Hunter Forsaken (Wild Hunt #2) (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Tegan rushed into Ian’s room and stopped dead in her tracks. “What are you doing here?”

Rhys raised a brow. “I was looking for you. I figured you’d be with your lover.”

She glanced from him to the bed. Open photo albums covered it. “And when you realized I wasn’t, you decided to go through his things?”

He shrugged. “I was curious about your mate.”

Her mouth went dry. “You know?”

“I do now.” He grinned.

She shoved him. “Bastard!”

“Now, no name calling. It’s not nice.” He chuckled and handed her one of the albums. “Nice gloves, by the way. Did you get them from Rowan?”

She took the vinyl-padded book but didn’t glance at it. “I had to go to Hell and didn’t want Arawn to see my mark.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“Because I hadn’t decided what to tell him about Ian’s parents.”

“Don’t tell him anything. If Minerva wants to keeps secrets from him, so be it. Mated to you, he’s safe. Leave it be.”

Part of her wanted to do that. Her allegiance to the Hunt and Arawn stopped her. She walked over to the desk in the corner and idly arranged the items on it while she gathered her courage to admit she was going to purposely put her mate in the way of Arawn’s anger. It sickened her to do so. Necessary, though. She could see no other way to avoid it.

Lucas could not be allowed to challenge Arawn. Her father might be many things, but he had brought order to the Underworld and ensured retribution for the wronged. She feared the anarchy that would ensue without his firm hand of justice.

The Demon King wanted the power of Arawn’s position for his own personal reasons. He’d been played. That was what he’d told her. It wasn’t a good enough motive to upset the balance of Hell.

“Dammit, Tegan. I hate when you ignore me. Turn around and talk to me.”

“I’m not ignoring you.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m trying to absolve myself of guilt. I’m returning to Hell to tell Arawn about Minerva’s infidelity.”

Rhys’s eyes widened. “You found out who the father is and how she did it?”

She pressed a hand to her chest. The memory of her heart stuttering because of Ian’s overzealous feeding returned. She’d wanted to hurt him. Scream at him. Maybe walk away from him. The sight of tears in his eyes had stopped her.

She ran her finger over the edge of a framed photo of Ian and his human family. “Yes, and it’s because of his birth father that I have to do this.”

Tegan took a deep breath and prayed Rhys didn’t react poorly to her announcement. He hated the demons, Lucas especially. While they couldn’t enter the human world physically, they walked through people’s dreams, much as the angels did. Instead of offering solace and guidance, the demons fed on the humans’ fantasies. Lucas made a point of targeting any human girl Rhys took an interest in. Why, she didn’t know, but she suspected it had to do with her or Rowan. Rhys had always been vocal about their visits to the Haven.

“Ian’s father is an incubus.”

“Son of a bitch.” He growled. “Which one?”

“Lucas.” She related the rest of her conversation with Minerva and waited for his take on the situation, but he only stared at her.

“Well?” she finally asked.

He turned his hand over and glanced at his palm, the one marked by the Triad. “I was right all along. We’re nothing more than pawns in the Triad’s game.”

She tugged off her glove. The sight of the black jagged line quickened her breath. It had gotten wider and longer than when she’d last looked at it. She held out her hand. “And I think I’m losing.”

He grabbed her wrist. More ripe expletives fell from his mouth.

“I thought I’d figured out my challenge, but I was wrong,” she admitted.

“You thought mating Ian was your sacrifice, didn’t you?”

She nodded.

He shoved away from her and strode across the room to the window. He leaned against the edge and scanned the grounds. “You can’t fail. I refuse to lose you now that I’ve finally gotten you back. Figure it out.”

She matched his pose on the other side of the window casing. Rowan sat on a bench in the garden, arms wrapped around her knees. Tegan breathed a sigh at seeing her alone. “I’m trying, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

The sensation of Rhys’s intense glare forced her gaze to him. His cold eyes accused her of being stubborn. She’d seen the look too many times not to understand it.

“It’s simple, little sister. Trust him.”

She glanced at Rowan. “Once I know Ian can control his need to feed, I will.” An idea flared. “I’ll help him. Teach him to control his rage and hunger. I’ll be patient with him and stand by his side, even when his gaze strays to other women. I won’t get angry.”

“You should be angry if he does that. It’s disrespectful.”

She threw her arms up in the air. “Then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“You’ll figure it out. I have faith in you.”

That wasn’t what he’d implied a moment ago, but she didn’t comment. She wrapped his words around her and prayed they’d give her strength, because she didn’t have much faith in herself at the moment.

