Chapter Seven

Though none of the wolves of the Locket pack had come out and said it, the danger level had risen from one to a hundred. Kaleb's injury changed things by forcing the pack to take the town's humans more seriously in their threats or by acknowledging that something nefarious was happening. Either it was all connected, or it wasn't, but there were only a few days until Samhain—when the walls between worlds would be at their thinnest.

With Joel and the HAOB, combined with whatever durrach placed glamoured gifts on my Prius, I had several puzzle pieces that didn't fit together. My lack of knowledge was more frustrating than I would care to admit.

I didn't know much about the outside world. Grandmother Eva had continuously operated an ‘us VS them' attitude. I'd been raised to protect myself by hiding and twisting the truth, though my tongue couldn't tell a lie. But my world was falling apart around me.

I started the underground journey to the bar. I didn't have to walk for long before I heard the whir of the golf buggy. Wyatt waved from the front seat with a bright smile that almost split his face. He honked the horn once, and the pathetic sound echoed through the tunnel.

Kaleb let out a groan, slung across the backseat of the buggy. He squinted—the image of a hungover grump—before waving a dismissive hand toward me in greeting and closing his eyes again.

"Is Kaleb okay?" I craned my neck to look at the back seats.

Wyatt rolled his eyes. "The witch's potions come with a killer headache."

I nodded in understanding.

"Fancy a ride?" Wyatt jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.

"Sure." I shrugged, sliding into the passenger seat.

"The coven is already in attendance," Wyatt informed me. "The local demon Lord has sent a representative. They don't often encounter Sídhe, and their curiosity was piqued."

"And the wolves?" I wondered.

"Already at the bar. We tend to get antsy when there are outsiders on our land." Wyatt nudged me with his shoulder. "Present company excepted, of course."

"Of course." I echoed before glancing over my shoulder. "Is Kaleb okay?"

"He was shot." Wyatt gave me a long look that made me feel very stupid. "Healing is a bitch."

"Kaleb can hear you," Kaleb grumbled. "And I'm fine, thanks for asking."

"Don't thank the Fae," I told him, unable to stop the words before they came out. My cheeks heated, and though he hadn't meant to, I felt the weight of a bargain slide into place between us. Chaffing like a metal cuff around my wrist. I pulled my collar away from my neck, taking a breath, but my skin felt too warm from the Fae magic.

Kaleb's eyes flicked open, and he sat up, eying my pink cheeks. He cursed under his breath.

"What's up?" Wyatt asked, glancing between both of us, noting the awkward silence.

I shook my head, unable to answer.

"I shouldn't have done that," Kaleb muttered. At least it wasn't an apology; those also tended to spark impromptu bargains.

I wasn't as powerful as my Grandmother Eva—but that didn't mean I was without magic. Thanking the Fae implied a debt, and the magic had a mind of its own. Often, unpaid debts would seek a way to appease themselves, with disastrous effects.

"Get me a cup of coffee, and we'll call it even." I flashed Kaleb an apologetic smile.

Kaleb nodded, relaxing.

"I didn't realize that Melly worked with the wolf pack," I said, changing the subject.

Kaleb rubbed his chin with his knuckles. "It helps to have a witch on call."

"For sure." I agreed. "I can't believe Joel shot you."

Kaleb bared his teeth in a sharklike smile. "To be fair, he wasn't sure what he was shooting at."

"What do you mean?" Wyatt asked, pulling the buggy to a stop when we reached the other end of the tunnel.

"Mallory braided her hair and cast some kind of glamour over us both." Kaleb almost sounded proud of me. I was certain I was hearing things.

Wyatt eyed me appraisingly. "Maybe you could braid my hair when it's time to pay my bar tab." Flicking the russet hair that curled around his ears.

"You don't have enough hair to braid." I pointed out.

Wyatt agreed with a laugh, and we got out of the buggy and took the steps up to the cellar. The air grew more severe with every step, and though Wyatt and Kaleb had been joking with me a moment before, they grew more rigid the closer we got to the bar. The wolves flanked me on both sides, their face and demeanor growing stiffer with every step.

When we pushed through the staff door into the bar area of the Chug, a wave of sound greeted us, and the bar was fuller than I'd ever seen. Every stool was taken, and every table was occupied. I recognized some people from town, though I tended not to pry into people's magical leanings as a courtesy; I was shocked to see people I knew in passing.

Melly spotted me, giving me a friendly wave, but her table was full.

Wyatt and Kaleb found a place to lean at the back of the room, projecting the image of stoic wolf enforcers guarding the perimeter.

It wasn't more than a few minutes before Dean Hart made his way to the raised platform in the corner boasting a karaoke system. However, Dean didn't need the microphone to be heard over the room. The second he arrived, a wave of silence followed.

