Chapter 8

The sun was beginning to set as I eased my truck out of the woods. I kept the radio turned off to minimize distractions. If there was a white stag or a wild boar in the vicinity, I didn't want to miss it.

My gaze snagged on a flash of movement, and I immediately hit the brakes as Officer Leo Kilkenny jogged into view.

More of a stud than a stag.

I cut the engine and stepped outside. "Hey, stranger."

He slowed to a halt next to the truck. "Hey, Clay. Coming from Bridger Farm?"

"I am. Phaedra and I are friends now." I wasn't sure why I felt compelled to add that. I quickly tried to change the subject to smooth over my awkwardness. "So, how are you settling in?" Officer Leo arrived in Fairhaven after I did, replacing a cop killed by a monster in the woods, not that he or Chief Garcia knew the real circumstances of Officer Lindley's death. I'd grown fond of Leo. He was the human equivalent of a Labrador—handsome, friendly, and with boundless energy.

"Terrific, honestly. I love being close to Mother Nature and still have New York City practically on my doorstep. It's the best of both worlds."

"I wondered whether the small-town atmosphere would suffocate you after a few months."

He pulled a face. "Me? No way. I can make myself comfortable anywhere."

I believed it. Leo oozed charisma and good vibes. I had no doubt he was already a popular figure in certain Fairhaven social circles.

"Is this your usual running trail?"

"No, I like to mix it up. The same routine day after day would make me a little nuts."

"I understand. I get a little stir-crazy staying in my house all day."

He snorted. "Yes, that tiny, cramped house of yours. Totally relatable." He shaded his eyes as he peered at the sky. "Wow. That's a lot of birds."

I followed his gaze to see a flock of black birds soaring overhead. Not just any black birds.

"Are those crows?" he asked.

"No," I replied, my stomach tensing. "Ravens."

"Yeah, I guess they're too big to be crows." He observed them for another moment. "I guess this town really does attract all manner of critters."

My throat thickened. "You have no idea."

I couldn't tell Leo that ravens were harbingers of death, and that their presence was a sign of things to come.

Very bad things.

Grinning at the problematic portent, he said, "Hey, don't they call a group of ravens a murder?"

"An unkindness." My voice hitched as I answered. "A group of crows is called a murder."

Leo shifted his focus to me. "You okay, Lorelei?"

"Always." I put on my game face. There was nothing the local police could do. Humans with guns were useless against the supernatural forces that promised to gather in Fairhaven.

"It's cool if you're not, you know," he said.

I snapped back to earth. "Sorry?"

"You don't always have to be okay. It isn't a requirement."

It seemed my game face needed work. "Thanks. I appreciate you saying that."

Leo squinted at the trees behind me. "I think someone's coming."

I turned to see a short creature with curved, pointed ears emerging from the woods. Shit. A hobgoblin.

"Hey, kid," Leo called. "Whatcha you doing out here?"

The hobgoblin grinned like the cheeky little bastard that he was. "I'm older than I look."

Leo wasn't buying it. "Listen, I liked to skip school when I was your age, too. I get it, but I'm a police officer now." He tapped his imaginary badge. "I can't condone truancy."

"What a moron," the hobgoblin said.

His response didn't escape Leo's attuned ears. "Dude, uncalled for!"

"It's after school hours," I said gently. "Let me have a minute with him. I don't know why, but kids with an attitude problem tend to like me."

Leo snorted. "Gee, I can't imagine why."

I was relieved when he gave us space and disappeared into the woods.

I whipped toward the hobgoblin. "Did you come through the crossroads?"

His grin broadened. "The guards were easily distracted."

This didn't bode well. "What did you do?"

The creature held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Relax. Only a bit of mischief, although my guess is they'll be arguing until midnight."

"They're werewolves," I snapped. "If their tempers flare hot enough, they'll do more to each other than argue."

The hobgoblin offered an unrepentant shrug. "My job is done."

His job. "Vortigern sent you."

His green eyes fastened on me. "You know the master huntsman?"

"Only by reputation. Are you a member of the party?"

"Of a sort."

