The Dark Huntsman: A Fantasy Romance of The Black Court (Tales of The Black Court Book 1) (29 page)

“Your eggs are almost ready.”

“Why, Logan? Why are you taking me with you, is it because you see that I need to go?”

He stopped cooking, his shoulders sagged, and his voice dropped so low she strained to hear him speak. “Danu spare me, but I’ve come to need you alive.” He placed the skillet on the table, crossed the room, and ran a light finger down the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know what to do with you, but I’ll be damned if I’ll leave you here and come back to find you gone, dead, or worse.”

Trina’s heart thumped painfully in her chest as she stared into his eyes. The energy of their auras swirled, brushing against each other, and merging their foggy edges. Deep under the water, she softened between her thighs.

Logan’s eyes darkened into a deeper turquoise and he backed away. “Best put some clothes on or you’ll need to be thanking me a different way this morning, and we have little time for that.” He went to the door, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll be outside. Eat your eggs.”

Trina sank back into the water, untouched arousal simmering under her skin.

She didn’t understand him. One moment he treated her like a pet, bringing her gifts and expecting her to jump at his word. He’d take her with him, but expect her to hide in disguise and she knew that the second he’d found a place he’d abandon her again and expect her to hide from the queen.

She rinsed her hair. She needed a partner. Someone who would let her fight for her family and her life. Someone who understood she was done with hiding. Done with running. Done with being a victim. How had she made this catastrophic mistake? How could she have fallen for a domineering, possessive fae who only wanted to tuck her away from the world? Someone who would never be able to see her as a person and couldn’t ever return her love.

Somewhere, the Fates laughed up a storm.

She got out of the tub and dressed in the perfectly fitting jeans and a t-shirt. She ate fast. If he was going to take her with him, for whatever reason, she would be ready.

Fed, packed, and with the kitchen clean, she was ready to leave. At the door, she turned. She hadn’t been here long, but it had started to feel like it could have been her place. For the first time in a long time, leaving a house didn’t seem like she was leaving part of herself behind, it seemed like maybe, she’d be back.

“Thank you,” she said to the empty cottage.

Outside, Logan waited with Solanum and the hounds. “Time for your disguise.” The tingle of Logan’s glamour spread along her cheeks, down the skin of her neck, and all the way to her toes. “I don’t want anyone even thinking it might be you.”

Solanum stomped a hoof. “I don’t want people thinking that’s riding on me,” he said, his equine lip curling. “What are you thinking? Couldn’t you at least have kept her sexy?”

“I’m thinking she’s going Underhill with us and no one needs to know she’s human, or attractive.”

“What did you do?” She stretched out gnarled grey hands, her fingers ending in narrow twigs.

“You’re small enough that you can look like a dryath. Their skin resembles tree bark.”

“I thought dryaths couldn’t leave their trees?”

“That’s a dryad, and they can’t. This is a dryath, not as fun and sexy, but more threatening. Dryaths are small. They don’t come much over five feet, and they have extremely nasty tempers.” He stepped back, eyeing her critically.

She touched her face, the scaly skin rough under her fingers.

“Time to go.” He helped her up on the puca and mounted in front of her. Trina looked back at the cottage as they rode out of the hedge. She’d arrived here scared and angry, now she left in love with someone so flawed her heart was torn.

“Are you ready for the portal?” The purple haze formed ahead. She swallowed and wished she’d skipped breakfast.

“This will be an easier trip,” Logan said.

“How so?”

“We’ll go slower, for one. Your body will have a chance to adjust. And we won’t go through more than one at a time. Last time, I took you through many more gates than you were aware of.”

“And I’m dressed,” she said.

He laughed, smiling at her over his shoulder. “Ready?”

The dark purple maw loomed, and Trina’s stomach flipped.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She swallowed, closed her eyes, and wrapped her arms around Logan, pressing her chest against his back as they rode into the mist. Focusing on his now familiar scent of wood smoke, she hummed to herself in an attempt to block out the wails and screams in the portal. Her stomach rose up, her head swam, and they cantered out of the portal.

Solanum halted.

Trina opened her eyes and attempted to focus her blurred vision on a broad sea of grass so tall she couldn’t see the dogs, just the swoosh of the stalks where they passed.

“How are we going to look for her?” She scanned the miles of pale, green grass. “I don’t see anything here.”

“What you can’t see is all the fae that make up this area. This is Underhill. Its physical makeup is unstable unless a conscious being holds it in place. For this area to be this solid there are many beings who believe it exists. More importantly, I can focus my Gift here more easily than in the forest. Here, the winds of magic blow and my Gift will find her scent.”

Beneath her arms Logan’s chest expanded as he inhaled, his muscles firming up under her hands. She held herself very still. He opened his Gift and she could sense the magic stirring within him. Moments passed, then minutes. A strange, haunting whistle of birdsong rose over the wind.

“Aahh,” he said. “I have something. We need to go through a gate.” He turned Solanum, and there, where there had been nothing at all but grass, was a small circle of standing stones.

“Where did that come from?” she asked.

“It was there, didn’t you see it?”

She shook her head.

“Gates are like that sometimes,” he said.

They entered the circle between two weathered, grey rock pillars. Each opening between the seven granite sentinels contained a different view, each one unique and only the section they’d come through was filled with grass. One had a vibrant, blue sky and three low moons. Another, a dry, desolate plain. Logan chose a misty green world whose foggy tendrils crept through the gap, teasing the blades of waving grass next to the stones. Trina held tight to Logan’s waist as they rode through the gate.

Between the pillars, reality flexed, and the stench and humidity of a swamp hit her. Trina reeled from the sudden shift, her recently settled stomach lurching and rising in her throat.

“Easy,” Logan said.

