Chapter Eleven

I had never seen so many people in my life.

Church potlucks, town meetings, and Black Friday at the Target in Bluff City were the extent of my experience with crowds—but as the Dullahan led Kaleb and me from the dungeon depths, the castle was alive with the dull roar of people.

The hallways were crammed, everyone moving like a river of people toward a set location. Kaleb remained the only wolf on four legs, but no one batted an eyelid. The air swirled with golden wolf magic, coating every single person as they trudged through the castle like an army ready to go to war.

I saw Dean in the crowd, though he didn't notice as I joined the stream of people ten feet away. He was taller than the rest of the crowd by at least a foot. I searched the crowd as we moved through the castle, briefly catching a glimpse of Mitchell and Wyatt in two separate places, their expressions blank as if every inch of their personality had been erased. Gone was the cocky grin on Mitchell's face or the malicious delight that Wyatt favored.

They moved like wolves in human form.

I scratched my neck, pulling my shirt collar away from my throat. Though it had been fine a moment ago, suddenly, my clothes seemed too tight.

I felt the vibrations of the palace as its parts shifted, though the movement was silent. The air was heavy. Each wolf put one foot in front of the other in perfect, eerie unison.

My fingers shook, and I curled my hands into fists. My palms had healed, but the phantom ache remained.

I expected opulence, but the castle was falling apart on the inside. The stone walls were coated in filth and a thick spiderweb blanket.

A glass display case sat in front of the main doors with a red cloak inside. It looked stiff, almost like it had been coated in blood and left to dry. Every other person kept moving, ignoring the cloak on display, but something about the fabric snagged my attention.

The embroidery alone was hundreds of hours of work. The thread was a strange kind of translucent. The design was more intricate than anything I could ever sew, even with all my experience.

Nudged forward, I continued through the castle. Finally, we reached an expansive room without a single item of furniture. The flagstones were coated in a thick layer of grime, with several scuff marks forming paths in the room. Packed to the gills with wolves, milling about as they waited for something.

The barest hint of sunlight filtered through the filthy windows lining one wall, and the view changed as the castle moved on its axis—though the ground felt steady where I stood.

The shadows in the corners of the room where the spiders made their homes grew until it was so dark I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. I could only hear the breathing of the people around me and feel their presence as they fidgeted in the darkness.

The sconces on the wall flared to life, no doubt for dramatic effect.

I'd only seen the Huntsman a few moments before, in the dungeon, but I didn't question how he'd gotten halfway across the castle in a matter of minutes. He wore a military jacket made up of brass buttons and tassels, which were ostentatious and no doubt uncomfortable to wear—the fastenings sat diagonally across his chest. I couldn't tell his age. His face was young enough, but it was stitched together wrong like someone had made a mistake on the seams of his mouth. His eyes held a dark kind of deadness that I associated with sharks. His hair was pitch black, swallowing the light, and two pointed ears poked out, giving him an elven appearance.

"The night of Samhain is upon us." The Huntsman tilted his chin, sending a challenging look at the crowd. "Shift and do your duties to the Gods and the Hunt."

The moment he spoke, my bones began to writhe under the surface of my skin, twisting and rearranging themselves. At first, I remained on two legs before it hit me like a punch to the stomach. I curled over, feeling the unbearable pain of a thousand needles pushing up through my skin. I looked down at my hands, seeing the fur sprout between my knuckles as my fingers shortened to stubs.

My grandmother's voice echoed through my skull.

Do not shift.

Do not succumb.

You are Sídhe .

I tried to scream, but my mouth changed shape, and my tongue grew longer. Any protests came as a whine and hacking cough. I fell to the floor and curled over as the waves of pain grew too much. Around me, the squelch of blood, skin, and bone echoed through the hall.

"Tonight, we hunt the white stag." The Huntsman announced.

Through bleary eyes, I watched the Huntsman stride away from the platform, leaving a room of people in agony as their bodies changed shape.

