Heart's Desire, Part 32

Chapter 19

When Josiah had vanished ten years before, Gabriel had kept a hyper-awareness of his Hounds' presences through the bond for a long while. Over the years, he had relaxed his guard again, even going so far as to keep the bond closed while Emle met with Sennet, even though the result of that had been disastrous.

In the two days since Jordan's disappearance and the Daulton house's destruction, he had kept out of Malachi's mind. If he were to trust his Hounds as Emle suggested, then he would have to learn to leave them be. And after his lapse, he knew Malachi needed to heal.

Despite Malachi's distraction--and his short temper--Gabriel had not given in to temptation to find out what was truly wrong. He had already torn the memories of meeting Jordan from Malachi's mind. He did not wish to harm him even further by demanding even more.

When Malachi vanished from the bond, Gabriel wondered if he had been too lax with his trust. Malachi had vanished before, no doubt while passing through a naturally dampened area, like the waterfall. But now, Gabriel had last noticed his presence near the Daulton House. And then he had vanished.

The possibility of some sort of dampening spell from the Council crossed his mind, but why, then, hadn't Malachi conveyed that much through the bond? He had been so irritable of late. With growing unease, he went in search of Emle. He had sent her out to speak with Malachi, hoping she would find some cause to his distress. And he had not spoken to her since.

He found her in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for a stew that simmered on the modern-style stove. It ran on the strange magic of the house, not electricity, which made it quite difficult to work with at times, but Emle's cooking always seemed to come out correctly.

"I spoke to Malachi," she said when Gabriel appeared in the doorway. "Although I don't think I helped him much. He said he was not wounded, and that perhaps his unease was just from the impending end of the Council's binding."

"He is gone," Gabriel said. "Vanished. I can't find him." More emotion trickled through those few words than he intended to allow her to see, but she did not miss the import of this.

"Not--Not like Josiah--"

"No. Not the same, at least. Similiar. And perhaps he wandered into a place in the forest where the bond will not work. They exist, in certain spots. But he has not wandered out again." Which meant that he could be hurt, or worse. Not dead, though; Gabriel doubted that even a dampening spell could block a death from the bond they shared.

"Perhaps he went in search of Sennet on his own," Emle said, but her gaze was full of worry now, as if she suspected something far worse.

"I will send Nathaniel to see if he did," Gabriel said, and did just that. Nathaniel asked no questions and made no protest against the order. But as soon as he left, Gabriel couldn't help but wonder if he, too, would vanish. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for more loss.

"Where did you sense him last?" Emle asked.

"Near the ruins of the Daulton house," Gabriel replied. "I think--I think it is time to dispense with the secrecy. I will go and search that area myself if he is not with Sennet."

"Only if you take one of the Hounds with you," Emle said, and clutched his arm. "If you would vanish--"

"At least then I would know who is stealing my Hounds," Gabriel said. "Don't be afraid for me, Emle." He tried the bond again--nothing. "I will find him if he can be found." But he could not help but wonder if this was a repeat of Josiah's disappearance, and if he would again be thwarted by some unnamed enemy of the Wild Hunt.

Was it Magdalen? Surely by now she would have shown her face or challenged him. He had not known her to be subtle, or patient.

Fifteen minutes later, and over Eri's protests, after Nathaniel found Sennet's house empty and cold, Gabriel left with Zechariah, leaving Seth and Thomas behind to stay with Emle and Eri.

But the ruins of the Daulton House were cold and silent, the smell of decay heavy on the air. Zechariah found Malachi's scent quickly enough, but he lost it right inside the burned ring of grass that surrounded the rubble.

Had Malachi seen something? Gabriel called to Zechariah through the bond, but nothing happened. His Hound ignored him--no. There was a dampening spell around the perimeter of the house.

"Zechariah." At Gabriel's voice, Zechariah raised his head. Gabriel could not hear his question through the bond, but he saw the panic looming in his gaze when he realized what had happened. "Could Malachi have seen something? Could he have gone to investigate and fallen through?" The house had a basement, after all, and he had no doubt it was now filled with water.

There is too much ash, Zechariah said, joining him on the other side and shivering violently. Too much decay.

If he had fallen through, he might have hurt himself. Gabriel did not think he was dead--his absence was, in fact, similar to Josiah's absence from the bond.

Similar enough, even, to be suspicious.

"You could hear my voice, inside the spell?" What would happen if he stepped inside the dampening spell and tried to use the bond?

Zechariah nodded. Yes. Just as clear as you're speaking to me now.

"But you cannot communicate with me," Gabriel said. "I give you leave to shift."

My lord-- Zechariah glanced around at the forest. Are you certain?

"If that is the only way," Gabriel said, "Then yes."

After a moment's more hesitation, Zechariah shifted shape. "Do you want me to call for him?"

"He may not be able to answer," Gabriel said. "But look for him. And be careful. I will look for him as well." He realized, then, that the dampening spell meant Zechariah--and Malachi--could defy him. They would be, essentially, not under his control.

That only gave him a moment's pause. He had no indication that Malachi had vanished into the dampening spell on his own, or if he was even in the area. But he had to search.

Right before he stepped into the spell's influence, he realized that it could well be a trap. He was usually more cautious when it came to magic--especially magic whose origins he did not know.

"Gabriel?"

For a moment, he did not recognize the Healer's voice. But when he turned and saw her standing behind him--with no car to herald her arrival--he remembered the sound of her voice. Her presence was a boon he could not repay.

But Nathaniel still waited at her house for her to return. As he instructed his Hound to stay put, just in case Malachi wasn't trapped in a watery grave, he said, "I sent Nathaniel to your house an hour ago."

"I was with Lucas," Sennet said. "Is something wrong?" She saw Zechariah, who was still in human form, and glanced at Gabriel. "Are you still looking for Jordan? Lucas asked if I would try one more time to sense his--his body, but--"

"No. I'm looking for Malachi," Gabriel said. "He vanished earlier. I had rather hoped he was with you." It was easy enough to tell her this, but any explanation would strain Gabriel's reticence. But if she had any clues at all of his whereabouts, that was a burden Gabriel would have to bear.

"He vanished?" Sennet repeated. "From your--your bond?"

"Yes," Gabriel said. "There is a dampening spell around this house, and I fear he may have come to harm."

"Healers can usually sense a life in pain--if that is the case--but I sense nothing beyond the spell you speak of. I can't even sense your--" She hesitated then, as if not wanting to name Zechariah a Hound without cause.

"His name is Zechariah," Gabriel said. "He is one of my Hounds. But we cannot communicate through the bond when he passes through the dampening spell, so I allowed him to shift into human form." He hesitated. "I--I would rather not be absent from the bond if one of my other Hounds had to get in touch with me." That was a better excuse than thinking this dampening spell might be some sort of a trap.

"When Malachi came to me the other night--" Sennet stopped again, as if debating whether or not to tell him anything at all.

"He came with my permission," Gabriel said, just in case she had not realized that.

Sennet nodded. "I know. But he was hurt. It looked to me like he had been bitten, but I sensed nothing when I helped him heal."

"Bitten?" For a moment, Gabriel could only stare at her. Malachi had not mentioned anything happening on his way to Sennet's house. He had been anxious, and short with everyone, but he had not seemed fearful or even act as if he was trying to hide something from his Master.

"I thought--perhaps--that he had been punished for something, but he assured me that was not true." Sennet waited, as if expecting Gabriel to reply to that, but he remained silent. "And he also told me that he did not know how the wounds had happened."

"How could he just forget something like that?" Gabriel asked.

"He did question that as well. He said you wouldn't punish him and then make him forget the reason for the punishment," Sennet said. "But I do wonder if his disappearance has something to do with his wounds."

"He did not mention anything to me," Gabriel said, even though it pained him to admit that he had missed something so important from one of his Hounds. "But I had--I had recently torn something from his mind, so I let him be. I did not wish to harm him again so soon after the first time."

"Let me see what I can find," Sennet said, her voice passing no judgement on his actions. "I feel nothing at the moment, not even your Hound. But that would be the dampening spell, I expect." She hesitated again. "I will say one thing: This spell was not here yesterday morning when I met Emle and Malachi. Because I sensed Emle's presence just fine."

When she stepped across the edge of the dampening spell, she sucked in her breath sharply. "Hmm."

"What do you feel?" Gabriel asked.

Without replying, Sennet walked across the debris, carefully picking her way to the back of the house--where the kitchen had once been, and the basement's warren of rooms. Gabriel walked along the edge of the dampening spell, pacing her, until he stood only ten feet away at the most, in clear view of a series of gaping holes in what was once the floor--perhaps where the appliances had fallen through during the fire.

"You'll need to send a Hound for Lucas," she said, turning to face him.

"Is Malachi--" Gabriel hesitated on the edge of the dampening spell.

Zechariah inched his way across the destruction to where Sennet stood. She caught his arm as he started forward, and he flinched away from her.

"I sense someone down below," Sennet said. "And it's not Jordan. There's too much residual magic from the dampening spell for me to tell exactly who it is, but--"

"It--It smells like Malachi, my lord." Zechariah shivered. "Malachi's blood." He bent down and scraped at something on the edge of a jagged section of burned wood. "I will go to Lucas' house."

"You could try to come inside the dampening spell and contact him through the bond, but I'm not sure it will work," Sennet said. "Whoever fashioned this spell knew what they were doing." She knelt down at the edge of one hole and peered down into the darkness.

As soon as Zechariah stepped outside, Gabriel stepped inside the dampening spell for the first time and tried to open the bond.

Nothing happened. He tried again, redoubling his effort, and felt something--something intangible--shift.

It was like trying to access the bond through glue. But even a faint connection was enough to assure Malachi's unconscious mind that he was no longer alone, and ensure he was not going to die before Lucas arrived to magic him out of the basement. Provided Lucas could be persuaded to do just that.

