The Dark Huntsman: A Fantasy Romance of The Black Court (Tales of The Black Court Book 1)

by Jessica Aspen

  “Control yourself,” she commanded. “You are young, but you must learn control if you are to confront the queen. We are at a major shift in the configuration of the Courts and, like it or not, you are a key player.”

  “I have no time for this.” The wind swirled leaves and dirt through the open front door and grit stung his face. He struggled to keep his emotions from destroying the landscape. “She is dying.”

  “Who is dying?” Aoife braced against the gale, her white hair lifting and billowing out over her cloak. She raised her voice, leaning in close. “Who is dying?”

  “Trina MacElvy!” Logan said.

  Aoife’s face blanched.

  “What? Why didn’t you say so? We are wasting time. She is key to the prophecy. If she dies, the queen will survive and the courts are doomed.”

  She whistled, a shrill sound that somehow carried over the storm. Logan spun and ran for Solanum, scattering the tiny fairies hovering in the courtyard.

  “We’re leaving.”

  Solanmum climbed out of the fountain, shaking drops of water from his nude body. “And Aoife?” He shifted back into a dark horse.

  Logan mounted. “She’s coming with us.” He called a portal and it slammed open, cracking the bricks of the courtyard and throwing flower fairies to the side.

  A gleaming white mare raced around the corner into the courtyard. Aoife leapt on without saddle or bridle, her starry cloak flowing around her as they rode into the purple haze of the gate.

  They burst out of the last portal into a maelstrom of wind and rain. Dark funnel clouds hovered over the ranch as tumbleweeds and pieces of wood flew by. Solanum braced his hooves, ducking an incoming chunk of wood. Logan sailed over his head, grinding face first into the ground. He stood, shook the mud off, and slogged through the muck and wind to the front door of the shuddering ranch house.

  “Solanum! How much time has passed here?” He didn’t wait for the puca’s answer or look back to see if Aoife followed. Instead, he opened the front door, hanging onto the handle as the wind tried to rip it away.

  Aoife and a human Solanum crowded in behind him, and they wrestled the door closed.

  After the violence of the storm outside, the air in the dark house had a strange silence. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck prickled to attention.

  No one was there.

  “Where is she?” Aoife demanded.

  “I don't know. They were here when I left.”

  “How long ago was that?” she asked, her face harsh in the shadowy living room.

  “I don't know!” he snarled back. He tried to think as he strode through the odd stillness of the house, listening for people and only hearing the sounds of tearing as the raging winds of the storm sought to destroy the building from the outside. He ran from room to room, frantic to find something, anything that would tell him what he needed to know.

  What time had he been here last? Had he somehow spent more time Underhill than he realized? Was he too late?

  His stomach dropped.

  “It’s been only a few hours here,” Solanum said. “It’s likely the witch is dead and they’ve gone to bury her.”

  “No.” He stared at Solanum, fighting to keep from punching the oddly sympathetic look on the usually unemotional puca’s face. “If she died, I would know.”

  Solanum shook his head. “I’m sorry it’s gone that far.” He bowed and stepped out of the way as Logan went to search the house.

  In the kitchen, shiny red apples lay haphazardly on the wood floor and the air smelled of fresh cider mixed with the taint of burnt bicuits. Logan swallowed, he didn’t think he’d ever be eating an apple again. Dishes and cups were piled in the sink, congealed food still on them. Then he saw the note on the table. He snatched it up.

  “They've taken her to the tunnels.” His hands trembled as he tried to decipher his uncle’s ancient handwriting. “Rinnal says they put her in stasis, but with the storm and the threat of the queen, she would be safer in the caverns.”

  He ran back outside into the rain to where the white mare huddled in the lee of the building. This time, he waited for Aoife, impatient as he was. He didn’t dare lose her now. She might be his last chance at salvation.

  “So, they’ve put her in a stasis spell.” She drew her hood up over her long white hair and climbed on the mare. “Those uncles of yours are more clever than I thought. They have given us some extra time.”

