“I don’t remember much about leading the Hunt. I will need your guidance.”
Her expression is pleased. “I am your First. Your right-hand battle commander. I will always do what needs to be done for you and for the Wild Hunt. Now, to the sparring ring.”
The angle of the sun is changing, the light growing brighter. The scents of damp earth and fresh cut grass greet me. Home. I really am home. Water drips from the bright green leaves overhead and mist rises from the ground. I shiver and wonder if I’m walking through a soul or maybe several of them.
Freda leads me to a field not far from where Aiden and I crossed the Veil. In the distance, the Wild Hunt’s camp site is visible, though few are up and moving so early. There is a crumbling stone wall where Nahini is already perched, legs dangling carelessly over the edge. I get the feeling that if the wall collapses, she will be well away from it.
An array of weapons is laid out on the ground before her. I stare from the black hilted sword to the crossbow, the mace and several other things I can’t identify.
“Which one is for me?”
“All of them.” Freda bends down and sweeps up a sword and flings it at me.
I hit the ground as the blade wizzes past where my chest had been. It lands with a dull thump a foot behind me. The two of them burst out laughing.
I glare and pull myself up and dust off my clothes. “What the hell? I’m mortal, remember?”
Nahini bites her lip. “It’s a dull blade, my queen. A practice sword. It won’t cut you.”
“Could have told me that before you threw it,” I grumble and move to pick up the defunct blade. It’s heavy, probably at least ten pounds and unwieldy. I need two hands to have any control over it. Just as Nahini said, the edges are rounded, like a pencil that hasn’t been sharpened for a while.
“One hand,” Freda draws Seelenverkäufer and demonstrates how she wants me to stand. “Like so.”
I do my best to mimic her, positioned sideways, blade raised at an angle across my body. “Don’t I need a shield or something?”
Nahini shakes her head. “A shield only adds to the weight you must carry. You’re not a soldier going into battle, you’re a hunter. An assassin. Speed is your best advantage.”
Freda turns slightly, pivoting one leg so her feet are shoulder width apart and changing the angle of her blade. I copy her, feeling clumsy in comparison to her lithe movements.
“Now lunge.” She demonstrates, flowing into a new form, sword extended as though spearing some invisible enemy in the gut. “And retreat before they know what’s hit them.” She resumes the first form, again standing sideways.
I try, the maneuver nowhere near as elegant as hers.
“Again,” Freda backs up to assess.
I repeat the three steps she showed me. Defense, ready and attack stances. The second time is harder, the weight of the blade drags my arms down. When I get into the attack lunge, Freda casually swings Seelenverkäufer down to connect with my blade, about an inch from my hand. The reverberation stings, jarring all the bones up to my shoulder. My sword falls from nerveless fingers.
“Ouch,” I shake my arm out, trying to bring the feeling back.
“Don’t ever drop your weapon,” Freda uses the blade of Seelenverkäufer to flick the practice sword up until she can catch it by the hilt. She then uses the two blades to create a scissors effect with one on either side of my neck. “’Lest it be used against you.”
I swallow, afraid to nod or speak in case whatever passes for my soul gets sucked into the mystical blade.
She moves back and tosses the practice sword to me. “Again.”
I repeat the stances, my feet finding the rhythm better this time. The attack comes not from Freda on the third pose, but from Nahini on the second. Her crescent shaped blade is at my throat before I’m even aware she’s moved off the wall.
“And never assume your enemy is alone.” Freda says as Nahini releases me.
“Like deer.” I nod.
They stare at me blankly.
“It’s something you learn driving in rural areas. If you see one deer, always assume there’s another so you don’t speed up when the first one crosses the road in front of you, or you might hit the second one.”
“Ah,” Nahini says. “Yes, like that. Except deer won’t have weapons and you want to hit them.”
