And then the fuckers shot Astrid in the head. And I realized that Jesse was going to be next.
My impulse was to run for them, of course, but almost immediately the rifle fired a second time. Instead of tearing into Jesse’s head, it just kicked up a little burst of loose dirt near his feet. Far up in the hillside, I heard a terrified scream.
I forced myself to crouch down and focus on pulling my radius in and keeping it close. If Astrid was alive, she needed to be a werewolf to stay alive, which meant it was up to the wolves now.
A head shot? Dicks.
When I was sure I was calm enough, I looked around the corner again. Astrid was on her hands and knees, one hand clutching the side of her head, and even from where I stood, I could hear her cursing like a sailor. Jesse had his gun out and pointed at the guy who had to be Killian, who, in turn, was pointing a gun at Noah’s still form. Killian looked scared, which gave me perverse satisfaction. The woman behind Noah looked more . . . dismayed.
“How is she not dead?” Killian yelled, glaring at Astrid.
It kind of felt like my signal.
I took a knife out of my belt, pulled my radius in more, and stepped away from the cliff wall so Killian and Sabine could see me. “Because she’s not me, douche cannon.”
Jesse glanced back at me and sort of goggled. “You okay?” he called.
Oh, right. I looked like I’d lost a fight with a mutant tumbleweed. “Fine.” Keeping my eyes on Killian, I called, “Astrid? You good?”
“Took it at an angle,” the werewolf grumbled. “Fine in a minute, and then I’m gonna eat that motherfucker.”
It honestly took that long for Killian to put it together. “A werewolf?” he said with a perfect combination of outrage and revulsion. Immediately, the female witch—Sabine, I presumed—began muttering something.
I couldn’t expand my radius to stop her without hurting Astrid, and I was at the wrong angle to throw a knife, but luckily Jesse saw it, too. He yelled to her in French. I didn’t speak the language, but I got the general gist of “Don’t even think about it.” She shut up, and Jesse began moving toward them.
“Stop!” Killian shouted. He was still kind of glaring up at the cliff walls, waiting for his snipers to act again. “If you take one more step, your brother dies. Your werewolf can’t attack me before I get a shot off. Or my people.” He gestured upward.
Jesse laughed. “Oh, man,” he said. “I thought you guys studied werewolves. Do you not know that they travel in packs?” He nodded at the cliff side. “Take a look.”
Uncertain, Killian handed the gun to the woman, who immediately pointed it at Noah. Killian stepped away from the mouth of the cave, craning his head to look where Jesse was pointing.
On cue, what was left of the first body slid down the cliff on a wave of loose dirt, trailed by a puff of dust. After what seemed like hours of falling, it finally tumbled to a stop at the bottom.
The body was red, so uniformly covered in blood that it looked like someone had painted a crash-test dummy and rolled it in a layer of dirt. Of course, that impression was somewhat ruined by the organs still shining through the holes. Well, the organs that hadn’t fallen out on the way down. Yep, the pack was still pretty mad.
By the time I tore my eyes away and squinted at the top of the cliff, whichever werewolf had pushed the body over the edge had retreated out of sight.
Everyone else was staring at the body, which had landed less than eight feet away from the Luparii. Killian looked green, and for a second I thought even Jesse was going to puke. My morning sickness was oddly unaffected by disembowelment, which was a plus. Go, tapeworm.
We were frozen like that for a long moment, and then Killian turned to run away, back through the cave. Which was when Shadow stepped out of . . . well, the shadows.
Did I mention the cave is actually more of a tunnel?
Her teeth were bared—and stained red. She’d taken care of at least one of the snipers before running to the back of the cave. At least, I was hoping it was a sniper and not one of the werewolves. But I had faith in her.
Shadow focused in on Sabine, who dropped the gun in the dirt.
“If I were you,” I advised, “I’d sit down and be very still. Shooting her will just piss her off.”
