"But I have found--"
"And your duty, little one, is to be free. To be happy. You served our kind well, and we are grateful. But you do not need to continue."
"I wish to continue," she said. "That is my duty."
"We have relieved you of it. However, if you want to stay, we cannot stop you."
"Alone?" she said, and there was a plaintive note in her voice. A fearful note, too, almost like panic. "I have been alone for so long, my lords. I kept this for you. For a pack to come so I may serve."
"Then join us," the younger Huntsman said. That earned him a look from the older one, but they exchanged a glance, and the older one dipped his chin and said, "Yes, little one. You may join us. There are other ways to serve."
"But this--this is a passage. It is mine. Yours. You must come."
"No, little one--"
The gwragedd flew at him.
Fifteen - Liv
The hounds fought off the gwragedd easily, pinning her beneath their giant paws as gently as they could. The Huntsmen tried to reason with her, persuade her to leave, but she flew into a fury of gnashing teeth and tears and wails. In the end, all they could do was withdraw, with reluctance, the younger one telling her where she could find them, should she change her mind. And as they left, her cries echoed through the forest.
"Do not leave me, my lords! Do not leave me alone!"
I woke on the ground. It took a second to realize where I was. Sometimes with a vision, I wander. Fortunately, my powers weren't quite prepared to kill me yet, and I'd crashed exactly where I'd fallen into the vision.
I got to my feet and reoriented myself while sorting out my memories. I'd heard Ricky. Then I'd seen him in a different direction. But that hadn't been him . . . which explained the "wrong direction" part. Got it.
I hadn't gone more than a few loping steps before his bird cry came again, letting me know he was on the gwragedd's trail, no note of "Where the hell are you?" in it, which suggested a time-freeze during my vision detour. Excellent.
I kept moving as quietly as I could, having to keep reminding myself of which memories had been the vision--the gwragedd wasn't following Ricky, and any noise I made wouldn't lead her straight to him. I still tried to stay quiet. No need to unnecessarily attract her attention.
I kept up that slow jog until I heard a sound. A faint whimper that had me skidding to a halt. I looked around. Another whimper, so soft I had to wonder if I was actually hearing it. It sounded like a baby softly fussing.
Or it could be the damned puppy again.
I followed the sound. When I caught sight of a yellow blanket and a flash of what looked like brown fur, I grumbled. But I took one more step, to be sure, and that "fur" turned into the soft baby hair I'd expected when I grabbed the puppy.
I hurried forward and pushed into the thicket.
The baby looked like something out of a biblical story, cradled in a basket woven of twigs and leaves, bundled with blankets. She peered up at me, only mildly curious, as if I'd happened upon her in her crib. Then she lifted her arms with an uh-uh-uh that even I recognized as the universal baby language for "Pick me up."
I did. She smelled sweetly of leaves and moss, and I could see both padding her makeshift bassinet. She cuddled into my arms, seemingly untraumatized, and I had no idea what a fae would feed an infant, but the gwragedd had apparently figured out something.
As I cuddled her, I debated my next move. Did I give my alert cry, bring Ricky back and then leave? An hour ago, I would have. Now . . . it felt cruel. Of course I had to take the baby, but I wanted to say something to the gwragedd.
That impulse passed quickly, though. Yes, I felt bad for her, but not so bad that I'd endanger myself or Ricky or the baby.
So I turned to go and--
A shriek rent the air as a blur charged me. I staggered back, my arms going around Maggie, shielding her with my body, and I went into crash position, baby to my chest.
The gwragedd struck me. Then she was gone, Ricky hauling her off as she screamed, "Mine, mine, mine!"
"Yeah," Ricky said. "We let you keep the puppy. That is not a puppy."
"Mine!" Tears sprang to her eyes as she wailed and twisted, her claws out, but Ricky had her by the shoulders, and she couldn't get to him. When she reached again, he grabbed one hand and then the other and pinned them behind her back.
"She is mine! Mine! They did not want her. I heard. I heard!"
"No," I said, as I backed away, Maggie fussing now. "When you told us about the puppy, you said he didn't want her. Not they. He."
