stone that had fused to the bones in the palm of his hand. He remembered Amalea and Kyren--the elves, yes--removing the spells and the iron that prevented him from fighting back, and he remembered gathering the last tiny bits of his talent to break Althea's spell.

And he had broken it. That was probably why he felt so weak.

"You're awake," a new voice said, and another elf appeared at the foot of the bed. She was old, this elf, and dressed in a faded purple velvet dress. Despite its age--and her age--Josiah thought she looked like an ancient Queen. Regal, but not cold. Her eyes were kind as she looked down at him.

He opened his mouth and licked his lips. "I'm awake."

"You're very weak, so don't try to get up," the elf said. "My name is Mirella. Your Master will be very happy when you return."

Josiah's mind was still sluggish, or else he would have been alarmed much sooner at her words. But he couldn't seem to summon up enough strength to do anything but stare at her.

Her eyes were bird-bright and bright blue. Kind eyes. And vaguely familiar, as if he had seen her once before, perhaps a long, long time ago.

"You know." What would his Master say? Josiah felt tears trickle down his cheeks, surprising him. He hadn't realized how much faith he had stored away with the faint hope that he would somehow push past the spells and feel his Master's presence in his mind again.

"I know," Mirella said. "I've known about you for many, many years. Not here--if I had known you were here, I would have killed Magdalen myself!" The kindness was gone from her gaze and anger replaced it, soon followed by fury, but not at Josiah. "You were caught in a mess that we allowed to happen, Josiah. And I realize our apologies won't mean much to you, but that is all I have to give." She hesitated. "Kyren and Amalea should be on their way back with a Healer for you. That way when we contact your Master, at least you'll be a bit stronger."

Josiah sensed a strange mix of fear and reluctance from her, as if she did not wish to set him free. Or, perhaps more likely, she was afraid of what his Master might do, once he learned what had happened.

"Thank you," he whispered, and hoped they did not imprison him again. He would have to fight them, and he barely had enough strength to keep his eyes open and speak at the same time.

Kyren knew as well. Josiah remembered telling him--but that had been an accident. He sighed.

The reluctance fled. "Child--" Mirella shook her head. "You might be older than me, Josiah. And I am calling you a child." She smiled at him. "You will return to your Master. I am only concerned about his reaction to the news that you are not dead as he--and everyone else--thought."

It was a valid concern. Gabriel was not known for his patience or his even temper. And Josiah could even sympathize with Mirella's dilemma. But he did not want to wait.

Unfortunately, he knew without even trying that he did not have enough strength to leave the castle on his own. Not yet, at least.

So he would have to wait.

Perhaps he should have taken Kyren up on his offer, before. Perhaps then, he would be with the Hunt instead of still trapped in this castle with its dampening spell that he could not break.

He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the throbbing pain from his wounded hand and the desperate weariness that still threatened to drag him down into darkness.

"Amalea left some food--are you hungry?"

Josiah's stomach cramped at the word food, but he doubted he had enough strength to actually eat. "Yes."

It was broth, at least, and easy to swallow. Mirella had to lift him up and feed him like a tiny baby because he was too weak to hold the delicate cup in his hand.

And it helped give him a ledge to stand on against the draining weariness, and lessened the horrible pounding in his head.

He drank the whole cup, and then another, without choking once. By the time she had refilled the cup for the third time, he felt strong enough to sit up with the aid of pillows--and drink it himself.

"You spoke to Kyren, before," Mirella said abruptly. "Did he offer you anything?"

Josiah stared at her for a long moment before replying. 'He offered to carry me out onto the balcony and allow me to contact my Master," he said, hoping his words did not get Kyren into trouble.

Mirella's eyebrows rose. "And you--you refused?"

"I told him that I would rather not have the bond between us vanish again if I had to go back inside this spell," Josiah said. "And that was the truth. But I--I regret that I did not allow him to contact my Master. It would be--" He felt tears gather in his eyes now, and tried not to let them fall. "It would be nice to know that I have not been forgotten."

"Ah, child--" She sighed. "I wish--"

Josiah closed his eyes, fighting to push past the crushing disappointment. "I understand."

"No, damn it all. You shouldn't have to. Not anymore. Can you walk?"

Mirella helped him sit up without the aid of pillows this time, and he managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed on his own. But that was all he could manage; the thin ledge of strength was eroding fast, and when he opened his eyes, his vision was ringed in black.

"You are not ready for this," Mirella said. "But if you ask, I will help you onto the balcony."

"Please?" Josiah's muscles quivered as he tried to hold himself up. "Will you be punished?"

Mirella laughed. "No. The Queen will not like my decision, but she will not punish me. Tell your Master we've summoned a Healer so he doesn't think we are cruel." Mirella put his arm around her shoulders and lifted him up. "You weigh nothing, child!"

Josiah did not reply. He was too busy trying to remember how to walk--one foot in front of the other. His legs refused to hold him for long, however, so Mirella had to bear most of his weight.

The second he stepped into fresh air, he tensed as the bond bloomed in his mind. He felt his Master's presence for the first time in ten years, filling a hole inside his mind that was long empty.

But even before he made his presence known, he realized that all was not well with the Hunt.
The bond was faded, dampened, he thought, as Gabriel worked to ease something from Malachi's mind. It was a spell, or something, that required all of his concentration. If Josiah were to break in now--He shivered. It would be disastrous.