But even then, Gabriel noticed there was something wrong. Malachi's mind was in turmoil, a single name repeated in an endless loop over and over again, as if he had tried his best not to forget it.
Stefan. His name is Stefan. Stefan.

Gabriel had not heard Stefan's name for a hundred years. An entire century with no word, no evidence that he had survived.

Would he have survived on his own?

That in itself was doubtful. Stefan had been a member of the Council, and therefore a wizard, but he had not impressed Gabriel with his knowledge or his ability to adapt to his unique situation. If he was alive, then that probably meant Magdalen had taken him under her wing, so to speak, and that Malachi's fall had not been an accident at all.

But if that were the truth, then why had he not remembered? It was almost as if something had blocked the memories from his mind, as Sennet had said of Malachi's reaction to his wounds.

"Gabriel, whatever you're doing is hurting him." Sennet's voice broke through Gabriel's thoughts. "I can feel his pain."

"No. It is not me," Gabriel said, realizing it had to be a spell. "Malachi has a talent for slipping through spells. If there is a spell blocking his memory, his subconscious won't stop fighting it unless he accepts it, and he's unlikely to do that." He closed his eyes and pushed through the interference of the dampening spell again, attempting to soothe Malachi's mind. "He has no control over this talent. He won't even admit it exists." He hesitated. "To me, at least."

It was an effort to step outside the dampening spell and leave Malachi alone again, but he wanted to put the others on guard, just in case Stefan or Magdalen--or whoever was behind all of this--had planned this to attack. But if it was Magdalen, Gabriel doubted she would make her move until much later. The Council's binding wasn't set to expire for a week and a half. Why attack now?

He sent Nathaniel back to the house to help guard Emle and Eri. Three Hounds would have to be enough. That with the steadfast power of Josiah's wards--But what if Josiah's wards were compromised? Did Malachi know what they planned to do?

Tearing the spell from his mind would cause more harm than good. Gabriel knew that without even making the attempt, but it was still a tempting solution to his problem. If Josiah's wards were breached, he could lose his entire Hunt, as well as Emle, Eri, and his unborn daughter. And then he would have no choice but to give Magdalen her dearest wish, if she was responsible for this.

And that was looking more and more likely.

"Gabriel? Any word on Lucas?"

He had not realized that he had been pacing back and forth on the very edge of the dampening spell, lost in his thoughts again. Without replying, he opened the bond just as Zechariah reached Lucas' house. "He only just arrived." Would it take Lucas that long to return? Tell him this is treachery, he said through the bond. Tell him Stefan is involved. He would leave Magdalen's name out of this until he knew for certain if she was involved as well.

Zechariah hesitated with his hand raised to knock on the door. Stefan, my lord?

Lucas will know that name. Gabriel stepped into the dampening spell again and crossed to where Sennet waited at the edge of the hole. "Can you see him at all?"

"No." Sennet rose and wiped her hands off on her pants. "If I were a wizard, I could cast a light down there, but I'm not." She ran one hand through her short hair, leaving it stuck up in tufts. "I'm sorry."

"You are here, and you found him," Gabriel said. "You have nothing to be sorry for." He stared down at the black water below, and tried not to give in to despair. Malachi was alive. Malachi would still be alive by the time Lucas arrived. Until then, all he could do was wait.

Chapter 20

It was, Lucas thought, like seeing Malachi for the first time, only this time, the Hound was not afraid for his life.

He had sent Sennet on her--admittedly useless--errand less than an hour ago. When he opened the front door, he had not expected to see an unfamiliar face, much less a Hound.

"My Master bids you come, if you will," the Hound said, wary but unafraid. "He says that Malachi has fallen prey to treachery, and that Stefan is involved."

"Stefan?" That was a name Lucas had not expected to hear. He had come across Stefan's name in his research, of course, but there had been no sign of him for a century, at least as far as Lucas knew. And then, because he knew he had to ask, "Is Malachi alive?"

"He--" The Hound hesitated. "It was made to look as if he had fallen into the basement of the house that burned," he said. "But if Stefan was involved, I think he did not fall."

"That basement is probably full of water," Lucas said. "What was he doing there?"

The Hound shook his head, as if unwilling to speculate. "Will you come?" He cocked his head and closed his eyes, as if listening to someone--someone like his Master. "Sennet is already present, but she cannot help him if she cannot reach him."

"Of course I'll come." Lucas grabbed his car keys from the kitchen counter. "But I'm not traipsing through the forest with you. I'll drive; it's quicker on the road from here anyway." He hesitated. "If your Master allows, you are welcome to come with me."

Shock briefly widened the Hound's hazel eyes. He started to speak, then stopped, listening again. "There is a dampening spell around the house. My Master doesn't know who put it there, but Sennet says it wasn't there yesterday morning."

Lucas paused with his hand on the door. "That's interesting--as far as I know, it's not a Council spell. Are you coming with me?"

"I--" The Hound stared at him, his eyes wide.

"What does your Master say?" Lucas asked. "And what is your name? It doesn't seem right just to call you 'Hound'."

"Zechariah. My name is Zechariah." He hesitated, but Lucas did not get the impression that he was contacting Gabriel for permission. "I will come with you. If it's quicker."

"Where is your Master?" Lucas asked, locking his front door behind him. "Is there something else I need to know?"

"The dampening spell--" Zechariah backed away as Lucas approached. "It--It also dampens the bond between us. My Master could not feel Malachi until he stood inside of it."

"Which means you cannot contact your Master at the moment," Lucas said, and wondered if that was the only reason for Zechariah's sudden fear. "Have you ever ridden in a car before?"

"No."

"You have nothing to be afraid of," Lucas said, trying to sound reassuring.

Zechariah nodded, still unhappy. But he followed Lucas to the car willingly enough, and did not hesitate when Lucas opened the passenger side door for him and motioned him inside.

He did jump when Lucas started the car. But Lucas made no mention of his fear.



Five long minutes later, Lucas pulled into the overgrown driveway that led to the Daulton House. Zechariah was out of the car almost before Lucas put it into park, but there was no real reason for him to stay behind. Gabriel's whereabouts were obvious enough, and Sennet stood beside him, peering down into the hole that now led to the flooded basement.

And it was flooded. Lucas smelled the musty stink of brackish water as soon as he got out of the car. "What happened?"

The dampening spell was--interesting. Lucas only had his connection with the Council to worry about, and even it could not withstand the power of the spell.

With that thought came another one--would the binding be muffled as well?

Gabriel stopped at the very edge of the spell. "What do you know?"

"Zechariah told me that Malachi was pushed into the basement, and that Stefan was somehow involved," Lucas said. "He also told me about the dampening spell, but I would have known that as soon as I arrived. This is not a Council-created spell."

"I didn't think it was," Gabriel said. "I would have expected an aversion spell, perhaps. Not this."

"Where is he?" They could stand and debate the origin of the spell for hours, and Malachi would still be at the bottom of the hole. "Is he conscious?"

Gabriel hesitated. "No. There's a spell involved--the bond between us is difficult to reach even when I stand inside this spell. He doesn't remember anything that happened, save for Stefan's name. And I--" For the first time, Gabriel looked genuinely distressed. "I hesitate to tear it from his mind for fear of harming him further."

"I'll see what I can do," Lucas said, promising nothing. He walked across the debris with care, stepping over chunks of burned wood and blackened stone, until he reached Sennet's side. When he glanced down into the hole--and saw the black water reflecting nothing--he called up a light and sent it into the basement before either Sennet or Gabriel could ask.

At first, all he saw were lumps of unidentifiable things. A bottle bobbed in the water, miraculously unbroken. Jagged chunks of wood, already slimy with mold and rot. A rat swam past, panicked by the light. And then--

”There," Gabriel said. Lucas barely heard him speak.

A hand. White and cold, its fingers curled and stained with blood. It glowed in Lucas' light, illuminating the ledge Malachi had managed to find--the top of a bookcase, or something, almost covered in water.

His eyes were closed and sunken, his face scratched and pinched. There was a--a wound in his shoulder that glistened in the light, and another one on his leg. He held his right arm close against his body. Was it broken?

His lips were blue. And he was shivering, despite the heat.

Lucas cast a sidelong glance at Gabriel, whose gaze had not left his Hound. "I can lift him out of there with a spell, but you'll have to be ready to catch him," he said. "These spells never last long."

"I'll catch him," Gabriel said in a voice that brooked no chance of failure.

"I will do my best to be gentle," Lucas murmured, forming the spell in his mind. "But I may hurt him. I don't know how badly he is wounded."

Very carefully, he mimed tucking his hands under Malachi's shoulders and legs, then lifting up. Below, Malachi's body slowly rose, awkwardly at first, by inches, skating across the top of the water to reach the largest part of the hole--and freedom.

His head lolled back. Lucas tried to adjust his grip, but he did not want to drop him with Gabriel watching; the Master of the Hunt was tense enough, even now.

"If you can keep him unconscious, please do so," he said, deliberately keeping his voice low. "If he wakes up and tries to move--" He didn't elaborate on what would happen. Gabriel would understand.

"I will do my best," Gabriel said.

Malachi's body jerked once as it rose, as if he had almost awakened, or realized he was slowly rising through the air. But his eyes remained closed the entire time. By the time Lucas had lifted him high enough for Gabriel to reach, his skin had dulled to an ashen gray.

"He's in shock," Sennet said, reaching for him even as Gabriel gathered him into his arms.

"I think his arm is broken," Gabriel said. There was anger in his voice now--not directed at his Hound, of course, but at Stefan.

Lucas sighed. Stefan. Missing for a century, and suddenly appearing now? "Have you any sign of Stefan in the past century? The last mention of him in the Council's journals was right after the binding."

