I could almost hear Death calling my name as the rider drew nearer.
Terror ricocheted through me, and I shrank into the long grass like a hunted rodent. I was well hidden, but in another dozen yards, the rider would be close enough to spot me from his high vantage point.
The horse clopped up the road, ten yards away. My switchblade’s handle dug into my palm as I squeezed it. Five yards away.
Three.
Two.
Bang!
The distant gunshot rang through the night, and the ethereal steed threw its head up, ears perked. Not fear but focus. The cloud of darkness around it writhed.
The horse launched across the road—away from me. It leaped the far ditch in an easy bound, and I flinched as it landed, expecting a cacophony of snapping branches as its massive weight met the dense underbrush.
It charged into the dark woods without a sound, vanishing from sight.
I sucked in a breath and unclenched my fingers.
Whatever the hell that horse and rider were, I never wanted to cross paths with them again.
Chapter Four
Crouched beneath the heavy, drooping branches of a fifty-foot-tall pine tree, I peered through the curtain of prickly green needles that surrounded me.
Whitby’s escaped horse was dead.
It lay near a patch of lush green grass, its golden coat and cream mane contrasting starkly with the dark leaf litter. The palomino should’ve been beautiful, but its bones pressed against its skin, its body sunken with advanced malnutrition. It was no surprise Whitby hadn’t wanted anyone to see this horse. Even his similarly callous peers would have called out his cruelty.
Bright white beams spun and flashed as Whitby and his companion shone their flashlights around the small forest clearing, a hundred yards north of Quarry Road. Rifles in hand, they murmured in low voices.
The razor-edged, red-tinged sharpness under my ribs ground with each slow breath I took.
I didn’t know what I was feeling when these icy shards raked my insides. It was darker and deeper than anger. Something more like hunger, like thirst. A base, bestial need demanding to be purged.
My gaze tracked Whitby’s steps, his boots crunching over fallen leaves as he circled the dead horse, assessing his handiwork. Would he be walking like the king of the mountain if his feet were rotting out from under him like Whicker’s hooves? I’d already planned to make him feel the consequences of his neglect, and now he had killed his victim as well.
With a flick of my thumb, four inches of sharp steel shot out of my switchblade. Whitby’s head spun toward the metallic snap, his flashlight’s beam swinging past the tree where I hid. I hummed a soft note under my breath as I dug my blade into the ground, coating it in mud.
“Did you hear that?” Whitby whispered to his companion.
I clicked my tongue. Stiffening, the two men pointed their lights at my hiding spot, but the pine’s branches were too dense, reflecting the beams. I clicked again, and Whitby’s brow furrowed as he moved toward me, squinting suspiciously.
“It’s just a squirrel,” his companion muttered. “Let’s get out of here, Harvey.”
I rustled the leaf litter, imitating the quiet movements of an animal to lure Whitby closer. As his boots neared the curtain of pine boughs, I shifted forward on hands and knees, silent on the bedding of dried needles.
“Yeah,” Whitby said hesitantly. “We should leave before—”
I lunged forward, thrusting my arm through the branches, and rammed my knife into the top of his boot.
He roared with pain and lurched backward, his flashlight falling from his hand. I dropped and rolled out from under the pine’s heavy boughs. As I launched upward, a white crow dove from the highest branches of the same tree, flying at the other man’s head.
Leaving Ríkr to distract Whitby’s companion, I ducked beneath the farmer’s rifle and slammed my shoulder into his gut. Precariously balanced on his uninjured foot, he pitched over backward, and I ripped the gun from his hands.
I planted my boot on his throat, cutting off his shout. Tossing the rifle aside, I bore down on my foot. He grabbed my sole with both hands as I sank into a crouch, applying more weight to his neck. His face purpled, eyes bulging.
I spun my knife across my fingers, the bloodied blade flashing.
“Who—” he gasped, his gaze darting from my face to the knife. His arms quivered as he lifted my foot a few inches. I leaned into his grip, my weight forcing his arms back down. The angle was wrong. He couldn’t get enough leverage to lift me.