"I cannot contact him now," he whispered, and dampened the bond himself as Mirella lowered him into a chair. "He is--Something happened to Malachi, and he is trying to find out the details."

"Something bad?" Mirella asked.

"Bad enough for him to almost close the bond between us," Josiah whispered. "He--"

He would have continued, but something terrible severed the bond in that instant--and the only thing that could sever the bond was the death of a Hound.

Malachi?

Josiah collapsed, sliding off the chair and landing on the balcony floor, deaf as well as blind as the shock reverberated through his soul. He heard someone talking--or, rather, felt the vibration of their speech--but he could neither hear nor understand their words.

Something had gone wrong. A horrible something that left him bereft again, alone.

The voice faded as he tried to make sense of what had happened. He felt cold stone beneath his cheek, wet with his tears, and tried to struggle against the darkness, but it carried him away before he could muster enough strength to stay.

Chapter 28

"...some sort of spell? He collapsed, Grandmother. What else was I supposed to do?"

Amalea, Nathaniel's mind supplied. Her name was Amalea.

"I would have said leave him there." This voice was older, and half-familiar, as if he had heard it before. But he did not know its name. "However, before you protest, I do believe you did the right thing. He isn't under a spell. Something broke. I helped Josiah onto the balcony--"

Josiah? Josiah was here?

"You did what?!" Amalea's voice rose.

"I helped him onto the balcony," her Grandmother said. "It would be another month of delays if we waited for approval, and unlike Kyren, who offered him the same thing, I am fairly immune to any sort of punishment."

"What happened?" Amalea asked.

"He told me that something bad had happened to Malachi--I assume that's another Hound--and that his Master could not be disturbed at the moment. Whatever happened--"

Nathaniel forced his eyes to open. For a moment, he couldn't comprehend where he lay; the shadows and vantage points were all wrong until he realized that he lay on the floor.

"The bond shattered," he whispered, not really caring if they heard him. Someone died. But not Josiah, evidently. "Where is Josiah?"

Amalea appeared in his line of vision and extended her hand to help him up. "He's lying on the bed right above you. I'm sorry--I only have one bed."

After a moment's hesitation, Nathaniel took her hand and let her pull him up. He did not attempt to stand--the bond's destruction had left him weak and aching. "And he is alive?"

"He is unconscious, but breathing," Amalea's grandmother said. "I assume he was affected as you were."

"Yes." Nathaniel leaned his head back against the bedframe and closed his eyes. Everything ached, but his head pounded in time with his heartbeat, dulling his senses. But he couldn't sit there and take their word as truth that Josiah truly lay in the bed, unconscious. They had no real reason to lie to him, but after ten years-- With a groan, he pushed himself to his knees and opened eyes that were suddenly blurred by tears.

Josiah did lay in the bed. He had not changed from the last time Nathaniel had seen him--his face had not aged at all. The shadows around his eyes were new, and his paleness--Josiah had always been pale, but this went beyond the simple avoidance of sunlight. This was the sickly paleness of weakness and hunger, something that the Hounds had never known.

"Amalea did not give me your name," her grandmother said. "Might I have it?"

"If you give me yours in return," Nathaniel said. "I am Nathaniel."

"Mirella."

He recognized the name, even though he did not remember ever meeting her. "Ah. I see. And the cousin Amalea lost?"

"His name is Kyren," Amalea said.

"He--He was the elf who murdered Jacob Daulton." Josiah's voice was soft and uncertain, as if he did not quite believe in Nathaniel's presence. He blinked, his eyes heavy with weariness, and glanced at Amalea and Mirella.

Did he expect them to claim Nathaniel's presence a hallucination?

"We won't be staying here," Nathaniel said, well-aware that they could very well keep them both prisoner without much trouble at all.

"I didn't expect you would," Mirella said.

"Are you truly here?" Josiah asked, his voice breaking as tears spilled down his cheeks.

Nathaniel struggled to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed. When he touched Josiah's hand, the younger Hound burst into tears--loud, wracking sobs that would tax his strength even further--or help him heal.

Nathaniel glared at the elves, despite his efforts to remain civil. "Will you leave us alone for a moment?"

Amalea looked as if she wanted to protest, but Mirella drew her away, her own eyes bright with tears. They did not go far--the other end of the room--but that was far enough. Awkwardly, Nathaniel drew Josiah into his arms.

The Hunt wasn't overly demonstrative of affection. Gabriel punished more than praised, and every kind word was a diamond in a sea of coal. But after ten years away from the bond and the Hunt, Josiah needed comforting. And he needed to know that he was no longer alone.

"W-Who died?" His voice was muffled from where he had pressed his face into Nathaniel's chest.

"I don't know," Nathaniel whispered. "I had followed Seth--and I think he may have walked into a trap." He hesitated. "I don't think it was Malachi." It hurt to even consider any possibility, but someone had died.

Josiah glanced at Mirella and Amalea. "What did she tell you?"

"That you were alive and that a witch named Magdalen was involved." Nathaniel rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ease away the pain. "But we didn't have much time to talk." He hesitated. "She guessed I was a Hound."

"It is not just Magdalen who is involved in this," Josiah whispered. "And it is not just me. What happened to Kyren?"

"According to Amalea, he was lost inside the Daulton house, although I do not understand how that is possible," Nathaniel said. "I saw Seth vanish inside it as well--or, inside of its influence, but--"

"Althea Dunning made a bargain with Magdalen to give her the Hunt in exchange for a spell," Josiah whispered. "All she ever wanted was to be a member of the Council, and Magdalen helped her achieve that."