I scrutinized him. "What does that mean? Are you a scout?" I sucked in a breath. "You're a spy."

"Could be." His gaze drifted to the section of the woods where Leo was checking his phone. "This is a human town."

"Mainly."

The hobgoblin returned his gaze to me. "But you're not human and neither are the guards. You said they're werewolves."

"This town is under the protection of many powerful beings. Advise your leader to abandon his quest or face the consequences."

He regarded me with curiosity. "I thought you might be one of the Fair Folk, but your ears are too banal. What are you?"

My fingers moved to stroke my left ear. "Rude. My ears aren't banal."

He flicked his curved ear. "They are from my point of view. Get it? Point?" He chuckled at his own pun.

"You're spying on Matilda again, aren't you?"

His round eyes answered my question before he did. "You know the Night Mallt?"

"Everybody knows the Night Mallt," I lied. "She's famous."

"She was skulking around our settlement again. I followed her here through the crossroads. The guards seemed to know her."

"She's on the list of approved visitors. How do I stop the guards from arguing?"

The hobgoblin heaved a sigh. "I cannot tell you that."

This little guy was starting to piss me off.

"Are you two finished yet?" Leo yelled. "Do I need to give this kid a lift home or to an after-school program? It's getting dark."

"One minute," I shouted. I leaned closer to the hobgoblin. "Maybe I should let him take you. I think you might enjoy the experience of an American middle school. The stench of sweaty armpits alone will have you heaving into your buckled shoes."

His face paled. "If you send me to a school, I will create more mischief and mayhem than any administrators can handle. Picture an unscheduled fire alarm, a bomb threat, and a fistfight in the hallway all at the same time."

I inhaled sharply. "You wouldn't."

His grin stretched into pure malice. "Oh, but I would."

I itched to get inside his head and see what nightmares I could conjure for him, but I knew it would be an overreaction, and Leo's close proximity meant I couldn't risk it anyway.

"Tell your master to stay out of Wild Acres. He has no business here." I straightened to my full height. "Tell him if he chooses to come, then he will never leave. I'll make sure of it." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leo sauntering toward us. "Hurry now. Deliver my message."

The hobgoblin sprinted into the woods.

"Hey!" Leo yelled.

"It's okay," I said. "He doesn't even live in Fairhaven. He's camping with his family."

"In those shoes? They looked like they belonged to a Pilgrim."

"I think they might be Amish."

"I should probably head for home now anyway. I tend to overdo it when I jog, and the chief wants me on meter reader duty bright and early tomorrow."

I laughed. "What did you do to deserve that?"

He cringed. "I ate the last cronut." He swung his arms back and forth to limber up. "See you around."

"‘Bye, Leo."

The moment he disappeared from view, I locked the truck and dashed through the forest to the crossroads. I needed to make sure the werewolves weren't trying to kill each other.

I was a fast runner—so fast, in fact, that I narrowly avoided a collision with the Night Mallt and her mare. The horse reared up in protest.

"Matilda. Thank the gods, it's you," I said, panting.

She fought to regain control of her steed. "What are you doing out here? You should be avoiding the forest."

"I was with Officer Leo. We encountered a hobgoblin."

Her eyebrows inched up. "One of Vortigern's, I presume?"

I nodded. "He was following you. I sent him to deliver a message."

Matilda offered a sympathetic smile. "A valiant effort, cariad, but Vortigern is as stubborn as they come. He wouldn't be dissuaded by a threatening message from the Morrigan herself."

"Then he's an idiot."

"I said he was stubborn, not smart. How did your police officer react to the hobgoblin?"

"Mistook him for a truant child."

"He lacks the Sight."

"Either that, or he didn't notice the pronounced ears. He noticed the shoes, though. If I were a hobgoblin participating in the Wild Hunt, I might invest in some comfortable boots."

"Their feet are tougher than yours. Be glad he wasn't barefoot. The hair on their disfigured toes…" She shuddered. "Another nightmare for your collection."

"No, thank you."

"Why are you headed toward the crossroads? To ensure the hobgoblin obeyed your command?"

