The Wild Hunt

by Thomas Galvin

  “Uh, yeah. In Issaquah, like fifteen minutes from here. There was a murder.”

  I looked at my cell phone. Sure enough, the local news had sent me an urgent alert with a sensational headline. I just hadn’t noticed it, because I had silenced my phone before I headed into the woods.

  I really didn’t need to get killed because I forgot to put my phone on vibrate.

  Getting my shirt on was a battle all on its own, and I grit my teeth the entire time. “Well, that sucks and everything, but the police are generally better at this than I am. And I do kind of feel like I got run over by a steam roller, so …”

  “The victim was killed by five girls … and one of them was naked.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Okay, that is interesting. And really, really depressing.”

  “Why? Did you think there was still time to save them, or bring them back from the dark edge of the abyss or something?”

  “No,” I said, grabbing my pants. “I was hoping to take a nap.”

  “Oh. So, um, are you going?”

  I looked longingly at the bed. “Yeah, I am. Wanna drive?”

  “Yes, yes I do,” Miranda said, her emerald eyes flashing.

  “Great. So, um, can I put my pants on first?”

  “Oh! Crap. Sorry, yeah, I’ll, um, be outside.”

  “Thanks.” I closed the door gently behind her. Once I was dressed, I took a deep breath, contemplated my lot in life, and opened the door.

  Miranda was waiting just outside. “Ready?”

  “Not even close, but we might as well go.”

  Miranda stopped halfway down the stairs. “Are you okay? Your ribs looked really bad.”

  “No, I’m not, but your concern is touching. As long as I don’t get into any life or death battles tonight, I should be fine. But just in case, if I topple over or start coughing blood or anything, you should probably take me to the hospital.”

  Miranda’s pre-med training kicked in and she looked at me critically. “Are you sure you should go out tonight?”

  I spread my palms. “Hey, this is your idea. I’m just along for the ride.”

  “I mean, they aren’t there anymore. At least, the TV didn’t say anything about a Viking cult laying waste to the officers on scene. There might not be anything worth going there for.”

  I shrugged, then winced as a small explosive went off in my shoulder. “I don’t have a way to track them, Miranda. That spell I did today, I don’t think it will work after the ritual they performed. If there’s something at the crime scene that will lead me to them, I have to have it.”

  “Okay, but if you feel dizzy or anything, you have to tell me.”

  “Deal,” I said. “And I was serious, you should drive. I don’t think I’m exactly qualified right now.”

  Miranda drove a perfectly mundane Toyota Camry. The paint looked almost black in the moonlight, but I thought I caught a subtle glimmer of metallic purple here and there. Miranda was a cautious driver, both hands on the wheel, coming to a complete stop at every sign, and signaling whenever she changed lanes, even if there was no one within a hundred miles. I didn’t mind the slow pace; it gave me a chance to weave my healing spell and at least start to knit some of my internal organs back together.

  We drove down an empty highway and headed through the Tiger and Squak Mountain state parks, avoiding civilization almost entirely until we reached Issaquah. An entire block was cordoned off with yellow police tape, and five police cruisers were parked in front of a fabric store, lights flashing.

  Miranda parked a block away, facing the store. “What do you want to do?”

  “Stay here until the cops clear out,” I muttered without opening my eyes.

  She made it five whole minutes before she started fidgeting, which was actually pretty good. People who have never been on a stakeout don’t realize how damn boring really it is. I heard Miranda shifting in her seat, then playing with her cell phone. “So, um, why the Yarn Barn?”

  “Huh? Oh, right. Holda serves a lot of roles in her pantheon. The lady of winter, the mother of witches, and the goddess of spinning.”

  “Spinning? Like looms and weaving and stuff?”

  “Yeah. Making fabric is kind of her thing, so it makes sense that she’d come here to outfit herself. I mean, as much sense as any of this makes.”

  “Right.” A few minutes later she asked, “Is it okay if I turn the radio on?”

  “Sure,” I said. She plugged her phone into the dashboard and the dulcet tones of Coldplay filled the car. I huffed, but turned my attention back to my medicinal magic rather than Miranda’s tragically contemporary taste in music.

