The Hunter's Prey (The Fay Morgan Chronicles Book 5) (5 page)

I smiled, disliking how clearly he saw us.

“True, we Tintagels have been around the sun many a time,” Merlin said. “And you, green man, it is not your first hunt?” Merlin smiled amicably.

The green man sighed. “Far from it. Though I do not relish them as some do. I am the leader of my clan and the years have not been kind to us. I need the boon. Though we all do, don’t we?” He grinned, all grassy fields and forest glens. But then I caught a flash of knives and rage beneath that.

It would not do to underestimate him.

It would not do to underestimate any of these hunters.

Merlin smiled easily. “Tell me about the last hunt, friend.”

The druid started talking about being in Buenos Aires and how it had rained throughout all three days of the hunt. He spoke in such generalities that it was clear he would let nothing slip that would help us in any way.

“Excuse me, I'm hungry,” I said and wandered away from his bright and green gaze.

I passed a trio of tall white men with ouroboros symbols branded into their foreheads. Knights of the Snake. I’d thought they’d long ago gone extinct. They spoke in Norwegian, and their voices dropped as I neared.

A leering shifter caught my gaze and nodded at me. It wore the body of an old lady, and had long yellow nails and dirty teeth.

I nodded back, as though I did not notice his menacing stink.

I wasn't particularly hungry, I’d just said it to get away from the druid, but now that I neared one of the feast tables, the incredible smells drew me closer. I had not taken pleasure in food ever since Lila was gone. It was all ash and bone in my mouth. I had taken care over the last two months to feed myself, but it had been a long time since I’d enjoyed food. But whoever had cooked this feast was a true master, and it brought my hunger raging back.

There were a pile of jellied orbs that smelled floral and evoked the memory of alpine snow and the first flowers of spring. My mouth watered and I reached out to pluck one.

Fingers circled around my wrist and pulled my hand away.

“Don't,” Merlin whispered in my ear. Anger threaded his voice.

I leaned into him as though he were still my lover and we desired some sweet words between us. “Why not, Master Tintagel?” I whispered.

“Look closer.” He gestured to the table.

I did, and saw a slight illusion draped across the feast table. As soon as I saw it, it was easy enough to see past it and see that the jellied orbs were eyeballs. Large ones, clouded over and veined with blue and red lines. Swirls of swiftly moving magic moved across their surface.

I continued to stare and felt my mouth drop open in shock. “Manticore?” I whispered

Merlin nodded.

“Of all the gentle creatures on this green planet….”

“Yes.” He put a warning hand on my elbow.

I stared at the bowlful of eyes as bile and rage rose up my throat. Had a family of manticores been slaughtered for this sick delicacy? Or had the maker of this feast merely asked the gentle beasts to gouge out their eyeballs and watched as they were compelled to fulfill that request, since manticores were, as a species, unable to not be giving. Steel ran up my spine as I examined the rest of the feast table. There was a long platter full of deep fried sylphs: air nymphs skewered with their cellophane wings caramelized. There was a bowlful of newborn krakens, tiny and perfect, sitting in a thick sauce. There was a whole roasted gnome with an apple shoved into his mouth. He looked like a pig on first glance, and smelled of luck. Three shifters stood near him, shoving slices of his cooked body in their mouths.

“Brutes,” I whispered to Merlin. “Murderers. Barbarians.”

“The Barbars had nothing on this,” Merlin said. His voice sounded constricted. “One of the first and only rules, so basic it need not even be said, is that a sentient magical creature is never food. Eating one is cannibalism. What kind of
—
”

I placed a hand upon his and ground my teeth together. “Stop,” I whispered. “We stand among villains, and have no idea the true intent of this hunt. We will stop whatever they are after. We will stop them. But right now, we stand outnumbered by these true monsters.”

Merlin’s stone face nodded. He laughed, making himself sound jovial and light. I heard the echoes of rage within it, and I didn't trust him to be able to stand here, near this table full of murder, and do nothing. I didn’t trust myself, either.

We didn't have to.

“Welcome, welcome,” called out a woman’s voice thick with an English accent.

Everyone and everything turned suddenly silent as every monster in the room turned to face Agnes Stonehouse.

6

The One We Hunt

“Welcome to my hunt, old hunters and new alike.” Agnes stood on a stage, so that all could see her. A strange magic, green and likely there for protection, shimmered around her. “Wild beasts and cunning creatures, I welcome you to my traveling palace and hope you all had a difficult time finding it,” she laughed, and though her words weren't particularly clever, everyone else in the room laughed as well, with a nervous undercurrent running through the sound. “As you all know, the difficulty in finding the start of the hunt ensures only the best hunters gather here. And before long, one of you will win and earn my prize: one wish, however you choose to use it.”

I felt the room bristle with anticipation at her words. All the hunters in the room, each with their own deadly set of skills, looked to this old English witch with equal parts fear and hope. How had she gotten powerful enough to live in a roving palace? To assemble all these creatures? To offer a boon big enough that they were willing to hunt for her? It had been many centuries since I’d crossed path with a witch who rivaled my powers. And Agnes? I feared she was now much stronger than I was.

“Did you have to make this place so far away?” a growly voice called out to her. “Not all of us can teleport or fly.”

Agnes scanned the crowd until her gaze rested on a tall ogre with a warty face. “Ah, Galnad. You made it here.” She smiled. “In truth, I hadn’t expected to see you here. I made the path to this hunt, starting in Carthage and hopscotching across the globe, long and full of misdirection, so that creatures such as yourself would get lost along the way and give up. But ogres are a plodding and persistent lot, aren’t you? I invite you to look around you. Do you really believe you have any chance of winning this hunt?”