"Yes, he. He was going to get rid of the baby. Sell her. I heard him."
"Who was going to sell her?"
I knew the answer, but she confirmed it, saying, "Her father. Her own father. Bad, bad boy. Terrible father."
"And her mother?"
The gwragedd went silent.
"Not a bad girl, right? Not a terrible mother?"
"It does not matter. He was going to sell the baby, and then she would be gone. So I took her. She is mine!"
"You heard her father trying to sell her?" Ricky said. "Exactly what did he say?"
"He was talking to a man. A man who comes by in a truck where the boy works. A man who brings things that are not his. Things to sell."
"A fence," Ricky murmured. "Okay, so you heard the boy say . . ."
"He asked how much a baby could be sold for. In the city. The big city, far away. The man did not know, but the boy wanted him to find out. See if anyone would buy his baby. He would give the man part of the money."
In other words, Owen hadn't exactly been in the process of handing Maggie over for cash. He'd just been putting out feelers, and the truth is that those feelers almost certainly wouldn't have gone anywhere. He was a dumb kid, saddled with a baby and looking for a way out, not realizing that it wasn't like selling a toy he no longer wanted. But there was still a possibility that this guy could find someone, and I understood why the gwragedd had jumped at the excuse to take Maggie.
"You can't have her," I said. "You know that. Her mother wants her back. Her grandparents do, too. All her grandparents. They love her, and they're devastated, and I think you know that."
"She is mine," the gwragedd said, with less conviction. Then she squared her shoulders. "The girl can have more. I cannot. I want a child."
"You want company," I said. "You're lonely."
She flinched, and I went on. "You have a place you can go. An invitation. It's an old one, but I'm sure it's still open."
"I do not know what you mean."
"I think you do. The Cwn Annwn."
Ricky looked up sharply.
The gwragedd's eyes narrowed. "How do you know of the Hunt?"
"Same way I know about you. You wanted the Cwn Annwn to set up shop here, but they said there aren't enough local fae and humans with fae blood. They invited you to come to them, despite the fact you attacked them for their kindness."
"I--"
"You've secured the passage to the Otherworld. It's time for you to go."
She twisted to look at Ricky, eyes narrowing more. "I know you."
"Yeah, I'm the guy holding you so you don't hurt that baby."
"I would never--"
"You hurt her by taking her from her family. Her father will be dealt with. You have my word on that."
"And who are you to give that word?"
Ricky went still. He glanced at me. At the baby. Then back to the gwragedd. "If I were someone who could give orders, and I ordered you to join those who invited you, would you accept that? Or would you insist on knowing more, on getting answers I'm not going to give? Maybe harm me--or someone else--to get those answers?"
"I would never--"
"Yeah, you would. But if I am who you think I am, you know the Cwn Annwn would take vengeance. Terrible vengeance."
She glanced at Maggie. "I would care for the child, as if she were my own."
"But she's not your own," Ricky said. "She's human, and someday
others would find her out here, and they'd find you, and you know what happens then. Nothing good."
"I do not know where to find this pack."
"They told you," I said.
"I have forgotten."
"No, you haven't. But in case you're a little foggy on the details, I heard them. I can remind you."
"I do not know how I would get there," she said, but mumbling it now, like a child making excuses.
"You got here," I said. "From a lot farther away. You can get there. Basic instructions: head south. Hit water. Cross water. Head south."
"I want to take the baby to her home. I want to be sure she is safe."
"And you will," Ricky said. "Which doesn't mean we're handing her over and trusting you'll do that. You've tricked us enough. Now let's move. We've got a long walk."
Sixteen - Ricky
It was a long walk. But that was the only way to do it, babies not being motorcycle-friendly. They came around the rear of the Lyons's house, and the gwragedd snuck to the spot she'd used for watching the baby. From there she could listen as they returned Maggie to Krista. And if the fae had any doubt that Maggie's mother wanted her back, Ricky was sure those first few minutes of reunion squashed them.