"To check on the guards. He spread a bit of mischief in order to pass through unseen. I need to fix it."

"You'll be faster on horseback." She offered me a hand and pulled me atop the mare's back. We rode hard until we were within twenty yards. Matilda slowed to a stop, and we dismounted.

Angry voices shook the pine needles from the trees.

"The book is always better than the movie," a guard rumbled.

"Not The Lord of the Rings."

"Blasphemy! Tolkien wrote a classic."

"No, Viggo Mortensen starred in a classic movie."

"Bite me!"

"Oh, I'm about to."

Their argument was so heated, I was shocked they were still in their human forms.

"I see your concern," Matilda said. "Allow me." She ventured forth to address the werewolves. "Ahem, gentlemen. May I interrupt?"

Two heads whipped in her direction and let loose menacing growls in stereo. "You, again?" one of them said.

When she opened her mouth, I expected a tongue lashing to follow. Instead, the Night Mallt began to sing. The sound she produced was nothing like the sharp and commanding voice she typically used. The notes were high and soft, and I felt my own muscles relax in their wake.

The werewolves responded even more quickly; their bodies slumped to the ground, and they curled up next to each other like a toddler and his beloved puppy.

"Is this a charm?" I asked.

"An ancient Welsh lullaby," she whispered. "When they awaken, they'll no longer be under the hobgoblin's enchantment."

"While they're sleeping it off, who's going to watch the crossroads?"

"Call your alpha friend and have him retrieve his minions and post new ones."

"They're not his minions, but I get the gist." I pulled out my phone and sent West a text message. "The hobgoblin said you were skulking around their settlement. Were you trying to get more intel?"

"Naturally."

"You shouldn't go back there again. It's too risky."

Her face clouded over. "I suppose you're right."

"No good news, I take it?"

She scowled. "No."

"Is there any hope we can prevent him from coming at all?"

The scowl deepened. "No."

Strengthening my mental defenses, I patted her arm. I knew enough of Matilda's history to know I wasn't eager to glimpse her nightmares.

"It isn't your fault," I said.

"I owe you better than this."

"Why would you say that? You don't owe me anything."

Her gaze lowered. "Do they have to snore?"

"I suspect all werewolves snore."

The hint of a smile appeared. "And what about your demon lover? Does he snore?"

"I wouldn't know." What I should've said was, "None of your business."

Her eyes locked on me. "What are you waiting for, cariad? Life is too short."

"I thought you didn't want me to date him."

"The threat of the Wild Hunt has altered my perspective."

"I'm a goddess. I'm not in a rush," I said.

"Excuses," she spat. "What's your plan? Hold off until you're ninety?"

"That depends. Will I still look like this?"

She made a disgruntled sound at the back of her throat. "You've already lost so much. I was wrong to dissuade you. Don't lose opportunities to connect."

"You should talk. Where are your special connections?"

She gave me a powerful look. "I'm here with one right now."

"We're talking about romantic connections."

"And I'm talking about love. Family. Friends. Lovers. Those relationships are all powered by love, but first you must connect. Without that…" She shrugged. "You'll never make it to the next stage—the one that deepens and strengthens those bonds until there's nothing in the world that can break them."

"Sounds like we're interrupting an important conversation." West stood at the entrance to the clearing, along with Bert and Anna.

Bert glanced at the snoring werewolves. "Sleeping on the job again? I think these two should be taken out of the rotation."

"It isn't their fault," I said. "A hobgoblin enchanted them."

"I wish someone would enchant me to sleep," Bert said. "I'm lucky if I get six hours a night."

"The sleep is necessary to break the enchantment," Matilda explained. "The hobgoblin is prone to spreading mischief and mayhem."

Rather like a certain goddess currently residing in my house.

"Their argument would've escalated until they murdered each other," I added.

West looked at me. "Appreciate the heads up, Lorelei."

Anna's eyes narrowed. "He called you Lorelei."

"That's my name."

"But he always calls you Clay. When did you two make nice and why did no one inform me?"

Ignoring her question, West nudged the boot of the nearest snoozing werewolf. "Help me carry him to the truck, would you?"

