by Kim Faulks
5
Hart
The hair on the nape of Hart’s neck rose.
Faint footsteps echoed somewhere behind him. He turned his head catching a whisper of movement as he veered left. The grungy alleys of Harbon Point held more than its fair share of undesirables, especially in Cradle Corner—but they were nothing he couldn’t handle.
The bitten tang of witch’s weed wafted from somewhere. He glanced at the cracks in the towering concrete walls as they stretched and strained, moving while he stared. Between the dark crevices eyes blinked at him.
His top lip curled, and a warning growl echoed from his chest, still a bead of sweat ran along his back. The steps behind him dogged his every move. He was a wolf walking into a witch’s den—a powerful witch—an ancient witch. He tore his gaze from tiny little eyes and drove deeper into the pit of Cradle Corner.
“You looking for a love spell?”
The words were whispered on the wind. Hart glanced to where a woman in a tight red dress leaned against the wall. Her hairpiece was askew, the fringe tickled her left ear. Something moved at the edge, something black that crawled down her forehead. Hart shook his head and kept on moving.
A girl slipped out of a narrow alley and danced into his path. She laughed and twirled in her brown hessian dress and bare feet. His steps stuttered as she glanced over her shoulder to meet his gaze.
Follow me… she whispered inside his head. You’re in a dream…follow me.
Hart shook her talons from his mind, still his body moved with her, turning down a tiny alley. His shoulders scraped each wall. He turned as they narrowed following her cute little smile and piercing gaze.
That’s it…we’re going to have fun…we’re going to play…I like to play…I like to play hangman…it’s my favorite game.
Hangman… His hand felt like lead as he grasped the corner and held on. Something moved in a courtyard at the end of the alley, something big, towing what looked like…a noose.
I wouldn’t go down there if I were you…a woman's voice echoed through faint, soft. Hart spun, staring at the cramped alleyway behind him.
If you go down there, don’t expect to come out.
Laughter rumbled behind him. He slapped his hands against the walls and felt the concrete shift under his touch.
That’s the way, follow my voice…Hart Devis.
He flinched. Husky words rebounded against the walls. “How do you know my name?”
This wasn’t the Seer, Harvest, it wasn’t anyone he knew. He inhaled a trace of blood in the air…fresh blood.
Let’s just say we share the same fate…
The mark across his wrist blazed to life, carving away the remnants of the mind spell. Laughter slithered out of the courtyard behind him, giving him the damn motivation to run.
The trail of blood in the air grew stronger as he barreled out of the tiny corridor and back into Cradle Corner. His heart pounded, sweat dripped down his spine. But it was the soft, unfamiliar voice inside his head that held him transfixed.
The witch with the red dress gave him a twisted grin. He searched his memory, trying to place her at the gathering. “Who the fuck are you?”
I can be anyone you want, handsome…anyone at all… The low, dreamy voice filled his head, but it wasn’t the voice of his guardian angel.
Three open doors leading out into the courtyard beckoned. An orange glow flickered inside one of them, drawing him closer. The witch in the red dress watched him expectantly. The uneven paved floor caught the tip of his boot.
Maybe this was a bad idea…maybe he should…
He reached the open doorway and felt the warmth of fire. “Come, wolf.”
A woman sat curled in a wicker chair and stared at the fire. She never moved, not even to turn her head as he stepped inside. Dancing flames bounced off the copper tone in her red hair like the witch herself was ablaze.
He cleared his throat and tried to force his heart back into the center of his chest. “I’m looking…”
“I know what you're looking for. Let me ask you a question.”
She turned toward him, giving him her undivided attention, and he suddenly realized the center of this woman’s focus was a very bad place to be.
“You ready to reap what you sow, wolf?”
He flinched at the question. The tiny shake of his head was stilled as a cold breeze snuck into the room.
“Are…you…ready…to…reap…what…you’ve…sown?”
His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. There was no air in here, no air, and no moisture in his mouth. “I don’t…”
“You ready to fall?” She rose in one fluid movement and the night seemed to gather around her. “This is as good a place as any, isn’t it?”
Pitch black surrounded, her, snuffing the orange flames of the fire as though this woman was her own black hole. She took a step closer. The hair on his arms rose.
This was a bad idea…a very bad idea. “I need information.”
“And information you’ll get…whether you want it or not.”
She turned her head and glanced to the dark corner of the room. And out of Hell came the one thing he was terrified of.
The Mistress crawled out of the filthy floor on her hands and knees. Her long black hair was wrapped around her neck, still he couldn't draw his focus away…for he knew what she looked like under the midnight strands.
His heart slammed against his ribs. Hart could feel the strength in his hands…the burn of his palm as he squeezed. He jerked his focus to the witch. His voice so raw he tasted blood. “You don’t understand…”
Dark, knowing eyes twinkled with excitement as she whispered. “Not my field…not my harvest.”
The sick, twisted bitch of his nightmares shoved against the filthy ground and crawled to a stand. Hart closed his eyes, fear unbuckled the strongest part of him and pulled him under.