Sword practice goes on for hours. The stances grow more familiar and I manage to keep my sword when Freda makes contact, though I am never fast enough to prevent Nahini from catching me unaware. The woman moves at the speed of thought.
“How do you do that?” I ask her at one point.
“How do you kill with a kiss?” she responds.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. It’s just something I’ve always been able to do.”
“Same is true for me. We all have our gifts, my queen.”
As the sun hits its zenith, Freda departs to check on the camp and Nahini and I return to the house. Though the temperature is in the low seventies, my body drips with sweat, and my bones ache, the muscles spasming out of control.
“I didn’t even get to the other weapons.” I grouse in frustration.
“Take a few moments to rest.” Nahini advises. “We will work on your mental skills after midday repast.”
I nod and stumble off to the shower. The warm water is delectable against my skin and I feel as though I’m rinsing days of filth down the drain with every swipe of the washcloth.
Wearing only my bathrobe, I pad into my bedroom and fall face first onto the mattress.
A knock sounds on my door.
“What?” My response is muffled by the covers.
The door opens with that familiar creek and Nahini steps in, carrying a tray. I scent the aroma of bean and barley soup. “I used your wavy box to heat it.” She beams with pride.
“Microwave,” I correct. My stomach growls at the delightful fragrance of herbs. The soup recipe is one of the few things Addy cooks well and she would make vats of it at a time, canning what we couldn’t eat immediately in mason jars. “Where did you find that?”
“In the other unit.”
When I frown, she sets the tray on my nightstand and holds up her hand about six inches above her own head. “Large white box about this tall. You have one in the other room to store the winter’s chill.”
I blink. “You mean the refrigerator? We don’t have another one.” Even as I say it, I remember there had been an ancient unit in the abandoned outbuilding on the opposite side of the property from the vet’s office. “Was it in a ramshackle building with the roof caved in?”
She nods. “I have a few of the spirits repairing the structure now. It will make a fine headquarters for our summer camp site.”
I sit up and reach for one of the bowls of soup. “You really are planning to stay through the summer?”
She nods. “The queen—that is Queen Brigit—will dispatch us at her leisure. Freda and I discussed it and it seems wise to continue to obey her orders until you are ready to face her. She must believe she still maintains control of the Hunt. But she makes no arrangements for our food or lodgings. We have lost most of the younger hunters to exposure and malnourishment.”
“I didn’t see any children, other than Freda’s daughter.”
“Jasmine,” Nahini smiles. “Yes, currently she is the youngest of our band.”
“How young can they joint the Hunt?”
“Traditionally seven winters are required unless a parent is an officer, like in Freda’s case. Her daughter has been with us since the night she came into the world.”
Immortal children, starving to death. The thought knots my insides. It had been my job to protect the hunters, both the living and those who the Hunt ensnared. Without me, they had no one looking out for their wellbeing. “Well, think of this as your home base now, summer and winter and I’ll do my best to get whatever you need.”
I only hope it will be enough.
With the soup finis
hed, Nahini tells me to dress in comfortable clothes and meet her in the great hall, which I assume means the living room. I change into Pilates pants and a baggy t-shirt, as well as a thick pair of socks.
In the living room, I see Nahini has discarded her multihued armor. It shimmers in the firelight like dragon scales, crimson one moment and sapphire the next with all the hues in between. She wears a skintight black jumpsuit that shows off her remarkable figure. Without the weight of it she looks delicate, smaller than I had thought, but with long lean muscles like a dancer. She has also pushed the couch back away from the fireplace so there is enough room for the two of us to sit before it.
“Come, mimic my pose.” She sinks gracefully down until she is in a seated position with her bare feet and palms pressed together.
With a reluctant sigh, I remove the socks and copy her, though much less artfully. “It’s hard to believe I was a fairy queen. I have zero inborn grace.”
“That is because your mind is cluttered, churning and churning like one of the great mechanical beasts modern humans rely so heavily upon. Only when your mind is unburdened can you attain a true state of grace.”
