Stalk the Moon

by Jessica Lynch

  I’m so annoyed he’s turning a question like that around on me, I forget to be quiet. “Maybe because I don’t want to be!”

  My voice carries, so loud that it bounces off the mountain and echoes right back.

  Be…

  be…

  be…

  Hunter tosses the front of his cloak aside, his right hand immediately reaching for his weapons belt. It’s clear from his defensive pose that this Hephaestus guy might be a threat.

  And I just snapped loud enough that he had to have heard me.

  I cringe. “Sorry.”

  When nothing happens at first, I begin to think I might’ve gotten away with it. It’s time I got a lucky break. Maybe Hunter’s buddy isn’t home, or he—

  The voice booms out of nowhere. The weird thing is it sounds like it could be from anywhere. Above us, below us, in front of us. There’s a strange reverberation to the words that makes me think the whole mountain is shaking.

  “First the wee whispers, then the rude shouts, and the infernal echoes. I hear you out there. Who dares disturb me work?”

  I gasp. I can’t help it. “Holy shit! You didn’t tell me he was a leprechaun!”

  And I thought I was loud before? In my surprise, I shouted that one super loud.

  Can you blame me? Hunter’s Southern accent is one thing. The commanding voice I heard has such a thick Irish brogue, I almost expect him to break out into a rendition of “Danny Boy.”

  Hunter obviously does. With a barely stifled groan, he covers his face with his hand. His cloak falls back into place, covering his belt. His words are muffled, but since he stopped with the whispering, I hear him say, “I really hope he didn’t hear that.”

  An instant later, the mountain shakes. There’s no other word for it. It’s like a giant appeared, grabbed the mountain by its peak, and started to shove until the whole thing is moving back and forth.

  I shriek, “Earthquake,” and, desperate for safety, I immediately dive for Hunter.

  Opening his arms wide, he swallows me up in his embrace. His arms are like steel bands wrapped around me as he throws his massive frame backward, bracing us against the craggy mountain wall.

  My teeth rattle as my body jolts. I feel like a ping pong ball, bouncing around as the shaking continues. Hunter knocks me in the top of my head with the bottom of his chin.

  He grunts in pain. I see stars.

  Hunter squeezes me so tight, I know what it’s like to be trapped by an anaconda. My breaths come out in short pants. I don’t scream—not because I don’t have the urge, but I can’t get in enough air to make the sound.

  Holy shit, holy shit, holyshit.

  I pray to God to get out of this in one piece. Then, because I’m still stuck on Hercules and this Other is a strange place, I throw a plea Zeus’s way. He’s the head honcho in the Greek pantheon, right? He could do something to help me and Hunter.

  After all I’ve seen and survived to get here, no way am I being taken out by a… a tickle-me mountain. It’s gotta stop shaking at some point. All we have to do is ride it out.

  The earthquake, if that’s what it is, lasts maybe twenty seconds. It seems like twenty years.

  Even when the world appears to calm the fuck back down, I’m still shaken up. I cling tightly to Hunter, prepared for an aftershock. My whole body tingles as I get as close to him as I can without actually climbing inside his skin. My boobs are squashed up against his hard chest, his knees hitting the tops of my thighs. Somehow my hands snuck under his cloak because I realize after a second that I’m clutching his ass. His arms are locked in place around me, my nose nestled between his pecs.

  I breathe in deep. His scent reassures me that I’m alive and that I’m being held by the first person in a long, long time who has made me feel safe. It amazes me that I feel this way. I’m on a mountain without any kind of climbing gear, I’m one wrong step from plummeting to my doom, the mountain is fucking shaking, and after torturing myself by staying away from Hunter, I literally threw myself at him.

  Worst of all? It might have all been worth it—provided we survive this—if only to have this moment where I can let him hold me again without worrying about what it really means.

  Hunter murmurs something against my hair. Over the race of my pulse, and the thud of blood rushing past my ears, I can’t make out what he said.

  The spell is broken. I pull back.

  For a heartbeat, he doesn’t seem to want to let me go. He presses me even closer against him, squeezing me almost to the point of pain, then releases me as quickly. I put a few steps between us. It’s safer that way.