I studied his contorted face, the hungry edges inside me grinding. Coming to a decision, I slapped a hand to his lower face and used my thumb to pull his upper lip up, exposing his teeth.
Many horses’ teeth required filing every couple of years, but Whinny’s molars had become so overgrown that eating had become agonizing. If Whitby had bothered to provide basic care for either Whinny or Whicker, neither horse’s simple, common health condition would’ve reached the point of constant pain, lameness, starvation, and possible death.
Tightening my grip on his face, I set the point of my knife into his gums between his incisor and first molar. He writhed frantically. I stepped harder on his throat and dug the blade in. Blood spilled over his white teeth.
“’Tis the rising of the moon,” I sang in a whisper as Whitby’s scream echoed through the dark woods.
A bestial roar boomed in answer.
Saber!
At Ríkr’s warning, I sprang up. The snapping, crashing racket of something tearing through the underbrush filled the night.
Whitby rolled away from me, a hand clamped over his mouth. “You crazy bitch! What—”
With another ear-shattering roar, the bushes across the clearing flattened as something charged over them—something massive and shaggy, its muzzle ridged and fangs gleaming.
“Grizzly!” the other man shouted in panic.
Oh no, not a grizzly. The man was too human to see the blade-shaped horn protruding from the monstrous bear’s forehead or the unearthly gleam of its pupilless topaz eyes.
The fae beast slowed its charge, confused by the dizzying dance of the man’s flashlight. As I spun, intending to run like hell, Whitby lurched to his feet beside me, something in his hands. He swung it.
His rifle’s stock slammed into the side of my head.
Pain exploded through my skull and I fell onto my hands and knees, my ball cap falling off. My long hair spilled down.
“Run, you fool!” Whitby yelled at his friend. “Don’t shoot, just run!”
Footsteps crunched and bodies crashed through the bushes somewhere to my left. I raised my head, my vision blurring. My fingers curled tightly around my switchblade, somehow still in my grasp.
A low, rumbling growl—and the fae bear charged.
Stunned by the sight of the monstrous creature coming at me, I didn’t move. Paws the size of dinner plates hammered the earth, claws as long as my hands tearing through the dirt. Blazing topaz eyes filled my vision.
Ríkr dropped out of the sky, the white wings of his hawk form flashing. He struck the bear’s face with his curved talons.
The bear threw its head up, almost skewering Ríkr on its horn. It skidded to a stop a few feet away from me and reared back to swat furiously at the raptor.
Saber! Ríkr growled urgently. Get to safety!
I staggered up, then bolted away. The ground vibrated as the bear launched after me, undeterred by Ríkr’s raking talons and beating wings.
I couldn’t outrun the bear. My gaze whipped across the trees and I veered toward a young Douglas Fir with evenly spaced boughs. I leaped at the narrow trunk and climbed it like a ladder, branches scraping my shoulders and the trunk shaking with my urgent movements.
As I cleared ten feet, the bear hit the tree so hard the whole thing quaked, almost throwing me off it. Clinging to the trunk, I looked down.
Long teeth bared and eyes burning with mindless rage, the fae rose onto i
ts hind legs—and I lunged for a higher branch as its jaws snapped inches from my ankle. Roaring, the bear slammed its weight into the tree. It bent and shook. An alarming crack rang out.
I scrambled higher, the trunk bowing with my weight and the branches creaking in warning under my feet.
Too heavy to climb the tree, the snarling bear slammed it again. The branch under my left foot snapped and I grabbed at my remaining hand and foot holds. I couldn’t climb any higher. I had no escape.
Ríkr!
No answer. I tore my gaze off the bear to look across the clearing. A white hawk was on the ground, wings splayed and feathers bent as he shook his head back and forth dazedly.
The bear threw itself into the tree again. Another loud crack vibrated the trunk, and the bear leaned against it, bending the young wood with its weight. Snaps ran through the tree. It was only a matter of seconds until the trunk broke.