"By imprisoning you? For ten years?" Nathaniel shook his head. "A member of the Council would do such a thing?"

"When Lucas put my name on the list, he had to remove someone else's name," Josiah said, struggling not to cry again.

"Kyren was involved, as well."

Nathaniel had not noticed Amalea's approach. Mirella was gone--he had not noticed her departure, either.

Was there a spell, here, too, to dull his mind and instincts?

But Josiah did not seem concerned. He kept a tight grip around Nathaniel's waist, but his tears had stopped.

For the moment.

"What do you mean, Kyren was involved?" Since Amalea held the keys to their departure, Nathaniel thought it prudent not to alienate her, especially now.

"He was involved with Magdalen," Amalea said. "He approached Althea for the initial meeting, among other things. He did not know of Josiah's presence in the space behind the mirror, but he knew what Magdalen and Althea planned."

"Then he is just as guilty as--"

Josiah cut him off before he could finish that sentence. "Magdalen ordered him to kill me and he didn't. Give him that, at least."

Amalea's surprised glance told Nathaniel that she had not expected Josiah's words. "I don't wish to condone what he did, but Magdalen is a very powerful witch. I don't think he had much choice, after that first incident. She used his royal blood to establish herself in this castle until we banished her almost a month ago. The Stefan who hurt your--who hurt Malachi is her Hound."

"Have you told the Council?" Nathaniel asked. He wasn't about to comment on Kyren's involvement without knowing more information.

"Not yet," Amalea said. "And before you protest, we realize they need to be contacted. But the delays are political, in truth. And my grandmother decided to forego all the delay and allow Josiah to step outside the dampening spell."

"Did you--Did you contact our Master?" Nathaniel asked.

"No. He was--occupied with Malachi," Josiah said. "I didn't want to disturb him--it might have been disastrous."

"And then the bond shattered--Is Malachi alive?" Nathaniel closed his eyes and wished he was anywhere but this castle. "We have to leave."

"Truly--" Amalea's voice was soft, but insistent. "Josiah is in no shape to travel."

Nathaniel glanced down at him and saw that Josiah's eyes had closed again. "The Healer is at our house," he said.

"Then go and fetch her," Amalea said. "Or, better yet, I'll go with you. My grandmother can stay here--"

"That worked well when you left with your Cousin," Nathaniel said. He didn't realize how his words had to sound until Amalea flinched. "I am sorry."

"No, you speak the truth," Amalea said. "I did leave him to his fate. There is little I can do if I cannot get past those spells." But her gaze was haunted by guilt, as if she wished she could do much more. "I have--scouts watching the perimeter at the moment. Until we find a way past her spells, there isn't much more we can do."

"They are Magdalen's spells, then?" Nathaniel asked. "How can that be true? Malachi was the one who Magdalen took, not Seth."

"It is Seth's death, I'd guess, that shattered your bond," Amalea said. "I am sorry. Kyren is probably dead as well, but I have no way to tell. Magdalen would not have been pleased with his inability to obey her orders."

Was Jordan in the house as well? Nathaniel thought that might be a possibility, but how was the house still in existence and not in existence at the same time? "Was the house burned down when you saw it?"

"It was at first," Amalea said. "But we crossed the Veil and it wasn't. It was restored. Kyren saw it first--he was--he was rather maudlin about seeing it whole again."

"We cannot stay here," Nathaniel said, but he was loathe to leave Josiah alone. What if he vanished again? What if awoke and thought Nathaniel's presence had been a dream?

"He is in no shape to travel," Amalea said. She would have said more, but someone knocked on the door--a sound that reverberated through the adjoining room.

Josiah twitched in his sleep.

"Who would be knocking?" Nathaniel asked.

"My brother, Airis," Amalea said with a frown. "That's strange--" But she showed no hesitation when she left the room to answer the door.

Nathaniel sat beside Josiah and wished there was another way out of her rooms. Even a portal would have been preferable to only one door; he wanted an escape route if he had to flee the castle quickly. And the balcony didn't seem to offer much in the way of escape.

He heard voices now--sharp voices, as if Amalea did not like the news her brother bore. Habit made him strain to listen in, if only because the news probably had something to do with the Hunt.

"This is not any more pleasant for me, Amalea," her brother said, his voice low, as if he didn't want anyone to overhear. "But just as you cannot ignore a summons, I cannot ignore an order." He paused. "The Hound will keep. Magdalen is gone from the castle, and cannot return. She cannot harm him here."

"I am not leaving until Grandmother returns," Amalea said. "And you can tell Mother that--summons or no. I will not leave--" She stopped then, and Nathaniel could almost feel her retreat. "How do you know he is a Hound? I only just found out myself."

"Someone must have told me," Airis said, but Nathaniel heard the falseness in his tone of voice. "Grandmother, perhaps--"

"No. She didn't tell you." Amalea sounded angry now, and perhaps a little frightened. "We decided not to tell anyone, save Mother, and even then--Who told you, Airis?"

"Does it matter?" Nathaniel heard a thunk, as if Amalea's brother had tried to push open the door--and failed. "Amalea, have I ever lied to you before?"

Quietly, so as not to alarm either elf, Nathaniel slid off the bed and tiptoed to the door. It was obvious that Airis' informant did not know of his presence--and that would be a good thing, if Amalea's brother had somehow been compromised.

