by Jenna Black
Keane’s lip twitched like he almost smiled—imagine that! But he didn’t change his mind. He sat on the couch and patted the seat beside him.
“This is different. There’s more damage, and fingers are super sensitive. It won’t last long, but it’ll hurt like a bitch.”
Fantastic. Just the thing to cheer me out of my doldrums. But if I let Keane take care of it, it would all be over in a couple of minutes. If I insisted on seeing a real healer, I might not be able to get an appointment—and assemble an entourage my dad would approve of—for hours.
I plopped down heavily on the sofa, grabbing a throw pillow and clutching it to my chest with my left arm as I once again let Keane take my right. Gripping my wrist firmly with one hand, he laid my hand on his lap. The touch might have been embarrassingly intimate if I hadn’t been hurting so much.
The pain didn’t improve when Keane used his other hand to coax my swelling finger as straight as it would go. I probably should have closed my eyes, or at least looked the other way, because seeing the redness and swelling made me a bit queasy. Still, I couldn’t help watching in sickening fascination as his fingers lightly stroked mine.
“Dana.”
I almost jumped at the sound of his voice. I tore my gaze away from my wounded hand and met Keane’s stunning emerald eyes.
“Sorry,” he whispered, his eyes narrowing in a wince even as he held my gaze. I belatedly realized he’d distracted me on purpose, but the pain hit before I had a chance to tense up in anticipation.
I’d thought the pain when I’d first hit him was bad. The healing was far, far worse. The electric tingle of Keane’s magic prickled, and then it felt like a car had just run over my hand, breaking every bone into tiny fragments. I couldn’t fight my instinctive urge to pull away, but Keane held my hand trapped against his thigh as his magic sank into my flesh.
If it had lasted even a millisecond longer, I wouldn’t have been able to hold back a scream. As it was, I managed to limit myself to a pained whimper.
The pain stopped as suddenly as it had begun, although Keane didn’t release my hand. I let out a shuddering sigh as he ran his fingertips across my skin. The touch was almost like a caress, and now that the pain had stopped, I couldn’t help noticing that my hand was almost within touching distance of something I had no desire to touch. Funny how I failed to pull away, even when I noticed that.
I glanced at Keane’s face but was unable to tell what he was thinking. Was he stroking my hand like that because he was searching for signs of more injuries? His touch felt too much like a caress for that. But I was like a bratty kid sister to him, so why would it be a caress?
No way he was coming on to me, I told myself firmly as he let go of my hand and I fought the urge to leave it right where it was. Keane didn’t even like me, much less like me. And what kind of a slut did it make me that I was even thinking about this when Ethan had just been kidnapped? Maybe Ethan’s jealousy hadn’t been as misplaced as I’d thought …
I held my hand up in front of my face and examined my now-healed fingers, wiggling them experimentally. They all moved on command, and there was no residual pain.
“Good as new,” I said, a little breathlessly. But I was just breathless because the healing had hurt so much, not because I was reacting to Keane’s touch. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
“Good,” Keane said, then folded his arms over his chest and gave me one of his disapproving-teacher looks. “Now, want to tell me what that was all about?”
My eyes widened. “You’re asking me? I’m not the one who went on the attack without even saying hello.”
He gave me one of his smug looks, the kind I hated. “You think the bad guys are going to warn you before they attack?” He unfolded his arms and did a manly-man pose, making his voice comically deep. “Excuse me, miss, but I thought I should warn you I’m about to try to kill you. Please prepare to defend yourself.”
“Hardee-har-har,” I growled. “You’re so funny I’m about to die laughing.” I remembered the strange look on his face when I’d first entered the room, and I had a hard time believing he was telling me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Something had prompted him to be especially aggressive today, and it wasn’t just part of his lesson plan.
“So,” he continued, “what was with the Muhammad Ali impersonation?” He rubbed his jaw approximately where I’d hit him, but I doubted it was because I’d hurt him.