"That is the last time I saw him as well," Gabriel replied. "The same night your ancestor saw Malachi shift shape." He held Malachi close, unmindful of the filth or the blood. "I had thought he was dead."

"As did the Council," Lucas said. "He'll be difficult to track, if he's been hiding that long."

Malachi moaned. His eyes flickered open, dazed and unaware, and he tried to push himself out of Gabriel's arms. And then, he seemed to realize where he was, or, perhaps, recognize the feel of Sennet's power coursing through his veins, because he blinked, and whispered, "My lord?"

"You are safe now," Gabriel said. His tone of voice gave no such assurance, but Malachi took his words to heart and sobbed against his Master's chest, curled up like a little child.

Lucas averted his gaze, uncomfortable with this display of emotion. He had done his duty--perhaps he should leave Gabriel alone with his Hound and allow Sennet to do her work. He felt as if he were intruding on a private conversation, almost, or a meeting between two lovers.

"Do you wish me to leave?" he asked. "I can cast a spell around the house that will turn the curious away--"

"The spell may be a good idea," Gabriel said. "I'd hate to see what would happen if a human fell through that hole." He made no mention of Lucas' offer to leave.

"My lord--" Malachi's voice cracked. "What happened?"

"Do you remember Stefan?" Gabriel asked, very gently.

Malachi tensed again and twisted out of his Master's arms. He would have fallen, but Gabriel caught him, and Sennet kept her hold on his hand, feeding her power through his body. But even her efforts did not soothe Malachi's anxiety.

"This is not the right place for this," Lucas said softly. "My house isn't far from here--do you want to take him there?" He glanced at Zechariah, who stood on the outskirts of the dampening spell, watching everything with a worried gaze. "It's five minutes by car, Gabriel. Sennet's house may well be closer--"

"No--" Malachi seemed to see Lucas for the first time. He stiffened, then closed his eyes. "I--I just want to go home."

He sagged, then, his head nodding down on his chest, that desperate tension suddenly gone from his body.

"I'll take him home," Gabriel said, almost as a question, as if he did not expect Lucas to allow him to take his Hound home.

"Yes," Lucas said. "Perhaps you should. But--" He had never come right out and asked the Master of the Hunt where he lived. "Is your home safe? What if Stefan comes back?"

Without speaking, Gabriel left Malachi to Sennet's care and stepped out of the dampening spell. Lucas followed him, curious now, and couldn't help but notice that Zechariah stepped inside the spell as soon as Gabriel stepped out of it. It was almost as if Gabriel didn't want Malachi to be alone. Ever.

And that, as nothing else had, told him a bit of Gabriel's mood.

"You have never asked where we live," the Master of the Hunt said, staring out at the forest. "Your Council has never asked."

"Perhaps we never needed to know," Lucas said. It was entirely up to Gabriel whether or not to give Lucas his trust. He knew that, and he also knew that the Hunt's trust was a very special thing. "And I am not saying that I need to know. But is it safe?"

"You have always been honorable," Gabriel said. His voice held no clues to his state of mind; Lucas could not begin to tell where this conversation was headed. "Does your Council intend to free us--me--on Midsummer's Eve?"

"You have served us well," Lucas said. "We have no reason to prolong the binding, whatever you may think. If it helps at all, I hold your binding, not the entire Council. I don't think I've ever told you that." When Gabriel did not reply, he rushed to fill the silence. "I'm sorry. I should have told you."

"I see," Gabriel said, a faint thread of amusement now running through his voice.

"My uncle thought that having one person in control of the binding made the most sense."

"I had wondered why you were the only one who ever called me," Gabriel finally said. "But I did not think to ask." He hesitated. "You have never given me any reason not to trust you--"

"And I hope you never have a reason not to trust me," Lucas said.

"My Hunt has a house in Faerie," Gabriel said abruptly. "Josiah created the wards that protect us, but I have reason to believe they may be compromised. There are--" He sighed, then, and turned to face Lucas. "If you would accompany us to my house, I will explain there."

Lucas had never expected this. He stared at Gabriel, quite at loss for words.

"There are things about my Hunt--and other things--you do not know," Gabriel whispered, and the ghost of a smile drifted across his lips.

"I imagine so," Lucas said. "But--"

"Please." For the first time, Gabriel seemed uneasy. "This is not a topic for conversation here. The--The person who created that spell could well be listening to us speak, and I would rather she not know what I would tell you."

She? Lucas thought, but decided not to mention it just yet. "Very well. I'll come with you. But what I decide will not change, Gabriel. You have served us well."

Gabriel nodded, but did not reply. And when he entered the dampening spell again--and Zechariah stepped out of it--to gather Malachi into his arms, Lucas couldn't help but wonder what else he had hidden all these years. Was the Hunt's ability to shift shape only the tip of the iceberg?

It seemed, at long last, that Lucas was about to find out.



(Next Update: October 4th)


House St. Clair Home

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Heart's Desire, Part 31

Chapter 17

When Josiah opened his eyes, Kyren almost did not notice the fact that he was awake. He saw for a moment in silence, staring at him, half-expecting those blue eyes to slide shut again. But Josiah licked his lips and took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering.

"Where--Where am I?"

Kyren wished Amalea was not still stuck in meetings with her kin. She'd been in once over the past two days, and Mirella had even peeked in once or twice, but since Josiah's presence had to be dealt with in the most cautious manner possible--and to the royal family, caution was second nature--they had not yet decided if one of the local Healers would be called, or if they would allow Josiah to leave unmolested. Amalea's envoy to the Healer's house had never returned.

He had wondered, once or twice, if Mirella had broken her vow and told them what she knew. Looking into Josiah's gaze now, with the shadows still deep under his eyes and his face still pinched from pain, Kyren wondered if their caution was caution or just more cruelty Josiah was forced to bear.

"You are in Faerie," he said. "In my Cousin's rooms."

"And?" Josiah's voice cracked.

"And what?" Kyren asked.

"Am I--" He took another deep breath. "Am I to be allowed to--to leave?"

"My Cousin is in meetings with the King and Queen--" He fell silent, then, when Josiah turned his head away and closed his eyes. "They can't keep you here."

"They could," Josiah said, which was the truth.

"But they won't," Kyren said. "The meetings are--" He struggled to find the right words without distressing Josiah any further. "They do not wish an all-out war with your Master."

"I want to go home," Josiah whispered.

And was there any reason that he could not? What would happen if Kyren just--he shook his head. Just what? Just walked out of the castle with Josiah in his arms? "I am sorry," he said. "But it is best to stay here, at least for now. Magdalen is--" He sighed. "There is a lot you do not know."

"My Master--" Josiah swallowed the words and shook his head. "Nevermind."

"I don't know who your Master is," Kyren whispered, just in case that was the cause of his hesitation. "Mirella says she knows, but she also said she had promised your Master never to tell."

"I remember Mirella," Josiah whispered. "Will you tell me some of what I do not know?"

Kyren hesitated. No one had told him not to talk to Josiah, after all. "I don't know if you'll want to talk to me after I tell you my part in this," he said. "But I will tell you."

"You were not there when Althea tricked me," Josiah said, his voice a little stronger now.

"No, I wasn't," Kyren said. "But I was there when Magdalen gave Althea the spell that allowed her to steal your talent, and I knew you were behind that mirror for three weeks before Amalea forced me to tell her. And I did nothing to stop any of it." He let out a breath. "I am a coward, but that is no excuse for my actions. I was supposed to kill you."

"My Master asked me to enforce the wards around our--our house against a witch named Magdalen," Josiah whispered. "And if he was worried enough to do that, then perhaps you aren't as much of a coward as you think."

Kyren shook his head. "No. I am that much of a coward. But it is good to hear that your Master was on guard even then." He hesitated. Did he truly wish to know? "Is there any way that I could know your Master's identity?"

Josiah did not seem to hear him. "What has happened in the past ten years?" he asked. "Is--Is the Hunt free? You said Althea is a member of the Council--is Lucas still alive?"

"The Hunt is slated to be freed in--" Kyren realized he had no true sense of the date. "Less than two weeks, I think. Midsummer's Eve. And Lucas is still alive as far as I know. But--Magdalen wants to control the Hunt. That is her goal. After that--"

"Then why didn't she use me as bait?" Josiah asked, then froze, as if he had just realized what he had admitted.

With the coldness of impending doom, Mirella's comments fell into place. Kyren covered his face with both hands. "She didn't know--" His breath hitched. "She didn't know you were a Hound." The enormity of what he had almost done left him cold. "And she wanted me to kill you--How is that possible that you are a Hound?"

"We all have human forms," Josiah whispered, his voice dull and lifeless now. "Please--don't ask me to betray my Master any more than I have."

"I am sorry," Kyren said. He stood, then, unable to sit still, and busied himself with the food and drink Amalea had left behind. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"I just want to go home," Josiah whispered, and fell silent, his pale cheeks wet with tears.

Kyren walked to the door that led to Amalea's balcony and stared out at the sunlit world. He felt--cold, now, cold with the realization of what Magdalen had asked him to do--and what she had not known. She wouldn't have wished for Josiah's death if she knew he was a Hound. She would have used his presence to her advantage. He knew that without a doubt.

That meant Althea had not known. And Althea still did not know. Kyren knew of their agreement, and he had assumed that Althea would somehow deliver the Hunt to Magdalen. Which meant they had to have some sort of bait, as Josiah had said. Bait. Would they kidnap another Hound, then? What else would Gabriel give up his freedom for?

All at once, he thought he glimpsed the enormity of Magdalen's plans. He had no idea what she planned to do with the Hunt, but if she controlled the Hunt, she could--conceivably--control anything else that she desired.

He shivered and lowered his forehead to the glass. "I'm so sorry."

"You didn't kill me," Josiah whispered. "Perhaps I should be thanking you."

