Chapter 9

I jolted awake, momentarily disoriented by the firelight and the blur of my surroundings. I pressed a hand to my pounding heart and tried to catch my breath. My shirt was drenched with sweat, but my face and hands were icy to the touch.

A second piercing howl tore through the silence.

A dream, I pleaded as much as thought. I'm still asleep.

I might have been able to believe that if Olwen hadn't reached out to touch my shoulder. The pressure of her fingers grounded me fully in the moment and whatever horror it was about to show us.

Caitriona and Emrys were already at the window, pushing the curtains aside to search the night-cloaked street.

"Was that … ?" Neve began groggily, rising onto her knees.

"A wolf?" Olwen suggested.

"There aren't any in this part of the world," Emrys said.

The howl came again, and this time, it was answered.

Tenfold.

The baying creatures worked one another up into a feral frenzy. Each yelp and cry clawed at my ears. The reaction in my body was visceral, nurtured by centuries of inherited fear. Wolves had been hunted into extinction in this region; it couldn't be a wild pack. And that first howl … There was something about it—something that made my body want to lock up and my throat close .

Cabell.

I shoved up onto my feet, grabbing the jacket I'd hung from a hook on the wall, and my boots, and launched myself toward the stairs down to the pub.

"Tamsin— wait! " Emrys moved to catch me, but I dodged his grip and burst into the dark pub. Thunder roared in the near distance, shaking the building in its fist. Glassware rained down from the shelves behind the bar, shattering.

The Bonecutter had warned us to stay inside, but if Cabell was out there, I had to try to find him. I might never get another chance.

I tugged my boots on, not wasting the second it would take to lace them. Throwing the door open, I ran out onto the path. A blistering wind slashed through my clothes as I tried to determine which direction the howls were coming from.

They echoed off the pub's stone walls, heckling, only to disappear again as the wind kicked the snow and loose earth up from the ground.

Caitriona took a running leap down the pub's steps, Neve and Olwen close behind her. I fell in line beside Caitriona, trusting in her tracking ability over mine. We ran off the path where it curved toward the village and instead continued along the rugged line of the coast. The knife in her fist glinted like a fang in the early-morning light.

Loose stones and ice bit at my feet. My eyes stung as beads of hot tears dripped down my cheeks. Caitriona slid to a sudden stop ahead, throwing an arm out just in time to catch Olwen. I forced myself to slow as I came up behind them, panting.

The fierce landscape looked as if it had been cleaved with a giant's sword. At our feet, the ground dropped precipitously in a sheer cliff, whose base eased into a gently sloping hill. Halfway down was the thatched roof of a small cottage. The whole structure struggled against the billowing wind, quivering like a rabbit in the teeth of a wolf.

I shielded my eyes, searching for the way down to it—if I ran left for maybe half a mile, it looked like the slope was less severe and I could wind my way over and down. The howls deadened into a low roar in my ears.

Someone grabbed me from behind before I could run. I hit the ground hard, drawing snow and dust into my lungs. Pain flooded my already aching body.

"Let me go!" I cried, trying to twist away.

Emrys only held on to me tighter, his arms locked around my waist. "Believe me, I wish I could, but for once you're going to have to trust me and just— look! "

He spun us both to face the coastline, where the sky over the sea had turned an ominous green. Thick gray clouds there unfurled, spilling out high above the raging water onto the cliffs.

The sky opened, dumping hailstones and ice shards sharp enough to cut my arm and Emrys's cheek. He swore under his breath, releasing one hand to dab at the cut, even as another split open his brow. "Damn, the pretty face was the last thing I had going for me—"

His body was shockingly warm against mine, and in the biting cold, I was too aware of every place we touched, his chest to my back, my arms against his—

"Take your hands off me," I snarled.

And damn him, but to prove his point, he loosened his grip. I felt the change in my balance immediately; without our combined weight my boots slid through the mud and ice toward the cliffs, and the churning clouds.

He shook his head, shouting to be heard above the wailing wind. "You really want to see if you can fly, Bird?"

Bird.

Ice pelted me, catching my chin, my cheek, and still, it took a moment to remember to raise an arm to protect my face.