  This beautiful giant of a man has too much power over me. I can’t let him have any more.

  “What was that?”

  Hunter lifts his eyebrows. I notice that his eyes are suddenly dark because his pupils have dilated so far, widened so much, that the black is taking up much of the light green. Okay. So the earthquake messed him up, too. I’m glad I’m not the only one.

  “You said something,” I tell him. “What did you say?”

  “Oh. That. I said, he heard you.”

  No shit.

  Wait—

  I blink, hoping like hell that I misunderstood. “Are you telling me that that Hef guy… he did that to the mountain? It wasn’t just an earthquake?”

  Hunter doesn’t answer me. That’s probably a good thing. On second thought, I don’t really want to know.

  Rocks skitter down the side of the mountain. I hear them, the faint slides, the scrape and slap as the rocks fall after the quake jostled them loose. I’m staring at Hunter so I don’t see it when one falls from above us. It’s not too big, maybe the size of a bouncy ball from a gumball machine. Despite its size, it still hurts like hell when it hits our ledge and manages to get me right in the ankle bone before it settles beside my right sandal.

  Swallowing my curse, I lash out and kick it off the ledge. Then I glance up, double-checking that nothing else is about to fall on either of us. I suddenly have this image of a massive boulder breaking free and thundering down the mountain, squishing us flat in the process. Except for a few of the smaller stones and some pebbly debris, it seems safe.

  And then I look up even higher.

  Puffs of smoke fill the blue sky. Before, the clouds were a pale grey, more light than not. Now? They’ve grown darker, thicker, almost like a heavy grey smokey haze that looms over the part of the mountain we’re heading up. Is something on fire?

  I sniff, wrinkling my nose. Phew. Instead of something burning, it stinks like rotten eggs and heat. Sulfur. Okay. I know that’s not normal.

  I grab Hunter’s cloak again and tug. He was watching the rock that hit me bounce its way down the mountainside, turning when I pull. Crouching a bit, bending at his knees, he puts one hand on my shoulder. Wide eyes, still dark and clearly spooked, roam over me from top to bottom, checking me out, making sure I’m in one piece.

  I can’t blame him for grabbing at me again. I gave him the excuse when I reached for him first and, well, I should’ve figured by now that he’ll take any opportunity I give him to touch me.

  “You all right, Noelle?”

  In answer, I point up.

  He follows my point. When he turns back to me, his smile is tight and thin. “Hephaestus has a thing for volcanoes.”

  “Volcanoes?” I echo. I jerk away from Hunter, staring in horror at the dark clouds billowing above us. The smoke. The heat. The sulfur. The way it friggin’ shook like it’s about to erupt. He actually let me walk on this thing? “This mountain is a volcano?”

  “It wasn’t.”

  Oh. If it wasn’t already—

  I wince. Oops.

  “Anyway, he knows we’re here now. Might as well go say hi.” He moves and puts his arm around me again, pulling me close. Since I’m still freaking out, I let him. “Do me a favor, yeah?”

  God or no god, I’m not sure I want to meet someone who can cause the earth to move when he gets offended. If Hunter thinks
we should, though, I’ll follow his lead.

  I lean into him. “Sure. Whatever you want.”

  “No more jokes about him bein’ a leprechaun. I don’t think the mountain can take it.”

  25

  “This is it?” I murmur. They’re the first words I speak since the earthquake and I barely move my lips when I say them. I’m not chancing it. What if I set this guy off and then he sets off the volcano? Yeah. No, thanks.

  Hunter nods and, removing his arm from my shoulder, he takes my hand. He doesn’t say anything as he moves in front of me, heading into the cave first.

  This cave he led me to is about ten feet above the ledge where we were when Hephaestus heard us. Screw having great hearing. For him to have heard my crack, he’s gotta have ears like a friggin’ bat.

  Eyes like one, too, I decide as Hunter gives my hand a gentle yank and I step carefully behind him. As soon as we move inside the cavern’s entrance, we’re immediately met with gloom. The sunlight from outside only filters in so far, throwing shadows around an interior that could be as big as my bedroom or even a football field. I’ve got no clue. Big pockets of impenetrable blackness fill the space. Are they fixtures? Furniture? People? Nothing would surprise me at this point.