Much as he’d annoyed me, I had to admit, it was my fault I’d gotten hurt. I knew better than to punch him in the face. We’d fought for maybe five minutes—probably less—and I’d made two major mistakes, both of which could easily have been fatal in a real fight. I’m not what you’d call a pro at this self-defense stuff, but that was bad even for me.
“I can’t do this today,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t act normal. And anything you try to teach me is going to go in one ear and out the other.”
There was a long, uncomfortable silence, and I glanced over at him again. His eyes were closed, and a muscle ticked in the side of his jaw. Why he would get so bent out of shape about me not wanting my lesson was a mystery. When he spoke, it sounded like he was forcing the words out through clenched teeth.
“The bad guys aren’t going to wait until you’re in the mood for a fight.”
I made a sound between a huff of exasperation and a growl. “I’m sick to death of that argument. I don’t care what you think. I need a day off after seeing my…” My voice trailed off, because I’d been about to call Ethan my boyfriend, and I’d made it clear to both him and me that he was no such thing. I swallowed hard. “… my friend captured by the Wild Hunt because he was trying to defend me.”
If I’d hoped talking about my trauma would make Keane take pity on me, I was sadly mistaken.
“I’m sorry about what happened,” he said. “I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But if you think Ethan Leigh is your friend, you’re deluded.”
I gaped at him. Where was all this coming from?
“Tell me you weren’t falling for his song and dance,” Keane continued, giving me an intense stare that made me squirm.
“Oh for God’s sake! Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” It wasn’t like Keane had any cause to be jealous. He and I weren’t even friends, much less dating. And I couldn’t imagine Keane being jealous of Ethan’s success with girls. I suspected girls fell at Keane’s feet on a regular basis.
“All right: I’m not jealous,” Keane said, and he sounded like he meant it, despite the way his eyes flashed dangerously.
“You don’t even know him!” I said, ignoring his claim. I knew jealousy when I saw it, and I was looking right in its face.
Keane gave me an incredulous look. “Says who?”
I stammered, because, of course, I had no idea if the two of them knew each other. I’d just assumed they didn’t.
“There are exactly two secondary schools in Avalon,” he said, his voice tight with repressed anger. “I had the bad luck of going to the same one as your ‘friend’ Ethan. There may have been a couple of girls in our class he failed to hit on, but only because they were ugly. As soon as he got what he wanted from one, he’d move on to the next. Even if his next target already had a boyfriend. That just made it more of a challenge for him. His ego was far more important to him than anyone’s feelings. You’re fooling yourself if you think you’re the one who’s going to make an honest man out of him. That’s what he wants all of his conquests to believe.”
I didn’t know what to say. I knew Ethan had a reputation as a player. And I’d seen for myself how easily he turned on the charm—and how determined he was to get his way once he’d set his sights on someone. But there was more to him than that, I was sure of that. Much more.
“He saved my life,” I said in a hoarse whisper. “He jumped into the moat when Grace threw me over. He knew all about the Water Witches, and he jumped in anyway.”
Keane made a sound of frustration an
d leapt to his feet, quickly turning his back on me. I remembered how he’d failed to visit me while I was in the hospital recuperating from the Water Witch’s attack. I’d been puzzled by it at the time, but now I wondered if maybe he’d been pissed off because I’d run off with Ethan. Not that there’d been anything romantic about it, though I supposed Keane couldn’t know that.
“Would you rather he’d let the Water Witch get me?” I asked Keane’s back.
He turned to look at me again. “Of course not. I’m glad he was there, and I’m glad he saved you. I despise him, but I won’t claim he has no redeeming features. I just…” He shook his head, then bent to start rolling up the mats.
“You just what?” I asked.
He continued rolling. “Let it go, Dana.”
“No. You’re the one who came into my home and started saying hateful things about a guy who got captured by the Wild Hunt because he was trying to defend me. If you’re going to start something, you’re sure as hell going to finish it.”
