Chapter 6
Close Watch
Dyson dreamt of Culloden. He awoke unable to distinguish the tattered red of Bo's couch from the memory of blood soaked fields, mortal men's dying screams echoing in his ears like a high wind. He hadn't so much as thought of that battle in at least a decade. Not even the Garuda had affected him enough to bring back those memories. Barely half an hour had passed since he closed his eyes. He rose and paced.
During his twentieth pass around the living room, a rustle of sheets was followed by footsteps across the second floor. A stair creaked under Kenzi as she descended, still dressed, looking pale and tired. She held one arm with the other.
"Did you sleep at all?"
"Nope," she said softly, popping the 'p'.
"It's going to be okay. I won't let anything happen to Bo."
"Duh," she rolled her eyes. "It's just that… she got herself into this shit storm. On purpose." For once, there wasn't a trace of irony in her voice. "Sometimes I think she has a death wish."
He didn't disagree. That's what made this time different.
Dyson drove Kenzi to the Dál. That way, Trick would have someone to take care of, and she would drink her anxiety away. The back room smelled musty, a mix of old paper and wood polish. A skinny fae youth lounged in an armchair.
"Good evening, Pete."
The boy responded with a half-hearted nod. Dyson figured six months or more had passed since Peggy fired the poor kid from her travel agency. He was talented enough in his abilities, but was also epileptic. After a particularly gruesome accident that split a gnome between several continents, Lachlan had deemed him unfit for the job.
Which was exactly why Dyson sought him out now. No ticket, no record. He needed to get to the northern forest under the radar.
"Can you get me inside?"
"Yes."
"Without alerting the perimeter guard?"
"If you're fast, it will be too late by the time they find you."
"That's kind of the point. Okay, let's do this."
"Please thank Bo and Dr. Lewis again for helping me out last year." From a small black bag at his feet, Pete withdrew a syringe and readied an injection that he self-administered. Dyson caught a glimpse of the dozen or so bottles inside, anticonvulsants like topiramate and lamotrigine, all labeled with the Ash's crest and Lauren's downright illegible signature.
"Fasten your seatbelt."
The teleportation was instant, with no sense of having traveled except for a change in air pressure that made Dyson's ears pop. He stood on an elevated ridge overlooking the rolling hills of a drumlin swarm. The moon flooded the upland hills with phantom light as it set. Dawn was a few hours away yet.
Dyson started his trek across miles of turbulent landscape, crossing south-flowing streams, continuing west until he reached the edge of the wood. A hooded warbler flitted past, yellow feathers bright even in the pale light. The skies were clear and the forest was still, as if to parallel his nervous anticipation.
Windthrow and tangled aerial roots were little hindrance to a werewolf. Indeed, the old growth forest made him homesick for the Old World, for a previous life. He continued, following an upward slope in the shadows of great trees. Minutes remained until daybreak. The birds started to sing and the horizon changed colors, from darkness to gray to a pearly first light.
He heard the presence of other fae before he came upon them, keeping in the cover of the undergrowth. A pair of tall guardswomen in unfamiliar uniforms walked between the trees confidently, as if following a clear path where there was none. Their scents gave no indication of their species because he didn't recognize them. However, he did recognize a third scent, and the lump of a person slung over one of the strange women's shoulders. Bo.
The other fae looked around, unalarmed but cautious.
"The sun is rising. Wake her, and do not let her touch you." Her voice had the overly rich tone of someone trying to sound more important than they actually were.
The woman carrying Bo grunted and laid her down on fallen leaves. The pungent odor of smelling salts was irritatingly strong even from a distance. Bo blinked awake and immediately lashed out - to injure or enthrall, he couldn't discern – but the strange guardswoman had already leapt from her side, executing a neat back handspring to land a safe distance away. In the second it took Bo to jump to her feet, they were gone. It was silent again.
She was dressed in a red prisoner's jumpsuit. Dyson's brow furrowed. The only fae convicts that wore red were from Hecuba, an infamous, maximum-security women's prison. That explained the haughty female guards, but why would the Council arrange for Amazons to transport a volunteer in the first place?
A pixie darted from the treetops, shedding glittering pollen from its tiny wings, hovering near the succubus' ear to whisper the location of the ceremonial bell he guarded before disappearing back into the foliage. Dyson chose that moment to reveal himself.