Killian muttered something in French, and then he and Sabine both dropped to the ground, keeping their hands visible. Jesse rushed forward and knelt at Noah’s side, touching his throat. Without waiting for me to ask, he called, “He’s alive, but it’s bad.”
We needed to get him to the hospital. My radius was still pulled in tight around me. “Astrid?” I said.
She stood up all the way. Blood still ran down the side of her head, but it was visibly slowing. “Yeah, I can do it.”
She went over to Noah and picked him up like he was a toddler. Jesse walked alongside her, stabilizing his brother’s ankle. “I’ll get him in the car and come back,” he said to me.
“No, go with him to the hospital. I’ll meet you there.” Jesse glanced at the Luparii and gave me a worried look, obviously not wanting to leave me. “I got this,” I promised.
He hesitated another moment before nodding. “Don’t be long,” he said, and then he and Astrid were moving along the path. When I was sure Astrid was well out of my radius, I let it relax to its normal dimensions and strode forward to stand just in front of Killian and Sabine.
“You can come down now,” I yelled. “Stay about fifteen feet away from me.”
We had ended up fairly close to the mouth of the cave, so Killian and Sabine had a nice view of the two werewolves skidding down the side of the cliff wall.
I knew from walking in other parts of the park that the ground was covered in loose dirt. If I had tried to climb up there, I would have fallen on my face, never mind going downhill. But the wolves were made for this kind of terrain. They seemed to be using the loose dirt like skis, floating down the cliff wall in a zigzag pattern. They both landed nearly at the same time, on either side of us.
I never got used to the size of werewolves. The conservation-of-mass principle remains true even in the face of magic, so a two-hundred-pound person becomes a two-hundred-pound wolf. Shadow weighed a hundred and eighty pounds, but she was so odd-looking overall that the size seemed to fit. The werewolves, on the other hand, looked like regular wolves who’d eaten giant mushrooms or something. They were beautiful. And terrible.
Sabine screamed, clutching at Killian, who also looked like he was shitting his pants. It occurred to me that the two of them had likely been raised on stories about evil, savage werewolves. And they were used to having a bargest to do their dirty work from a distance. Being up close and personal with a pair of werewolves was literally their worst fear.
Well. Good.
The wolves were about fifteen feet away on either side of us. With Shadow still at the cave mouth, that left Killian and Sabine surrounded on all sides. I knew I was the weakest link to use for escape—but I also knew how fast Shadow could move, and I had a knife in each hand now. I wasn’t worried.
I crouched in front of them so we were at eye level. “Your snipers are dead,” I said calmly. “Now you’re going to tell me what Thierry and the rest of them are planning.”
They both started when I used Thierry’s name, but Killian tried for bravado. “You stupid bitch,” he sneered in his haughty French accent. “Do you really think we’re going to talk to you? We know you’re going to kill us.”
I shrugged. “I wasn’t planning to kill you, no. I was going to take you to Dashiell. I can tell you don’t have active witchblood, Killie Bean, which means he’ll be able to press you and get all your secrets anyway. Easy enough.” I paused, then acknowledged, “Granted, after that he’ll probably kill you, but then it’s not really my problem anymore.”
Killian and Sabine exchanged a look. “Here’s the thing,” I went on. “I really only need one of you. And these wolves are pissed at you guys. All I have to do is back out of range, and one of
you will be breakfast.”
The Luparii man’s eyes went wide. Sabine looked back and forth between us, not comprehending, and I wished I hadn’t sent Jesse away. I didn’t know how much of this she was actually getting. “I don’t even really care which one. I mean, you speak English and Dashiell can press you, but Sabine here is powerful and would make a better hostage to trade with the rest of the Luparii. I’ll probably just let the werewolves decide for me.”
Okay, it should be noted here that I wasn’t actually going to feed them to the werewolves. Even I’m not heartless enough to do that in cold blood. But I had no problem lying about it.
“What will it be, Killian?” I said pleasantly. “Bring you both to Dashiell for a merciful death, or let the wolves eat one of you?”