When the pain stopped, the world changed. The colors didn't look quite right. Surrounded by a wall of fur in every direction, I stood in the middle of a sea of wolves on four paws.

I hadn't believed it until that moment.

The Wild Hunt.

I bristled, my lips peeling away from my teeth.

The Huntsman had done something to me. He had changed me. He had turned me into this .

I was Sídhe.

My grandmother had told me that if I ignored the wolf. If I ignored the call of the wild, I didn't have to lose myself.

I had failed.

The wall behind the Huntsman's platform began to melt away as I stood amongst the rest of the wolves. Swirling mist and shadows leaked out of the portal at the front of the room. The magic smelled like ozone, thick and cloying.

The first wolves leaped onto the platform, forgoing the steps, racing for the mists, and disappearing into roiling shadows. One by one, the sea of wolves, with their mismatched coats of grey, red, brown, and black, all disappeared into the portal.

A few stayed behind. I recognized the silver wolf as Kaleb with his white-tipped tail. A black wolf with marmalade eyes and a russet wolf with a goofy grin—Wyatt.

I didn't recognize the other wolves, though they kept to my side, nudging me toward the swirling mists. My feet skidded on the stones, and my body began to shake. I let out an animalistic whine and began to pant, unable to control my reactions.

The other wolves sat down. Kaleb walked up to my face and lowered his orange eyes to meet mine. I couldn't speak, but he held my gaze before glancing back at the portal.

Every hair on my body lifted, and I felt the Huntsman's watchful eyes from the corner of the room. We were the last wolves left in the hall; the others had passed through the mists until only the five of us remained.

A wave of emotion washed over me, feelings that didn't feel like mine, pressing against my will until my back legs buckled with strain as if a weight sat on my back. An unspoken command that my body couldn't help but respond to.

Find the White Stag .

I didn't know what the Huntsman had done to me, but my legs moved against my will as I crawled toward the mists with the other wolves surrounding me. I wasn't trying to fight, but my body and mind didn't like being commanded.

Focusing on the sensation cleared my head enough that I was able to think beyond the compulsion washing over me.

Find the White Stag .

I turned to the shadows. The Huntsman was there, watching me, without a single emotion on his face. His eyes blazed with magic.

Find the White Stag.

One of the other wolves yipped and nudged their butt against mine, knocking me forward to play. Maybe to break the silent standoff between the Huntsman and me.

I'd already come this far. I decided. I turned back to the portal and stepped forward, allowing the mists to swallow me hole.

The mists spat us out in the middle of nowhere. The dark sky, with its purple wash of stars, reminded me of home—staring out into the wilderness when the lights in town died down and allowed the cosmos to come out of hiding.

I didn't recognize my surroundings, though that wasn't saying much, considering I hadn't been out of Locket, Tennessee, once. I was alone in the middle of a field. The grass was low and sparse enough to mean livestock of some kind. Fences ringed the property at a distance. The ground was wet, though the sky was clear of clouds, enough to see the stars.

A moment passed, and Kaleb's wolf stepped out of thin air and came up to my side, his nose to the ground as he trotted a circle around me, tracking a scent I hadn't bothered to catch. The ground smelled like wet grass and dirt. I hadn't thought to try and find any other smell.

The other wolves popped in, folding out of thin air to join Kaleb. I took a moment to commit them to memory.

A black wolf with a fluffy coat—Mitchell? A reddish wolf, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he pranced around, just happy to be included—definitely Wyatt.

Kaleb, with his silver coat and orange eyes.

And the most enormous wolf of all, who sat next to me, standing sentry as the others scouted the surrounding field for clues. The giant wolf, with his dark coat and stern expression. His ears flicked, hearing something in the distance. Dean.

I closed my eyes, feeling the wind brush against my fur. The sensation was entirely new.

