by Sara Hanover
“That technology is useless in my realm,” the being said. “But if it is a fight you want, I am willing to give it.” He pointed at Scout. “Down.”
My pup hit the ground belly first as if he’d been shoved into position. Although he shook all over, he didn’t move. The command I’d taught him was Settle, but the intent in the being’s words had been clear. Just as clearly came the notion that we were in trouble. “I didn’t come to fight. I don’t know how I got here. We’ll just leave.”
“Not before I judge you for your crimes.”
Positive we were neck-deep in trouble, I tried to call for Carter, but the words died in my suddenly dry and choking throat.
“This is my world,” the being said. “The day of my ultimate reign is nearing, and you trespass. How got you here, and what brought you?” His words tightened into menace and ended in a low growl.
I didn’t know who he was, but my heart froze clear through my chest and the sinking, icy feeling plummeted to my feet.
Behind me, another voice spoke, and it wasn’t Carter.
“Let them go.”
I inched around enough to look behind me, and there stood my mother’s Plus one. He’d been avoiding being clearly seen all afternoon, but now he stood. Fedora in place, and a grim expression riding his features, but it was the eyes, the eyes so close to me that I couldn’t miss seeing them, recognizing the expression that I had once known so well. I got out one surprised exclamation.
“Professor!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
HOMECOMING
HE TILTED HIS head a bit and put one arm in front of me, herding me behind him, and didn’t answer. I moved, but Scout did not. My rescuer repeated gently but firmly, “Let them be, Huntsman; your time, as you well noted, is not now.”
Huntsman? The Great Hunt huntsman? The Wild Hunt? What had we just run into on the edge of Hiram Broadstone’s estate? I knew the myth. I knew the terror and yet necessity of such a hunt . . . but I had no idea of its range. I hauled on Scout’s leash, but my paralyzed dog could not stir.
The professor, not my crusty old professor of a few years ago—but then what phoenix wizard would want to be reincarnated as a doddering eighty-some-year-old?—nudged Scout with the toe of his shoe.
“Release the dog.”
“I think not. He is one of mine, I believe, stolen when the year was young. I reclaim him.”
“Stolen? Or misplaced because you have grown lax in your duties over the forests?”
They stared daggers at one another.
The professor waited a moment before continuing, “He has a new partner now. I propose this to you: let him live out his years with her and fulfill his bond, and when her life is done, take him to join you then. You are immortal and can afford a loss of a few years on that scale.”
A few years? I was only gonna get a few years? Way to make me feel better. I wanted to yelp in protest, but my lips and throat closed again. I couldn’t tell who had really silenced me: the Huntsman or the wizard, but it seemed a moot point as neither of them would want to hear the blistering words I wanted to say.
The Huntsman lowered his head a bit as if he thought to charge us, wicked antlers and all, but it seemed he merely looked down upon my pup. When he looked back up, it was at me. “He seems well. Hearty and happy. He would have protected you against me. Your guardianship is adequate. If I release him to you, I expect that he will be kept as he deserves, and kept well.” The being stepped back and flicked his hand. Scout immediately leaped to all fours and backed up to guard me from a better position. “A deal is struck. His life will be bonded to yours until the need is ended, and then he returns to my pack.”
And suddenly, in the forest behind him, beings melted out of the woods in an eerie silence. I realized that he had only made noise in his earlier approach to alert or alarm me because this legion following him struck no earthly notes of their passage. And they possessed an absolutely ethereal quality. Horses too thin and elegant to be real. Riders upon their backs with horns or whips in their hands, hair and lips pale, elven or even more transcendent. Slender hounds loped about them, the Great Hunt rallying for its leader, and I couldn’t look at them anymore. They were too terrible to watch, and I didn’t want to be forced to join their ranks.
The phoenix wizard murmured, “That would be wise, Tessa,” as he noted me inclining my face away from them. He dropped his arm which had been shielding me. “Another time,” he said to the Huntsman.