By now, Sabine had picked up enough of the conversation to start panicking. I felt her throwing spells at me, but of course it was useless while she was in my radius. I was kind of impressed with how powerful she was.
Then Killian said something very rapidly in French, and she became instantly calm, if sort of resigned. Shit. I didn’t like that.
The smug look came back on his face. “Silly little girl,” Killian said scornfully. “Everything is already in place. They ride tonight, and you won’t stop them. All your friends will die, and the whole world will hear of it.”
He dove sideways, toward the gun Sabine had dropped. I threw a knife, and Shadow pounced, but Killian rolled away from her, and the knife wound didn’t slow him. He grabbed the gun and squeezed off a shot before I could even duck—
The bullet went straight into Sabine’s head.
He lifted the gun to his own mouth, but Shadow had gotten to him by then, knocking the weapon out of his hand and tearing at his throat. “Shadow, stop!” I cried out, scrambling over to them. Shadow backed off immediately, but I could tell it was too late. Killian’s throat looked like raw meat. He was already choking on blood, his face stricken.
Goddammit, Scarlett! I’d gotten too cocky. On either side of me, the werewolves were pacing, snarling with frustration. I covered Killian’s throat with one hand, pressing down slightly to slow the bleeding without choking him. “Who?” I shouted at him. “Who rides tonight?”
Killian took in one wheezing breath, and the fear in his eyes turned into muted glee. “The Wild Hunt,” he rasped.
Then he died.
PART III
Chapter 30
I stared at Killian’s limp body in utter confusion. I didn’t know anything about the Wild Hunt, except that it was literally a fairy tale. Like a for-real Brothers Grimm fairy tale. As far as I knew, the Grimm stories had very little to do with actual magic . . . well, except the ones that involved a big bad wolf. How was it possible that I’d finally gotten some information, and now I was twice as confused?
I got to my feet, pulling my throwing knife out of Killian’s side. I felt like an asshole. Killian and Sabine had been our best sources, and now they were both dead. And that was my fault. I’d had one chance to find out what was going on, and I’d blown it because I’d been too cocky.
The two werewolves stepped into my radius, instantly becoming human. The wolves liked using my proximity for this, since the transformation was faster and less painful. I hadn’t recognized them in wolf form, but the female turned out to be Esme, a short, curvy bartender at Hair of the Dog. The other wolf was a guy of about fifty who I’d seen around but didn’t really know. He immediately began grumbling about my incompetence, and I couldn’t really blame him. I’d fucked this up. They wandered off to find their clothes, picking their way around the rocks.
When Astrid came back, she found me crouched next to the two dead bodies, going through their pockets. She ran forward, looking crestfallen.
“You said I could eat them!” she complained. “What the hell?”
I blinked hard. “Um. First, I did not say you could eat them. And second, Killian went for the gun and shot Sabine. Shadow killed him before he could turn it on me.”
She shook her head angrily. “You should have moved the gun farther away!”
“Well . . . duh.”
Astrid heard the real embarrassment in my voice and huffed out a big sigh. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Did you find anything?”
I leaned back on my heels. “No. They were smarter than that.”
“Is it over?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
Another huff. “Well, shit.” She dug in her pocket with one bloodstained hand and tossed me something. I caught it instinctively. Car keys. I looked at her, surprised.
“That guy Cruz wasn’t kidding when he said it was bad,” Astrid said soberly. “I’m not sure his brother’s going to make it. You should go be with him.”
My eyes landed on the bodies. “Oh, we’ll take care of them,” she added brightly. She pointed toward Canyon Drive. “Black pickup truck, two blocks down. There are baby wipes in the glove compartment.”
I looked at my hands, which were stained with Killian’s blood, and considered the offer. Dashiell would definitely not appreciate me handing off my job to a few werewolves I barely knew. But Dashiell wasn’t here, and Jesse needed me. Fuck it.
Shadow trotted over to stand beside me. I hoped Astrid had enough baby wipes for her muzzle.
“Make sure no one finds the bodies,” I reminded Astrid.