  “We don't have extra time. The stasis spell isn’t a cure. All it will do is hold her between here and death’s door.” He snarled over his shoulder and urged Solanum up the trail into the teeth of the storm.

  “Slow down!” Aoife said. “Don't lose me. I don't know where you're taking me and if you lose me, you lose her.”

  Logan reined in his impatience and Solanum. Every second they took might be Trina's last. He let out a breath and resolved patience.

  “Why aren’t you opening a portal?” Aoife asked as they climbed the trail between high canyon walls that had guarded the tunnel entrance from humans for millennium.

  “The area we’re going to is protected from portals.” He pointed to petroglyphs painted on the high walls, ancient symbols from a dead culture warning of destruction if portals were used. “It’s not far.”

  The road through the canyon had turned treacherous, the desert dirt turned to sucking mud. Precious seconds of Trina’s life trickled away as they climbed. Every step, every slip, every moment extended the journey into excruciating, internal torture for Logan until they reached the entrance to the caverns.

  “We're here.” He opened the rock face and led the party inside.

  Aoife shook water off of her nose and held out her hand. A small, glowing sphere appeared, lighting the area around them. The beautiful woman no longer looked pristine as she stripped off her heavy cloak, the velvet stars weighted down with mud.

  “Which way do we go?” She held her light up, rivulets of rain running from her long hair and soaking her dress.

  Five tunnels branched off the entrance. Five mistakes waiting to be made. Any one of the directions could lead to Trina, any one might not. Time was running out.

  “Give me a moment.” He closed his eyes and opened his senses. His Gift was for tracking, hunting. Once he had the feel of the game, he would pursue it until he caught it. All he had to do was hunt, and Trina was now his quarry.

  He pictured Trina.

  Long black hair that smelled of green sage and lavender tangled in his fists. Soft lips giving under his as he devoured her mouth, kissing her with his tongue, skating along it with his teeth. The texture of her skin sliding under his hands as he ran his palms along her spine, down her back to cradle her hips and part her thighs for his pleasure. The unique flavor and scent of her as she spread wide to his need, his mouth watering at the memory of how she tasted and smelled.

  How she felt warm in his arms. How she warmed his soul.

  He opened up. And knew exactly where she was. Knew which path to take. And knew she was still alive.

  “This way.” He strode down a tunnel, intent on his quarry. He didn't look back to see if Aoife followed. She’d come this far, she would be behind him. He had one goal. Trina.

  Leaving the mare, they hiked deep into the ancient tunnels.

  “Tell me what I am facing.” Aoife commanded. He told her about Trina’s coma and the apples. And he told her about the combs.

  “Someone definitely knows your witch is alive and how to find her. You have a problem young man, and I'm betting it is the queen.”

  “No doubt,” Solanum said, his lip curling in sarcasm. “We weren’t sure after she put Logan in the dungeon, but when she killed half of the prince’s followers and secreted him away, I had my suspicions she was a vindictive bitch.”

  “Don’t be smart with me.” Aoife admonished the puca. She shook her head at him. “Sneaking and poisoning isn’t like the Black Queen. Her forte is blunt force.”

  They walked deeper into the earth, their fo
otsteps echoing into the dark. Aoife broke the silence. “There is more to this story than you’re telling me.”

  Logan looked ahead. He could feel Trina, very close now. How much should he tell this woman? He’d already trusted her with too much. She had power over his forfeit, the knowledge of the Fir Bolg’s secret tunnels, and now, he handed her Trina’s life.

  He knew from past experience that you should never trust the Tuatha De Danann and that trusting Aoife would be his downfall, but he had little choice and no options.

  They came around a bend and entered a tunnel lit from beyond with a blue glow. His heart accelerated. Pressure rose in his ears. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He knew Trina was still alive, but how close was she to death?

  “What's wrong, boy?” Aoife asked, too close behind him.

  A fear of loss so great he’d forgotten its very existence pushed its way out of the depths of his soul.

  “What if I lose her?”