I make an unintentional noise that comes out sounding like, “Ma huh.” It sounds like new age B.S. to me, but her fluidity of movement and her speed are undeniable.
“Close your eyes and take three deep breaths. Inhale slowly through your nose, exhale just as slowly through your mouth. Do not rush through them. With each inhale you are giving your body fortification. Every exhale expelling all the unwanted bits that clutter your body and disturb your soul.”
I do as she instructs, a slow deep breath then an exhale. Another. A third. “I don’t feel any different.”
“Don’t be impatient,” she says in her musical lilt.
I open my mouth to argue that I’m not, but then close it again. Instead, I crack an eyelid and peek at her. She sits like a statue carved from onyx, serene and completely composed.
“Now, I want you to picture the last thing you recalled about your previous life. The last vivid image.”
The mental image from the night before. I recall the sweaty lather of my mount, the tinge of dust from the approaching sandstorm, the crackle of the campfire. The fever radiating off the doomed man’s skin. “It was the night I met you. You were ferocious, guarding your brother.”
“I remember it well.” There is a smile in her voice. “The Hunt rode up and encircled our camp. Never have I felt so afraid.”
“You hid it well.”
“Fear can be a strength if you know how to channel it.”
A log shifts in our own fire, sending sparks up the chimney, jarring me back into my body. “Weird, for a minute there it felt as if I were actually there again.”
Nahini’s eyes open and she fixes her level gaze on me. “That’s the regression of the soul. We are all connected to our past and future selves through strands of fate. If you know how to grasp it, you can follow it back into a past life or follow it forward and see the next incarnation of yourself.”
I stare at her in disbelief. “You’re telling me you can see not just who you were but who you will be?”
“Not simply see, experience. Did you not smell the desert air, taste it on your tongue?”
“I did.”
She nods. “It’s not without risk though, what we are doing. You should be aware of that before we continue. An untrained mind can get swept up in the moment, forget to come back to where her body and soul naturally resides.”
Chills shoot through me. “You mean, I could get stuck in one of these scenes?”
A slow nod. “Your flashes of memory mean your thread is tangled, knotted between your past self and your present. All of us who have lived before are twisted to some extent, but the memories usually manifest as nighttime dreams that are forgotten when we wake. Yours are different, triggered by those you encountered in your past life and stealing you out of your body to relive them as they strike. If that happens in battle or in the gauntlet in the middle of a challenge, it could prove fatal.”
“Hel said she was sending me the memories.” I whisper.
Nahini’s lips part. “The goddess of the underworld? You spoke with her?”
When I nod, she exhales. “If your memories are being forced on you by someone else, you will continue to experience them whether or not you are trained. Hel has her own agenda, one we know nothing about. The training at least provides you with some element of control and the knowledge to disentangle yourself. Do you wish to proceed?”
I swallow. I’d never thought of the memories as dangerous. “Yes.”
She offers a reassuring smile and closes her eyes. After a moment, I do the same.
“Go back to the last nocturnal memory.”
My last dream. I shut my eyes again. “Got it.”
“Describe it to me.”
Heat burns up my cheeks and it has nothing to do with the fire. “Aiden. He is touching me. Intimately.”
“And how does his touch affect you?”
Is she serious? “It...well, it excites me. Sexually.”
“You sound surprised by this.”
“I am. Sexual attraction isn’t natural for me.” Even now, I feel the rasp of calloused hands on my skin, his breath on my neck, the ready state of his body as it presses into mine.
“It was before though, correct?”
“Yes.” We’d just been fighting. My blood is hot and quick in my veins, release moments away. Every sensation is familiar, the longing, the need. A sweet ache and gentle pressure building, spiraling ever upward.
“Have you ever experienced those feelings with anyone else?”
Her voice jars me out of the memory and I blink. “What?”
She remains there with her eyes closed. I have the disturbing feeling she can see it, too. This is more than hypnotherapy. Nahini is sharing these moments with me.