Her return smile was chilling. “That won’t be a problem.”
Jesse had texted: he was taking Noah to Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Center. On the way there, I called Kirsten, and gave her a rundown of what happened.
“The Wild Hunt?” she echoed, sounding intrigued.
“Yeah. Isn’t that, like, fairies and shit? It can’t be a real thing,” I said, hoping she’d agree.
“I’m not sure,” Kirsten admitted. “I know the fairy-tale story, of course, and I’d always assumed it was one of those myths that was started to hide real magical activity. But maybe it’s the other way around. At any rate, we’ve been spinning our wheels on research, and at least this gives us a new place to start. Did Killian or Sabine give you anything else? Where are they now?”
“Um. They’re both dead.” I told her the rest of the story, still feeling guilty. But Kirsten wasn’t a tactical person, and didn’t bother to lecture me. She just said she would start researching the Wild Hunt—oh, and pick up Owen. She started to ask me more questions about him, but I hung up the phone. I had another call to make.
When I’d gone to Las Vegas, I’d met a few interesting people besides Wyatt. One of them was Grace Brighton’s mother, Sashi, an outclan witch who specialized in healing magic. She could really only treat humans, but Noah was human.
Sashi didn’t answer her phone—I had no idea what hours she worked, or if she was usually awake this early—so I left a message asking if she’d be willing to take an emergency trip to Los Angeles. I knew her rates weren’t cheap, but I would borrow the money from Dashiell if I had to. I wasn’t sure how crazy things were going to get the rest of the day, so I left Noah’s full name and the name of the hospital on the voice mail just in case.
Shadow really didn’t want to have to wait for me in the parking garage, but I hadn’t gotten a chance to replace her service-dog cape, which had blown up in my van. She relented when I said she could hang out in the back of the pickup truck and keep an eye on the other vehicles. I pitied the car thief who chose that parking garage.
I jogged into the emergency room entrance, and spotted Jesse in the waiting area with his head in his hands.
The whole tableau was so eerily similar to the day Jameson had died that I actually stumbled and had to right myself. “Jesse?”
He looked up, his eyes rimmed with red. I don’t remember closing the rest of the distance between us, but suddenly he was standing, and I was hugging him, and I felt his whole body shudder.
“Astrid lent me her truck. I got here as fast as I could,” I babbled. I didn’t know how to ask the question. “Is he . . .�
�
“He’s alive, but his brain is swelling. They’re cutting a hole in his skull, but they’re not sure he’s going to . . . I had to call my parents—” Jesse choked on the words. His whole body was trembling, and I could see that he was on the verge of breaking down.
“Do the nurses have your cell phone number?” I asked. He nodded, looking confused, but I just took his hand. “Come with me.”
I pulled him down a hallway, searching for somewhere private we could talk. Medical shows always had plenty of broom closets where interns could make out, but I couldn’t find a spot where we wouldn’t be overheard. Finally, we reached a chapel with wooden chairs and a big stained-glass window. It was empty. I pulled Jesse inside and closed the door behind him.
“Talk to me,” I said.
“It’s all my fault, Scar,” he said brokenly. “I left my own brother vulnerable.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“It is!” He said it with such force that his breath blew my hair off my face. “I knew they’d rummaged through my brain, and I didn’t even think about the consequences for everyone else in my life! If I hadn’t had my head stuck up my ass, maybe I could have protected him!”
“Jesse . . .”
He seemed so defeated, and I couldn’t think of a thing to say, because the déjà vu was overwhelming. He sounded exactly like how I had felt so many times, with so many people: My parents. My friend Caroline. Wyatt. My brother and his wife. And, of course, Jameson.
Jesse stood there looking at me with his desperate eyes, and I thought of all the times the people in my life had been made victims because of me. Suddenly the weight of their collective suffering anchored me to the floor. There was an actual roaring in my ears as I considered the sum total of the enemies I’d made and the pain they’d caused—
Shadow Hunt Page 17