He was back there, breathing in the frigid earthy scent of his cell, and praying she stayed away.
A shudder quaked from his soul. He clenched his fists, not real…not real.
I know what you want…the Mistress whispered inside his mind.
You want to kill…isn’t that right my big, bad wolf?
Hart slapped his hands over his ears.
It’s what you do best, lover. You want to kill Allendra…
He sucked in the air and opened his eyes.
I can help you, come to me and I’ll give you what you want.
Hart glanced at the red-haired witch. She stood against the wall watching him with interest. If this was her…if she was playing a trick….
No trick, Hart. Come to me. Come back home. I’ll be waiting.
And in the blink of an eye the bitch was gone.
Hart pressed his spine into the stone wall and held on.
His mind fractured, dragging him back into that cold cell where he waited for her in the shadows.
The faint sound of heels echoed from the depths of his nightmare, and with each step, they grew louder.
The bitch was coming…and she was coming for him.
The three marks on his wrist flared to life, and Allendra’a words came alive…
All of you either already know this person or will meet them within the next month, before the Blood Moon.
They may be the enemy of your family, or someone who despises you personally…
They may have inflicted great harm on you and yours, or you on them.
They may seem wrong for you in every single way.
Forbidden or not, wrong or not, they are still your fated mate…
He clenched his eyes shut. Fated mate…
Please Goddess no. Not her…
He’d rather live an eternity in Hell.
He’d rather forsake every immortal creature on the face of this planet.
He’d sacrifice all to be free of her.
And with that thought the burn on his wrist eased, leaving him to stumble from the witch’s den.
6
Ondine
The wolf staggered from the witch’s house. His eyes were wide, his skin pale. He looked sick… No…he looked haunted.
Ondine glanced over her shoulder, tracking the wolf as she slipped into the shadows. The old crone leered at Hart, and motioned him closer. Her threadbare red dress split down the middle, leaving little of her sagging body covered.
Still, he didn’t seem to notice…he didn’t notice anything at all. He slammed his hand against the wall and dropped to his knees.
Heaving sounds carried along the alleyway, making her stomach roll. Ondine pressed her hand to her belly as the need to comfort him rose.
I need him alive. That’s all it is.
Loyalty fought rejection, and the battleground was her heart. The wolf meant Allendra harm. But he’d lead her to the others. That was the only reason she saved him. That was the only reason she cared.
The retching sounds quietened.
Follow the wolf. Then I’m done. I’ll leave the Creator in peace…
Heavy steps echoed behind her.
And what of her fated mate? What of the Challenge?
Allendra had made a mistake. There wasn’t a mate for her. She neither needed comfort, nor love…for her it only resulted in pain.
If all of you who are here today accomplish this task before the Blood Moon rises, then I will forego my plans and leave you and yours in peace.
But should one of you fail, you will all have failed.
If one failed, then they all failed.
The burn on her wrist came to life. Hart Devis had no plans on finding his mate either. His focus was on Allendra, and now whatever that witch had showed him inside that house. The marks on her wrist flared. Even in the shadows, she could see the raised, raw flesh. Whatever he’d seen had a lasting effect.
The wolf was scared…he’d run, she needed to be ready. She raised her hand to her mouth as she exited and raced for his motorbike, and bit. Her teeth carved through flesh and the taste of copper pennies filled her mouth.
She could track him by her blood alone. She swiped her wrist across the back of the leather seat. Red glistened in the sun as she lunged for the alley farther along. The dark blur stumbled from the entranceway behind her.
The wolf never glanced her way. Instead, he swung his leg and climbed onto the bike. The engine started with a roar and he was gone, tearing through the street like Hell itself hunted him.
Her blood called to her. She closed her eyes and traced her essence. She was a whisper on the wind, urging her to hurry. She didn’t need the pearl, not to transport in this world. The pearl had opened the Seelie portal. It’d been her ticket home.
But not anymore. Her life was here…for now, and when she failed Allendra’s Challenge then her immortal life would be over.
Until then…
Her molecules scattered to the wind following her blood. She materialized in a street, only to see the wolf race past on his bike, and then she was moving again, hopping from one block of streets to the next, until they slowly left the buildings behind.
Towering trees blocked out the sun. The chill was sudden, stealing the warmth from her body. But there was something else…
She stepped back into the tree line as the sound of the motorbike reverberated through the air. Something darker than the shadows lingered…like a corruption. She dropped to the ground and pressed her fingers into the soil.
The hair at the back of her neck stood on end. This earth was stained by evil. The same evil she sensed inside the wolf. The afternoon sun glinted from the bike as it climbed the rise and then slowed.
Towering ash trees hid her from view as Hart stopped at the rise. From here, the city was nothing more than a gray blur. She hated the glass, hated the cars, hated the cramped spaces. She longed for the Seelie valleys of green and gold. She longed for the endless forest of the wee folk, and the giants of Morad. She longed for endless sea and tiny fishing communities speckled along the shore, and this place was just as good. Up here she could smell freedom…up here she could smell…fear.