Kyren turned. "Amalea said something about warning the Hunt, but I think--I think the warning might be best coming from you. If I--" He swallowed hard, trying not to think about the scope of his betrayal. "The dampening spell would not reach outside the castle. If I carried you to the balcony, you might be able to contact your Master from there."

Josiah's breath caught in his throat. Kyren didn't dare look at him for fear that he would see the hopelessness in his gaze.

"You will be punished for that, won't you?"

Kyren shrugged. "I am due to be punished for my part in this. If helping you means that your Master does not try to kill me--"

"He won't," Josiah said, but he didn't sound very sure of himself.

"You are a Hound," Kyren said. "I don't understand it--I don't--I never really liked the Hunt, in truth, but--no one deserves this."

"If you do this, your--your Cousin won't be pleased," Josiah said. "And neither will Mirella." He sounded as if he were trying to talk Kyren out of allowing him to contact his Master.

"Yes." Kyren sighed. "I know."

"I would like--I would like to feel the bond in my mind again," Josiah whispered. "But--I don't think I could bear to have it vanish again." He shifted around on the bed until he faced Kyren. "It would be like--like a hole in my heart."

"I think they were hoping that you healed a bit before they let you leave," Kyren said. "Amalea was supposed to have sent someone to fetch the Healer, but that was two days ago, and--and she has not come. I don't believe her--the person she sent ever reached his destination." He hesitated. "I--It is my fault, too, that you are in this predicament."

"Why?" Josiah asked.

"Bethany Daulton was my lover," Kyren whispered, the old pain still sharp enough to send a quiver through his voice.

For the first time, Josiah's gaze sharpened. "You are the elf who killed Jacob Daulton."

"Yes." Kyren could not dismiss Beth's memory with a shrug. "He--He was not a good man."

"Then, anyone who summoned the Hunt was not a good person," Josiah said. "I do not think my Master would seek your death."

"Do you--" Kyren motioned towards the balcony.

"No. Not now." Josiah's eyes slid shut. "I will rest first."

He was still asleep two hours later when Amalea returned.

Chapter 18

"Josiah was a Hound," Magdalen said without preamble, her voice intense.

Althea had not expected her arrival. She stepped back in the face of such an intense fury that set her wards singing, and carefully laid the paring knife on the cutting board that sat on the counter. "What did you say?"

"Josiah Hunt--damn him! Why didn't I see this?--Josiah was a Hound!" She stopped, then, struck dumb by something Althea couldn't begin to imagine. And then, after a moment, she began to smile.

"Josiah was a Hound? How is that possible?" Althea tried to laugh. "The Hunt--" Quite suddenly, the thought of lunch turned her stomach.

"The Hounds all have human forms," Magdalen said, dismissing this tidbit of news with a wave of her hand. "Malachi gave Josiah up quickly enough--"

"You spoke to him again," Althea said flatly. "Why didn't you send for me?"

Magdalen shrugged. "Who would I have sent? Stefan? You need to stay away from the Hunt for the time being, Althea. We still have time."

"What were you smiling about before?" Althea asked. "Did you think of something?"

"Perhaps." Magdalen said. She took an apple from the bowl on the countertop. "I suppose Jordan will need food to survive, don't you think?"

"You haven't fed him?" Althea turned to open the fridge. She snagged a bottle of water and half a loaf of bread. "Give him this," she said, then wondered why she cared at all if he lived or died. He was, after all, much more dangerous alive than dead.

Magdalen laughed. "You would have fed Josiah these past ten years. You have a soft heart, deep down inside."

"No I don't," Althea said, stung. "I want this to go the right way just as much as you do. But if you need to keep him alive for some reason, he'll need food." She hesitated, loathe for Magdalen to declare her soft-hearted again. "Where is Malachi now?"

"If he dies, we will know," Magdalen said. "When a Hound dies, the bond between the Hunt is broken, just as I said."

Althea blinked. "But that means--what about Josiah? I thought you said he was dead!"

"I have my doubts that a Hound's death would be blocked by the dampening spell around the castle," Magdalen said. "And since the Hunt's bond remains intact--"

"That means Josiah isn't dead." Althea gasped the words. "He knows what I did to him! He knows!"

"Josiah created the wards around the Hunt's lair," Magdalen said. "Do you have enough of his power left to get past them?"

"I don't know," Althea stammered. "What if he's--"

"Gabriel will be looking for Malachi," Magdalen said. "And so will most of his Hounds. He might leave one behind, perhaps, but not any more than two."

"What do you want me to do?" Althea asked.

"Kill whichever Hound you find," Magdalen said. "The Hunt will be in chaos, and then--"

"What about Josiah?" She couldn't help but ask. After all, he knew what she had done. And if he told his story--if he told his story to anyone at all--

"If Josiah is alive, then he will be our bait," Magdalen said. "I will fetch him. But we need the Hunt in chaos first. The bond between them has to be broken."

"Then kill Malachi," Althea said, wondering why she hadn't done such a thing already.

"No. I need him to live for a little while longer," Magdalen said. "He did not answer my question about Emle. And he broke my truthspell."

"Is that even possible?" Althea asked. Truthspells were powerful spells. If one of the members of the Hunt had enough power to break a truthspell--then why hadn't Gabriel sent him to Darkbrook as well?

"I don't think he knows how he did it," Magdalen said. "Either way, unless he dies on his own--and that may yet happen--I can still use his knowledge."

"This Emle--is pregnant," Althea said.

"Yes." Magdalen's smile held an almost predatory air.

"Is--Is the child--"

"Find out," Magdalen ordered. "If yes, then Gabriel's child would be a much better hostage than one of his Hounds."

That was true, but Althea didn't want to get stuck with caring for a squalling baby while they waited for the Council's binding to expire.

"But I should kill a Hound, regardless?" She had to admit--but only to herself--that killing a Hound was something she had always envisioned. And now that it was even more important that a Hound die--

"Yes," Magdalen said. "The death of a Hound--any Hound--will destroy the bond between them. Gabriel won't be able to communicate with any of his Hounds while the bond is broken. That will give us the time we need to make sure Josiah is dead."

Althea nodded. "And Malachi?"

"We may yet have use for Malachi," Magdalen said. "Either way, if the bond is broken, Gabriel might not find him in time. And that wouldn't be a horrible thing at all."



(Next Update: October 3rd)


House St. Clair Home

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Heart's Desire, Part 30

Chapter 16

Two days later, the unsuccessful Hunt for Jordan was beginning to wind down. Not one of the searchers had found any sign of him, and even the Council feared that he had been lost in the fire. But despite the fact that his Master had made no mention of forcing them to resume their Hound forms, Malachi could not shake the feeling that something was still very wrong.

Even his Master had noticed. But Malachi could not explain, and Gabriel had not pushed.

In fact, he hadn't insisted on anything, other than to request--and it was a request, not an order--that they be very circumspect when they were in human form.

He had even allowed the others to shift as well.

But that feeling of unease never left. It was almost as if his mind struggled against something--something he did not know--and would not let it rest. It even haunted his dreams. Even Eri's attempts to engage him had not worked, and he had snapped at her on more than one occassion.

In that respect, it was no surprise that he had taken to avoiding the others these past two days. Even in human form he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.

"Malachi?"

He jumped at Emle's voice, so intent on his thoughts that he hadn't heard her approach. "Milady?"

Emle settled down on the stone bench beside him. "Gabriel asked that I come out and keep you company. You are not yourself lately."

No, he wasn't. He was jumpy and irritable and confused. "I am sorry," he said aloud. "I don't know what's wrong. Perhaps it is the waiting for the Council's binding to expire."

"Perhaps." But she did not sound convinced. And in truth, Malachi didn't think that was the problem, either. No, it was something else. "Do you feel ill?" Emle asked. "If we called Sennet, do you think that would help?"

Malachi laughed. "I'm not dying. I have no wounds for her to heal." But she had healed him, two days ago. He had not told his Master of those wounds, and Gabriel had not remarked upon the fresh scars on his arm. Perhaps he had not noticed. Did they have something to do with the reason behind his foul mood? "I am sorry, milady. Perhaps it is merely the anticipation that something will go wrong."

He caught her stricken glance. "Not with you--but the binding. After living under the Council's rule for so long--"

"Lucas is an honorable man," Emle said. "I cannot see him forcing the Hunt into another binding."

"He is not the only one who will have to make that decision," Malachi said. He managed to dredge up a smile. "I am sorry, milady. I am certain my mood will pass, in time." I just wish I knew what was wrong. But he did not say that out loud.



Later, after she had left him, Malachi found himself at odds with the peaceful garden. With no thought but to find a bite to eat--a rabbit, perhaps, or a bird--he wandered into the forest, aimlessly roaming through the trees.

When he came across the clearing where the ruins of the Daulton house stood, he stopped at the very edge of the trees and stared at the destruction.

He had not returned to the site since the fire. Nathaniel had--and Seth, he thought--but he had stayed away. It had been bad enough seeing the house in flames and realizing that Jordan might be inside.

It had rained since then, and ash lay in wet clumps everywhere, staining the burned grass black and leaving its mark upon everything. The walls that still stood bore the angry marks from the flames, and here and there, bits of melted glass sparkled in the sunlight.

It was not a fitting monument for a ten-year-old child.

Malachi turned away from the carnage. But as he turned, a glint of something--metal? Glass?--caught his eye.

It was in a place no metal or glass should have been after the fire. Suspended in midair, with nothing to support it, was a window.

Malachi blinked. Yes, it was a window. Whole and unbroken, in the same spot as the parlor would have been if the house was yet intact.

Without even realizing he had moved, he found he had taken a step into the clearing. He froze, half-expecting some sort of alarm to sound, but nothing happened. The window stayed where it was, hanging in midair.

Only now--now there was a door as well. And as he watched, the rest of the house slowly appeared, in bits and pieces, until it was whole again.