He saw them now--Airis was a taller, more masculine version of his sister--but they did not notice him at all.

"No. You've never lied to me," Amalea said, but she didn't step away from the door. "But Josiah's presence here was supposed to be a secret. If someone has--"

It was a small gesture, nothing more. Nathaniel didn't even realize that Airis had cast a spell--or tried to, at least.

Amalea laughed, but her laughter seemed forced. "Brother, how long has she had you in her thrall?"

"You don't understand," Airis said urgently. "This is all. She will have no hold over me after I take care of the Hound." He tried to get past her, but she blocked him--both with force and magic, Nathaniel thought.

Airis blanched and stepped back--Amalea tried to close the door, but he persisted, his face bathed in sweat and desperation, his eyes wide. "Do not attempt to stop me, Amalea. Please. I beg of you--"

And then--outside of Amalea's line of sight, Nathaniel caught a glimpse of something long and thin tucked into the waistband of Airis' silken breeches. A hilt. And as Amalea struggled to close the door, her brother drew the dagger from his belt.

It was still out of Amalea's line of sight. If he struck quickly enough, she would die before she had a chance to defend herself.

And then--what would happen to Josiah?

Without considering the consequences, Nathaniel shifted shape and burst through the doorway in a dead run, leaping even before Airis had a chance to do the unthinkable.

Instead of stabbing his sister while he had the chance, Airis pushed her away, his eye on a bigger prize. Perhaps he thought Nathaniel was Josiah, miraculously restored. Perhaps he didn't care, and only wanted to fulfill his obligation to Magdalen by killing a Hound.

Either way, he thrust too soon, and the dagger merely glanced off Nathaniel's ribs, slicing through skin and muscle, yes, but the wound was hardly fatal.

He did not have a chance for another thrust. Nathaniel's momentum knocked him to the floor of the empty hallway. His head bounced against the stone wall--again, not a fatal wound, but painful.

Nathaniel had no desire to tear out his throat, and Airis showed no sign of wanting to attack anyone. Indeed, the elf's eyes slid shut and he collapsed under Nathaniel's weight, unconscious.

The dagger lay near his outstretched hand. Nathaniel kicked it away.

Only then did he glance up at Amalea, who stood there, disheveled and frozen in place, her eyes wide.

Warily, Nathaniel slipped past her, back into the room. When he shifted shape, the wound across his ribs pulled painfully, and it took him a moment to stand.

"You're hurt," Amalea whispered, then cleared her throat and repeated the words. "I--I--Thank you. I think--You saved my life."

It hurt worse to stand. Nathaniel sank into a chair, and tucked one hand under his shirt. His skin was already slick with blood. "I saw the dagger--" He started to shrug, then winced as the movement pulled at his wound. "I think he would have stabbed you to get to Josiah."

"Magdalen is--" Amalea's face darkened. "Damn her. My own brother!"

"He may not have had a choice," Nathaniel said. "What will happen now?"

"I--" Amalea rummaged in a basket filled with linens and pulled out a swath of cream-colored fabric. "Here. Wrap this--No, you'll hurt yourself if you do it--Pull up your shirt." She smiled when Nathaniel hesitated. "Please. Slowly, so you don't hurt yourself."

Nathaniel managed to pull up the pertinent side of his shirt with one hand, but he couldn't raise his arms without wincing from the pain. He flinched at her touch--and before he could protest, she smeared some sort of salve over his wound, then wrapped the cloth around his ribs as a makeshift bandage. Her hands were hot--too hot, almost--and a flush stained her cheeks when she glanced up at him.

"That will have to do until you can get to a Healer," Amalea said, and stepped away from him, as if seeing the wound was almost more than she could bear. "This won't be her only attempt, you realize. She has to have others--just waiting to have their chance."

"We should go, then," Nathaniel said. "I thank you for what you've done so far, but Josiah doesn't belong here, and neither do I." But when he tried to stand, his legs threatened to collapse and send him crashing to the floor.

"Wait. Just a moment more, please," Amalea said. "Let me find my grandmother, and take my brother to a secure place. And then you can leave, but I'm coming with you--at the very least within sight of your home."

Nathaniel thought to argue, or protest, but the glint in her eye gave him pause. And did he have any real reason not to allow her to come? He closed his eyes, tired beyond belief. "Very well."

"I'm going to lock the door," Amalea said. "No one will be able to get in--and you won't be able to leave, either--I'm sorry about that, but I won't be long. I promise you that."

Nathaniel nodded without opening his eyes. It didn't really matter--he had no idea how to get out of the castle, save for climbing down the balcony, and even then, he would need a rope.

He expected to hear the door close, or to feel some indication that Amalea's spells had been put into place. And perhaps he drifted off for a little while, because when he next opened his eyes, he was alone.

The wound was not the worst part. It was the combination of the bond's destruction, Josiah's reappearance, and the cut across his ribs that drained his strength away.

He managed to walk into the bedroom and sink down on the edge of Josiah's bed. Despite the fact that Josiah barely made a dent in the fluffy mattress, there was not enough room on the bed for two Hounds--at least in human form.

In the end, Nathaniel shifted shape, curled up at the foot of Josiah's bed, and fell asleep, trusting that Amalea's spells would keep them safe.