She jerked her head to where the wolf climbed from the bike.
The rancid stench of despair had spawned inside him, and it was more than the whisperings of some demented witch. This kind of dread took time to fester, it took time to set in deep, but only a second to reappear.
Hart dragged his leg over the leather seat. He stared at the ground as he circled the bike as though he was finding the steel in his spine to meet the woods head on.
And finally he did just that.
Ondine held her breath as Hart scanned the tree line. He kept his gaze focused ahead, finding a break in the trees and took the first step.
He moved quickly, cutting through the long grass. She kept far enough behind to keep her scent downwind and followed him through the thick forest. She clenched her teeth to still the chatter, without the sun, the icy chill settled deep.
She was one of the light…half of her, at least. She thrived on the sun, but here, amongst the cold moss filled hollows and the eerie shadows, she felt…afraid.
She caught the blur of white up ahead and clambered over the fallen tree. Something had happened to the wolf, something that had unspooled his spirit like a broken thread. This was the beginning of the end…this place, and these people who meant Allendra harm would be her ticket out of this mortal sentence.
Ondine came out of the thicket to an open field. There was nothing but trees and hills, for miles. Her heart thundered. Where was he leading her?
She missed the small cabin at first. The place was nothing more than a shack, pressed against the backdrop of towering pines. Ondine raised her head to the dimming sun, night was coming. She glanced over her shoulder, and she was a long way from anywhere.
The sight of Hart’s white shirt disappeared through the tiny cabin door. Ondine sent out her senses, she couldn’t feel anyone else but the wolf. She kept to the bank of trees, weaving in and out of thick trunks as she crept closer to the cabin. He was here for a reason. He was here to meet someone, and she needed to find out who that someone was.
She scanned the rear of the building. Most of the glass windows were either cracked or missing. Wood panels gapped big enough for her to reach through. Ondine crouched behind the thicket and waited.
She flinched as something shattered inside the cabin, a crash followed, pulling her to her feet. The wolf was tearing the place apart. Her nails dug into the thick bark of the pine. She glanced across the clearing. There were no sounds, there were no movements…
Ondine licked her lips and crept closer. Movement through the shattered window seized her focus. The stink of swamp water and iron drifted through the opening.
Iron…the biting stench made her eyes water. A blur of white cut through from the left and a low cursed growl followed. Hart Devis was frenzied, wrenching containers from the shelves and upending the contents on the bench in front of him.
The contents in the bottle in his left hand sloshed. He sat the jar down while he rummaged for something else. Ondine was drawn to the contents in the jar, she’d known enough witches—both good and bad—to recognize the murky green water and the clink of metal against the glass.
War water.
The wolf stilled, and straightened. His shoulders rose and fell with heavy breaths. The rusted blade in his hand made her cringe. He shoved the jar farther from the edge and raised the blade.
Brittle edges bit into his flesh, right at the marks across his wrist. He wasn’t just messing with dark magic, he was cutting Allendra’s curse from his flesh.
Ondine dragged the sharp scent of fresh blood deep into her lungs. Blood and war water, filled with coffin nails and swamp water. Strong enough to condemn any living thing. The wolf meant more than harm…he meant death.
Birds called from the trees above and the slow drip…drip…drip of moisture settled around her. She raised her head, and stared through the window. The cabin was empty…he was gone.
“You find what you�
�re looking for?”
She spun at the deep growl behind her. Hart Devis stood within arm’s reach. His white sweat-soaked shirt stuck hard against his chest. A trail of blood ran down his thumb, each drop timed by the weeping pines overhead. He didn’t focus on her. Instead, he stared at a spot to her left, as though he couldn’t stand to meet her gaze.
He licked his lips. “What do you want?”
Ondine couldn’t tear her gaze from the deep red rivulet of blood. “Your hand…you’re bleeding.”
He never moved, never even looked at his hand.
Fear blew cool air across the back of her neck, making her shudder. She swallowed hard and forced steel in her words. “Are you okay?”
The wolf raised his head, vacant eyes met hers as he took a step.
Her mind froze.
“It’s my turn,” he whispered and reached for her. “My turn to use…and my turn to hurt.”
Ondine spun, but there was nowhere to run.
The scent of his blood was overwhelming as he reached for her.
His grip slipped, nails dug into her flesh as he gripped the back of her neck. “And I’m starting with you.”
7
Hart
Crimson shone against the lilac of the Fae’s hair. Strands clumped together, drenched with thick drops of his blood. He was caught by the color, transfixed by the sheer beauty of how perfect she would look…bloody and beaten.
“Who…who are you meeting?” she demanded.
He caught the tremble in her voice.
“Who else is behind all this?”
He raised his gaze and stared into sky blue eyes. She was so tiny, so unbelievably tiny…
His fingers found the soft grooves of her neck as he squeezed. He could trace the line of her skull with one hand, and still hold her captive. She was so tiny, so very small…just like he’d been when the Mistress captured him.
Perfect blue eyes widened as he ran his thumb along the base of the Fae’s neck and shoved aside the silken fabric of her shift.