  “Step in, step in. Aye and don’t dawdle. Haven’t you heard it’s rude to darken doorways?”

  His voice is like music, a soft lilt that should’ve sounded hard, considering how angry he is. Sure, his words make it seem like he’s inviting us in. I don’t make the mistake of letting down my guard. There’s a warning in the timbre of his Irish brogue that says: GO AWAY.

  Sounds like a good plan to me.

  “Just say hi and let’s go,” I whisper. I tug on Hunter’s hand. “I don’t like this.”

  “Don’t mind him. He’s a big, burly beast, but he’s harmless.”

  “Ryan, boy? That you?” A huff, followed by a slamming, ringing sound that makes me jump. Metal smashing against metal. What is he doing here in the dark? Oh, Lord, I really, really don’t like this.

  Hunter gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.

  “Aye and of course, it is. You never had much sense. And is that a wee female you’ve brought with you?” Another strike, another slam. My ears are ringing from the loud sound. “She shows no respect. Control your lass before I do.”

  His order reaches out and slaps me in the face. I dig in my heels, momentarily stunned. I blink slowly.

  He didn’t just—

  Control your lass before I do.

  Oh, hell no.

  My bow is hanging limply in the hand not being held by Hunter. I surprise him. With one quick jerk, I take my hand back and raise my arms, the bow held high. My quiver is still looped over my shoulder, securely strapped to the back of my cloak. Reaching behind me, the arrow jumps between my fingers, lined up against my cheek and the bowstring before my next breath.

  No one has ever been able to control me. Not at home or in the Other. Certainly not Hunter. Definitely not Apollo. And this overgrown leprechaun thinks he can try?

  I sight down my arrow. Bring it.

  It doesn’t matter that it’s dark. As fury roars through me, my every sense is heightened. From the location of his voice to the lingering shift in the air from the slam of ringing metal, I know what direction to aim in. The absence of free space, the looming shape in the pitch black, is my target. It’s massive. I won’t miss.

  “Yeah, I’m a woman. So? My tits won’t stop me from firing this arrow through your fat head.”

  “Do you really think you can hit me?”

  I snort. “I know I can.”

  “You’ve got nerve, lass.” Shit, his accented voice is coming from another corner. I turn my arrow, but the bastard is quick. How did he move over there without me noticing? “Is your bow faster than fire, I wonder.”

  Snap.

  The fire sparks, blossoming in a grated stove. It’s like an explosion before my eyes, a bright orange light that nearly blinds me. I blink, wishing my eyes would adjust. There’s no time. The fire suddenly rages into a roaring flame that gusts through the open grate.

  It scorches the air, the white-hot tip licking out at me and Hunter. A rush of hot air slaps me in the face. The stink of sulfur burns my nose. I swallow back a cough, gagging when my tongue goes dry. I immediately press it to the roof my mouth, aching for some moisture. All I get is a nasty taste of ash.

  And he did all that with a friggin’ snap of his fingers.

  More magic. I can feel it all around me, the way it crackles and pulses in the stuffy air as the fire blooms and dies in the stove.

  Now I get it. I do. I totally understand what Hunter meant when he said that this guy is like me. Hephaestus managed to tap into some part of himself and do parlor tricks with the fire.

  And, you know, I haven’t forgotten his stunt with the earthquake, either.

  I give my head a quick shake, blowing air through my nose to get rid of the stink. The flash of light blinded me. I blink again, rapidly this time, trying to get my sight back. I move when I hear a step in that corner, searching for him.

  Am I supposed to be intimidated? Am I supposed to be scared? Who does he think he is?

  Doesn’t he know who I am?

  He’s got power. Well, so do I. I can—

  Hunter places his hand on my elbow. Leaning over, he places his lips next to my ear and mutters, “Noelle, darlin’, you’re startin’ to glow.”