(Next Update: October 8th)


House St. Clair Home

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Heart's Desire, part 35

Chapter 25

Something sharp and cold slid down one side of Kyren's face, leaving a hot streak of pain behind. He flinched back, awareness returning in an agonizing instant, his memory of what had happened far too distressingly clear.

Blood or sweat--he did not dare open his eyes to find out--stung his eyes and trickled down his cheeks.

"Open your eyes," Magdalen said, her voice both cold and kind.

Another sharp streak of pain joined the first, and Kyren cried out, struggling to escape her ministrations, but his arms were bound and numb, and so were his legs.

He opened his eyes and Magdalen retreated, towering over him like some sort of mythical monster sent to kill him.

"So good of you to join us," she said. "But I certainly did not expect to see you here."

"What did you do?" A flash of light sparked in Kyren's eyes--the reflection of sunlight off windows that had not been whole in many years. The floor underneath his body shone as if it had been newly waxed, and the softness of the rug under his face only heightened his confusion. "How is this possible?"

"It is a difficult spell," Magdalen allowed, and stepped away as another figure took her spot. Stefan. Magdalen's Hound.

Would he be torn limb from limb, then?

"But not one I could not manage," Magdalen continued. "Take our guest to the basement, I think. I'll decide what to do with him later."

"Magdalen, you can't--" Kyren gasped when Stefan lifted him--by the ropes that bound his arms, wresting them backwards with another jolt of pain.

"I can do what I wish," Magdalen said.

He saw, over her shoulder, a blonde woman staring at them, a familiar sneer on her lips. For a moment, Kyren didn't recognize her. After all, he hadn't seen Althea in years, especially after he lost sight of Magdalen's desires.

"Wait," she said, and pushed past Magdalen. "Where were you going with that--that girl?"

"That girl is my Cousin Amalea, and third in line to the throne," Kyren said, struggling to keep his fear from his voice. "You could have had a better prisoner than me."

Magdalen's hand whipped out, and her fingernails raked the side of his face, narrowly missing his eye. "Answer her question!"

Kyren shivered at the venom in her tone of voice. But he could not tell them the truth--if they discovered Josiah was still alive-- Althea couldn't use her cursed spell, of course, but Magdalen might still have sympathizers in the castle who would be more than willing to try to get past Amalea's wards to murder Josiah.

But his mind refused to disgorge a possible explanation for their presence in the forest.

"Kill me," he whispered, struggling to speak over the throbbing pain. He tasted blood--of course--but did not dare to spit it out. "Amalea knows what you've done, and so does her grandmother. It's over. You will not win." Despite his fear, he kept speaking, staring at Althea, whose face was frozen now, as if she couldn't quite believe his words. "You've lost."

"You--" He hardly recognized Althea's voice. "You--dared--"

"Althea, see to your preparations," Magdalen snapped. "Your quarry will be here soon."

Quarry? What quarry?

"But if they know--" Althea's hands clenched into fists.

"Where were you going with your precious Cousin who could not help you?" Magdalen asked sharply, as if she did not wish to hear or acknowledge her defeat. When he didn't answer, she pushed him away and out of Stefan's grip.

Kyren tried to catch himself before he fell, but he could not find his balance, bound. His head slammed against the edge of the doorway, leaving him dazed and bleeding on the floor.

Stefan watched impassively. "If they do know, will they warn the Hunt?"

And then, as if she had finally come to grips with the destruction of her dreams and had nothing left to lose, Althea had a dagger pressed against his throat.

"Answer her question," she growled, and spittle splashed in Kyren's face. "Answer it!"

Kyren couldn't concentrate enough to lie any longer. "We were on our way to the Healer's house," he whispered.

"For what?" But just as she asked that question, she knew. He saw the dawning knowledge in her gaze as she drew back her hand to bury the dagger in his heart. But instead of killing him, she turned towards Magdalen and left Kyren lying on the floor. "You were right. Josiah is alive."

"Of course I was right," Magdalen said.

"Have Stefan send his Hounds to kill his precious Cousin. If she tells anyone what we have done, I swear to you I will--"

Magdalen took the dagger from her hand and dropped it on the floor. "This is not the time for threats, Althea. We are close to our goal."

"So you say!" But she made no move to regain her weapon.

"It is almost midnight," Magdalen pressed. "If you are going to set your trap, then set it!"

"There is more," Althea said. "I was not finished when you decided to play with your prisoner."

Out of the corner of his eye, Kyren saw a group of dark shapes lying against the wall. He realized what they were just as the nearest Hound growled at him.

Stefan's Hunt. He was not bound to Magdalen as the Wild Hunt was bound to the Council, but Stefan rarely did not do Magdalen's bidding. Kyren shuddered.

"Then speak," Magdalen said, dismissing Althea's words with a toss of her hair. "Unless Gabriel is hiding something else--"

Althea's grin was sharp and feral and transformed her face into something Kyren wouldn't wish on his dearest enemy. "Emle is pregnant, yes. But Gabriel has another child."

This simple declaration caught Magdalen's complete attention. She stared at Althea for a long moment, her mouth half-open in surprise as she considered this new wrinkle in their Master Plan.

"Another child?" Stefan asked, breaking the silence. He sounded doubtful.

Magdalen turned on him. "The Hunt lives where you once lived--did you know that?" she asked.

"No," Stefan said, and Kyren heard his surprise in the tone of his voice. "I--Gabriel killed the troll?"

"Thirteen years ago," Magdalen said. "I'm surprised you hadn't noticed."