Too many threats surrounded her—the ones to Ian, her family and her. She didn’t know if she could overcome them all. Before she tackled the personal ones, she had a duty to fulfill.

Arawn needed to know what he was up against so he could be ready for a possible threat to his position. The Underworld was a brutal place that didn’t allow for even a momentary weakness. Only the strong thrived.

And gods could be stripped of their power.

Minerva was proof.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Tegan found herself in Arawn’s office for the third time since she’d walked out of the fairies’ prison. Heart heavy, she waited for Arawn to pour his whiskey, then joined him at the bar. She glanced at his glass and wished she had one of her own. At the moment, she too needed the comfort it offered. Without a word, he handed her his drink and fixed another.

“What’s wrong, daughter?”

She took a sip, letting the liquor burn a slow path to her churning gut. “Ian and I are mated.”

He pointedly glanced at her hand and the fingerless leather gloves she wore. “I assumed as much.”

“I love him.”

“To purposely initiate the mate bond, I would guess you must. I am happy for you.”

He couldn’t have given her a more perfect opening, but doubt rushed up. She beat it back. She had no choice. Besides, Ian was safe in the human realm. As long as he stayed there, Arawn couldn’t remove his Huntsman’s mark. She’d make sure Ian remained among the mortals. Hopefully, time would ease her father’s shame, so he wouldn’t toss Ian from their Teulu.

Her thoughts calmed her. She held her father’s gaze. “I didn’t initiate the bond. Ian did. I simply completed it.”

He frowned. “That’s impossible.”

“No, it’s not.” She shook her head. “He’s a—”

“A what?” Arawn growled the question.

“He’s a demigod trapped in a human body.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Care to explain that?”

She licked her lips and held her reasoning for telling him the truth close to her heart. He needed to know the danger he was in. “His mother placed his soul in a human body and ensured both his godly side and the traits he’d inherited from his father weren’t awakened until I was free of my confinement.”

There was still the question of how Minerva had known Tegan would be free in time to unleash him, but she suspected Minerva hadn’t, not really. No doubt the Triad had arranged the timing to fit its plan.

Silence descended upon them. Arawn didn’t move, blink or even breathe. He could’ve been carved from granite. Minutes passed. Finally, he glanced at his drink. He swirled the contents and the clinking of ice on glass broke the pregnant moment.

“Who is his mother?”

A ball of dread landed in her gut. She drank the ambrosia-laced whiskey, but it did nothing to ease her. She set the glass aside, then met her father’s gaze. Pain already darkened them. He knew. His sorrow radiated from him. She could feel it in a way she never had before and was fairly certain she could take it from him. Her tie to Ian, maybe? She ignored the curiosity of her newly discovered ability. She didn’t have time to explore it.

She sighed and gave him the confirmation he sought. “Minerva.”

A pop sounded. Glass and ice hit the floor. Liquor sprayed over her. She didn’t move or react. She watched as red bled into the dual-ringed eyes she’d grown accustomed to seeing. His deeply tanned skin darkened more, and his features contorted into the face feared by humans and demons alike. The rest of the change swept over him, transforming him into the ten-foot winged monstrosity that marked his darker side.

Saliva dripped from his mouth and a growl emanated from his throat. She tipped her head to hold his gaze.

“And his father? Who dared touch my mate?”

“Lucas.”

Arawn’s roar reverberated in the cavernous chamber. She tensed and waited for him to lash out, at her or the room. He did neither. He dropped to his knees and hung his head. His wings drooped, and the sorrow which radiated from him choked her. She matched his pose and reached a hand toward him.

He snatched her wrist. “Do not touch me.”

“I want to help you.”

“Leave me.”

“No, you shouldn’t be alone.”

He raised his head. His blood-red eyes bored into her. “I did not ask you. I gave you a command. Leave me.”

She stood. “Fine, but know that you are in danger, so is Minerva. The Triad took her powers, and Lucas wants yours.”

He closed his eyes and released her arm. “Thank you for the warning, but I want you to leave. I would like to be alone.”

Another wave of sorrow hit her. Tears pricked her eyes. Arawn’s pain could’ve been hers. She reached for him again, needing to comfort him. He moved quicker than she’d expected, escaping to the opposite side of the bar. He grabbed the whiskey. “If you happen to run into my mate, send her to me.”

“I will, but promise me you won’t blame Ian. He didn’t choose his parents.”

He drank from the heavy crystal decanter, then set it down with a hard thump. “I promise.”