Anna grimaced. "Fine, but you take his feet. They stink."

With the immediate crisis averted, Matilda and I spent the ride back to the Castle discussing the next one. I wanted to know everything there was to know about the Wild Hunt. No detail was too boring.

"I may not have been able to prevent their arrival, but I was able to obtain more specifics about Vortigern's style."

I cast her a sidelong look. "Style? Like what, he wears a feathered cap and a frilly white blouse when he hunts?"

She smacked my thigh. "His process. Every new leader changes tactics. It's the same way a new homeowner puts their own stamp on a property." She paused. "Except you."

"They're still hunting. How different can the tactics be? Find prey. Attack prey. Wreak havoc in the process."

Matilda glowered at me as she dismounted outside the Castle. "You have no respect for the hunt."

"I'm not a fan of hunting for sport," I said, sliding to the ground.

"Vortigern is a different beast. His style reflects his personality. Methodical. Merciless."

"Were you?" I asked.

Her eyes snapped to me. "Was I what?"

"Merciless." I'd seen Matilda in action outside the hunt, and I'd seen the photos left in Vortigern's wake.

I needed to ask.

"Does it matter, bach?"

I didn't answer.

"No. I found the thrill of the chase exhilarating, whereas Vortigern is more concerned with the outcome."

"I guess the fact that he's methodical means we have time to prepare."

"Exactly. A blessing in disguise." She offered a meek smile. "You see, cariad? My visit there wasn't entirely in vain."

"Still too risky, especially when his spies spotted you. What were you doing—holding a glass against his wall to eavesdrop?"

She bit back a smile. "Something to that effect."

"What else did you find out?"

"My informant tells me to first expect a woodpecker."

I choked back laughter. "Seriously?"

Her expression remained neutral. "The woodpecker will be tasked with ascertaining the weather conditions and reporting back to Vortigern." She shrugged. "It isn't traditional, but I can see the rationale. Animals respond to barometric pressure. High pressure means larger game will be in search of a food source, eager to feed. The report will help Vortigern predict their movements."

"He's really convinced we've got magical hunting grounds, huh?"

"Well, you do have the white stag, not to mention you've had an assortment of creatures in the short time you've lived here. He would be delighted to chase a culebrón through the forest."

I waved a hand in the direction of the forest. "I don't think we should waste time watching for a woodpecker. Finding one in Wild Acres would be like trying to find a pearl in an all-you-can-eat oyster bar."

She tethered the mare to the porch post. "Then we leave the bird be and focus on the next phase."

"Which is?"

"Scouts."

"You weren't kidding about the methodical part."

"His goal is to make the path to his prey as seamless as possible. As I said, he has no interest in the thrill of the chase. His only desire is the outcome. To see the devastation he's wrought. Makes him feel like a god." Her face darkened. "And we cannot allow him that satisfaction."

I climbed onto the front porch and sat. "I have an unrelated question for you. Which entities are associated with a rose?"

"Entities? As in a company or organization?"

"Or beings like the Moirai … the Fates."

Matilda regarded me for a quiet moment. "Tell me what's happened," she whispered.

"Nothing. I'm researching the rose as a mythological symbol, and it's proven to be a popular one."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why the Fates?"

"Because they're not quite goddesses. I figured entity was a more accurate term because it encompasses more than deities."

"This is clearly more than nothing, but if you don't wish to tell me, I won't force you." She clucked her tongue. "After all I've done for you, yet you still don't trust me."

"It isn't about trust. It's about protection. I don't understand the significance yet, and I don't want to endanger you by sharing the information too soon."

"Your grandfather has a lot to answer for," she muttered.

"Pops did the best he could with the situation he was given. I didn't raise the subject to provoke an argument. If you don't have any suggestions, let's forget I even asked. The Wild Hunt should be the priority right now anyway."

"Quite true, especially with the white stag still on the loose. Have you assembled my team? We should start seeking the stag in earnest. Our greatest advantage right now is that Vortigern doesn't know of its presence."

My stomach churned. "What if we don't manage to find the stag before him?"

Matilda's eyes frosted over. "Then may the gods help us all."