No way around it, then.
I turned my switchblade in my hand, calculating the best spot to strike: the fae’s glaring right eye. My left foot scraped at the trunk, searching for purchase before I attacked. The bear heaved against the tree and it bent a little more. Its jaws gaped ravenously, inviting me to leap down into its waiting mouth.
Quiet stillness stole through the clearing, as though the forest itself were waiting for my next move—then the quiet shattered.
Thundering hooves filled the clearing, and in a swirl of shadow, a horse and rider appeared out of nothingness.
Chapter Five
Five yards away from the bear, the dark horse reared, front hooves kicking. Amber light ignited over the rider’s hand, and he cast it at the raging fae.
A lasso-like cord of light flew at the bear and looped around its muzzle. The magic cinched tight, and the horse reversed, hooves digging into the earth. The bear snarled as it was yanked off the tree, and the trunk snapped straight, the violent movement almost slingshotting me off it. I grabbed for purchase, the thin branches giving way under my hands.
Fifteen feet below, the horse and its black-clad rider surged away from the bear as it swiped at them with its long claws. The amber magic in the rider’s hand lashed out, more like a whip than a lasso, and sliced across the bear’s face. The huge equine danced around the attacking beast, as agile as a cutting horse.
Over the racket of their confrontation, I heard the branches I held cracking. My feet searched for another bough, but all the ones in reach had broken.
Jumping was always better than falling. I retracted my knife, quickly glanced down, then shoved hard off the tree, throwing myself away from it for a clean drop—
—right as the evading equine sidestepped into my intended landing spot.
A sharp cry escaped me as I hurtled into the rider’s side. We collided, the impact of my body throwing him sideways off his mount. He slammed down on his back and I landed on top of him, my face bouncing off his chest.
I shoved up with one hand—and froze.
Beneath me was not a specter of death but a man. His hood had fallen off, revealing a handsome human face with vibrant, iridescent emerald eyes that weren’t entirely human. Those eyes stared at me with surprise almost equal to my own, then flicked past my shoulder.
He grabbed my upper arms and rolled.
A hoof slammed down beside us, barely missing him. The horse reared, kicking with its front hooves as it warded off the snarling bear. Strong hands gripping my arms, the rider spun sideways again, and we rolled together until we were clear of the stomping hooves.
The moment he stopped, I broke free and launched up. He was on his feet just as fast, and amber light spun over his hand as he called on his strange magic. He surged past me without a word, arm whipping out to lash the bear’s hindquarters with his spell, distracting it from his mount.
I flicked the blade out on my switchblade, then retracted it. Ríkr?
Here, dove.
I looked up. The white hawk was perched on a much sturdier tree than the one I’d chosen, his blue eyes fixed on the battle.
A most interesting matchup, he added, his tone almost gleeful.
I shook my head—and the clearing rocked and tilted. Pain throbbed through my skull. I stepped backward and my heel bumped something.
The palomino.
The fae bear’s furious roar rolled through the night air, but the sound was distant and forgettable as I sank down beside the horse’s head and touched its thin, bony neck.
I should have slit Harvey Whitby’s throat. How dare he allow an animal under his care to suffer this much and for this long? How dare he kill an innocent creature to save himself? How dare he slaughter this horse to …
I frowned, my hand resting on the palomino’s forehead. Where was the bullet wound? I’d heard the gunshot, but I couldn’t see any blood.
Eyes up, dove.
Ríkr’s warning snapped me out of my daze, and I realized the forest had gone quiet. My skull throbbed horrifically, and I wanted to puke. Instead, I raised my head.
The bear fae was gone, the underbrush flattened where it had plowed through the dense foliage to escape. The powerful stallion remained, standing near the splintered tree I’d leaped from. In the dim light, I could see he wasn’t black as I’d thought but a magnificent blue roan with a steel-colored coat that darkened to black on his legs. His mane and tail were dark as ebony, as was his face—which made his acid-green eyes even more startling. Pawing the earth with a heavy hoof, the fae equine tossed his head.