Then I heard it, like wind chimes in my head. My eyes flew open, and I searched the field, though everything was still and dark. The other wolves continued exploring the field silently, except for the brown wolf beside me. The wind chimes grew louder, and I blinked as a smear crossed my vision—a trail of light that didn't go away when I blinked.

The hundreds of wolves that had gone through the portal before us were long gone, no doubt already in hot pursuit of the white stag. However, something pulled toward the corner of the field and the strange gate hidden in the undergrowth.

My motley crew of wolves followed me as I raced to the fence, yipping when I saw a white tuft of fur caught in the barbed wire. The other wolves cocked their heads to the side, confused, and I yipped again, gesturing to the fur with my muzzle.

It wasn't until I reached forward and pulled the tuft of fur from the fence with my teeth that they noticed it. I wondered how they hadn't seen it before. They'd scouted the perimeter a dozen times before I'd even gotten off my wolfy butt.

The russet wolf stepped forward, lowering his head and sniffing the fur hanging from my mouth. His lips pulled back into a snarl, revealing sharp teeth that made me very glad I wasn't a human on the receiving end of that smile. The red wolf tipped back his head and let out a howl that was more than sound. It carried something bloodthirsty, a feeling I could only describe as magic.

The white smear on my vision shifted to the other side of the fence. Before I knew it, I reeled back and jumped clear of the fence, my paws hitting the soft ground as adrenaline pounded through my body. I felt the hunt . It called to me, and soon, the other wolves followed, trusting I could see something they couldn't.

The chiming grew louder. I could see the sound. As I raced through the field, I no longer felt each limb separately—with every step, my movements on four legs grew smoother.

The other wolves gave chase as we came to a line of trees between the fields. Rolling hills behind us and woodland in front. The trees looked different than the ones surrounding my house. Thinner and closer together. An animal poked its head out of a warren. A barrelled black body and white striped face. A badger.

My legs tangled as I tripped, taking stock of an animal that proved I was so far from Tennessee I could have been on another planet entirely. Which country had badgers like that ? Europe? The United Kingdom?

The white trail hung in the air, glittering. Even when I blinked, I saw the colors behind my eyes telling me where to go. I had one goal in mind, and I didn't know how, but I would find the white stag.

The trail ended, and I skidded to a stop on the spongey undergrowth. My ears flicked as I searched for the sound, and the other wolves froze, each panting from exertion.

A shiver rolled over my fur.

Tangled in a bramble, its body covered in hundreds of minor cuts, its white coat pink with blood. The stag's eyes showed the white rim of its sclera as it bucked and squealed, trying to free itself.

Its horns were as large as the beast's body. It couldn't see us, lost in its panic.

The russet wolf stepped forward, its ears pinned against its head.

It wasn't a hunt anymore. It was an execution.

Kill it .

I shook my head, trying to expel the bloodlust from my mind. The thoughts didn't belong to me. They pressed on my brain, making my teeth ache.

I shook under the strain.

Kill the stag .

I'd had enough of blood. Enough pain.

I just wanted some goddamn peace.

With the last ounce of strength I possessed, I pulled back, howling my pain to the sky.

The bloodlust disappeared as if it had never existed.

I was no longer a threat to the stag but became aware of the wolves behind me, inching toward the helpless creature.

I raced forward, putting my body between Dean and the stag. He dipped his head, no doubt believing that I wanted the honor of killing the beast, but I couldn't.

The stag continued to writhe, tearing its skin and wriggling free. As I stared at the other wolves, my lips peeled back in challenge. I had the impression they were humoring me. The reddish wolf chuffed a sound suspiciously like a laugh.

I howled again. Staring each of the wolves in the eye. They froze, unable to move.

When the stag pulled itself free, it swung its antlers, and I danced out of the way to avoid being hit.

It dipped its head in a bow, drawing attention to the strange red amulet that hung from its throat. It glanced at the other wolves and then raced away, disappearing through the trees.

The white trail was gone as if I had imagined it.

The forest was silent.

I had failed my first hunt.