  He couldn’t move. He stood in the tunnel and turned away from the glowing entrance as he shook with a fear he hadn't felt since he was a little boy, struggling to live by rules he didn't understand, in the unfeeling court of his father's people.

  “You're borrowing trouble. I haven't lived this long without acquiring some skills.” Aoife smiled, a grim, vicious smile that held the memories of a thousand battlefields and a thousand dead and dying. She pushed past him, her now drying white hair flowing around her, glowing in the blue light. “I have pulled more than one person back from the arms of death,” she said. “I am familiar with his ways and he does not always win, even when it looks like all is lost.”

  She disappeared around the bend into the cavern ahead.

  “Come on, time to see if you’ve made the right choices,” Solanum said, the ancient wisdom in his eyes at odds with his very young, very beautiful features.

  “What if she dies?” Logan didn’t move.

  “If she dies, then you can fade away after her, and I’ll be free of your cursed family forever.” Solanum gripped his shoulder and turned him to face the tunnel. “But at least face your losses like a man. Come say goodbye to your love.”

  He didn’t know if Trina would live or die. He didn’t know if he could face a future without her, but his hunting Gift urged him to conclude the hunt and find the quarry. He looked into Solanum’s depthless eyes and allowed the push of his desire for the close of the hunt to move his terrified body into the torch-lit chamber where Trina lay dying.

  Darkness licked the edges of the natural amphitheatre. In the center, Stephan, Angus, and Rinnal stood vigil. Swords, battle axes, and hammers at the ready, these were no longer easy-going farmers. Here stood the Fir Bolg’s fiercest warriors.

  Logan slow-walked down the sloping floor to the center of the room and the casket emanating the blue-glow of a stasis spell.

  “There ye are, lad. We wondered when ye'd be back.” Rinnal broke the circle and came forward to greet them. He bowed to Aoife in her nearly see-through white gown as if she were a queen.

  “My lady.”

  She gave a brief, regal nod.

  Logan suppressed his irritation at her acceptance of the adulation of her enemy and instead, stared at the casket. It was a beautiful construct of a dark cherry wood with intricate carvings of lilies and leaves. They’d cut a rectangular hole in the top and mounted a piece of glass in a rough-cut frame. Beneath the window of glass, and surrounded by the blue glow of the stasis spell, lay Trina,

  She appeared as if she’d been carved from porcelain, her skin pale and perfect, her hands laced on top of her waist. If it weren’t for the bright, poisonous red of her lips and the green miasma with its roots anchored into Trina’s heart and lungs, infesting her internal organs with its pernicious evil, Logan would have thought her a marble effigy mistakenly put inside the coffin.

  Fear rose in his throat and choked off his questions.

  “Move out of the way, boy.” Aoife nudged him aside.

  She held her hands out, palms down. Time slowed as Aoife stood over Trina. Pale lavender light poured from her hands, washing over the coffin, the spell, and Trina.

  Aoife’s body swayed and strained. The spell’s tentacles shivered in response to whatever she was doing. Slowly, the green strands of the spell pulled out of Trina. Logan swallowed as his heart rose out of his stomach and lodged just below the lump in his throat.

  It was working.

  The roots of the spell retracted, sucked out by the lavender light, but as Aoife pulled out the spell, Trina’s weakened aura pulled with it. Trina’s soul was being tugged lose from her body along with the poison.

  He would lose her this way.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Logan lurched forward. “She’s killing her!” He had to stop Aoife from sucking Trina’s soul out of her body along with the poison spell. The smell of cherry tobacco filled his nose and strong arms wrapped him tight from behind, dragging him away from the coffin.

  Angus held him back, pinning his arms in place. “Don’t worry, lad. She knows what she’s doing.”

  He strained to get to Trina, shifting from side to side attempting to shake his uncle off. “Let me go!” He arched his back, but even as he did, he saw that Aoife had stopped trying to pull the spell out of Trina.

  “The boy’s right. Let him go.” She stepped back from the casket. “Logan, I asked you if you were willing to pay a forfeit.”

  Angus released him and he tore his gaze from Trina's still form to stare at the Tuathan. “Aye.”