She searched for some words of comfort to give him. None came to mind.

He glared at her. “Why are you still here? I told you to leave me.”

She hated the pain he was experiencing, but knew it was probably no different from what Minerva had experienced when he chose to create his army. Life had come full circle.

With nothing left to do, she pivoted and left her beloved father alone to wallow in his shame.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ian crouched next to Trevor on the ridge overlooking the valley where the two teenagers had gone missing. Directly below them, a small pool emptied into a lazy, meandering stream. The crushed brush around it and packed dirt suggested the area was frequently used. The empty bottles and cans littering the woods on the path implied its purpose, a drinking spot.

“Well, this is it.” Trevor sneered. “At least they could’ve made the kids clean the area.”

“Active investigation. They can’t.” They’d avoided the police tape by approaching from the south.

“True, but what about all the shit we passed on the way here?”

Ian fought the growl threatening to escape. “We’ll bring garbage bags and come back. Since when did you get so concerned about the environment, anyway?”

Trevor fisted his hands until they turned white. Tendons stood out along his neck. A tic beat on his jaw. Overall, he looked more pissed than Ian had seen him in a long time. He studied Trevor a moment. He’d been fine until…

Rowan.

“Talk. What’s wrong?” And if Trevor questioned again whether or not Ian would be faithful to Tegan, they’d fight. He was done with his friend’s attitude.

“How many more female Hunters are there?”

Ian’s breath escaped in a slow exhale. His tense muscles eased with the question, and he turned his focus to the woods. “A few, but they’re confined to Hell. Their minds are broken.”

“Too bad. I was hoping there’d be nicer ones to work with.”

A growl rumbled Ian’s chest. “You better not be talking about Tegan because—”

“I’m saying Rowan’s a bitch. She likes to play games.”

“I deserved her—”

“Not everything is about you.” Trevor shook his head. “Forget it. Shit’s not worth dwelling on.”

“What did she do to you?”

Trevor pointed. “I think we should head that way. The ground’s wetter in the shaded areas, it has more nutrients, and there’re fewer rocks. Better for mushrooms.”

He pushed to his feet and started walking before Ian could question him about his abrupt change in subject. A good thing. They didn’t have time to chitchat. The sun would set soon.

Ian followed. Several hundred feet into the wooded section, a path of stomped-down vegetation marked the ground. It weaved through low-hanging evergreens and around pockets of mountain laurel and vines. A little farther in, rocks dotted the earth, turning it into a stone walkway. He wondered if it led to a house. Or marked the way to a fairy ring.

They continued walking along the path for several minutes. At the base of a wide, gnarled tree, it split. One footpath led deeper into the woods, the other down a set of moss-covered stone steps.

“Which way?” Trevor asked.

Ian glanced between the two trails. The steps looked inviting. If someone was wandering in the woods, they’d want to follow them. He knew he did. “The steps.”

“Then I’m going that way.” Trevor followed the path.

“Wait.”

Trevor stopped and peered over his shoulder.

“We should stick together. It’s getting late.”

“Exactly, and we’ve found jack shit.” Trevor patted his rear pocket. “I’ve got my cell. I’ll call if I find anything.”

He didn’t wait for Ian’s response. Trevor slipped into the shadows overtaking the woods.

“Stay on the path,” Ian called out.

“Yeah, yeah.” Trevor’s response sounded far away.

Ian didn’t like the idea of separating, but Trevor had a point. They hadn’t found anything, but the fairy ring was close. Ian would bet money on it. Besides, it wasn’t the first time they’d tramped through the woods together, searching for portals.

He gave the spot where Trevor had disappeared one last glance, then took the stairs. A wooden handrail marked the winding steps. Moss covered everything. He gripped the damp wood to avoid sliding the rest of the way. Splotches were missing on the banister and treads. Someone had traveled down them recently. He hoped it was the missing teens.

At the bottom, he found stagnant water and the remains of a small house. No roof, walls on three sides and shrubs sprouting from the entrance told him everything he needed to know. He’d gone the wrong way, but he approached the building anyway. Over the years, he’d learned not everything was as it seemed. Glamour, the fairies’ magic, clouded the mind, but if you looked closely enough, you could see through the veil it cast.

He spent a few minutes studying the abandoned home, then yanked his phone from his pocket and dialed.

“Yeah?”

Trevor’s whisper eased the noose around Ian’s chest.

“I hit a dead end. What did you find?” Ian asked.

“I’m…not sure.”

The confused lilt to Trevor’s words retightened the vise on Ian’s lungs. “Tell me what you see.”