"Lark." Emrys squeezed his eyes shut, anger sharpening the lines of his face. But it wasn't directed at me, and I didn't understand it. He held out a hand to me .

" Tamsin! Over here!" Neve waved her arms above her head until I caught sight of the movement through the blinding storm.

It was the wind, blowing from every direction at once, that made the decision for me. At least, that was what I told myself as I clasped my hand around Emrys's wrist and let him close his around mine. He hauled me back toward him, only shifting his grip so we could both face forward as we fought our way toward Neve.

She'd found shelter behind an outcropping of rock, letting it take the brunt of the battering winds. Emrys held on to me as we ran toward it, and for once I didn't mind—without our combined weight, the wind would have had an easier time of blowing us off the cliffs to our right, into the sea.

"Not to question the immaculate logic of running out into the middle of an ice storm in pursuit of terrifying noises," Emrys said, "but what the hell are we still doing here?"

Neve and I reached out, guiding Caitriona and Olwen to us. Caitriona tried to shout something to us, but it was lost as the whole sky flashed with lightning. A horn sounded, the fathomless call of an ancient horror.

If you hear that sound again, closer than it is now, run as fast as you can.

But it was too late.

They had already appeared.

They rode out from the dark heart of the cloud hanging low over the sea, their ghostly steeds burning with the cold light of distant stars. One by one, they galloped through the air, whooping and shrieking like raiders as they fell upon the cliffs below us.

The breath choked out of me—they weren't men, but hideous creatures in their mold, spun from bone and shadow. The metal of their grotesque spiked armor glowed with the silver magic radiating from their eyes.

A pack of spectral dogs wove between the legs of their horses, foam dripping from their maws as they barked and yapped in wild anticipation, captives of their own bloodlust. The one at the front was larger than the others, its coat a silken black flecked with ice. It was real.

Cabell.

I would have lunged forward, screaming for him, had Emrys not grabbed me again.

"I swear to every god, if you don't let me go—" I began, trembling with anger. Emrys had taken the one thing that would have helped me save Cabell from this fate, and now he was going to block me from reaching my brother?

Like hell he was.

I shoved against him, but his grip tightened, and this time, he forced me to look at him. Forced me to meet his bright eyes. The hail had receded, softening to a heavy curtain of snow that crusted in his dark hair.

Then he struck the fatal blow. "Would he even recognize you? Or would he just tear out your throat?"

He already knew the answer. He saw what had happened in Avalon, when Cabell's curse was triggered. We'd barely survived it.

"You have to stay alive to keep hating me, Lark," he reminded me, close to my ear.

I poured every ounce of my fury into my gaze, even as his grip eased. Even as my body instinctively softened at his nearness, seeking comfort he'd never give. I gritted my teeth as I pulled back, catching Neve's eye, and the unasked question there.

For all the storm's wrath, for all the riotous exhilaration of the hunters, the world went suddenly silent around us.

The final rider had appeared.

Like the others, he was clad in armor, but it seemed to absorb all light, drinking it deep rather than reflecting it. The animal pelts at his shoulders flowed behind him as his horse surged forward. Lightning bolts flashed with every strike of its hooves against the cloud, their jagged shapes mirroring that of his horned crown .

My heart sped until I was sure it would burst. The next roll of thunder felt as if it had been torn from my own chest, the most powerful of screams.

The Bonecutter had claimed he wasn't a true god, but he was a king of another world, and he wore the body of one who had ruled in this one. High on his terrifying mount as he was, that regal bearing was borne out. Here, with his host, he was at his most powerful. He was master and conqueror.

Lord Death.

Caitriona dove forward, but Olwen and Neve gripped her arms, forcing her back from the edge of the cliff. She grappled with them, her face burning red with fury and the belting wind, but the others only held her tighter.

I reached out, gripping her wrist. Keeping both of us there, alive.

"Release me …," she begged. "He's there—I can—"

The hunting party formed a line behind Lord Death. Their horses danced with impatience, whinnying. The hounds circled, snapping at the feet of the riders and tearing up the dead grass beneath the snow. Their sole focus seemed to be the stone cottage at the bottom of the hill.