Kyren remembered the troll. He had gone to the Hunt's house in Faerie with Amalea to bring back her brother's body. Had that only been thirteen years ago?

"I see," Stefan said with a very strange look on his face. "This Emle--what does she look like?"

Althea shrugged. "Like an elf, I suppose. She has long white hair. I only saw her from the back."
"And the child?"

Kyren watched Stefan's hands clench and unclench. Something Althea had said did not sit well with Magdalen's Hound.

"She is just as pale as her parents," Althea said, puzzled by his anger. "She has Gabriel's eyes, but that's really all I noticed."

Without speaking, Stefan turned and buried one fist into a nearby wall.

Instead of plaster, ash sifted down onto the floor.

"It is near to midnight," Magdalen said, watching him.

"What do I care?" Stefan snapped.

"You did not kill her, did you?" Magdalen was smiling now, like a cat who had eaten a delectable bird. "You told me she was dead."

Kyren watched as Althea looked from one to the other, as if waiting to be enlightened, but neither Stefan nor Magdalen paid her any mind.

"She should have been dead!" Stefan shouted, and stormed out of the room before Magdalen could reply.

A moment passed. Kyren held his breath, hoping against hope that they would forget about him and leave him alone.

"It is near to midnight," Magdalen said again. "Your bait is upstairs, in the closet of the first bedroom you'll come to."

"Am I to know what happened just now?" Althea asked.

"That is not my story to tell," Magdalen said. "Fetch your bait."

As soon as Althea had stomped up the stairs, Magdalen turned to torment Kyren again.

"You were on your way to the Healer's house because Josiah is weak, am I right?" Magdalen asked. "He is alive?"

Kyren licked his lips. Since she already knew, did it really matter if he answered her questions? "Yes."

"Did he tell you that he was a Hound?"

In that instant, Kyren knew that he truly had no hope for escape. She would not have told him that if he had a chance to live.

So it didn't matter, then. Whatever happened next, neither pain nor shame mattered. "Yes."

"Why would he tell you such a thing?"

"It was an accident," Kyren whispered. "He did not mean to tell me." He stared at her, curiously unafraid. "You did not know, before. You had no idea of his origins, did you?" Impossibly, he felt his lips turn up into a smile. "You didn't know."

Magdalen had not known. She might know now, but if she had known, she would have used Josiah's presence in her room to her advantage, and she would have enslaved Gabriel much sooner than now.

The laughter that bubbled into his throat was more like a wheeze than true mirth, but the irony of Magdalen's blindness was too amusing not to laugh, despite the situation. She had possessed a bargaining tool for the past ten years, never bothering to explore Josiah's origins or even cast a simple spell that would have unmasked him as a Hound.

But how had she discovered the truth?

Magdalen's foot connected with his ribs, effectively silencing his laughter. "You will not be laughing much longer, Kyren."

Kyren's ribs ached where she had kicked him, and it hurt to take a deep breath. But despite the fact that he knew he would not survive this, he felt a bit better knowing that Magdalen's powers did not extend this far. She hadn't known. That alone kept him from despair.

What bait? His mind would not release those words. Were there other prisoners here?

He found out soon enough when Althea returned with a dark-skinned young human in tow.

The boy's single eye widened when he saw Kyren lying bound on the floor, but his struggles only truly began when he spotted Magdalen. There was no visible restraint over his mouth, but he didn't speak--an ominous sign. Or, perhaps Magdalen had used the same spell to hold in his screams as she had with Josiah. His other eye was covered by a patch, dusty and dirty, stained with sweat.

"It's almost midnight," Althea said. "And we need to finish this."

The boy's struggles intensified when Magdalen jerked him out of Althea's arms. Althea picked up the dagger.

"Althea!" Kyren could not lie there and watch her murder the boy in front of his eyes. "If you must kill anyone, kill me instead!"

Althea laughed. "You weren't so noble when I saw you last," she said, and drew the dagger across the boy's thin wrist--not deep enough to kill him, but deep enough to hurt.

Blood spilled over his skin and dripped on the floor. The boy wet himself--not that Kyren blamed him--and fainted, his eyes rolling back into his head until only the whites showed.

"That may be for the best," Magdalen said, and threw a spell at Kyren--the very same spell that prevented the boy from screaming.

He could still breathe--and eat, he presumed, but he couldn't make a sound.

Why was this worse? If they were going to kill him anyway, then why did it matter?

He could not protest when Stefan returned to drag him away from the door and against the far wall--still within view of the front door and the hallway. It was brighter here, but not by much--or, perhaps, the shadows were already crowding around his vision, ready to carry him away.

Althea smeared the boy's blood on the front doorstep, then laid him right inside the parlor doorway. "Do you want him to see this?" she asked, indicating Kyren.

Magdalen only spared him a small glance. "Perhaps he'll be more receptive to my desires if he sees my power," she said. "Leave him be."

Coldness lodged in Kyren's stomach. Were they setting a trap for Amalea? Surely she was long gone by now. She wouldn't try to push past Magdalen's spells and rescue him, would she?

He knew she would try. But he didn't want to die with her death on his conscience along with everything else he had done.

Magdalen did something with her hand--some sort of spell, he thought, and he watched his surroundings dim. It was almost as if she had summoned a fog to mask their presence from their quarry--only the boy lying in the doorway and the hallway were clear. Kyren had trouble seeing Stefan's Hounds as they spread out around the room, keeping to the shadows, and even Althea--with her yellow hair--was hard to spot.