  “Are you still? Even though I asked for it in exchange for the prophecy, I would not take it now if you weren't willing.” Her eyes searched his for signs of indecision, her cold, ancient gaze boring into him. “This will not work if you are not committed to it.”

  “Aye. I’m willing.” His anguish was a palpable thing filling his entire body. If he’d had any clue he would be here now, he would have killed the witch where he’d found her, naked in the center of her destroyed labyrinth. Anything never to have bargained with Trina. He’d been so clever, keeping the witch to play with, but he’d bargained away his heart instead. And now he would forfeit his life.

  “Before I do this, I need to know. If you truly didn't know this would happen, why did you require a price from me in advance that would pay for this?”

  “There is always a price for knowledge.” Her lips compressed, an expression of hard pity flashed across her face. “I knew, at some point, you would have to pay, and I was willing to take advantage of that to be sure how committed you were to your cause. And now I can see you are.”

  He was. He’d been committed to Trina from the moment he’d swept her off her feet and carried her away instead of killing her. He just hadn’t known it.

  “The spell starts in her throat.” Aoife gestured at Trina. “I believe I can remove the cause, but in order to reverse the damage, she will need an influx of energy, a tremendous amount.”

  Logan stared at Trina’s cold, still form in the coffin. The evil, green tendrils had settled back into her aura and her veins stood out stark blue in her translucent skin. He’d give everything to have her back, but this was too much. She’d be back, but he would never get to see her again. A hot weight pressed behind his eyes. To live without her would be excruciating.

  “It will change her,” Aoife said. “That much fae energy poured into her will not only save her life, but will extend it, and it may have other repercussions. I just don’t know.”

  He nodded and stepped closer. “I will pay the forfeit.” Trina would live longer and he would die.

  “Wait!” Aoife held out a hand. “Before you say yes, you need to know the price it will exact from you.”

  Logan barely glanced at her. He was storing up the way Trina looked. When he died, he wanted her face locked in his memory.

  He barely heard what Aoife said. “You will live a shorter lifespan. Perhaps half of what you could expect. And it is more than possible it will kill you
altogether.”

  Hope uncurled inside his chest. Logan looked Aoife in the eye. “You mean there’s a chance I’ll live?”

  “Yes, a slim one. There’s more of a chance you’ll die.”

  A surge of relief swept through him, loosening the lump in his throat and releasing the curl of hope. “There’s a chance I’ll see her live.”

  “Logan,” Rinnal stepped forward, forehead furrowed and hands balled at his sides. “Are ye sure now? Are ye sure the lass is worth half your life?”

  Life without Trina was unthinkable.

  He nodded. “She’s worth the whole damn thing.”

  “Wait lad!” Angus gripped his arm, holding him back. “Think about it. No woman is worth this price, let alone a human lass.”

  “She’s worth it all. I would give all my years to have her back. To have her back and the chance I might live also?” He looked deep into his uncle’s blue eyes. “It is a far greater boon than I would expect.” He shook off Angus’s clutching hand and stepped up to the side of the casket where Aoife waited. “I’m ready.”

  “So be it.” Aoife placed her slender hands on his shoulders. “Look at me and let me in.” He gazed into her deep purple eyes and opened his Gift. His aura poured out, flowing into her at a rate that surprised and panicked him. He grew dizzy and weak and his desire to live rose up, overpowering his will to sacrifice his life.

  He struggled, the flow of his life force hesitating, then the tide turned and eddied, surging back in his direction as he struggled to keep his soul from pouring into Aoife.

  “This is it, Logan,” Aoife said. “This is the real moment of decision. Are you going to give her your life? Or are you changing your mind and killing her?”

  He gasped, drowning in the power of her eyes. The flow hesitated.

  “Do you love her?”

  His love for Trina rose up inside him, pictures of his witch he didn’t even know he had memorized. The way she laughed and the way she smiled. The way she got angry, her green eyes throwing sparks. The way she looked at him just before she threw her head back in ecstasy.