“Shapes only. It’s dark, but I hear voices.”

Shit.
“It might be a trap. Wait for me. I’m coming.”

“I’m not stupid. I’m not going to fall for an illusion. I’ll just get a little closer. Try to see something more.”

“Just wait. I’m—”

The line went dead.

He spun on his heel and hurried to the gnarled tree. Shadows darkened the area. The dimness didn’t bother him. He could see well enough. He ran. The path wove between the trees. The farther he went, the more overgrown it became. Branches scraped him, slicing him open. He pushed them aside and quickened his pace.

The urge to embrace the power of the Hunt overcame him. He resisted. By himself, he didn’t know if he could control it. The power it offered acted like an addiction. It made him feel righteous and invincible.

He wanted to wipe the earth of the fairies’ creatures. He also knew it wouldn’t stop there. The redcaps and sluaghs weren’t the only ones who killed. Humans did too. That was the enticement he had to avoid. One man couldn’t rid the world of evil, no matter how much he wanted it.

No, he couldn’t draw on the well of power his Huntsman’s mark entitled him to. He was too new, too unpredictable, too damn wild.

He pushed his body harder. Female voices drifted to him. He picked out a couple of words from the murmurs. His name was one of them.

Son of a bitch.
They’d found the ring and sprung Craig’s trap. And Trevor was walking right into it.

He’s not naïve. He understands the tricks the redcaps use to draw in their prey.

But Trevor also wanted Allie back. They were friends, had been ever since she’d started working at his mom’s store.

Her laughter, the soft tinkling sound Ian had heard for years, carried over the din of the night’s creatures.

“Allie?” Trevor called out.

No!
Ian cracked open the endless pool of power he drew from Arawn. He’d have to risk falling into the lure of the Hunt in order to save Trevor. Ian couldn’t lose him. Trevor was like a brother to him.

Energy rushed into his pores from the world around him, and he ran faster than any mere mortal could. The trees blurred. Within moments, he reached the edge of an overhang. A valley stretched out before him. In the center of it, Allie stood barefoot in a fairy ring, wearing a pink nightie with depictions of cartoon kittens on it. Mussed hair framed a dirty, tearstained face. Craig stood outside the ring, a hand stretched out to her.

Illusion or reality?

Ian couldn’t tell, but he knew he had to find out. If it really was her, she couldn’t take Craig’s hand. The moment he pulled her out of the ring, he’d turn her into a sluagh, a walking zombie and his puppet.

The twenty-three-year-old woman who still slept with a stuffed dog would become a murderer. Like Cynthia, she’d die at Ian’s hands because of it. Jesus, he didn’t want that.

“Come on, sweet Allie,” Craig cooed. “I’ll save you. You can trust me.”

As tall and wide as his brother Raul had been, Craig looked like a cross between a linebacker and a model. It was part of his arsenal to tempt women close to him and probably why Dar had chosen the brothers. He valued beauty. Ironic, since his true form resembled the stuff of nightmares.

Allie took a step toward Craig. She held out her hand. Trevor screamed her name. She jerked back. Trevor ran toward the ring, the small dagger Harley had given him in his hand. Craig grinned. The look of satisfaction told Ian all he needed to know. They were in deep shit.

Craig unleashed his talons and egged Trevor on with a mocking curl of his fingers.

Several hundred feet away, with no easy way off the ledge, Ian couldn’t help Trevor. Even with the Hunt fueling him, Ian would never make it in time. There was only one thing to do. He waved an arm. The portal to Hell opened. The three white hounds with red ears, which had remained at his side from the moment he’d accepted Calan’s offer to join the Hunt, trotted out. Affectionately named Larry, Mo and Curly, the hounds usually greeted him with wagging tails and slobbery kisses. Not tonight. The dogs picked up on his agitation and froze midstep, gaze on him, not on the redcap in the valley below.

They were blind to Craig. It was the only explanation. The dogs could sense anyone tainted by the chaos Dar had infected them with, but not those redcaps and sluaghs who belonged to Harley.
Shit.
Raul
had
given his brothers the other caps soaked in Harley’s blood. Craig belonged to her, but she had no control over him since she’d never turned Unseelie and taken his blood.

It was his fault that Raul had gotten her blood in the first place. Ian had fallen for Raul’s trap. While he’d chased after Cynthia, Raul had shot Harley. Watching her fall had pushed Ian over the edge. He’d woken in Hell.

And I’ve fucking fallen for another redcap’s trap.
But he wouldn’t fail again. He couldn’t. There was nobody close to save the day.