"Ready to run?"
Bo started, but recovered quickly, turning to face him. "Dyson, thank God." She walked into his arms and hugged him briefly. She reeked of Lauren, but she felt so good against him that he didn't dare be the first to let go.
The past few weeks had been hell trying to work up the nerve to tell her how he felt. Again.
Sometimes he could swear she already knew that he had his love back. The girl read auras, how could she not? But for whatever reason, they hadn't talked about it. There would be time for that after the Hunt.
"Thank you," she breathed next to his ear, her cheek pressed to his.
He undressed and buried his clothing. Bo turned away, not out of any sense of modesty, if Bo even possessed such a thing, but because the shift unnerved her to watch. It took just seconds, but the contortion of muscle and disjointed bones that reshaped his body made for a disturbing image. Falling forward to land on hands and knees, he shuddered as fur rippled over his skin.
Then there was just a wolf, standing in front of a succubus, two night creatures preparing to race the dawn.
Hale strapped a quiver over his shoulder in silence. The Valkyrie had yet to show, but the third competitor, a colleague of his named Serena, was up early. And hung-over.
He looked over to find her twirling a red-shafted arrow absentmindedly in one hand while massaging her temple with the other. The Black Thorn stood by, looking calm and as professional as one could in a designer suit with a ram's horn tucked under one arm.
"Some party," Hale said neutrally, just making conversation. In Light fae law enforcement, Serena might outrank him, but he didn't consider her much of a threat in close combat.
"An open bar is what makes this kind of thing tolerable."
The Black Thorn subtly cleared his throat to cover a laugh. Hale didn't bother. "That's a healthy attitude, I guess."
"I like to think so," she said in a bored tone.
Serena stashed the arrow and straightened. Extending her hands out before her, she took a deep breath. As she exhaled, blue flame erupted from each palm. Hale caught himself from flinching back. The alcohol burned out of her system quickly, and when the fire was clean and bright again, she relaxed, perfectly refreshed.
Neat trick, he thought.
"Might I remind you," spoke the Black Thorn derisively, "that this is a protected environment. Carelessness will not be permitted."
"I can smoke out the succubus without torching the whole damn forest."
Hale was immediately aware of a new presence in the room by a quick vibration of displaced air, upsetting the overtone frequencies above the sound of Serena's voice. A woman in black winked into existence from a shimmering portal that vanished in the same instant that it appeared. Few people, fae included, could observe these rips in space and time that the travel agencies and private transit authorities used, but Hale could feel the unnatural bends and breaks in interrupted sound waves, a perverted dissonance that set his teeth on edge.
"It won't come to that, I'm sure." The Valkyrie approached the sideboard without further greeting to select a finely crafted sapwood bow. Inlaid silver caught the light of the sunrise and shone its beautiful menace.
Council members began to enter via their own portals, individually or in pairs, from every North American territory. The rapid influx of bodies arriving in the hall from literally thin air gave Hale a headache.
"Good hunting, Siren."
He turned to face what could quite possibly be the very last person he anticipated having to deal with today. "Since when are the Dark invited to our highest ceremonies?"
"Never," the Morrigan replied, "but I wouldn't miss this for the world." She winked at the Black Thorn from across the room.
"What exactly did Bo do to piss you off, Evony?"
"Nothing," she snapped. "The rumors are false. And photoshopped."
Hale decided he didn't want to know after all. He ignored the open stares of the assembling crowd when she leaned in close enough to whisper in his ear.
"Don't assume that anyone here is stupid enough to fall for your act."
Shit. "Excuse me?" He tried for innocent surprise.
"Your were-friend isn't the only unauthorized presence out there."
"Your people are in the forest? Are you insane?"
Before she could reply, the Black Thorn called them to attention.
"It's time."
They were led outside, and Hale took his place next to Serena, trying to look more confident than he really felt.
Tamsin had just opened her second beer when the blast of a horn sounded throughout the forest. The Hunt had begun. The sudden noise startled her into spilling her drink.
"Damn it." She set the bottle down and stood up from the lowered tailgate of her dated pickup. As she brushed off her clothes, motion caught her eye.
A woman sprinted past with a wolf at her heels. Weird.
Hello! So, its been quite the while... sorry. Anyone still interested in this, or shall I start a new story?
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