He shoved the rolled-up mat out of the way so hard it bounced off the wall. He was still kneeling on the floor as he turned to glare at me. It was a weird expression, because as pissed off as he looked, there was also a world of pain in his eyes, pain I didn’t understand.
Something clicked in my brain, and I winced in sudden sympathy. “One of those girls Ethan went after in school was your girlfriend, right?” That would certainly explain the level of rivalry I’d seen between the two of them.
Keane neither confirmed nor denied my guess, but I knew I was right. Eventually, the intensity of his eyes was too much, and I let my gaze slide away. When I looked up again, it was to see Keane’s back as he left without another word.
Chapter Thirteen
After Keane left, I wished I’d kept my mouth shut and had my lesson, even if it meant getting my butt kicked and making embarrassingly stupid mistakes. While we’d been sparring, there hadn’t been enough time for me to brood about Ethan. Plus, even though it hurt, I had to admit that in my current state of mind it felt kinda good to hit things.
Once Keane was gone, I couldn’t get my brain to shut up. Wave after wave of guilt beat at me, especially because I still couldn’t get myself to pick up the phone and call Kimber. We were best friends, and she had to be hurting. Her father had made no secret of the fact that he loved Ethan more, because Ethan was the magical prodigy. I doubted she was getting a whole lot of paternal comfort right now. She needed me, but I was too much of a coward to face her.
In an attempt to keep my mind occupied with anything other than Ethan, I tried once more to learn how to use magic. My voice was weak and quavery, but I felt the magic come to me before I’d even finished the first scale. I tried to feel excited at the improvement, but it was too hard to be impressed when I couldn’t cast even the simplest spell.
Eventually, I gave up in disgust. Maybe my affinity with magic went no further than being able to sense it and call it. Maybe all the practice in the world was futile. I wished I’d decided to trust Ethan and asked him to teach me magic. Now I’d never get the chance …
I shook my head to try to erase that thought from my mind. Ethan was not going to be a permanent member of the Wild Hunt. His father was a powerful man. Maybe he’d be able to find a way to reason with the Erlking where my father had not. There had to be something someone could do.
Having grown up as the only responsible member of my household, one lesson I’d learned at an early age was that I couldn’t really count on anyone other than myself. If I wanted to make sure we had electricity, I had to pay the bill myself. If my mom hurt herself and had to go to the emergency room, I had to get her there myself.
I remember one time when I was maybe six or seven, and my mom got a horrible case of food poisoning. She was so sick, I thought she was going to die. I wanted to call 911, but Mom said she wasn’t that sick. Back then, I was still young enough to think I had to do as I was told.
I’d tried to get one of our relatively friendly neighbors to drive us to the hospital, but she wouldn’t. I don’t remember what the excuse was, but even then, I suspected the true reason she’d refused was because she didn’t want my mom puking in her car. I’d eventually had to call a cab, and then practically drag my mom down the stairs to get her in. She was too out of it—I think she was drunk as well as sick—to pay the driver, and when I’d dug through her purse for money, I’d found only a couple of dollars. I still remember the sound of that driver’s voice as he yelled at us, cursing and furious at being “cheated” of his fare.
When I’d come to Avalon, I’d been hoping that I would find in my father someone I could finally count on, someone who would take charge and fix problems for me. But I realized, in one of those peculiar moments of clarity I’d been having lately, that if anyone was going to save Ethan from the Wild Hunt, it would have to be me. I’d be pleasantly surprised if Ethan’s father managed to do it himself, but it was time for me to stop hoping someone else would step up to the plate.
It was time to start planning Operation Rescue Ethan.
That sounded real good. Now, if only I had some clue how to go about it … How was I, a sixteen-year-old girl, supposed to defeat the ancient leader of the Wild Hunt? A leader even the Queens of Faerie were afraid of? I fought not to let myself drown in the apparent hopelessness of the task.
I spent several hours mulling over the problem, not coming to any helpful conclusions. My mind kept insisting that the only way to convince the Erlking to release Ethan was to offer to take the Wild Hunt out into the mortal world. I can’t say there weren’t times I was tempted to give in, but I knew I could never live with myself if I did. The Erlking, with all his magic intact because of my presence, would make Jack the Ripper’s reign of terror seem small scale.