He didn't realize that the bond was gone from his mind until he tried to contact his Master to tell him of this new wrinkle in Jordan's disappearance. For a moment, he froze in place, unable to comprehend the reason why the bond might be missing. Surely he hadn't been so distracted as to miss-- He took a step backwards, into the forest again and felt the familiar presence of the bond return. The house returned to ruins as well, much quicker than it had reappeared.

It had to be a spell, then, surrounding the house. Someone's spell. A dampening spell. If he knew more about magic, he might be able to combat it.

But if there had been a spell around the house as it burned, could Jordan have accidentally gotten caught in such a spell?

He owed it to the boy to find out.

Cautiously, he approached the house, watching as it restored itself again as soon as he entered the confines of the dampening spell. He padded up to the front door only after watching the house for a moment for any sign of habitation, and nudged it open with his nose.

The hallway beyond was restored as well, with shining wood floors, and furniture that would have looked right at home in a museum. The rugs on the floor smelled of silk and wool, costly things that muffled his footsteps as he inched down the hall.

Jordan had not seen him in the form of a Hound. Did he dare shift shape, just in case?

The house smelled strange. Empty, yes, but also filled with a presence that seemed to watch his progress, as if biding its time.

Strangely enough, somehow, he remembered seeing this house restored before.

"Now," a voice said, urgently.

Something peeled away from Malachi's mind. He screamed--yes, screamed--he had shifted shape in the moment between the spell's removal and the realization of what he had been forced to forget.

"I did doubt your word that he would return," Stefan said, and pulled Malachi to his feet before he could think to defend himself.

He saw two Stefans for a long moment--two Magdalens and eight black Hounds. His skin remembered the tear their teeth and the smell of blood on their breath.

He tried to think, but even that escaped him; he could not force his mind to hold any manner of sense.

"Hmm," Magdalen said. "A little too severe of a reaction, I think. Were you trying to escape my spell?"

She touched his face and he jerked back, a raw, animal reaction to her presence.

My lord--oh, please-- But the dampening spell still held, and he could not feel the bond in the back of his mind.

He had never felt this pain before, from any punishment he had endured. Had never thought to feel such pain. He whimpered, sagging in Stefan's arms, unable to reply to her question.

When she spoke the words of the truthspell again, he sobbed. He did not beg for his life. He knew she would not grant him absolution.

He could not fight her. Could not fight the spells, or her power. And yet, the knowledge he held about the Hunt--about Emle--

"How long will it take for your Master to realize your absence?" Magdalen asked.

"I don't know." Malachi did not recognize his own voice. Yet, even as he spoke, he realized that a piece of his mind was struggling to win free of her spell.

Perhaps it was the same piece of his mind that had managed to allow him to shift shape all these years. If he truly did have some sort of talent in that respect, he wished he had more control of it now.

"Why don't you know?" Magdalen asked. "How does it work, then?"

"H-He could open it at any time," Malachi whispered, his throat locking as he tried not to answer. "And he would realize I am gone."

"Did he miss you last time?" Stefan asked.

Last time, there had been another person in the room. Althea. Yes. A member of the Council. A traitor. "No."

"How can the bond be broken?"

"By--By the death of a Hound," Malachi whispered. Would he be that Hound? Did she intend to kill him?

Magdalen nodded, as if she had already suspected that reply. "Who created the wards that shield your home from the outside world? Gabriel is no wizard."

Malachi's mind hurt too much to even consider disobeying. "Josiah. Our Master asked Josiah to create them."

Inexplicably, Stefan began to laugh.

Magdalen spluttered, turned white, and spun away from him, the fury in her gaze even frightening the black Hounds. They slunk out of her way, as if expecting that she would attack at any moment.

When she did attack, Malachi could not defend himself.

She wrapped one hand around Malachi's throat. "Who did you say?"

"He said Josiah," Stefan said. "You heard aright." He released Malachi's arms, which put even more pressure on Magdalen's grip around his throat.

With an oath, Magdalen tossed him aside. He hit the wall and slid into a heap on the floor, gasping for air. Flee--you have to flee--but he could not sort out his arms and legs to make his way to the door. At least now he could think, though, and wonder why Josiah's name had thrown her into such a fury.

"Is Josiah a Hound?" She spat out the question, but didn't give him a chance to reply. "Is Josiah a Hound?"

Is? Malachi had only a moment to wonder before the truthspell forced him to answer. "Yes." He closed his eyes. Surely there had to be a way around a truthspell. Surely.

What if her next question was about Emle?

But now, it was Magdalen's turn to laugh. "Damn him!"

"I believe he is thrice damned already," Stefan said. "Are you certain Josiah Hunt is dead?"

Malachi struggled to comprehend their words. Did they mean--was Josiah alive? Even after the--the touch through the bond they all had felt, Malachi had not believed that Josiah still lived. Not after ten years.

"The spell was broken," Magdalen said, as if she had forgotten Malachi's presence. "So I'm not certain, no."

One of the black Hounds growled at Malachi. He stiffened, half-expecting another attack, but it just snapped at him on its way past.

It was only about ten feet to the door. If he shifted shape and ran for it, would the black Hounds hunt him down?

"Who is Emle, Malachi?" Magdalen's voice was soft now, and he realized that in a roundabout way, this was the question whose answer she desired the most. His struggles redoubled, but the compulsion was there despite his efforts, forcing his mouth to open.

And then--something cracked. A gush of hot blood poured from Malachi's nose for a moment, and he choked on the answer to her question and struggled to breathe. When he opened his eyes, he saw double again, but the compulsion--the truthspell--was gone. Its destruction drove daggers of pain into his brain, but his mind was clearer now than it had been for the past two days.

"Whoi s Emle?" Magdalen demanded.

"An elf," Malachi whispered. He had to force himself not to embroider his telling; he didn't want to raise her suspicions any farther.

But at least--at least he could protect Emle.

"What relationship does she have with your Master?" Magdalen asked.

"I don't know," Malachi whispered. "She--" He bit back the rest of that sentence and waited for her to demand that he finish it.

"She what?"

"She--She is very beautiful," Malachi said. Which was the truth. Magdalen couldn't fault that, at the very least.

"That is strange," Magdalen said, her voice suddenly soft. "Because I heard that your Master and Emle's husband were one in the same." She stood over top of him now, her gaze burning. "And if that is truth--and I doubt the child Jordan would have dared to lie to me--then you are lying to me And that should not be possible."

She had spoken to Jordan. That meant--perhaps--that Jordan still lived, and--perhaps--was a prisoner inside of this house.

Malachi knew that he could not allow her to force him to forget again. If she let him go this time. She knew about Emle. And that meant Emle was in grave danger.

And if Emle was in danger, then Eri was in even graver danger. He had a feeling, though, that Magdalen knew nothing about Eri. Yet.

Before he could flee, she hauled him up and pressed him against the wall. "How did you break my truthspell?"

Malachi shifted shape and twisted out of her grasp. He hit the floor hard, his left leg buckling, but he forced it to hold his weight and ran for the door without any thought as to how he would get it open.

But before he could reach the door, Stefan's Hounds attacked, appearing all around him with snapping teeth and tearing claws. There were far too many for even a Hound of the Wild Hunt to fight and they showed no mercy.

Malachi fought far beyond the threshold of any pain. Dimly, over the din of barks and growls and snapping teeth, he heard Magdalen screeching Stefan's name--no doubt to call of his Hounds. But their lust for his blood had destroyed Stefan's control.

They were not like the Hunt, in this respect. If Gabriel had ordered his Hounds to stand down, he would have been obeyed. But Stefan's Hounds did not obey.

One tore a hole in Malachi's shoulder, another latched onto his leg, bearing him down under its weight. He heard something snap, and suddenly, his front right leg hung useless in a whirlwind of pain.

But when Stefan's teeth closed over his throat, Malachi froze, realizing that he had failed in his bid for freedom.

The black Hounds drew away, leaving Stefan alone with his teeth locked around Malachi's throat.

"Release him," Magdalen ordered, barely suppressing her fury. She spoke the truthspell again--with much more force this time--and Malachi moaned as it latched itself into his mind.

Stefan shifted shape and stood, wiping Malachi's blood from his lips. "Is that necessary? He'll just break it again. How do you know if you can trust anything he says?"

"He won't escape this time," Magdalen said. "Can you force him to shift into human shape?"

Each breath was an agony now, and when Malachi tried to move, his ribs grated together. He could no more shift than he could contact his Master.

"Of course I can't," Stefan snapped. "He is not my Hound."

Magdalen's fists clenched. "Damn him and his Hounds." When she reached down for Malachi, he flinched away from her, desperate to prevent any further pain.

But she only--only?--spoke her spell again, the one that made him forget what he now knew. What he had to tell his Master. He closed his eyes.

"What if he dies from these wounds?"

"Then he will die and the Hunt will be in chaos." Malachi heard the shrug in Magdalen's voice. "He broke my spell, Stefan! He broke my spell!"

"Perhaps the Hunt isn't as powerless as you think." A pause. "Do you truly want Gabriel to suspect your involvement in his death?"

An even longer pause. Malachi thought--at first--that he had gone deaf.

"If your Hounds had not attacked him--"

"Do not blame this on me," Stefan said quietly. "My Hounds prevented his escape. Nothing more."

Stefan. His name was Stefan. Somewhere through the pain, Malachi remembered that. Stefan. He recited the name like a mantra, forcing his mind past the pain.

Would he get a chance to say that name to his Master?

"Then what do you suggest? We cannot keep him here--"

"You made Josiah disappear--make him vanish as well. Can you suppress their bond?"

No! Malachi wanted to shout the word, but he couldn't find the strength. A tiny voice in the back of his mind asked, She made Josiah disappear?

"The dampening spell suppresses the bond," the woman--Malachi could not remember her name--said. "But it's visible as well, and I don't want the Council poking around here just yet."