Mitchell stood beside Dean, arms crossed and glaring at everyone in the bar, the opposite of the unserious dork I knew. When Mitchell had sat across from me, I couldn't imagine him killing a redcap, but the man by Dean's side was more than capable of ripping apart a monster with his bare hands.

"We have reason to believe that a rogue durrach has come through the Gate and made its way to Locket," Dean announced. "It's leaving glamoured trophies through town."

A roar of outrage lifted the volume of the bar before settling down.

"I have called this meeting to ask everyone if they have seen or heard anything strange in the past week." Dean continued.

One of the witches lifted their hand tentatively, clearing their throat. "Shouldn't the wolves know more about this than us? Y'all patrol the woods, don't you?"

Dean speared her a look. "We patrol the woods, but this durrach is wallering about town. The wolves don't have a reason to spend much time in town."

The witches conceded his statement with nods of agreement and murmurs.

"One of the shops on Main Street was broken into last night." Another witch piped up. "Johnson's hardware store. Someone took some rope and some of his sugar lumps from the staff office."

It didn't surprise me that Darren Johnson counted how many sugar lumps were in his sugar jar. The man meticulously counted every nut and bolt in his store.

"You sure that's not just kids playing Halloween pranks?" Someone argued.

"The wolves want to know about weird goings on!" The witch countered. "No one steals in Locket. It just isn't done."

"What about your Huntsman?" Melly spoke, finally, and though her voice was soft, it silenced the room. "The Huntsman has dominion across all fae creatures, especially those in the Forest of Beasts across the Gate. Shouldn't you ask your master what kind of durrach can set glamour?"

Dean's eyes flashed, but he didn't argue against her words. "We have sent a message to the Huntsman." He told her, his tone cutting any further inquiry on the subject short. "But it is almost Samhain."

"It's a creature that can evade cameras." Mitchell stepped forward. "That, or its presence, cannot be recorded."

"We…" One of the female witches stepped forward. I knew her in passing, though not her first name. Her family owned a smallholding on the road leading out of the valley. The O'Dair's made the best sausages this side of the Holston River. "We found an extra horse in our paddock a few days ago. Without a rider."

"An extra horse?" Another witch echoed.

Kaleb peeled himself away from the wall, his gaze growing laser-focused.

"Dark as night." The O'Dair girl continued. "It took some feed and water and was gone in the morning. The dirt was soft and didn't leave a print on the ground. My little sister nicknamed it ‘smoke' because it disappeared as quickly as it came."

"What kind of fae has a horse form?" I frowned, thinking of my grandmother's journals. Kelpies, unicorns, centaurs? Though I didn't know much, none of them fit. We were too far away from water for a Kelpie. Unicorns were violent creatures often enslaved by royal courts for their ability to grant wishes. And centaurs? They were a law unto themselves but despised humans above all else. They would never visit the Human Realities willingly, and as far as I knew, they couldn't set glamours.

"No," Kaleb murmured to himself, his eyes narrowing. "Not the fucking Dullahan ." He spat the word with a heavy Irish accent that he took great pains to hide any other time. The silver-haired wolf had gone pale as the dead.

Dean and Mitchell, despite being under the watchful eye of every person in the bar, exchanged a loaded look. Mitchell stepped back, knitting his hands together in front of him, his face set in stone.

Whatever it was, the wolves knew what the durrach was. I'd bet my collection of dancing hamsters on it.

"We have another issue," Dean announced. "Recently, a group calling themselves ‘Humans Against Other Beings' has grown in popularity. At least one of their members belongs to the Locket police department, and they are targeting people they believe to be less than human. Mallory McGowen, now Mallory Hunt, was attacked at her home."

The room's attention shifted toward me, and I withered, pulling my head toward my shoulders like a turtle.

Dean continued as if he hadn't just put me in the spotlight of the town's supernatural population. "They have guns but little knowledge of the Fae. I would think carefully about what knowledge is public about your creed and try and arm yourself."

"You think he would target the demons?" A man I hadn't seen before stood up; his body was made of edges and joints. His skin was sallow, but his clothes were tailored and designer. I knew as much as the next person about demons, and the glowing eyes gave him away. An unnatural lucid green that I clocked even from the other side of the room—his magic held the same neon tinge as it gathered at his fingertips.

"Demons have been in the open for many years," Dean told the spindly man. "The HAOB will likely be operating on mainstream knowledge. Whatever they can find on Google or hearsay. They will likely use that information to attack you if they suspect what you are."

The demon nodded and sat back down.

"What do we do about the ‘Humans Against Other Beings?'." One of the witches at Melly's table piped in. "We were here before the humans. We all made our home in this valley before there was even a town."

"Perhaps we should remind them of that." An unnerving smile grew on Mitchell's face.