“One day I will come for you.”
“Well I know it. But that day is not today.”
The Hunter only gave a frown for an answer.
A white-haired rider on the Hunter’s flank raised a curved horn without valves that gleamed bronze, centuries old, and blew a charge on it. They all, Huntsman included, disappeared as if they had never been there. A cold wind keened through the woods. Autumn colors faded away again to bare branched trees and shivering evergreens.
We waited a long moment, and then the professor relaxed. He stood still as I swung about on him.
“Why didn’t you tell me? What are you doing with my mother? Where have you been? What was that all about?!”
“I’ve been assessing the situation. I am not the old man you remember, nor the young surfer dude you used to refer to. But I am, indubitably, me. I have recovered most of my studied arts, my prime, and lately, a job. Not that I need one, I have caches of wealth scattered about, but I hate being idle, don’t you?” He smiled faintly at me, a good-looking man in his forties, with a tinge of auburn in his slightly waved hair, and a bit more of the red in his mustache, and he looked good enough in his fedora to bring hat wearing back in style. He lived, and breathed, and carried an undeniable charisma. I almost understood why my mother considered him at all.
But he hadn’t answered my questions. “What about my mom?”
“That is a bit more of a ticklish situation.”
Winter rushed in about us and my teeth chattered once before I gritted them again.
“Shall we get back to civilization and discuss this?”
I realized then why Steptoe had been in and out of the house so much, to the point of exhaustion. He’d been seeking, his tail had told him the professor had to be near despite what he’d vowed to me, but his search had been in vain. “What have you done to Simon?”
“Led him on a merry chase, I’m afraid. The imp deserved it. I can’t afford to be pinned down at the moment, and I’d ask you not to reveal my identity.”
I waved a hand in the air. “How can anyone not see it? Not see you.”
“Mary didn’t. Or Carter. Even Scout here didn’t sniff me out. Only you.” He stopped and looked into my face deeply. “I’d like to know how you did.”
“Your eyes. I couldn’t miss it once I got close enough. Eyes are the windows to the soul and all that.”
He gave a soft grunt before stepping back into motion. “Then I’ll have to make sure that no one gets that near, I suppose.”
“Your blasting rod was stolen.”
“Retrieved, not stolen.”
“You?”
“Of course, me.” He reached over and took up my ring hand. “I’d like my ring back, too.” His finger rubbed over the knob under my glove.
I peeled it off and then the ring, dropping it into his palm. “I think the stone ate the curse out of it.”
“Let us hope so.” He rubbed the thick gold jewelry a moment. “It seems probable. How did you get the stone to cough it up?”
“It just did. Maybe it knew you would be coming by to get it.”
“Hmmm. We need a few ground rules. I’ve my doctorate, but you need to refer to me as Mr. Gregory. It took me a good bit of effort to replicate my degrees and credentials, and I don’t want you to sink them in a moment of youthful exuberance. Still, you don’t have to call me doctor.”
&nbs
p; I rolled my eyes. “You sound like an eighty-year-old. Do you talk like this to Mom?”
“Not if I can help it.” A gleam lit his eyes for a moment.
I tapped the brim of his hat. “What were you doing buried in the Society crowd?”
“And it’s a good thing I was because you have a temper for which you have no excuse. My excuse is spying on the enemy, as it were. But, no, I didn’t realize you’d been asked to come in or that you would have agreed to it.”
“You just walked in?”
“I have European membership that can be verified. I still have a touch of an accent, if you listen closely.”
“Yeah.” I thought about it. “Is that French or Irish or both?”
“Yes.” He pointed ahead of us. “We shouldn’t be seen walking in together.” He nudged my shoulder to set me in the direction of the back doors, as he swung around to the front.
I stopped. “You didn’t answer me. What about my mother?”