Stefan snorted. "Then you've failed. I may as well tear out his throat and put him out of his misery."

"No. If he survives, he will return here. We still may need the knowledge he possesses."

Malachi sensed a Hound's approach, and he tried to brace himself for another attack. He opened his eyes and tried to shift into a better position to defend himself, but the Hound stopped a few feet away--on the floor, not the rug--its manner unthreatening now. Wary, yes. But staring at him steadily, unafraid.

He had no idea if he could communicate with such a creature. Help me--

The Hound blinked. Its gaze darted towards its Master, who had not noticed a thing; Stefan's argument with the red-haired woman had not abated.

Can you teach me how to shift shape?

Her voice was strong for a Hound, clear and unwavering. In any other situation, Malachi would have demanded to know where she had learned to speak this way; he'd sensed nothing from the Hounds during the attack.

I--I can try, he said, and wondered if the others could hear their conversation. Wouldn't they inform their Master? Can anyone else hear this?

They are Hounds, nothing more, the Hound said, almost dismissively.

And you are not? He closed his eyes as a shudder twinged through his body, and he had to bite his lip to keep from shifting shape. If he shifted shape, she would ask him another question, and--

No. She hesitated when her Master approached, but he only bent down to press his fingers against Malachi's throat to make sure he still lived. I would try to help you escape.

He noticed that she didn't promise him anything, and he liked her for it. She could no more promise to help him escape than he could guarantee he would be able to teach her how to shift shape. She still had to obey her Master, after all.

Before Malachi could reply, Stefan grabbed both back legs and pulled him into the parlor.
"No one would question his presence here, and the dampening spell could be a result of the fire," he said.

When Malachi opened his eyes, he saw that Stefan held a dagger in one hand. The red-haired woman watched from a few feet away, her eyes bright.

Panicked, he tried to rise, but his broken leg buckled, sending waves of pain to smother him. He snapped at Stefan--a useless pursuit--but Stefan evaded his lunge without even trying.

When he sliced along the edges of Malachi's wounds, making them less like bites and more like gouges, Malachi collapsed, unable to bear any more of the pain.

"This will work?"

"He was investigating something--perhaps even the dampening spell--and he fell through a weak part of the floor. If Gabriel finds him in time, he won't become suspicious. I can assure you of that."

Stefan pushed his hand through the floor and emerged with a handful of ashes mixed with bits of glass, which he rubbed into Malachi's fur and lathered into his wounds.

"The basement is filled with water," the red-haired woman said, musing.

"Then he will drown," Stefan said calmly.

When the acrid stench of wet ash intruded upon his senses, Malachi knew he was back in the human world. He tried to stand, to struggle to his feet or, failing that, to crawl to the edge of the forest where the dampening spell did not reach, but he something snagged his back leg--and his front legs refused to support his weight. Before he could try to free himself from the obstruction--and what had he done to deserve this pain?--the ground opened up beneath him.

He fell--badly--tumbling down into brackish water filled with choking ash and chunks of debris--and sank like a stone into darkness.

A fitting grave. He only wished he could remember what he so desperately wanted to tell his Master before he died.

What had he done to deserve this pain?

Something tore at his shoulder, then latched onto his broken leg. It pulled, but even that held no hope to rouse him. He drifted now, in a raging inferno that would not be sated.

Breathe!

The voice seeped through the fog that surrounded his mind, tugging him back from the brink of death. He choked and shuddered and drew in a breath that made his broken ribs grate together.

He lay entombed, in darkness. His rescuer was gone, vanished, perhaps never existing. He had no strength to rise and find his way out of the dampening spell and into the forest, which meant he would die here, alone.

A shiver wracked his body and left him weakened in its wake.

When he shifted shape, it was in agony, his lips drawn back in a silent scream. But even that did not help him; despite the oppressive heat and the whine of mosquitos, he shivered in wet clothes, his wounds burning from the ash in the water.

In the end, spent and weakening, he curled up in the midst of the debris, closed his eyes, and gave himself up to the darkness. He had no strength left for living.




Next Update: October 2nd (2 chapters!)




House St. Clair Home

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Heart's Desire, part 29

Chapter 14

Inattention had been the death of many a hiker in the woods, and Malachi knew better than most to keep his mind on the path and not on other things. But when he stepped out of the forest and into a clearing--a clearing that should have been Sennet's stone cottage--he knew that something was very wrong, because the house in the clearing was most definitely not Sennet's house.

For a moment, he thought that he might have lost his way and doubled back on his own trail, but the house that sat in the clearing was not on fire. In fact, as he studied it from the shelter of the forest, it looked--whole.

It was the house he had just seen in ruin. The shape of the chimney and the porches could not belong to its twin. Surely not.

My lord, something-- He opened the bond automatically, or tried to, but nothing happened. His Master's presence did not appear. The bond had vanished from his mind, leaving a strange, aching emptiness behind.

But it was not broken. No one had died. Malachi doubted he would have been able to miss that kind of pain.

So that meant a spell of some sort, blocking the bond, perhaps the same way Josiah's kidnappers had blocked--

Malachi's thoughts stopped cold. Perhaps it was the same way Josiah's kidnappers had blocked the bond! He wished he knew more about magic so he could study it, and try to find a way to combat the spell. Even now, his mind struggled to contact his Master, even without the bond's familiar presence in the back of his mind.

With narrowed eyes, he studied the house.

There were no outward signs of habitation. No lights shone from the windows; there were no cars in the curving driveway and no furniture on the porches to show that the house was occupied. The flowers in the beds along the driveway were strange, though; gold and silver and shining in the sunlight.

Had he somehow slipped past the Veil into Faerie? But how would the house exist in two places at once?

Malachi tested the bond again, out of habit more than any hope that his Master would reply. What if--and this was a plausible thought, in truth--what if Jordan had somehow slipped into Faerie as well? And what if he waited in that house, not realizing the danger?

He had taken two steps into the clearing before he realized he had moved. And as he crept across the clearing--there was no real cover for him to hide behind--he wondered what would happen if his Master tried to open the bond and found him gone.

Malachi froze with his foot on the bottom step of the front porch, imagining his Master's rage. Should he risk his Master's anger to double check that Jordan was not inside the house? He could do a quick search and leave as quickly as possible. If he found Jordan, then perhaps his Master would overlook the dampening spell's effects.

The front door swung open at his touch, and Malachi stepped inside. What had been warped floorboards now shone in the sunlight, and the Oriental rugs that protected the floor were of fine quality and weave. There were trinkets on dark, polished tables and a glass-fronted bookcase along one wall.

And in the parlor, the eviscerated body of an elf lying in the middle of one of the rugs, his empty eye sockets turned towards the windows, his mouth gaping in a silent scream. Bloody gobbets of flesh glistened in the sunlight, as if whatever had--whatever had eaten him had been interrupted in its feast.

Suddenly wary, Malachi took a step backwards.

"Leaving so soon?"

The voice was female, cold and calm, but with an undercurrent of anger that reminded Malachi of his Master's fury.

Before Malachi could flee, someone grabbed his arms and wrenched them backwards. A black Hound appeared out of nowhere, snapping at his feet; Malachi tried to kick it, but a knife pressed across his throat soon disabused him of that notion.

"It would not be a good idea for you to move," his captor whispered, his breath reeking of blood.
The dead elf's body vanished in an instant. Malachi blinked, and a woman stood in its place--a woman dressed in red who seemed both familiar and strange. He stared at her, hardly daring to breathe.

What would his Master say now?

There were more of the black Hounds now--three more, all growling at him. Someone else stood on the other side of the room with her arms folded; Malachi did not realize who she was until she spoke.

"He is a Hound? Are you certain, Stefan?"

"I am as certain as I am certain that your hair is not naturally that yellow," Stefan snapped. "He is a Hound."

Malachi closed his eyes. What was Althea doing here? She was a member of the Council. This was worse than anything he could have imagined. Much, much worse. It would be best to die now at their hands instead of waiting for his Master to kill him later, if he managed to escape.

The knife vanished. Stefan shoved him forward, and he tripped over the edge of a rug and fell at the woman's feet.

He had to swallow twice before he found enough courage to speak. "I don't know what he's talking about. I'm sorry, but you have the wrong person."

The woman laughed. "Oh, no. Stefan wouldn't lie to me. How long has your Master allowed you to shift shape? I was under the impression that the Hounds were just that--Hounds."

"As was I," Althea said darkly. "Does Lucas know this little tidbit?"

"I'm sorry," Malachi said again, his throat dry. "I--"

"Stefan." It was an order, but Malachi didn't realize what it meant until a black Hound attacked, sinking its teeth into his arm before he could even think to defend himself. He cried out and twisted sideways as another one snapped only inches from his face, and another one sank its teeth into his shoulder and pulled him down. He kicked and fought them, but when the fourth one's teeth closed over his throat, he lay still and closed his eyes, waiting for death.

He had almost shifted. But that was what they wanted: proof that he was a Hound.

"Wait." The woman's voice spared him, at least for the moment. "There is an easier way to do this. Stefan, pick him up."

Malachi's legs buckled when Stefan hauled him to his feet. "I am no Hound," he whispered, barely able to force the words past the panic that had lodged in his throat. He felt blood slip down his arm--no doubt dripping on the floor where the elf's blood had been.

"I saw you shift a century ago," Stefan whispered in his ear. "I saw it."

Malachi closed his eyes. He remembered Stefan now, and remembered his doom; the accident that would now be his death. "I'm only nineteen," he whispered without much hope. "Surely if I were that old--"

"Silence!" The woman approached him now, her voice cold. "I can truthspell you, Hound. And I will do it if you don't stop lying to me."

"Do it anyway," Althea snapped, and spoke the words of the spell. "No. I'll do it. As a member of the Council, I'm entitled to know these things. Does Lucas know you can shift shape?"