They waited for what seemed like aeons. Kyren's eyes slipped closed, but he did not give in to darkness. Not yet. When the front door opened--he heard the click and the faint creak as it swung open--he opened his eyes.

There was a--a Hound standing in the doorway. A white Hound, glowing in the darkness, and then a boy, just as quickly as that.

A boy with black hair and a pale face, dressed in human clothing, but moving with a Hound's wariness, his eyes narrowed.

Suspicious. But not suspicious enough.

He spotted the boy lying on the floor immediately, but took his time approaching. He had left the front door open, but it swung shut on silent hinges as Kyren watched.

The Hound only noticed when the locked clicked into place.

For some reason, he spoke Josiah's name. When he didn't receive a reply, he knelt in front of the boy, letting down his guard and sealing his death sentence.

Because in that instant, Stefan's Hounds attacked.

They paid no mind to the boy, whose body would bear both bruises and cuts from their fury, but swarmed over him in a wave of dark fur and flashing teeth, strangely silent, bearing him down under their weight.

Gabriel's Hound shifted shape, twisting sideways to be rid of them. He fought--oh, he fought well--but one Hound was no match for four. And when Stefan joined the mix, Kyren knew that Gabriel's Hound would not live through the attack.

It was a muffled din, now, of yelps and snaps and scrabbling claws. Kyren closed his eyes, unable to watch as Gabriel's Hound went down underneath Stefan's white teeth--now stained with blood. But Althea's dagger pricked his throat, and when he opened his eyes, she stood beside him, scowling.

"You should watch this," she said with a terrible smile.

Kyren shuddered, but complied, turning his gaze to the hallway again, where the boy had awakened and tried to roll out of the way; where Stefan's teeth closed over the white Hound's throat; where that blindingly white fur was now darkened with blood.

Gabriel's Hound shifted shape just as Stefan tore out his throat--a desperate attempt to shove off his attackers with human arms, to kick at Stefan's Hounds with human feet. He shuddered once, his mouth opening in a silent scream as blood poured from his lips and the terrible wound in his throat, and then lay silent, dead.

Dead. There were tears on Kyren's cheeks, but he could not sob to release his sorrow.

Dead.

Would he be next? Or were they intending to kill the boy, too?

Stefan shifted shape and dragged the Hound's body into the parlor, leaving a trail of gore behind.
"It is done," he said, and dropped the body at Magdalen's feet.

The Hound's empty eyes were full of moonlight now, reflecting silver, his face serene. He lay on the floor like a broken doll, with only the blood from his wounds enough to show that he had once been alive.

"Now what?" Althea asked as the fog faded away and the house returned to its previous state.
"Now we find Josiah," Magdalen said. "And you return to your house. You lured him here--you should not be seen here again."

"So you're going to kill both of your prisoners, then?" Althea asked. "Why not kill them now?" She let the moonlight play across the edge of her dagger.

Kyren glanced at the boy, whose eye glittered in the light. He wanted to do something, but his mind was the only thing free, and his paltry powers were nothing compared to Magdalen's might.
He could do nothing. And even knowing that, he could not abandon hope.

"They may still be useful," Magdalen said, and knocked the dagger out of Althea's hand. "And as you say, they are my prisoners. Go home."

"What about Emle?" Althea asked. "And what about Gabriel's child?"

"I will have that child," Magdalen said, and smiled at her. "We have a little more than a week until the Council's binding expires. Gabriel will be busy with his Hunt. I will contact you." She smiled. "Don't fear. We have won."

That wasn't entirely true, and Kyren thought that Althea knew full well that they hadn't won yet. But she only nodded and walked out the front door without stopping to retrieve her dagger.

"Take him back upstairs," Magdalen said to Stefan. "Kyren can wait for me in the basement."

"What about his cousin?" Stefan asked.

"Send two of your Hounds out to find her," Magdalen said, and smiled when Kyren tried to protest. "I will find Josiah myself. There are those in the castle who owe me favors. Now is the time to call them in."

"And the child?" Stefan asked. "And Emle, damn her?"

"Malachi is still alive," Magdalen said in a tone of voice that made Kyren feel sorry for this Malachi, despite the fact that he had no idea who Malachi was.

His thoughts raced. Was Mirella powerful enough to withstand Magdalen? She had been banished from the castle, yes, but if she managed to lure Josiah outside--or if her pawns in the castle pushed past the spells--

And if she did, what could he do about it? He was helpless. For all intents and purposes, he might as well be dead himself.

Kyren made no move to help Stefan drag him down the hall. In fact, he wasn't certain he would have been able to help at all, even if he had tried. He tried to brace himself for the fall when Stefan opened the basement door to throw him down the stairs, but he had nothing to brace himself with, and the darkness that rushed in to claim him was the only cushion he could find against the pain.

Chapter 26

Gabriel was not used to gentleness. He had always torn what he wanted from his Hounds' minds, not caring whether or not his touch caused him pain.

Or, rather, not allowing himself to care.

With Malachi, and since Magdalen's spell still held firm despite his Hound's efforts to free his mind from its binding, he had to ease each and every sliver of information from Malachi's mind.

It was exhausting work, and slow. Magdalen's spell fought his efforts at every turn.

He had dampened the bond between the Hounds at the beginning, just to spare them Malachi's pain if his efforts did not bear fruit.