My whole chest tightened as I realized who they'd come for.

A dark figure that emerged from the front door, wand in hand.

"Oh, Goddess," Neve breathed out. "What is she doing?"

The one thing the Sorceress Hemlock wasn't doing was running. She strode out into the wild tangle of her snowy garden, wand in hand as she squared up against the riders.

"No!" Neve began, instinctively starting to rise.

Lord Death lifted the horn to his lips again, and that eldritch bellow exploded with the first touch of dawn. I covered my ears, but there was no escaping it. I felt its dread deep in my body.

The riders burst forth in answer, their horses' hooves falling upon the earth like drums of war. They kicked up clouds of snow as they barreled past their master, toward the cottage.

The hounds raced alongside them, saliva foaming at their jaws as they bounded across the stones with terrifying ease. The Sorceress Hemlock held her position, her wand at the ready.

"Come on, come on—" Neve closed her eyes and tried to gather the scattered melody of a spell. Her first instinct, as always, was to help others, but mine was to help ourselves.

"There are too many of them!" I told her. "Any spell will lead them right to us!"

And the riders had already reached the fence line of the property.

A scorching light erupted from the boundary, singeing the air with the smell of raw magic and burned leather. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the magic of the sorceress's protective wards surge and billow out past us in a blinding wave.

But when the light cleared and I opened my eyes, the riders were still there, their swords slicing through the fence, through the shimmering wall of magic, sending sparks flying with the snow. With taunting shrieks and whoops, they broke through and began galloping toward Hemlock with unearthly speed.

I wanted to look away, but I couldn't—if we couldn't save her, we owed it to her to witness her end.

Cabell broke from the other hounds to snap and claw at her, cutting off her sole path to escape, but there was no need. Hemlock chose to turn and meet her end.

She brandished her wand, slashing the beginning of a sigil into the snow.

Then Lord Death was upon her in a heartbeat, as if even the distance between them had bowed to him. He towered over her on foot, raising a fist toward the sky. The last vestiges of night wrapped around his hand, smearing like ink against the snowy air. She carved her spell in furious strokes.

A strangled scream tore from me as he drove his hand into her chest. Hemlock's body arched back, locking with pain. The air, already sharp with the scent of snow, turned acrid with foul magic as Lord Death ripped his hand back. There was no blood, just a swirl of dark magic as he hoisted something pale and shimmering in the air like a standard.

The sorceress's body collapsed to the ground in a dark heap at his feet.

The riders and dogs alike howled with glee as they circled the cottage. One of the horses kicked down the door and three of the riders galloped inside. When they appeared again a few moments later, a familiar face led the other two back out.

Emrys's hand fisted in the fabric of my shirt, his breathing turning ragged.

"That's …," I began, barely a whisper.

The wickedness of Endymion's hideous visage didn't become him so much as it revealed him for what he was and always had been: a monstrosity of entitlement and unending rage. And in death, he had only become all the more powerful.

If I believed nothing else, I believed the terror mauling Emrys's perfect features. Once so like the man his father had been.

Endymion—whatever he was now—shook his head at Lord Death, saying something beyond our hearing. Lord Death's top lip curled in a sneer as he threw the soul to the ground. When it rose again, it was Hemlock—but not. There was nothing familiar or warm in her face, her features elongating ghoulishly, the way Emrys's father's and the other riders' had.

Lord Death bent to retrieve a piece of the broken fence. A silvery fire sparked at the wood's center as he threw it on the thatched roof of the cottage. It didn't matter that it was coated in ice. Within seconds, the whole structure was engulfed in flame. Dark smoke rose, devouring even the white of the snow.

Lord Death climbed back onto his horse's saddle, signaling to Hemlock and the others. She went mindlessly, falling in line among the others on foot. A sword materialized in her hand.

Snow thrashed against my face as the air whitened. The riders and Lord Death disappeared into the churning storm and were gone .

The smell of smoke finally reached us, and I breathed it in deep, needing to remember everything about this moment.

There was the sound of thunder, of the ever-crashing sea, and when the snow settled, only the body of the sorceress remained to tell of the Wild Hunt's return.