He disappeared around the brick corner of the estate, ignoring me. I took a few steps to go after him, but Scout wound about my ankles and tangled me up. I bent over. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”
Scout gave me a good slurp up the side of my nose and along my cheekbone as if to apologize. I looked after the wizard. Maybe the dog knew what he was doing.
As we drew near the back door, I could smell the luncheon with its heavenly aroma. Evelyn grabbed me up after I settled the dog and guided me to my seat which seemed to be insanely close to her parents, her, and Hiram, while my mother sat half a table away. I tried not to stare at them, finding that nearly impossible until Evelyn joggled my elbow.
“Isn’t that true?” She smiled brightly.
I blinked. “What?”
“You knew Hiram’s father.” Evelyn gave me a look that chastised me for not listening.
“I did, and he was a good man. I’ve known Hiram longer, though, but I can see Morty’s influence.” I dipped my spoon back into the bisque, hoping I appeased Evelyn. “I’ve met Hiram’s stepmother, too, an independent thinker and doer.”
“Oh, a stepmother,” cooed Mrs. Statler. I wasn’t sure if that was a southern Bless Her Heart moment or not. As my Aunt April explained to me once, Bless Your Heart can be taken in two ways: one, genuine but most often, a rather judgmental observance. Aunt April only said it—rather blurted it out from time to time—in sincerity. But I hear the phrase dropped often enough to know mild condemnation when I hear it.
I smiled at Evelyn’s mom. “You should meet her sometime. She’s like you, unique and quite intelligent.” A little flattery never hurt.
Mrs. Statler smiled. “My, my,” and pushed her empty soup bowl a little away from her.
Under the table, Evelyn’s knee nudged mine but in what context, I had no idea. I finished my soup as well and split a delicious, fresh-baked roll with Carter. I wanted to whisper my discovery in his ear and knew I couldn’t. Someone might overhear, I couldn’t predict his reaction, and the professor had asked me not to. At least one of those considerations kept my lips sealed.
Evelyn kept passing me the ball on extolling Hiram’s virtues, along with his entire clan, and I responded without trying to sound as though she’d hired me to do a medicine show shill. I knew Mr. Statler would catch on fairly quickly and kept my participation down to as few murmurs as I could.
Every once in a while, I’d look down the table and see my mother laughing at something the professor must have said or sharing a small plate of food with him. She looked happy. Carefree. Adult in a way I hadn’t seen her look in many years. Carter caught me watching them.
“Who is that fellow with Mary?”
“The one she told us about, the new doctorate at the university. Seems to be a nice guy.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
The fowl dish had been delivered. Duck, I think, from the looks of it, with the delicious scent of plum sauce. I stabbed it with my fork. “I was told it was none of my business.”
“Oh.” He watched me taste my tidbit. “Good?”
“Yes.”
“I meant the duck.”
“So did I.” I met his slightly amused expression. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fair enough.”
I leaned a bit on him. “Is this the first time you’ve been to this home?”
“Yes. It’s really something. I think I could fit my entire apartment into the living room.”
“Actually, I’m more curious what you think about the grounds.” I cut off another piece of the duck, enjoying it more than I meant to.
He took a moment to dab at the corner of his mouth with a napkin, a stalling move since he hadn’t made a mess yet. “Any particular reason you’re asking?”
“I was wondering how one could go for a walk along the tree line with one’s dog, start out in winter, and end up in Halloween.”
“Interesting. I take it this happened to you today.”
“Only time I’ve ever been here.” I enthusiastically scraped up the last of the plum sauce with the side of my fork. I licked it off and shook it at Carter. “This is seriously delicious.”
“Want to finish mine?”
I eyed his plate. I did, but it wouldn’t be fair, so I shook my head. “No, I’m good. I hear filets are on the way.”
I watched as diners up and down the L shape finished their courses, got new refreshments, and sat back in contentment, not full but with their taste buds hopefully tantalized. Hiram caught my eye.