  We’d been sitting there almost a half hour when Miranda said, “Okay, looks like they’re clearing out.”

  Three of the cop cars drove away almost immediately. Another pair of cops wandered out a few minutes later, tore down the police tape, then followed their cohorts into the night. Finally, two more cops came out of the store, escorting a small Asian girl in a green smock to her car.

  “Okay, what’s our move?” Miranda asked.

  “Wait until the cops are gone, then follow the girl.”

  “’Kay.”

  The last of the police drove away. The girl looked all around the car, eyes wide and a little bit afraid, then backed out of her parking spot and pulled onto the road.

  “Don’t follow too close,” I said. “Don’t want to spook her.”

  “This is so cool,” Miranda said. She drifted back about ten car lengths. “Is this enough?”

  “Yeah, you should be fine.” I was glad Miranda was enjoying herself, but I couldn’t work up any enthusiasm myself. The taste of blood and the crunching sound my lungs made every time I exhaled were too distracting. I ran a bit more energy through my splintered bones as Miranda drove, trying to piece myself back together.

  We were only on the road for about five minutes. The girl pulled into a parking lot in front of an apartment building and shut off her car.

  Miranda gunned it, but I held out my hand. “Easy. Girl just saw someone get killed. We don’t want to scare her.”

  “But we’ll lose her.”

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  The girl went inside and Miranda parked next to her. “Okay, now what?” she asked.

  I pushed the door open and eased out of the car. God, even trying to stand up hurt. I leaned against the car to catch my breath.

  Miranda sidled next to me, letting me lean on her. “Are you okay?”

  I shrugged away from her. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m pretty sure the girl isn’t going to attack me.”

  “All right,” she said, unconvinced. “So, how do we find her?”

  I walked–okay, shambled–over to the girl’s car and pointed at the curb, where a faded white stencil read 2C.

  “Clever,” Miranda said.

  I shrugged. “Not really. This is a nice complex. I’m guessing she can’t afford it, so she’s either living with her parents or another girl from the college. People in this kind of development get real pissy if you steal their spot, so they’re almost always marked.”

  The door to the apartment building was locked, but the Thieves’ Key opened it without a problem. Miranda gasped. “Holy crap, what is that thing?”

  “A talisman created by the followers of Surgat, who’s basically a demon locksmith.”

  Miranda stared at me. “I can never tell when you’re BS-ing me.”

  I opened the door and waved her in with a grand gesture. “A sorcerer must cultivate an image of mystery if he wants to be taken seriously.”

  “You’re not a sorcerer. Or are you? What do you call a washed up Saint?”

  “I’m not washed up,” I said, limping inside. “I’m just working freelance.”

  We took the elevator to the second floor and knocked on the third door. A girl with mousy blonde hair and glasses answered. “Yeah?”

  “Hi,” I said. “Sorry to bother you so late. I’m Detective Glass, and this is my pa
rtner, Detective van Lane. Is your roommate home?”

  “Sayo? Yeah, hold on, I’ll get her.”

  She closed the door in our face. It opened a few moments later, and the girl from the fabric store looked out at us. “Hi, Sayo,” Miranda said. Clever girl, she’d picked up on the name the roommate had dropped.

  “Hi,” Sayo said uncertainly. “I thought you guys were done with me? I already told Detective Martins everything I know.”

  “I’m really sorry,” I said, taking out a pad of paper. “Martins and me work different shifts, and he’s gone home for the night, so I can’t get his notes until morning. I really wanted to get working on your case tonight, though, so I was hoping you could go over everything with us. Just a quick summary.”

  “We’ll be fast,” Miranda assured her.

  Sayo made a face but unchained the door. “Come on in,” she said.

  I felt something tickle the back of my brain as soon as I walked across the threshold. That was interesting. Unless these girls were secretly witches, Holda had left some of her energy with Sayo.

  Sayo looked back at me. “Are you okay? No offense, but you look like you just got your ass kicked.”