I excused myself once it was clear the meeting was over, and people began to leave the bar or order more drinks. I found Melly at the round table in the corner, surrounded by several older witches I didn't know. I kept to myself in town, and while I was certain they knew of me and my Grandmother Eva before she had passed, I'd had little reason to involve myself with the witches until now.

From what I knew, there were two types of witches. Witchlings used their own life force to power their magic, and witches pulled from the blanket of power. Many witches used herbs, amulets, and other knickknacks to connect to their power source without hurting themselves. Grandmother had once compared using raw magic to touching a live wire.

‘It's different for those with human blood, Mallory. They can't see, mold, or touch it like you, and I can.'

As a child, I'd liked that Grandmother had put us on the same level, like confidants, but as I grew older, all I saw was disappointment when I couldn't do the things she could.

I reached up, rubbing the bald spot on the side of my head where I had braided my hair for the ‘don't see me' spell. I'd been able to hide it by parting my hair differently, but I still knew it was there.

Melly waved away her companions, gesturing for me to sit down. A pint of Guinness sat in front of her, almost finished. "You didn't tell me they attacked you in your home." She chided with a click of her tongue.

"I was more focused on Kaleb."

"And that Alpha." Melly's eyes crinkled at the corners. "He's been giving you the eye since you came in."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." I shifted in my seat. "Did you bring the herbs?"

"The herbs?" She played dumb.

My chin rocked as my teeth mashed, and I bit back my anger. "I asked about the herbs yesterday. I need my soothing tea. For my nerves ." I loaded the final word with meaning.

"I don't know what Eva taught you, Mallory." Melly shook her head, lifting her drink and swirling the dregs. "But it wasn't to hide."

"That's exactly what she taught me." I lowered my voice. "You know what I am. Grandmother was hunted because of what she could do."

"She was hunted back for what she did ," Melly muttered before draining the glass. "But I'm not talking about being a Weaver."

I pushed away from the table. "I have to go." I didn't state where I had to go, so it wasn't exactly a lie.

Melly gave me a knowing look, taking in my panic with a hint of smugness. "Does Dean know what you are?"

My nostrils flared as I bared my teeth, unable to give her a response before I walked away.

Though the Chug was a rundown bar in the middle of the forest, the bathrooms were surprisingly cleaner than I expected.

The Dullahan .

The name echoed in my head as I washed my face. Staring into the mirror, a pale and wan face looked back at me. There were bags under my eyes that hadn't been there a few days ago.

Maybe it was narcissistic, but I couldn't help but think that the HAOB and the durrach were linked, even if I was the only connection between the two.

I might not have made many friends, but I hadn't made many enemies either.

Joel wanted to erase me and play happy families without the inconvenience of an ex-wife.

It didn't help that he was scared of me.

Fear made men do stupid things.

Though Mitchell had been kind enough to go to my house to get my clothes, he hadn't brought my makeup, perfume, shampoo, or any other essentials someone would need for more than a few days away from their home.

I didn't want to stay at the barracks forever. It felt like a band-aid rather than a solution.

I had to open my store and return to my everyday life immediately. That was why I asked for protection in the first place.

I didn't want to be trapped by fear. Mine or anyone else's.

I couldn't face going back to the bar just yet. Melly had lit a strange anger inside me, and I didn't want to see her again until I had gathered my bearings.

I could have sworn I had asked her for more herbs the night before. The vervain, nightshade, wolfsbane, and camomile weren't hard to find if you knew where to look. Still, Melly's store was the only place to buy prepared and dried ingredients for my grandmother's nerve tonic—to soothe my anxiety.

Bad things happened when I was anxious. Or scared. Or angry.

The last thing I needed was to show weakness in front of the wolves.

I left the bathroom, ready to head back to my room, when I ran straight into Kaleb.

He stood in front of the ladies bathroom with his hands on his hips, and his brow furrowed as if steeling himself. I stepped back, glancing between his stern expression and the sign on the bathroom door—double checking I hadn't gone into the men's room by accident.

"Kaleb?" My nose wrinkled.

His orange eyes blinked slowly as if waking from a dream. "You smell different."

"The bathroom air freshener was strong." I waved a hand over my shoulder.

"That's not it." The silver-haired wolf shook his head.

"We haven't had a chance to talk about last night." I gestured to his leg. "Are you okay?"

"It was a fun evening." He grinned. "You know, until your ex-husband showed up."

"It was a fun evening." I agreed. "I just can't help but think it's my fault."

Kaleb shook his head. "I was careless. I should have knocked the gun out of his hands before I bit him."

"You bit Joel?"

"Right on the ass." Kaleb's lip ticked with a proud smile. "Dean asked me to escort you back to the barracks."

"Sure." I shrugged. "I was ready to go anyway."

Kaleb gestured to the door at the end of the hallway.

The older wolf seemed to struggle with the controls of the golf buggy, though it was more of a box with wheels than a car.