  I’m about to shake off his touch when his warning sinks in. I spare a glance down at my arm. The faint silver light drifts outwards from my skin, bathing Hunter’s big hand in a soft glow.

  Ah, crap. Who needs a fire? Light me up and I’m back to being my own personal nightlight.

  Even if I knew how to turn it off, I’m too late. My glow-in-the-dark schtick seems to amuse Hephaestus. His laughter is like cannonfire, booming out of him and echoing in the cave.

  Another snap and the stove fills with fire again. It’s a more appropriate size this time, a gentle orange that provides enough light to break up the gloom. I hear a sharp whistle and the fire brightens. It’s like he turned a light on. I can actually see more than a couple of feet in front of me.

  The part of the cave we’re standing in is like something straight out of a fantasy film. Between the stove with its open grate and the gigantic anvil on the floor beside it, the shop tables and the terrifying pile of weapons nearby that glint in the firelight, it’s definitely some sort of a blacksmith shop. Like the one Will Turner worked in and where he had that really awesome sword fight with Johnny Depp.

  My eyes are glued to the closest stack of weapons on the nearest wooden table. Swords. Knives. Daggers. A friggin’ lance, I think. And all I’ve got is my own magic bow and arrow set. I hope it’s enough.

  It better be enough.

  That’s when Hephaestus moves out of the darkness, closer to the stove. Sensing that he’s the larger threat, I turn and get my first look at him.

  Holy. Shit.

  No wonder Hunter wanted to avoid this dude.

  I knew from his shadow that he’d be a big bastard, but I’m not prepared to face off against a man who’s even bigger than Hunter. Hephaestus is well over six feet, pushing seven, and he’s got hands that would cover my entire face if I foolishly got close enough to test it. He’s built like a linebacker, with muscles to match. From the massive smith’s hammer he’s clutching in one hand, it’s obvious that he’s worked hard for his size. Seriously, that sucker puts Thor’s Mjolnir to shame.

  His hair is long, thick and wavy, a dark color that might be brown or maybe black. He wears it tied back in a loose ponytail that gives him a devil-may-care air. I’m willing to bet he keeps it out of his face so that it doesn’t catch on fire. On purpose or not, it totally works for him.

  Hephaestus’s skin is even darker than Hunter’s, the deep Mediterranean tan you’d expect from someone with actual Greek ancestry. His beard is groomed close to his razor-edged jaw, giving him a cunning, swarthy so
rt of look. Maybe I’m still stuck on the blacksmith shop in Pirates of the Caribbean because Hephaestus reminds me of a big, burly pirate, only with soot on his face and ash on his smock. A blacksmith pirate, I guess.

  So Hephaestus sounds like a leprechaun, looks like a pirate, and has a hair-trigger temper. Definitely someone I would have wanted to avoid.

  He barks out another laugh. “Good on ya, lass. So you’ve finally returned.”

  As if we’ve both agreed on a truce, the fire in the grate dims at the same time as my silver glow dampens. Within a few seconds, I’m back to being plain old pale Noelle and Hephaestus has left enough flames for us to see comfortably around us without being blinded.

  Interesting. Noelle is worth an earthquake and fireworks. Artemis receives a greeting, like they’re old friends.

  Ah, crap. They are, aren’t they?

  Now that the tension has broken, the air of danger simmers down from a roiling boil. With a loud chink, Hephaestus strikes his crazy big iron hammer against the ginormous anvil next to the stove. He leaves it there, wiping his hands on his smock before he comes to stand right in front of us.

  I notice something weird. Without the dark to hide him, I see that he’s favoring one leg. Hephaestus is still fast, but my eyes are getting better. That, or some part of me is actually scoping out the giant blacksmith’s weaknesses.

  Left leg, bad. He’s lame—or, at least, he was once.

  I give my head a clearing shake, going for a look of innocence when I realize that he’s wearing a calculating expression as he watches me. Almost like he knows exactly what I was thinking.

  Oops.

  Hunter nods a greeting to him. And then, to my surprise, he moves until he’s hovering over my shoulder, like a cloaked bodyguard. A palm on my upper back, a brand of possession that makes me way giddier than it should.