Ian pointed toward the fairy ring at the same time the familiar grunts of sluaghs filled the night. The hounds snarled. In unison, they turned in the direction of the threat and ran. Between one step and the next, their bodies morphed into their Hunt form—deadly teeth and claws, black fur and able to render the fairies’ creatures immobile with their powerful jaws. At the ledge, they leapt. He followed.

He hit the ground hard. Bone snapped. Sharp pain radiated up his leg. He ignored it and pushed to his feet, then immediately collapsed. His bones hadn’t healed yet.

“No!”

Allie’s cry redirected his attention to the fairy ring. Trevor ducked a swipe of Craig’s clawed hand and slashed at the redcap’s gut. Blood welled, but Craig didn’t flinch. He dug his claws into Trevor’s arms and tossed him toward the fairy ring. He landed half-in, half-out of the circle.

Ian growled. Rage turned his vision red. He pushed to his feet a second time. He stumbled but righted himself, then grabbed hold of the power in the air around him. He ran and willed his sword to take shape. It emerged in a puff of sulfur-scented air. Flames burst from the blade. Craig turned. Wide-eyed, he gaped at him. Ian grinned. It was the same reaction Raul had given him: surprise.

The redcaps obviously didn’t know humans could join the Hunt. Not that he was human, exactly, but according to Tegan, he still felt like one. Whatever the reason, it worked to Ian’s advantage. For those precious few seconds, Craig’s attention centered on Ian, not Trevor, who lay unconscious on the ground.

Ian directed the hounds to attack Craig from behind. He fell under the weight of their combined bodies launched at him. Ian turned his back on them, knowing they’d do everything within their power to immobilize Craig until Ian could finish him off. For the moment, Larry, Mo and Curly acted as the extension of Ian’s hand. He felt them tied to him and only him, a consequence of the Hunt and necessary to avoid confusion among the hounds during battle. The dogs needed one rider to direct them. Ian, as the only Huntsman present, was it.

Dammit, he wished he could connect with Calan. The tie to the leader of the Hunt only worked one way, however. Ian couldn’t initiate it. No matter, this was what the Hunters had been trained to do, fight nightly against the fairies’ creatures. Only problem, Ian hadn’t received a lick of training. He’d been tossed into the Hunt with the advice of “Trust your instincts”.

Then that was what he’d do. He let his mind take in all the details around him and focused on Allie kneeling next to Trevor. The image of Craig offering his hand to her returned. If the redcap had the ability to pull her out, maybe Ian could. In a roundabout way, he was tied to Harley through Calan. All the Hunters shared a bond. Ian had no idea if it’d be enough, but he had to try something.

He ran to the fairy ring, allowing his sword to fade. Allie’s image wavered. The fairy realm was going to reclaim her. He stretched an arm over the circle of mushrooms. Blood dripped from a gash along his forearm. Each drop sizzled as it hit the ground. Her form solidified. He acknowledged the oddity but pushed it aside for the moment.

“Allie, take my hand.”

“Ian, oh thank God!” Her voice sounded far away.

She reached for him. Their fingers touched. He wrapped his hand around hers and tugged. The force it took to drag her closer to the mushrooms stole his breath. He grunted and dug his feet in. She whimpered. A pop sounded, and their combined hands breached the circle. Her arm came next.

He was doing it. He said a little prayer and tugged harder. Her torso stretched over the ring, but her eyes suddenly widened. “Ian!”

Something rammed into him, breaking his hold. Allie jerked back and fell on her bottom. A sluagh clamped a mouthful of sharp teeth over Ian’s arm. He recalled his sword and took the sluagh’s head, then hopped to his feet and faced Craig.

The redcap knelt on the ground, the hounds attacking him. With a roar, he stood, knocking two off. The third he grabbed by the scruff of its neck and tossed it across the clearing.

Ian charged him and swung. Craig ducked and lunged for Ian’s feet, nearly the same move Trevor had tried a few moments ago. Ian countered it in a similar manner. Although he didn’t have claws, his nails lengthened and sharpened. They didn’t come close to matching the curved ones Craig sported, but they helped. Ian needed every advantage.

He released his sword. It disappeared before hitting the ground, gone to wherever it went when he wasn’t using it. With his pointed nails, he pierced Craig’s shoulder while the redcap’s claws scored a path down Ian’s thighs. Ian’s knees gave out. He landed a third time, pulling Craig with him. Craig bared a mouthful of sharp, pointy teeth and bent for Ian’s neck.