The Orange Cat & other Cainsville tales (16 page)

The Huntsmen exchanged a glance, and the first one said, “We are only passing through, little one. We are pleased that you have secured the passage, but you do not need to remain.”

“But you are here. You have come.”

“On vacation,” the second one said. “Even we get those.”

The first one gave him a look that said he shouldn’t be quite so informal with a gwragedd. She would expect better.

“We are, as I said, only passing through,” the first said. “We pursued prey about fifty miles south, and now that our work is done, we are . . .” He glanced at the younger one. “Enjoying a reprieve.”

The gwragedd shook her head. “No, you came for this. You sensed it.”

“Yes, I sensed it in passing, but—”

“And now you have found it. You will bring your pack. You will stay. I have guarded this for you. Protected it from humans.”

“I know, and we are grateful. Impressed as well, you have protected it for generations, and you have sealed it to prevent souls from passing into this world. That is excellent work. And it means that you do not have to stay.” He smiled, a kind, genuine smile that reminded me of Ricky. “You are free.”

“B-but I have found the passage. You need it. You will bring your pack.”

The Huntsman gave a slow shake of his head. “We do not need it. More importantly, we cannot even use it, I fear. There are so few with fae blood in this region that there would be no point in us settling here. We must stay where we are needed. It is our duty.”

“But I have found—”

“And
your
duty, little one, is to be free. To be happy. You served our kind well, and we are grateful. But you do not need to continue.”

“I
wish
to continue,” she said. “
That
is my duty.”

“We have relieved you of it. However, if you want to stay, we cannot stop you.”

“Alone?” she said, and there was a plaintive note in her voice. A fearful note, too, almost like panic. “I have been alone for so long, my lords. I kept this for you. For a pack to come so I may serve.”

“Then join us,” the younger Huntsman said. That earned him a look from the older one, but they exchanged a glance, and the older one dipped his chin and said, “Yes, little one. You may join us. There are other ways to serve.”

“But this—this is a passage. It is mine. Yours. You must come.”

“No, little one—”

The gwragedd flew at him.

Fifteen - Liv

The hounds fought off the gwragedd easily, pinning her beneath their giant paws as gently as they could. The Huntsmen tried to reason with her, persuade her to leave, but she flew into a fury of gnashing teeth and tears and wails. In the end, all they could do was withdraw, with reluctance, the younger one telling her where she could find them, should she change her mind. And as they left, her cries echoed through the forest.

“Do not leave me, my lords! Do not leave me alone!”

I woke on the ground. It took a second to realize where I was. Sometimes with a vision, I wander. Fortunately, my powers weren’t quite prepared to kill me yet, and I’d crashed exactly where I’d fallen into the vision.

I got to my feet and reoriented myself while sorting out my memories. I’d heard Ricky. Then I’d seen him in a different direction. But that hadn’t been him . . . which explained the “wrong direction” part. Got it.

I hadn’t gone more than a few loping steps before his bird cry came again, letting me know he was on the gwragedd’s trail, no note of “Where the hell are you?” in it, which suggested a time-freeze during my vision detour. Excellent.

I kept moving as quietly as I could, having to keep reminding myself of which memories had been the vision—the gwragedd
wasn’t
following Ricky, and any noise I made
wouldn’t
lead her straight to him. I still tried to stay quiet. No need to unnecessarily attract her attention.

I kept up that slow jog until I heard a sound. A faint whimper that had me skidding to a halt. I looked around. Another whimper, so soft I had to wonder if I was actually hearing it. It sounded like a baby softly fussing.

Or it could be the damned puppy again.

I followed the sound. When I caught sight of a yellow blanket and a flash of what looked like brown fur, I grumbled. But I took one more step, to be sure, and that “fur” turned into the soft baby hair I’d expected when I grabbed the puppy.

I hurried forward and pushed into the thicket.

The baby looked like something out of a biblical story, cradled in a basket woven of twigs and leaves, bundled with blankets. She peered up at me, only mildly curious, as if I’d happened upon her in her crib. Then she lifted her arms with an
uh-uh-uh
that even I recognized as the universal baby language for “Pick me up.”

I did. She smelled sweetly of leaves and moss, and I could see both padding her makeshift bassinet. She cuddled into my arms, seemingly untraumatized, and I had no idea what a fae would feed an infant, but the gwragedd had apparently figured out something.

As I cuddled her, I debated my next move. Did I give my alert cry, bring Ricky back and then leave? An hour ago, I would have. Now . . . it felt cruel. Of course I had to take the baby, but I wanted to say something to the gwragedd.

That impulse passed quickly, though. Yes, I felt bad for her, but not so bad that I’d endanger myself or Ricky or the baby.

So I turned to go and—

A shriek rent the air as a blur charged me. I staggered back, my arms going around Maggie, shielding her with my body, and I went into crash position, baby to my chest.

The gwragedd struck me. Then she was gone, Ricky hauling her off as she screamed, “Mine, mine, mine!”

“Yeah,” Ricky said. “We let you keep the puppy. That is not a puppy.”

“Mine!” Tears sprang to her eyes as she wailed and twisted, her claws out, but Ricky had her by the shoulders, and she couldn’t get to him. When she reached again, he grabbed one hand and then the other and pinned them behind her back.