Liv told a story that wasn't far off from the truth. She said they'd heard what sounded like a baby when in the forest yesterday. On hearing Krista's story, they'd gone back last night, and they'd met someone camping out there but had seen no sign of a child. Then Liv had looked into it some more. She'd overheard something that made her suspect Owen might have given that "person in the forest" reason to believe Maggie was in danger. They returned, got the baby and got the story, too--of what the baby-snatcher overheard and why she'd taken Maggie.
And, yeah, telling that version had a bonus. Liv had been careful to pretend they'd found Maggie far from the swimming hole--they wouldn't undo the gwragedd's work by sending the police there. But it gave the fae a reason to leave the area. Liv had gifted her some money, too, and written directions.
Owen would be questioned. There probably weren't grounds for arrest, but the police would put the fear of it into him. His parents would be worse, and yeah, Ricky kinda hated letting them know their son had considered selling his child. But it had to be done, for Maggie's sake.
Liv asked Krista and her mom not to take it out on the Parrs. Allow them access to their granddaughter. Just make them understand that they could be part of Maggie's life, and Owen didn't need to be. Ricky had a feeling they'd happily pay his share of the child support for that continued access to Maggie. They were good people. As for Owen, Ricky hoped he'd grow up and pull his head out of his ass, but if he didn't, Maggie would be fine without him. One devoted parent was all a kid needed.
Liv took the money Krista offered. There was no way to refuse. When they checked out of the inn, she gave the money to Hildy, to be returned to Krista, with a note asking that it be put into a college fund for Maggie.
Once they were sure the police didn't need to speak to them again, they left town. Easier that way. People were grateful for Maggie's return, and that was just awkward. It was nice to play the hero for once, but not as much fun to hang around with people wanting to buy you drinks and meals when all you wanted was to get back to your vacation and spend some time alone.
They got their alone time that night, this time in a place that rented cabins by the ocean. They'd planned to just get a B&B in town, but then Liv had seen . . . Ricky wasn't exactly sure what had caught her eye, only that she'd wanted to pull into one of those kitschy roadside tourist trap shops. And she'd insisted on running in alone. Then she'd come out and given him directions to this place.
Not that he was complaining. It was a tiny cabin right on the edge of the ocean, surf pounding the rocks, pebble beach for walking. That was exactly what they were about to do, though Liv seemed to be taking a while to change into her shorts. He was starting to wonder whether she'd left them behind when the sliding door opened, and she stepped onto the deck, wearing . . .
It looked like a skirt. Okay, it was a skirt. It was the fabric that confused him. It seemed almost like . . .
"Sealskin," she said. "It's a sealskin miniskirt. This is what I was buying in that shop. They assured me it was ethically sourced."
"Ethically-sourced sealskin?"
"That's what they said. Go with it." She twirled, the skirt flying up, showing off tanned thighs and the barest glimpse of ass. "What do you think?"
"Different. Also, oddly arousing."
"I thought it might be, after that story you told me this morning."
He paused and then sputtered a laugh as he remembered sharing his fantasy moment from the cavern, recreating the selkie image from his grandmother's books. Thinking of that and looking at the skirt . . .
Fuck.
Liv stripped off her shirt. Under it, she wore a brown speckled bra, one that went remarkably well with the sealskin skirt.
"I have two words to add to that scenario I gave you," she said. "Just two."
"Uh-huh."
She leaned in, her chest brushing his, lips going to his ear as she whispered, "Selkie porn."
He let out a laugh. Then she moved back and his gaze traveled down her, taking in the view of her with the pounding surf behind and . . .
"Fuck."
"That depends. What do you say? It's the chance to bring to life a childhood fantasy. Well, not one you actually had as a child, I presume. But I'm sure you can improvise now." She looked at the water. "I see the ideal rock out there. Perfect for a selkie to climb up on, basking in the late-day sun, and then a hot young human just happens by--"
"I'm in."
"That's what I'm hoping," she said with a grin, and he chuckled again, a little ragged now as he moved toward her. She backed up. "Uh-uh. No touching until the fantasy is in full play. I may need to do some swimming first. Get all wet and ready. You can watch. Maybe find a nice tree to spy from. Good?"