The ogre blinked slowly and his lips pulled back in a scowl as he processed what the woman was saying. “Made it here, didn’t I? I deserve to be here as much of the rest of these uglies and idiots.”

“Deserve,” Agnes said sweetly. “Such an interesting word, a word that believes in a just universe, in fairness.” She looked away from him and gestured to the entire room. “I would like to take this moment to remind all of you that you are at the hunt. And what are the rules of this hunt? First and foremost, one hunts by any means necessary, and does what one must. For example, should another hunter get in the way, what should you do? Whatever is necessary, such as—” She pointed at the ogre. A deafening and bright magic shot from her finger, and where the ogre had stood was empty space.

A vampire laughed and clapped his hands. “Well done, well done,” he purred. “Over there!” He gestured to one of the feast tables.

At its center sat a new and huge carcass curled up on itself and smoking. A couple of the creatures in the room rushed over to carve out a piece of the ogre’s meat while other cheered and applauded. Merlin and I clapped along with them, masking our face in amused approval.

“Any other comments or questions?” Agnes asked. “No. Good. Now about this hunt: it will be a hard one. The prey you will find deliciously difficult to hunt, I believe, and even more of a struggle to bring to me alive and unharmed.”

Gasps rose up around the room.

“Alive?” someone whispered, as though the concept was impossible to understand.

“Do any wish to quarrel with me on this point?” Agnes asked sweetly.

The room turned instantly quiet.

“For this hunt, I need the quarry alive and unharmed, for I wish to mete out this prey’s end with my own two hands.” She held up both hands, palms up. A shudder, an instinctive cringing away from the witch, filled the room. “For she has harmed me in the most reckless way possible, and as you all know, I am not a witch to be trifled with.” She laughed again.

The room filled with forced laughter. The stink of nerves wafted everywhere.

“Are you all ready, after the long weeks of following all of my clues, to hear about your prey and be set loose in this coastal town to do what you do best?” she asked.

I disliked her theatrics. I disliked everything about her.

“The one we hunt is Morgan le Fay.”

7

A Faerie Glen

“Morgan le Fay has taken from me what is mine and only mine,” Agnes said, “and with your help, she will pay.”

I swore under my breath.

Merlin knelt down, opened his bag, and began searching for something.

“A human? And a witch? I hate witches,” a vodnici standing behind me said.

“She’s legendary,” an encantando replied with a melodic voice. “She stayed hidden for centuries. If she wants to disappear, she can. How will we even—”

“Find her?” Agnes Stonehouse interrupted. “How will you know what she looks like or catch her scent when a witch can disguise all of those things easily, and can slip away into the darkness easier than a shifter? Oh hunters, I chose you all because you are supposed to have skills of tracking and stalking. To have acumen and powers beyond knowing, yet here you stand before me, complaining that the hunt will be hard.” She turned her gaze to the ethereal encantado dressed in a tight bodice and flowing skirt.

The creature shook her head. “No disrespect, queen witch. Mere questions.”

I wondered if Agnes would turn another monster into meat. But she kept speaking. “It is always hard. Every hunt presents its own challenge, different from the last. As it should be. But if you succeed? I will give you what you want. Anything that you wish for. Morgan le Fay will be tricky to find and trickier still to bring to me, but I am sure some of you are up to the task.”

“Don’t think it will be that tough,” someone muttered, and I felt a prickling unease on my right side. Someone was staring right at me.

Merlin still crouched beside me, searching through his bag.

Someone else laughed. “A masking spell? As though that would be enough?” he called out.

Confusion and talking rose up in the air. “She’s here?” someone asked.

Others growled. Around me I saw creatures take out scythes, daggers, and guns. They weren’t all looking at me. Not yet.

I thought about the scant spells on my person. None of them would get me out of here. None of them were enough to take on any three of these hunters, let alone a whole room full of them.

A fast motion and a scream came to my left. I turned to see fangs and fur barreling toward me.

A popping sound filled the air, and a billowing magic roiled and raced toward me.

The ear-shattering scream of a Banshee filled the air.

Something hit me square in the back, between my shoulder blades.

Merlin stood up and grabbed my waist. He swung me up into his arms.

He took a step forward.

The world lurched and shifted, and we no longer stood in a great room full of bloodthirsty hunters, but at the golden entrance to the palace. The thing that had hit my back dug into my flesh. I clung to Merlin.

He took another step.

The world shifted again. We stood at the top of a hill, three blocks up from the palace. I looked over Merlin's shoulder and saw nothing but blackberry vines covering a vacant lot. I blinked and saw snakelike energies writhing up the hill, searching for me.

The thing on my back dug in deeper, twisting into muscle and bone.

I screamed.

Merlin leaned forward and began to run. The world blurred like an Impressionist painting, hinting at the shape of the world that we passed by. Every time Merlin's foot touched down, the surroundings crystallized into focus for a brief snapshot moment, and then blurred again. Evergreen trees. Rushing cars blaring their horns. A field full of fallow grasses. A coal train. A rocky beach. More trees.

I clung to Merlin and stared at his face in profile. He was the one thing that stayed steady inside this wild motion. He kept his gaze forward and his jaw clenched. What had happened? Had that really just happened? And what must we do now? The thing on my back stopped biting into me and nestled down deep within my flesh. It turned from a stabbing fire poker to a smoldering coal, and what was it? And which of the hunters would find me first? And how would I fight them? My heart raced and a cold sweat covered me.

Merlin ran and his arms crushed me to his chest. I closed my eyes and pressed my ear against him, listening to the comforting metronome of his heart as it beat fast but steady with every step. Nothing was safe. He couldn’t keep this hunt away from me. But I felt right then and there like nothing bad could happen to me.