The phone rang late in the afternoon. I checked caller ID, but there was no name displayed and I didn’t recognize the number. I figured it had to be a wrong number, but I couldn’t help hoping it was Ethan, escaped from the Erlking’s clutches, maybe calling from a pay phone or a borrowed cell.
“Hello?” I said, knowing my hope was wishful thinking, but unable to suppress it. I held my breath as I waited for the caller to speak.
“Hello, Faeriewalker,” said the Erlking, and I gasped in shock.
“How did you get this number?” I demanded, although that was hardly important.
“My Huntsmen keep no secrets from me,” he answered, sounding amused.
My heart lurched in my chest. I didn’t know exactly what happened to people who were captured by the Hunt, what the Erlking did to them to keep them bound, but I should have guessed that anything Ethan knew about me, the Erlking would now know. Like my phone number.
Thank God Ethan didn’t know the location of my safe house!
I wished I could think of something clever to say, something that would cut him down to size and show him I wasn’t afraid of him. Instead, I just stood there like an idiot, holding the phone to my ear, my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth.
“He is quite the catch, your Ethan,” the Erlking said. “Not as exalted as your brother, but his bloodline is more than respectable, and his powers are formidable.”
My hand clenched around the phone. “Did you call just to gloat, or do you have something important to say?” My voice came out hoarse and raspy.
“A little of both,” he replied. “But then, I suspect you know exactly why I’ve called, don’t you, Faeriewalker?”
“My name is Dana!” I snapped, not sure why I cared what he called me.
“Dana. Of course. Do you know why I’ve called, Dana?”
There was only one reason I could think of. “Now that you’ve got Ethan as a hostage, you want to set up a trade.” A trade my conscience wouldn’t allow me to make, no matter how much I wanted to save Ethan.
“Very good. In the old days, before Avalon seceded from Faerie, I could have taken you by force. Of course, in the old days, I was free to hunt in Avalon to my heart’s conte
nt, so I wouldn’t have needed to. In these modern times, neither I nor my Huntsmen can hurt you even slightly, so I cannot use you to enter the mortal world without your consent. Give me that consent, and Ethan will be free to go. He would be the first person ever to be released from the Wild Hunt by anything but death.”
I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. If I had any sense, I’d end this call immediately. I don’t know if I ever would have been in any shape to negotiate with the Erlking, but I certainly wasn’t at that moment. The grief and shock of losing Ethan were still too raw.
“You know I can’t do that,” I forced myself to say.
“I know no such thing. Perhaps you would not be able to stomach granting me unlimited access, but I would be happy to negotiate. I am not an unreasonable man.”
No, because he wasn’t really a man at all.
“Make me an offer,” he said.
“Unless your plan is to go into the mortal world for sightseeing, I can’t do it. I saw you kill that man when you first rode into Avalon. There’s no way—” My voice choked off as I tried to block out the image of the Erlking bearing down on the fleeing Fae, sword raised and ready to strike.
“I am a hunter, Faerie— Dana,” the Erlking said, his voice gentling. “That is the essential core of my being. I’ve no interest in visiting the mortal world for sightseeing. If we strike a bargain to go there together, I will hunt, and I will kill. Let there be no illusions between us.”
A little sound, almost like a whimper, rose in my throat.
“I’m sorry that distresses you,” he continued. “I bear you no ill will. But I don’t think sugarcoating the truth will make it any more palatable. I am willing to consider making certain concessions in order to convince you to ride with me, but a hunt is not a hunt if the quarry does not die in the end.”
“Then we have nothing to talk about,” I said, though it was practically killing me. Bad enough that I already felt so guilty about what had happened to Ethan. Now the Erlking was rubbing my face in the fact that I could save him—if only I didn’t mind sacrificing who knew how many strangers for the privilege.