He did not expect the bond to shatter while he was deep inside Malachi's mind.

It was a sharp sword thrust; a rending; an attack of monstrous proportions. In the instant between realizing what had happened and losing touch with Malachi's mind, he felt his Hound's muscles seize--a movement that left him stiff and unyielding as his mind and body collapsed under the strain.

He choked, then stopped breathing, his hands scrabbling against the sheets. His eyes were wide open, but they did not register Gabriel's presence at all.

The bond between them was gone. Broken, shattered, leaving the Hunt in tatters behind its destruction. Desperately, Gabriel cradled Malachi in his arms--he was limp now, a rag doll tossed aside by some uncaring child. Unresponsive.

But not dead. Not yet, at least.

Someone else had died. But who? He could not test the bond to check; and everyone had been present and accounted for when Lucas came to call. Except Josiah, of course--

Without thinking of the consequences, he delved into Malachi's mind, forcing a tentative bond by touch alone. Malachi seized again, his muscles twitching in protest, a scream dying on his lips before it had a chance to break free.

A bond. If anything, he had to save Malachi's life. Gabriel closed his eyes and dug deeper, unmindful of the damage, only wanting his Hound to breathe again.

It worked, after a fashion; Malachi screamed at the intrusion, his eyes closed now, weakened, but struggling to escape.

Surely the scream would summon Sennet. Gabriel had to hold onto that hope. Or was she caring for the others, if they also collapsed?

What had happened? Who had died?

"Papa? What happened?"

Eri's voice had never sounded so lovely.

Without turning, without daring to break the connection with Malachi's mind, Gabriel struggled to answer her.

"Bring Sennet." He heard Emle's voice now, and Eri's quick response to her mother's question. Their daughter fled down the hall.

Emle gasped. "Is Malachi--"

"Bring Sennet!" It was an order--the only thing he could say without breaking his concentration and giving in to the pain that threatened to consume him. It was bad enough that Malachi was still very close to death. But someone else had died.

A moment later, Sennet appeared beside him, her hands already glowing with the light of her talent. "Zechariah and Thomas are unconscious. Lucas is with them--what happened?"

Without speaking, Gabriel grabbed her wrist with his free hand and showed her. She understood at once, her eyes narrowing in concentration as she tried to repair the damage he had wrought.
But even with her presence, he did not dare release Malachi from his grasp.

The tremors still ran through his body and a bright rivulet of blood ran from the side of his mouth and his nose. Gabriel wiped it away with the edge of his shirt and listened to the sound of Malachi's faltering heartbeat through the bond he had created.

"I don't know if I can heal him," Sennet murmured. "He's not responding to my talent. You're keeping him alive, yes, but I cannot sense his mind at all."

"He will not die," Gabriel whispered, and redoubled his efforts to bring Malachi back. The effort cost him dearly, especially since the bond's destruction had torn through his soul, but he did not care about the cost.

If Malachi lived, then even damnation would be worth it.

And then, long after Gabriel feared his strength would run out, Malachi stirred under Sennet's touch. He did not awaken; his mind was too bruised for that.

Gabriel did not want him to wake up. Not yet.

"Let him go," Sennet whispered. "Emle's here."

And she was, right beside him, her face grave and worried. "Gabriel, please. Let him go. Allow Sennet to do her work."

It was safe, now, to release him. He was breathing on his own now. Unconscious, but breathing.
What would happen when he awoke?

"Gabriel." Emle touched his shoulder. "Please. Come with me."

He had never felt so weak before. Never showed such weakness to anyone, much less the woman he loved. What would she think of him now?

"The others?" He barely managed to speak the words without pitching over onto the bed.

"Zechariah and Thomas are here," Emle said. "I don't know where Nathaniel and Seth are."

Which meant either Nathaniel or Seth had died, unless the death had been Josiah's.

"I never meant to hurt him," he whispered.

"You saved his life," Sennet said. "I'm not sure how, but you saved his life. He'll thank you later."

Gabriel let her ease Malachi out of his arms. From somewhere, he found enough strength to stand. But walking--ah--walking was too complicated at the moment. He couldn't walk and stay upright at the same time.

He glanced down at the bed, and met Sennet's gaze.

"How much of his pain did you take, Gabriel?" she asked.

"Enough to keep him alive," Gabriel whispered, and managed to turn.

Emle grabbed his arm before he fell. "Lean on me," she whispered. "No one will ever know." To Sennet, she said, "I'm taking him to the library."

He loved her for that; she had offered him her strength without a single qualm.

"I'll be there as soon as Malachi is stable," Sennet replied.

Gabriel roused himself enough to protest. "No. See to the others first. And tell Lucas what happened."

"I'll tell Lucas," Emle offered. "Eri is with him now."

"Did I--Did I frighten her?" He had not meant to frighten her at all.

"No. She is fine. Worried, but fine. Now rest."

It was too tiring to protest. Gabriel had enough presence of mind to have her shut the door before she left him alone in his chair in the library, but by then he was truly too far gone to care whether or not Lucas saw him weakened.

Someone had murdered a Hound. Was it Nathaniel? Seth? Or had Josiah reappeared, only to vanish again?

He let his head fall back against the chair and closed his eyes. It hurt to release his iron control on consciousness, but he could not recover without some semblance of healing. Not from this.
Someone had murdered a Hound. That thought followed him down into a darkness far too deep for dreams.



(Next Update: October 7th)

House St. Clair Home

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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)


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