“Nic?” Her brows draw together as though searching her mind for something. For me?
“Are you watching us?” I ask. The first time was understandable, it was a shared memory between the two of us. But if I knew she was going to see that private moment between me and Aiden....
Her eyes blink open. “Is something amiss?”
“You’re experiencing it, too?”
“Not in the same way. I’m observing, not experiencing. It’s like the difference between watching a performance vs. living. Just a show, not real.”
I shift my gaze back toward the fire. “I’m not sure how I feel about you witnessing it. That was a private moment.”
“It’s not intended to be a violation of your privacy. You need me with you, so I can pull you out if you get tangled up in the threads of the past.”
I nod. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that something I couldn’t understand is being viewed by an outside party. I remember trusting Nahini with my life. But like the passion I feel for Aiden, I’m not so sure that the feelings are part of me now or an echo from the past.
“Perhaps we should move on for today,” her tone is light and without censure.
I swallow and nod. “What’s next?”
Her smile is a little sad. “As much as we can manage.”
Garden of Eden
As the days grow longer, my training intensifies. The mornings are for physical combat. I improve vastly with the dull-edged blade, even managing to knock Seelenverkäufer out of Freda’s hands once. After that, she shifts her focus to the crossbow, throwing knives and the bow staff.
“Why aren’t we training with firearms?” I ask at one point.
“Guns,” her lip curls up in revulsion. “A clumsy modern weapon that requires little skill and goes astray as often as not. The destruction from a firearm like that is great, but can be turned upon you in a heartbeat.”
She has a point.
Her daughter, Jasmine, is with us, as she often is. Her training is about on par with my own, though her skill is much better, especially with throwing knives and stars. She
is a shy girl, never saying much but watching everything with hawk-like intensity. Freda’s parenting style is worlds away from Chloe and Addy’s hands-off approach. An ache forms in my chest whenever I see Freda rest a hand on Jasmine’s shoulder, or pull her in for a quick hug, her face beaming with pride in the girl’s blossoming abilities.
After lunch I am turned over to Nahini’s care for more mental and mystical training, as well as a crash course on fey politics. In these I do much better, now able to draw up memories from my past life at will. I see the glittering fairy lights decorating the great palace of Underhill, a castle situated beside an underground lake, carved from what appears to be pearl. I recognize the symphony of spices from perfume and from food, the richness and decadence of a royal banquet, held every year to celebrate the transition of power between myself and Brigit. She is there, my sister-queen, though I never get a clear look at her face. I feel the silks and satins, the coldness of precious stones, all tributes from my subjects. I now know they filched the items from rich mortals either through fairy duplicity or outright theft. I breathe in the sharp night air of midwinter in Underhill from a balcony outside my room, feel the wind tugging playfully with my braid, teasing it loose from the elaborate moorings as I ride with the Hunt. I experience as much as possible without getting pulled too far out of myself, though I am careful to avoid any intimate scenes, at least when Nahini is present.
I save those for late in the night, when I am alone in a house which once contained family. The memories of Aiden, both my own and those of Queen Nicneven, help distract me from the deep searing ache that I am beginning to associate with the sensation of loneliness.
I wonder how Laufey’s recovery is going, and if Fern has been watching the kits or focusing all her fluttery energy on healing her lover. I wonder if Aiden truly does miss me, if he is looking up at the night sky and picturing my face on the full moon even as I envision his.
Will he be proud of how much I’ve remembered, of how well my training is progressing? Maybe it will please him to know I recall much of our past, especially how I came to trust him.
Even alone though, there are memories I avoid. What occurs behind the closed door of the Eternity room, where I meet with the fey chancellors and overlords during my fertile time. And our final fight, the one proceeding my death. My instincts of self-preservation scream at me anytime my thoughts try to drag those memories to the fore.
The Goodnight Kiss Page 27