Malachi fought against the spell, but it fastened its teeth in his mind as effectively as the absent bond. He bit through his lip in the effort to stay silent, but he knew it was only a matter of time.

"Does Lucas know you can shift shape?" Althea asked again.

The spell drove daggers of pain inside Malachi's mind. It was almost akin to the pain when his Master had torn his memories out of his mind, but this pain held an almost--familiar flavor.
As if Althea was using someone else's power to do this. Or was it the Council's shared power? Was the familiarity Lucas Lane?

"Answer me!" Althea shouted, and backed her words with power.

Malachi sagged in Stefan's grasp. "Yes."

"You fought well," the woman said, almost purring now. "But it's really hopeless. Are you one of Gabriel's Hounds?"

"Yes." The word slipped past his lips without a single effort on his part.

"How long has he allowed you to shift?"

He could have explained. About Josiah, and what had happened when he disappeared. He could have spent the next ten minutes telling them everything, but he realized after a moment that he didn't have to explain. The truthspell only wanted the truth. A simple answer. Nothing complicated.

"Since this morning."

Stefan shook him. "That's a lie! I saw you shift before!"

Malachi remained silent. The truthspell prodded him to defend himself, but Stefan's words had not been formed into a question.

"It is quite obvious that Gabriel did not allow him to shift when you saw him," Althea said, and Malachi heard some sort of triumph in her tone of voice.

"How long will it take for your Master to find you gone from the bond you share?" the woman asked.

Malachi stared at her. She knew about the bond as well? A part of his mind laughed at his surprise. Of course she knew. Why else create the dampening spell?

"I don't know," he whispered, which was the truth. "It could be minutes. It could be hours."

"Then we will not keep you," the woman said, ignoring Althea's shout of surprise. "Return here in two days. And remember nothing of this. Nothing."

"What?" Althea had left her spot by the wall now, her face suffused with rage. "Magdalen, you can't just let him go!"

The name Magdalen seemed familiar, but Malachi could not think through the fog that spread through his mind. He stared at the woman who stood in front of him, his eyes wide.

"Who--Who are you?"

"Impressive," Stefan murmured behind him.

"He won't remember a thing," Magdalen said. "And he will return here in two days. We don't want Gabriel to get suspicious--not yet, at least. We have two weeks to ferret out the Hunt's secrets."

"But you told me to kill one Hound and kidnap another. What about that?"

"Silence!" Magdalen's voice rose. "We have time, Althea. Plenty of time. This will work out better than I had ever hoped."

Darkness swam in front of Malachi's gaze now. He blinked and tried to clear his sight, but the darkness persisted. He couldn't see Magdalen anymore--or Althea. He couldn't hear their voices.

Whose voices?

"What about his wounds?"

Desperately, Malachi tried to fix something of this in his mind--in the hope that his Master would discover its presence and tear away the fog. But he couldn't seem to grasp it--any of it--and the darkness swirled around him, dulling his hearing as well.

"Hounds heal fast. And he won't know what happened. Even Gabriel cannot pierce my spells."
"You sound very certain of that."

"I am."

Chapter 15

"I regret that I have to contact you in urgency," Lucas had said when he called. "But there was a child living in the house, and I'm worried that he still might be inside. Can you come?"

And of course, Sennet had come. Only later did she find out that Jordan was living in the burning house with the Council's blessing--and that he was only ten years old.

Her presence, of course, had been useless. She's sensed no sign of Jordan earlier when she met Malachi and Emle at the very same house, and yet Malachi had claimed he was there. That meant Jordan had probably developed a talent the Council did not know about, and that also meant he might be very hard to find.

Even Gabriel's Hounds might have difficulty tracking him down--if he were still alive.

She had stayed with Lucas until the sun had risen, and then she had walked back home with an invitation to join Lucas at the house the next day--to see if they could find Jordan's body.

It had been years since she'd stayed up all night. And at first, when she saw Malachi sitting on her doorstep, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, but when he stood, uncertainty and fear plain in his gaze, she wondered if something had happened to change his Master's mind.

"I am--" His tongue tripped over the words. "I am to tell you what I could not tell you before." He held himself stiffly, almost as if he were in pain.

"With your Master's leave?" Sennet had wondered, after meeting Gabriel, if Malachi was, somehow, his Hound. But she did not know enough about the Hunt to answer her own questions, and asking Lucas had not seemed the right thing to do.

Malachi nodded. "He said that if something happened to Emle, he would rather you know now."

It was a wise decision, considering how cautious they had been yesterday morning. "Then let's go inside, where my wards are the strongest." When he hesitated, she smiled at him. "I can make some tea, if you'd like."

"Thank you," Malachi whispered after a moment of indecision. "I--I would like that."

He followed her inside and stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at the inside of her house as if he had never seen such a sight before.

And she noticed that his clothing was torn in places, and that he favored his right leg a little. "Are you hurt?" She felt no pain from him, only confusion and--dread.

"No, I--" His leg buckled, and he lurched against the kitchen table. "I don't know."

Sennet slid a chair under him, and he collapsed, burying his head in his hands. That movement made his sleeve slide up, and she saw a puncture wound on his arm--still seeping blood. "What happened?"

"I don't know." He stared at his arm as if seeing the wound for the first time. "I don't remember this--"

"Let me heal you," Sennet said, offering him her hand.

He shrank away from her. "No. I should--I should tell you what I came for first."

Sennet sat down across from him. "Then tell me. But let me heal you afterwards. Please."

Malachi rubbed his throat. There were marks there as well, but fading fast. "If my Master--"

"You have to get permission to be healed?" Sennet's voice must have risen more than she wished, because he flinched a little at her tone.

"I--" He shivered. "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. The last thing I recall is coming here, and I don't think I was attacked on the way." He tried to smile, but his smile did not reach his eyes. "I think I would have remembered that."

"Your Master didn't--" Sennet tried to fish around for words that would not anger him. "You weren't punished?"

Malachi shivered. "No." He stared at her, his eyes wide. "My Master--What would be the point of punishment if I forgot what I was punished for?"

"You're hurt elsewhere, aren't you?" Sennet prodded. "Your leg?"

"Hounds heal fast," Malachi whispered, and then froze.

"You are a Hound, then," Sennet said gently.

"Yes." He rubbed one hand across his face. "We all--We all have human forms."

"I see," Sennet tried to fit her mind around her impression of the Wild Hunt and the Hound sitting in front of her. "And Emle is--?"

"Emle is our Master's lady, of course," Malachi said, frowning. "Our Master saved her life, long ago, and she--well, she left for a while. But then she came back." He rubbed his arm again. "Can I--Can I use the same words Emle used?"

"You can try," Sennet said.

Malachi nodded. "Know nothing more than I would have you to know, then," he said, and extended his hand across the table.

When Sennet took his hand, she found that his wounds weren't nearly as bad as she feared. They were healing already, as he had said, Hounds healed fast. But she helped them along a bit, and by the time she was finished, Malachi's face had regained a little of its color.

He licked his lips. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Sennet said. The phrase had worked again--she knew nothing other than what he had already told her. "Would you like some tea?"

"If--If it isn't a problem," Malachi whispered.

"Does Lucas know about this?" Sennet couldn't imagine such a secret being kept a secret for very long. She filled the teapot and turned on the stove, setting out two earthenware mugs in the process.

"Yes."

"But no one else knows? Why didn't he tell the rest of the Council?" Sennet returned to her seat to hear his reply.

Malachi waited a moment to answer, as if he were waiting for a prompt. Or a response from his Master. It was obvious that the Hunt had some sort of bond, after all; how else could Gabriel send his Hounds to search the forest and not keep them under some sort of control?

"Is your Master listening to us?" she asked.

"Not now," Malachi said. He seemed to be a bit more relaxed now, as if the initial telling and the healing of his mysterious wounds had loosened some of his tension. "I asked him why Lucas never shared his knowledge with the rest of the Council."

"And?" From what she knew of the Council, keeping secrets was not something the rest of its members would look kindly upon.

"He said because Lucas is an honorable man," Malachi said as if he didn't quite believe that explanation. "His uncle knew as well."

"And you've kept this a secret from everyone else for how long?" Sennet asked.

"Almost a century," Malachi whispered. "A century in less than two weeks, now."

"Midsummer's Eve," Sennet said. It made sense now--Emle's worry, Malachi's cryptic references.

"Yes." Malachi seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say for a moment, but Sennet didn't think he was arguing with his Master. There was no fear in his gaze at the moment. And surely Gabriel would not punish him for obeying his order. "We were not--permitted our human forms after Josiah disappeared ten years ago."

"Josiah disappeared?" Ten years ago had been right around the time that she had found Emle in the forest, and subsequently delivered Eri, who was, of course, Gabriel's daughter. How could such a thing happen and no one be the wiser? "What happened?"

The teapot's whistle saved Malachi from replying, but only for a moment. As Sennet turned to pour hot water over the teabags, he continued the story.

"Josiah was a student at Darkbrook," he said. "He--He had a wonderful talent for magic, and our Master allowed him to attend classes for almost two years before he vanished. After that--" He had to take a deep breath to continue. "After that, we were not allowed to shift shape until last morning when Eri removed the constraints our Master placed on me, and Emle asked if she could visit you."

"You've only been human for a day?" Sennet asked, marveling that he had functioned so well. "And Eri did what?"

"It was a long day," Malachi whispered, and accepted the mug of tea when she handed it to him. He sipped it in silence for a minute, his eyes closed against the steam. "Eri wanted to know why I couldn't shift shape like she could. I tried to tell her, but she didn't listen."

Sennet studied him without speaking. He certainly seemed not to hold any animosity against his Master for forcing him to stay a Hound for the past ten years. "What did Lucas do when Josiah vanished?"