I ducked back in surprise. He had looked stormy still, and I couldn’t understand what I might have done. Did he know about the Wild Hunt? Had a complaint been lodged? Or was it still about Evelyn? I couldn’t tell if Evelyn had even remembered a word we’d exchanged, let alone taken it seriously.
Servers came in with trays, offering the filets at rare, medium rare, and medium well . . . I took mine at medium rare as did Carter. It was interesting seeing some of the choices. Then potato casseroles followed, au gratin or mashed, and a profound lapse in conversation followed that, punctuated only by the sound of sharp knives on porcelain, the scooping of serving spoons through the casseroles, and low sighs of appreciation. I didn’t even need a knife for my tender filet, although I considered keeping one for self-defense later.
After dinner and various desserts—the catering company had gone all out and prepared trays of different goodies—people began saying goodbye and drifting off. The Statlers left but not without a hug to Hiram (from Mrs. Statler) and a hearty handshake (from Mr. Statler), and a long kiss (from Evelyn, naturally) so it looked like that had gone well.
Hiram dipped by our chairs long enough to say, “Stay behind. I need to talk with you.”
My mouth dropped a bit in surprise because talking looked like the last thing on his mind, and hanging lips seemed unseemly, so I promptly filled it with chocolate éclair. Carter said to me, “Wonder why?”
I shook my head before licking a bit of whipped cream off my lips. “No idea.”
Desserts and coffee finished, everyone took a look outside, declared that night would be dropping soon, and off they went. Soon, it was only me, my mother, the professor, and Carter . . . and an uncanny number of clan Dwarves who descended from the upstairs as if they had just materialized there. The house bore their weight admirably, just an occasional groan of its massive timbers and stonework here and there, as it filled with them.
I recognized most of them from the primeval forest they rightly called home, but they weren’t there; they were here. We gathered in the great room, and as big as it was, I felt stifled and closed in, a feeling I didn’t care for, and which Hiram had never given me before. It didn’t help when I saw the diadem of the Eye of Nimora appear and work its way forward to Hiram who put it on solemnly. My mother retreated to my elbow to ask, “What’s going on?”
“I
have no idea. Perhaps the . . . doctor . . . knows.”
She frowned slightly at me. I gave a diffident shrug back. I caught a side-eye from the professor, but he said nothing. I could see him move a little protectively toward both of us. Carter put his hands on my shoulders and moved up close behind me. I could feel his warm breath on the side of my neck as he leaned forward to whisper.
“That gentleman seems familiar.”
I closed my eyes, willing my body not to react in any way at all. Carter added, “Never mind. It’s just me. I wonder what’s going on.”
Hiram raised his deep bass voice just a bit. “Quiet, everyone. It’s time.”
Time for what, I had no idea, but the feeling lanced through me that I wouldn’t like it. I didn’t act on my impulse although the professor did. The man I’d been told to call Dr. Meyer Gregory answered back, “Not here and not now.”
“You have no say here. This is a trial and the court is convened.”
“A trial?” My mother caught up my hand then. “What does he mean?”
“He’s wearing the Eye of Nimora. I know you remember that jewel . . . and the crown is said to see the Truth. He’s prepared to judge.” Her skin felt slightly chilled as she gripped me in answer, and I could feel the fear in her. I rubbed my eyes with my free hand, as shadows surged in and out of the crowd and I tried to clear my vision. What did I really see mingling among the gathering? I couldn’t tell, but I didn’t like it. I thought of what Carter had told me of the corruption braided into the very fabric of our proud town, going back decades and even centuries. I hadn’t raised my hand, hadn’t called upon my stone to see with its shard of Nimora, but it seemed the Sight descended on me after all.
Carter called out. “Just who is on trial here?”
I recognized the blue plaid colors of the Waterman clan as one of its elders stepped forward. “We are here to accuse Mary Andrews and Tessa Andrews of breaching the veil of magic and threatening our very existence. If this duly convened court finds a verdict of guilty, the punishment is death.”