  “He’s okay,” Miranda said. “A perp jumped him, but I managed to fend him off.”

  I shot her a sideways glare. This was no time to improvise. “I’m fine,” I said. “It only hurts when I exist.”

  “Um, okay.” Sayo sat on the couch and folded her hands. “So what do you want to know?”

  I sat down in a chair opposite her, and Miranda sat on the far end of the couch. “Just start at the beginning,” I said. “Take your time. I know it’s hard.”

  “Okay.” Sayo closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “So I was working the closing shift. It’s been crazy, you know? Because of Christmas. I’ve worked ten-hour days all week. So I’m working, and Amanda is just like sitting there, on her cell phone the whole time. Didn’t do a thing to help me, you know? I mean God, Sam, our manager, expects us to keep the place neat no matter how many people pick it apart, so we have like zero downtime, but Amanda is just like ‘whatever.’”

  “Okay,” I said, not exactly sure where this was going.

  “So I’m putting the yarn back on the rack, and Ashlyn walks through the door, naked as a blue bird!”

  “Jay bird,” Miranda said.

  “Whatever. The point is, she was buck-ass naked. Wasn’t even wearing shoes, and she walked in like she owned the place.”

  “Wait, you know Ashlyn?” I asked.

  “Yeah, we had a class with each other last semester. She was kind of a bitch, so I never really hung out with her, but I know who she is. Anyway, she walks in, flashing her business all over the place, and walks right up to me. She says that she needs some fabric, and Amanda is like ‘no shit you do.’ And Ashlyn looks at her like she’s trying to light her on fire, but then she smiles at me, all nice and sweet, and she says she’d like some flax, whatever the hell that is, but she’ll take cotton if that’s all we have.”

  Miranda sat forward. “So Holda was looking for cloth. That is so weird.”

  “What’s a Holda?” Sayo asked.

  “Ashlyn’s gang name,” I said quickly. “So what did she do with the fabric?”

  “Gang? Crazy bitch. Well, and I know this is crazy talk, but she made herself a dress. Like, right freaking there, in the store. Took her like five minutes. And then she walks up to me and she’s like ‘you’re a really hard worker and you impress me and you’re awesome,’ and I’m just like thanks, you know? And then she turns to Amanda and she calls her a lazy wench or something like that, and then …” Sayo’s breath caught.

  “Go on,” I said gently.

  “She reached out and grabbed her by the throat, hauled her right across the checkout table, and she, she just snapped her neck, like it was nothing.”

  Miranda’s eyes went wide. “Shit.”

  Sayo nodded. “Right?”

  I put the notebook back in my pocket. “Okay, I think that’s enough for tonight, Sayo. Just one more question.”

  “Yeah?”

  “What did Ashlyn give you?”

  She blanched and sat back. She looked from side to side, over at the television, down at the floor, anywhere but at me. “I don’t know what you mean,” she muttered.

  “Yes you do,” I chided gently. “You aren’t in trouble, Sayo, at least not yet, but this is important. Ashlyn gave you something, and I need to know what it was.”

  Sayo looked down at the floor. “Just a second.”

  She got up and plodded over to her bedroom. Miranda whispered to me, “How did you know?”

  “I can feel it,” I said, pointing to my head. “Like static electricity.”

  “Cool.”

  Sayo came back holding a small leather satchel. I held out my hand and she dropped it into my palm. Electricity tingled up my arm. I opened the bag and dumped out its contents, about thirty gold coins.

  Miranda’s eyes went wide. “Damn.”

  “She gave me those when she took the fabric. Told me it was a reward for being so diligent. I was just like ‘where were you hiding them?’”

  “Can we use your kitchen?” I asked.

  Sayo blinked. “Huh?”

  “I want to run a quick test on the coins.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure. It’s that way.” She pointed off toward the back of the apartment.

  “Thanks. Just wait here for us, if you could. Miranda?”

  Miranda followed me into the kitchen. I tossed all of the coins but one into the sink. “I felt these as soon as we crossed the threshold,” I said. “They have Holda’s energy all over them. She must have brought them over from the Otherworld.” I put the remaining coin back in the bag and tied it to my tiny iron chain.