"Lucas--He--When Josiah vanished, our Master suspected the Council," Malachi said, opening his eyes. "I--I disobeyed him and went to Lucas' house in human form, hoping that Lucas would tell me the truth."

"Without your Master's permission?" Sennet asked, trying to imagine the cool, collected Gabriel she had met losing his temper. It was a horrifying thought. "What did he do?"

"He--" Malachi took a sip of tea, but his hand was shaking now, belying his reaction to her question. And then, stiffly, "It is enough that you know. I am not to tell you our entire history." He pushed his chair back and stood, carefully not meeting her gaze. "I should go."

"No, please," Sennet said, suddenly fearful that he would be punished for telling her too much. "That was my curiosity, nothing more. I have no need to know. Please ask your Master if you can stay a little longer."

Malachi bit his lip, but the news must have been promising, because he sat back down. "My Master says I can stay for a little while longer. They have found no sign of Jordan in the forest."
He picked up his mug again, and stared into its depths as if reading his fortune. "My Master was not--pleased--with me."

From his tone of voice, Sennet knew he was leaving far too much to speculation. But what could she do? He was not her responsibility, after all. And he was in no present danger as far as she could tell. His fear of his Master was not new.

"But you never found Josiah?" Would Jordan's disappearance end the same way? Did anyone care about him as much as they had obviously cared about Josiah?

"We found no sign of him," Malachi said. "No trail, no blood, no spells to mask his leaving. He just--vanished."

And the Hunt had retreated, Sennet thought. Gabriel had refused his Hounds their human form, and they had limped along for the past ten years, or, at least, until Emle wished to see a Healer. And then Gabriel had changed his mind. Eri had grown up in the midst of all this. What did Gabriel think of his precocious daughter?

And now Eri would have a sister.

"Can you tell me what Lucas said?" Sennet asked, hoping that this question would not anger Gabriel. "He must have convinced your Master that the Council was not involved."

"He swore to me that he knew nothing," Malachi whispered. "Josiah was to be his pupil. Lucas swore--" He stopped, then, and closed his eyes, listening to a voice only he could hear. "My Master says that of course he suspected the Council. Josiah had been chosen to study advanced magic, and my Master thought that Lucas might attempt to remove Josiah from my Master's influence. But Lucas denied any involvement, and my--my Master believed him, because Lucas has always been an honorable man."

Sennet hoped that his trust was in the right place. The Council would have been her first suspect in such a disappearance, but since Josiah had not been seen for a decade, she doubted they were involved. Still, she could ask Lucas about him and listen to his version of the story.

"Tell your Master that I will not betray his trust," she said.

"He says thank you," Malachi reported. He tipped up his mug to stare into the bottom, then set it down on the table again. "I should go."

This time, she thought he spoke for himself and not for his Master. "If you need anything, you'll let me know? If Emle needs anything?"

"I think I will be allowed to come," Malachi said, and pushed back his chair again. "Thank you for listening, Sennet."

"You're welcome," Sennet said. She wanted to smile at his serious tone of voice, but the Hunt's trust was a very serious thing.

And Gabriel had not impressed her at being a very trusting person.

She let Malachi out the front door, and watched as he slipped into the forest. Only after he had vanished did she realize just how tired she was.

But if she slept now, she would never manage to sleep at night. Sighing, she closed her front door and walked into the kitchen to drink the dregs of her tea and contemplate what she now knew about the Wild Hunt.




(Beginning October 1st, I will be posting daily until my birthday on October 14th, which will be the last chapter and the epilogue!)



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Heart's Desire, Part 28

Chapter 13

Kyren awoke to murmuring voices nearby--Amalea and someone else. For a moment, he couldn't imagine why Amalea was in his rooms, but then he remembered Magdalen's present.

Josiah.

He opened his eyes and found himself in one of her chairs, his body covered by a finely worked quilt. His neck ached from the odd position he had fallen asleep in, but his mind felt refreshed--an improvement over the past few weeks. Perhaps the lack of wine had something to do with that. After all, he'd spent the last three weeks drowning his brain in alcohol.

Josiah still lay in Amalea's bed, his eyes closed and sunken, the bandage around his hand wet with blood. He was not awake as far as Kyren could tell. Which meant that Amalea had involved someone else in this--with a whispered oath, Kyren turned around to see who it was.

"I could not deny my grandmother entrance to my rooms," Amalea said, as if she expected him to protest.

Mirella was ancient, even for an elf. A tiny, bird-like woman with bright blue eyes, she had relinquished the crown to Amalea's mother many years before. That had not stopped Amalea's mother from naming her as Second to the Queen, which was a powerful position, indeed.

"Kyren, it is good to see you doing the right thing for a change," Mirella said, her tone of voice taking the sting out of the words. "I believe what Amalea has told me. And she believes you."

Kyren had to swallow twice to wet his throat. "That's a blessing," he said, "because I am not certain anyone else will." He glanced back at Josiah. "Has he--"

"Not as yet," Amalea said before he could finish. "Grandmother thinks we should summon a Healer for him."

It was past dawn, and the sunlight shone outside. But Amalea's rooms were still dim, no doubt to spare Josiah the pain of the light. After all, he had not seen sunlight for ten years.

"It would be disastrous if he died, especially now," Mirella said. "Do you even realize--no. Of course you don't. I have my doubts either Magdalen or this Althea person even knew who he was."

"You--You know?" Kyren asked, tearing his gaze away from the windows.

"Yes. But he'll have to tell you, since I promised someone long ago not to mention it." She sighed, as if remembering--and, perhaps, regretting--that long-ago promise. "It will suffice for me to say that he is not as young as he seems."

That gave him no clues, but Kyren supposed she hadn't intended her words to give him anything. He supposed he was lucky, even then, that she hadn't thrown him into the dungeons to rot like Josiah had for ten endless years.

"If we summon the Healer--" Kyren struggled to find the right words to ask his question. "Won't she insist on contacting the Council?"

"Healers are neutral," Amalea said with some impatience. "You know that, Kyren."

"Yes, but even in this instance?" Kyren asked. "This isn't some battle, or a simple wound. He was held prisoner in this castle for ten years!"

"I hope you aren't suggesting we keep him prisoner for another decade," Mirella said sharply. "Because if you are suggesting such a thing, I will begin to think that you've taken leave of what little senses you possess, Kyren. Josiah's place is with his Master, not us."

"His--His Master?" Kyren asked, his mind racing. He only knew of one 'Master' of anything, and that was Gabriel. But surely--surely that would not be possible.

Mirella pursed her lips. "I will say no more."

Kyren knew better than to pursue that line of questioning. "Did you--Cousin, did you tell her what Magdalen desires?"

"To control the Hunt?" Amalea asked. "Yes. We were discussing what to do to warn Gabriel when you woke up."

"It is what she desires once she controls the Hunt that concerns me," Mirella said. "Do you know, Kyren? She can't think that the Council will allow it--"

"They won't be able to stop it if she has her way," Amalea said. "And she could force the Hunt to hunt the Council."

"You intend to warn the Hunt?" Kyren shook his head. "We have no treaty with the Hunt. Gabriel could just as well--" All at once, he could not think of what Gabriel might do in response to the news of the plot against him. "And what of the Council, then? Shall we warn them as well?"

"It would be advisable to warn Lucas," Mirella said. "I knew his great-uncle, Peter, and I've spoken with Lucas before. He is a honorable man."

Kyren slumped in his chair. What would happen to him once the secret was out? "I will go ask the Healer to come, since this is my--"

"Kyren, this is not your fault." Mirella stood and crossed to where he sat, her gaze both firm and concerned. "And I believe you would do best to stay in the castle for the time being--at least until we know you will be safe."

He should have expected this. They wouldn't want him to leave the castle. This was just a pretty way to look at imprisonment. "Of course," he whispered, and huddled in the chair. "Am I to be allowed to stay in my rooms? Or will the dungeons do?"

"You can keep Josiah company until he's well enough to leave," Mirella snapped. "And stop feeling sorry for yourself. You're being pardoned, Kyren. You should be pleased!"

She stopped beside the bed and stared down at Josiah. "If I had known--" Her eyes were suspiciously bright when she glanced back at Amalea. "Is there someone in the castle you trust enough to send, Amalea? I'd rather you stay as well. Your parents will want to know a bit of this, and Kyren can stay here, just in case he awakens."

"What of the Hunt and the Council, then?" Kyren asked. "I feel as if I should do something to atone for this. I--I knew he was there three weeks ago." He glanced up at Mirella. "I should do something."

"You are doing something," Amalea said. "No one is blaming you for this, Kyren." She bit her lip. "I could send Eilan."

"Then do so," Mirella said. "The quicker he is healed, the sooner we can contact the Council and the Hunt. We have a little time, I think."

"I hope," Kyren whispered, staring at Josiah again.

Amalea left then, too intent on her mission to notice Kyren's fear.

"Kyren, you will worry yourself into an early grave." Mirella placed one hand on his shoulder. "While your part in this was not small, you have acted honorably. Even Gabriel will not be able to ignore that."

"I feel that there is something more I can do," Kyren said, frustrated. "That sitting here is--"

"Sitting with him is the best thing anyone can do at the moment," Mirella said. "Amalea's wards are in place and active, so do not leave this room."

"I won't," Kyren said, but even her assurances did not make him feel any more useful.

"I will be back soon," Mirella said.

When she was gone, and the silence in the room grew too loud for him to bear, Kyren pulled a thin reed flute from his belt. It wasn't finished yet--he'd abandoned it soon after Magdalen had summoned him to her rooms--but with the little penknife, he could finish it now.

The simple act of carving soothed something deep inside his soul. And when it was finished, he put it to his lips and began to play, hoping against hope that this small effort would enter Josiah's dreams and help him remember that he was no longer alone.



Next Update: September 28


House St. Clair Home

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