"Oh, yeah. And this is just the warm-up. If I'm the one to give in first, I get the whole page of promises."
"You do."
"It's just too bad you won't get the ones on my page. I was looking forward to doing that. All of that."
She smiled. "Oh, I'm still collecting. You just get to go first."
"Uh, no. Sorry. That wasn't the deal. I mean, I'd love to, naturally. But the offer was only good for the first who redeemed it. Which is me."
"Wait, no. That was not--"
"Was, too."
"Then I claim it," she said quickly. "I surrender first. Add selkie porn to your list, so you'll still get that and--"
"Nope. Sorry. Really. I feel terrible, but I couldn't hold out. You win." He sighed. "I was especially looking forward to . . ." He leaned over and whispered in her ear.
"Bastard."
"Hey, that's not nice. Especially since I was going to suggest that you could still win it. As a reward. For good behavior."
"Good behavior?" She arched one brow. "Does that mean what I think it does?"
"Yep. You gotta earn it. I'll warn you, though, my selkie fantasy is getting more elaborate by the second."
"Whatever you can come up with, I can meet and exceed all expectations."
"Think so?"
"Know so." She started for the water, her bra drifting down to rest on the pebble beach. "You just gotta be able to keep up."
"Oh, I will. You know I will."
He watched her walk into the water and waited until he got that first glimpse of her diving into the surf, the flip of her sealskin skirt before she disappeared under the water. Time to find a place to spy from. Just as soon as he grabbed his camera. He did have a scrapbook to fill.
Rituals
Coming August 2017
Yes, this is a first glimpse at the first draft opening chapters to the next book, Cainsville 5.
If you haven't read Betrayals yet, stop now!
Seriously, stop now. Come back. It'll still be here
Rituals
Ca
insville 5 sneak peek
One
When I saw the ambulances parked outside the burning farmhouse, I thought there was still hope. That Detective Pemberton was wrong, and we hadn't lost the only witness who could set my father free after twenty years in prison for murders committed, instead, by my mother.
I saw the old house in flames, smoke filling the night air, and that ambulance with its lights still flashing. As Gabriel pulls the Jag to the side of the country lane, I leaned back in the seat and exhaled in relief. We weren't too late. After six months, we've finally found our key witness, and that fire meant she'd be in no shape to run again.
And that's when they brought out the stretchers. With body bags.
"Maybe it's not Imogen," I said.
We walked toward the burning house. I surveyed the personnel on duty, chose my target and picked up speed as Gabriel fell back. We were almost an hour outside Chicago, and the police on the scene were state troopers, but that didn't mean they wouldn't know Gabriel, at least by his reputation. As one of the city's most notorious defense lawyers, that reputation did not endear him to anyone with a badge.
I approached a young officer left guarding the perimeter.
I extended my hand. "Liv Jones," I said. "We've been looking for one of the women renting this house. Imogen Seale. She's a material witness in a multiple homicide."
The trooper peered at me with a Don't I know you from somewhere. But it was dark and smoky and tonight I was just Liv Jones. No relation to Olivia Taylor-Jones, former debutante daughter of the Mills & Jones department store owner. Certainly no relation to Eden Larsen, daughter of the notorious serial killers, Todd and Pamela Larsen.
"Hope she wasn't a valuable witness," the trooper said.
"Kind of," I said with a wry smile. "I'm guessing my contact was right, then. She didn't survive."
"Pronounced DOA," she said. "Her mother fell asleep smoking on the sofa. You really think people would know better. If you have to smoke, at least invest in an alarm."
"Aren't they mandatory?"
"In old rentals like this, no one checks until something happens. A fifty-dollar investment could have saved two lives."
"And chance I can see the bodies?" I asked. "If she's definitely gone, I need to move fast in another direction."
"I hear you," she said and waved for me to follow. "And I hate to see a killer walk free. Especially a multiple murderer."
The Orange Cat and Other Cainsville Tales Page 13