"Do you want me to drive?" I bit back a laugh when Kaleb banged the dashboard, unable to find a way to start the engine.

"Thank you," He sagged in relief.

"You shouldn't thank the fae," I told him. "That's two now."

"You're keeping track," Kaleb noted with a nod as I started the electric engine and started off down the wide tunnel. "What do you plan on doing with your favors?"

"You could tell me about the Dullahan?" Though my voice was light, I wasn't joking.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He kept his face forward.

I forgot that wolfkin could lie, like I'd almost forgotten that wolves had fae origins. "I saw the look you all shared when that girl mentioned the strange horse. Mitchell told me about the Huntsman's motley crew of Fae. About Dorly."

Kaleb winced. "The Dullahan is a bad omen. It means the Huntsman has set his eye on you."

"On me?" I squeaked. "I'm just a Weaver."

"Huh." Kaleb chuffed. "If you say so. I thought we were closer than that. After all, your grandmother—"

I leaned forward, slapping my hands over his mouth to stop whatever words threatened to emerge from his lips. Kaleb's eyes crinkled at the corner.

We were so close. I felt the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. My stomach fluttered.

I wrenched my hands back, my cheeks flaming red. I placed my hands back on the steering wheel, mindful that we had been sitting in the buggy without moving. I pulled away, driving through the tunnel.

Kaleb licked his bottom lip. "That horse belongs to the Dullahan. More often known as the Headless Horseman. The Huntsman rarely leaves the Aos Sí, but he is hunting for a Weaver. If the Dullahan knows what you are, he is courting you for the Huntsman."

"Courting?" I spluttered, stepping back. "By putting dead things on my car?"

"He is attempting to unnerve you. To make you feel that your safety is threatened, so you will take any protection the Huntsman offers." Kaleb rubbed his hand over his mouth. "I've seen it happen time and time again."

"The Huntsman is your problem, not mine," I argued.

"I'd say he is both our problem," Kaleb told me. "The Dullahan might not have a head, but he is an incredible tracker. He specializes in bloodlines; if he leaves gifts on your doorstep, he knows who and what you are."

"I'm not a very good Weaver." My brows furrowed. "I'm not being modest when I say this. My grandmother has tested my abilities in every possible way; my magic is too unpredictable."

"The best scenario is that the Dullahan has been sent to clear the stage for any potential suitors if the Huntsman wishes to court you," Kaleb told me. "It would explain the gifts."

"The glamoured gifts." I cut in.

"Perhaps they were a challenge?" Kaleb suggested. "A Weaver should be able to see through glamour."

"I couldn't see through the glamour," I told him.

"I suppose not." He shrugged one shoulder. "But the Huntsman needs a Weaver for whatever purpose. His first wife, éabha, was a Weaver, as you know."

"He has a type." My tone was dry. I pulled the buggy to a stop at the end of the tunnel, pushing my fingers through my hair and sighing.

"It's the eve before Samhain," Kaleb announced. "The Locket pack will be called to the Huntsman's side tomorrow. Only a select few will remain, but Dean, Mitchell, Wyatt, and I will be gone."

"Will the barracks be safe?"

Kaleb ignored my question. "You should tell Dean who you are."

"What if I call in the bargains? For all those pleases and thank yous you've been throwing around?" I joked, but I was half serious. "I could make you hold your tongue."

The back of my neck prickled.

We weren't alone.

Kaleb's eyes flicked to the darkness at the end of the tunnel, where the lights hid the door.

A shadow stepped away from the wall, revealing Dean Hart. I hadn't even heard him move.

"I suppose you could bargain for Kaleb to hold his tongue." Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "But I'd much rather know why you lied to me?"

There was no way to escape.

The long tunnel behind me and the Alpha wolf in front.

For a brief moment, I considered running, but I knew Dean would catch me.

I was sunk.

There was only so much I could twist the truth before my tongue seized up and my faeness would catch the lie.

"Kaleb?" Dean quirked a brow.

Kaleb squeaked a laugh, placing both hands over his lips to hold in the sound. His wide eyes were manic as he looked at me. "Uh-oh."

I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, shaking my head.

"Mallory?" Dean prompted.

I licked my dry lips. "Kaleb told me about the Dullahan. He said that means the Huntsman is behind this."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "What I don't know is why the Huntsman has taken an interest in you . But I suspect that Kaleb knows."

My lips mashed together, and I remained silent.

"Kaleb." Dean's Alpha magic thickened the air. "Leave us."

Kaleb saluted. "Alright." His voice thickened with an Irish accent.

I frowned, watching as Kaleb danced away—his attitude changed completely when he stood in Dean's presence.

I'd noticed it before. The dreamy, jester behavior, but seeing Kaleb's personality shift so drastically made my head spin.

Dean jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to the door behind him. "My room, now ."