It had been early morning in the field of grass, but here, it was much later in the day and the moist heat was stifling. Solanum’s muscles bunched under her thighs as he struggled to walk with the double weight in the sucking mud. The smell was awful, a sulfuric mix of decay and heat that threatened to overwhelm her. She swallowed and breathed through her mouth to keep her stomach from rebelling.

“Ugh!” she said, burying her face in Logan’s hair and taking small breaths.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said. “There are much worse worlds. Parts of Underhill are very bad.”

Trina held on tight, watching the hounds pick and choose their footing carefully. She ducked as one slipped, splashing into the odorous water. They climbed up a hillock, all the hounds pouring onto the small, dry space, happy tails waving as they pushed and shoved at each other and Solanum for space.

“Watch it! I’m here, aren’t I?” Solanum cocked a threatening hoof and the hounds shifted out into a wider arc, a few splashing off the side into the sludge.

Logan dismounted, stopping Trina when she started to slide down. “Solanum can shield you, but only if you stay on his back.”

“But where are you going?”

“There’s something here. I’ll be better off tracking it without you.”

“I don’t think…”

Logan squeezed her thigh. “Don’t worry, I’ll come back.” Then he sloshed off into the mist.

She tangled her hands in Solanum’s mane in case the beast decided to move.

The great head in front of her angled back. “He’s left you to me, love,” Solanum said, rolling his eyes. “How long do you think he’ll be? Do you think we have time for a quick one?”

Cold traced down her spine.

“Piss off.” She got a good grip of his long mane in case he took offense but he only gave a low, wicked laugh and flicked his tail, killing a fly. Trina shivered, despite the heat. If Logan didn’t return soon, she’d get down and go after him. She’d brave swamp monsters, lizards, and stink just to be far from Solanum’s malevolence.

Solanum switched his tail at another fly, stinging her leg through her jeans. “Sorry, love,” he sneered.

She ignored him and his petty behavior, and rubbed at her calf. In the distance, something sloshed through the swamp, coming closer. Straightening up, she tightened her grip on Solanum’s mane.

More sloshing sounds and garbled noises echoed strangely through the fog. “Tighten those thighs a little more, would you?” Solanum asked.

Trina opened her mouth to let the puca know what an ass he was, but he cut her off as Logan appeared at the base of the hillock, holding a small, kicking garden gnome by the ankle. The gnome was complete with a white beard and blue hat, but the foul language coming from his mouth didn’t fit the picture of a family ornament.

“Stay quiet, love, and he won’t even notice you,” Solanum whispered.

She pressed her lips together and examined Logan’s prisoner.

“Aaarghh!” screamed the gnome. “Yer hurtin me, you big galumph! Why would ye be doin’ this?”

“I’m not hurting you. Relax, and you’ll be fine. I simply require a bit of information from you.” Logan’s face seemed serious, but Trina recognized the glint of humor in his eyes. She doubted the gnome was paying attention as he thrashed and kicked like a prize bass. Logan dropped him on the side of the hillock and the gnome lurched up to his full, two-foot height. He clutched his little, blue hat and turned to run, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of the fence of silent, red hounds lined up with their teeth bared.

“Information, hmm? You could have just asked.” The gnome huffed. He settled his hat back on his head.

“And would you have stayed to answer me?” Logan slapped his gloves on his thigh, looking more than a little frightening and exotic with his long hair pulled back off his face, clad in his black leathers, and surrounded by the red hounds, his face a hard, intent mask.

“Well, I might have! Now we won’t ever know.”

“Start with your name.”

“I’m not givin’ ye that! What can ye be thinking?”

“It’s a simple question. I caught you fair and square. By the laws of Faery, you must answer me.”

“Ye snuck up on me, and ye know it. I’ll not answer!” Hands on his hips, the gnome stood as tall as he could and attempted to look the towering elf in the eye. Logan pulled a golden bird cage from his pocket.

“All right. Have it your way.” He opened the little door in the cage. Trina kept silent, aware that Solanum’s magic kept her hidden.

“Are ye plannin’ on keepin’ me in there?” The little face grew taut and anxious. “I’ll shrivel up into nothin’ away from me swamp.”

“It is your choice. All I’m asking for is some information and then I’ll let you go.”

“What do you want to know? Not me name, that’s too much!”

“I’m looking for some information on the whereabouts of a Tuathan named Aoife.”

“What makes ye think I know her?” hedged the gnome.

“I’ve no time for games.” Logan reached for the gnome.

The gnome leaned back, rolling his eyes with panic as he was squeezed between the sharp teeth of the hounds and Logan’s large hands.

“No! No! I do know her, I do! I’ll tell ye!” The little fae’s face blanched. “She was here years ago. Used to come through here all the time until the queen and she got inter some kinda fight. Then she stopped comin’ through the ring.”

“Good. That’s a start.”

The gnome swallowed and looked at the golden cage that swung from Logan’s gloved hand. “I heared a rumor she’s gone ta ground.” He nodded for emphasis. “She’s now what you call a…” he slowed down and spoke the word carefully, “Rree-ti-ree.”

“Really? She’s retired?” Logan’s eyebrows rose and his stern look slipped. “Who did you hear this from?”

“It was in the air,” the gnome said.

“I need more than that. I need to know where I can find her.”

“Bluebell will know. She who lives in the dell on t’other side of the swamp. She were there.”

Logan’s face darkened and he loomed over the tiny fae. “Tell no one I was here, and I shall have no reason to trouble you over this matter again.”

The gnome nodded his head up and down, his hat slipping over his eyes.

Logan shrank the little golden cage and tucked it away. “Thank you for your services. Good sir, I release you.”

The hounds spread apart and a small gap appeared. The gnome scuttled through it, fleeing the hounds and the hillock, only looking back to glare once before he splashed into the swampy water and swam to another high tuft of grass.