  “Otherworld?”

  I rolled one of coins between my fingers, examining how the light played off it. “The spirit world. Hades. Valhalla. Fae.”

  “Fae? Like, fairy land? That’s real?”

  I cocked an eyebrow at her. “You knew the legend about faeries being allergic to iron.”

  “I know the legend about leprechauns having pots of gold and bowls of marshmallow cereal, too, but that doesn’t mean I think it’s real.”

  “Everything is real if enough people believe in it. The Otherworld is separated from our reality by a barrier of Æther, what people usually call the Veil. Some of it is layered on top of ours, so there’s an Otherworld that exists alongside this kitchen, and the college, your house … everywhere. The Asatru’s ritual made it easier for Holda to cross over.”

  “So what’s it like? What’s in the Otherkitchen? Or my Otherhouse?”

  “It depends. The Otherworld isn’t just one place. Different cultures have created different facets. Celtic mythology’s version of the Otherworld doesn’t look anything like the Lakota’s Otherworld, but they’re all real, and they can all be reached if you know what you’re doing.”

  “So which Otherworld does my house have?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Of course not,” Miranda muttered.

  I laughed. “A place can have more than one Otherworld, stacked on top of each other like floors in a house and separated from each other by the Æther. Your house is probably very close to the Germanic Otherworld because of the rituals the Asatru have performed in the woods out back, but there might be passages to the Chinook Otherworld, too. Or hell, the Japanese Otherworld. Anyway,” I held up the bag and chain, “Holda brought this over from her Otherworld, so it has similar energy, so I can use it to track her.” I whispered an incantation and the bag lifted into the air, pointing out the window.

  I released the spell and stuck the bag in my pocket. “But that’s for tomorrow. I’m in no shape to take on a pack of demons tonight.”

  “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all night.” She looked at the gold. “So what are you going to do with that?”

  I stretched my hands over the sink, covering the g
old. “Some of my counter spells don’t just resist magic, they cancel it out. Like two waves crashing into each other.” I felt the energy emanating from the gold, then constructed its opposite in my mind. An act of will sent crimson flames running over the gold. When the flames faded, the coins were nothing but inert metal.

  “Enchanted artifacts, even ones that have just picked up a residual charge, can be dangerous. It’s like leaving a bowl of sugar out. Attracts ants. You never know when a pissed off gnome is going to show up screaming for his bag of gems. But if you cancel out the magic you cancel out the draw, too.”

  I grabbed the gold and walked back into the living room. Sayo looked up at me, crestfallen. “Find what you were looking for?”

  I fished the bag out of my pocket and held it up. “I did.” I put the leather bag back in my pocket, then held out my other hand, dumping the gold into Sayo’s lap. “I’ve got what I need. The rest, well, it’s not in the report, so it’s not like anyone’s going to miss it.”

  Sayo’s eyes went wide. “Really?”

  I winked at her. “Have a good night, Sayo. I’m sorry you got caught up in all of this. Detective van Lane? Let’s go.”

  December 23rd

  Chapter Fifteen

  I spent that night putting my ribs back together. When I finally wandered downstairs, I found Ethel and Miranda putting the finishing touches on lunch service. The kitchen was mostly in order, but there were still holes in the wall, and the cabinets had no doors. I winced when I saw the damage I had caused, and Ethel winced when she saw me. “I’ll be in the living room,” she said. She skirted past me, avoiding my eyes.

  One of the dishes I had shattered laid on top of the trash, one of those silly commemorative things they sell on late night TV to people with insomnia and credit cards. At least I thought it was silly until I read the inscription: 25th Wedding Annivers.

  The dish suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. I just stared at it, shaking my head. “God damn it,” I muttered.

  Miranda gently took the dish out of my hand. “It’s all right.”

  “No, it isn’t. I didn’t have to do this. I could have … hell, I don’t know. I could have thought of something. But I don’t think. I just wreck everything in my path.”