I shifted my gaze to his rider.
Fifteen feet away, the man watched me, or so I assumed. He’d pulled his hood up again, deep shadows hiding his face—but I’d already seen his human features, and I wouldn’t mistake him for a ghostly wraith again. Instead of a nightmarish black cloak, he wore a long jacket paired with black pants, sturdy boots, and leather gloves.
When my attention landed on him, he strode toward me, his long legs eating up the ground and coat billowing out behind him. Stopping almost on top of me, he reached down as though to take my elbow—and seized the front of my jacket.
I grabbed his wrist as he roughly hauled me onto my tiptoes, bringing my face close to his. Despite the moonlight and forgotten flashlights illuminating the clearing, the interior of his hood was filled with unnatural darkness.
Ríkr watched us from his lofty perch, pale blue eyes gleaming.
“That was quite the scene I came in on,” the man rumbled in a low, dangerous tone. “What do you know about that bear fae?”
I stared into his hood.
A rough sound grated from his throat. “You don’t seem to be grasping the situation. Tell me what you know before I lose patience.”
I smiled, showing my teeth. “Was that a threat?”
“What do you think?”
My smile widened, and I lifted my empty hand toward his face. “It’ll take more than a hood and a threat to scare me, especially when”—I pushed his hood back—“I’ve already seen your face.”
The shadows fell away, revealing his countenance again. Inhumanly vibrant green eyes, framed by dark lashes, fixed on mine, his eyebrows lowered with menace. A beautiful face, if I were honest. Striking cheekbones, a strong jaw, full mouth—currently pressed into a thin, angry line. By my best guess, he was in his mid-twenties, maybe a bit older.
My palm brushed against his clean-shaven cheek as I let his hood fall—and with the same motion, I flicked my hand, pulling my switchblade from my jacket sleeve. The blade sprang free, and in an instant, I had the point resting against the corner of his left eye.
But not fast enough.
A cold, thin edge pressed against my left cheek. I didn’t break eye contact to see what sort of weapon he had in my face, but the blade felt sharp—sharper than my little knife.
Neither of us moved, his fist tight around the front of my jacket. If either of our hands wobbled, we’d both bleed.
His right eyebrow arched slightly. “How do you want to play this?”
“Let go of me.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I stab you, you stab me,” I suggested frostily. “My cheek is more likely to heal than your eye.”
“Pass.”
He wouldn’t let me go and he wouldn’t play knife-chicken. What was left? “Then I’ll answer your question if you answer one of mine.”
His full mouth thinned again, green eyes raking across me. “Fine.”
His agreement surprised me until I realized he expected to win this game too. He thought I’d reveal more with my answers than he would with his.
Not likely.
“Who the hell are you?” I demanded.
“Answer my question first.”
“You first. Who are you?”
He growled under his breath. “The Crystal Druid.”
Surprise flushed through me, and I couldn’t stop my eyelids from flickering with a single, startled blink. He was a druid?
“Now,” he rumbled, “tell me what you know about that bear and the other aggressive fae in this area.”
“I don’t know anything.”
His blade pressed painfully into my cheek. “This little game doesn’t work if you lie.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Then you’re an idiot. Every fae across the lower mainland is talking about the attacks and disappearances around here.”
“Fascinating, but this is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“Aren’t you a witch?”
“Yes, but a terrible one.”
His striking green eyes narrowed. “Terrible in what way?”
Ignoring his question, I shifted my blade ever so slightly, ensuring he couldn’t miss the sharp point in his peripheral vision. “My turn again. Why are you here?”
“The fae—”
“Yes, yes, the attacks. But why do you care about some aggressive fae?” I arched my eyebrows, though my bangs probably hid them. “What are you hoping to gain, Crystal Druid?”
“Does it matter?”
“That’s a question, not an answer. You really don’t want this blade in your eye. It’s already been in a foot and a mouth tonight.”
The One and Only Crystal Druid (The Guild Codex: Unveiled Book 1) Page 3