“She is mine! Mine! They did not want her. I heard. I heard!”

“No,” I said, as I backed away, Maggie fussing now. “When you told us about the puppy, you said
he
didn’t want her. Not
they
.
He
.”

“Yes,
he
. He was going to get rid of the baby. Sell her. I heard him.”

“Who was going to sell her?”

I knew the answer, but she confirmed it, saying, “Her father. Her own father. Bad, bad boy. Terrible father.”

“And her mother?”

The gwragedd went silent.

“Not a bad girl, right? Not a terrible mother?”

“It does not matter. He was going to sell the baby, and then she would be gone. So I took her. She is mine!”

“You heard her father trying to
sell
her?” Ricky said. “Exactly what did he say?”

“He was talking to a man. A man who comes by in a truck where the boy works. A man who brings things that are not his. Things to sell.”

“A fence,” Ricky murmured. “Okay, so you heard the boy say . . .”

“He asked how much a baby could be sold for. In the city. The big city, far away. The man did not know, but the boy wanted him to find out. See if anyone would buy his baby. He would give the man part of the money.”

In other words, Owen hadn’t exactly been in the process of handing Maggie over for cash. He’d just been putting out feelers, and the truth is that those feelers almost certainly wouldn’t have gone anywhere. He was a dumb kid, saddled with a baby and looking for a way out, not realizing that it wasn’t like selling a toy he no longer wanted. But there was still a possibility that this guy
could
find someone, and I understood why the gwragedd had jumped at the excuse to take Maggie.

“You can’t have her,” I said. “You know that. Her mother wants her back. Her grandparents do, too. All her grandparents. They love her, and they’re devastated, and I think you know that.”

“She is mine,” the gwragedd said, with less conviction. Then she squared her shoulders. “The girl can have more. I cannot. I want a child.”

“You want company,” I said. “You’re lonely.”

She flinched, and I went on. “You have a place you can go. An invitation. It’s an old one, but I’m sure it’s still open.”

“I do not know what you mean.”

“I think you do. The Cŵn Annwn.”

Ricky looked up sharply.

The gwragedd’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know of the Hunt?”

“Same way I know about you. You wanted the Cŵn Annwn to set up shop here, but they said there aren’t enough local fae and humans with fae blood. They invited you to come to them, despite the fact you attacked them for their kindness.”

“I—”

“You’ve secured the passage to the Otherworld. It’s time for you to go.”

She twisted to look at Ricky, eyes narrowing more. “I know you.”

“Yeah, I’m the guy holding you so you don’t hurt that baby.”

“I would never—”

“You hurt her by taking her from her family. Her father will be dealt with. You have my word on that.”

“And who are you to give that word?”

Ricky went still. He glanced at me. At the baby. Then back to the gwragedd. “If I were someone who could give orders, and I ordered you to join those who invited you, would you accept that? Or would you insist on knowing more, on getting answers I’m not going to give? Maybe harm me—or someone else—to get those answers?”

“I would never—”

“Yeah, you would. But if I am who you think I am, you know the Cŵn Annwn would take vengeance. Terrible vengeance.”

She glanced at Maggie. “I would care for the child, as if she were my own.”

“But she’s not your own,” Ricky said. “She’s human, and someday others would find her out here, and they’d find you, and you know what happens then. Nothing good.”

“I do not know where to find this pack.”

“They told you,” I said.

“I have forgotten.”

“No, you haven’t. But in case you’re a little foggy on the details, I heard them. I can remind you.”

“I do not know how I would get there,” she said, but mumbling it now, like a child making excuses.

“You got here,” I said. “From a lot farther away. You can get there. Basic instructions: head south. Hit water. Cross water. Head south.”

“I want to take the baby to her home. I want to be sure she is safe.”

“And you will,” Ricky said. “Which doesn’t mean we’re handing her over and trusting you’ll do that. You’ve tricked us enough. Now let’s move. We’ve got a long walk.”

Sixteen - Ricky

It
was
a long walk. But that was the only way to do it, babies not being motorcycle-friendly. They came around the rear of the Lyons’s house, and the gwragedd snuck to the spot she’d used for watching the baby. From there she could listen as they returned Maggie to Krista. And if the fae had any doubt that Maggie’s mother wanted her back, Ricky was sure those first few minutes of reunion squashed them.

Liv told a story that wasn’t far off from the truth. She said they’d heard what sounded like a baby when in the forest yesterday. On hearing Krista’s story, they’d gone back last night, and they’d met someone camping out there but had seen no sign of a child. Then Liv had looked into it some more. She’d overheard something that made her suspect Owen might have given that “person in the forest” reason to believe Maggie was in danger. They returned, got the baby and got the story, too—of what the baby-snatcher overheard and why she’d taken Maggie.

And, yeah, telling that version had a bonus. Liv had been careful to pretend they’d found Maggie far from the swimming hole—they wouldn’t undo the gwragedd’s work by sending the police there. But it gave the fae a reason to leave the area. Liv had gifted her some money, too, and written directions.

Owen would be questioned. There probably weren’t grounds for arrest, but the police would put the fear of it into him. His parents would be worse, and yeah, Ricky kinda hated letting them know their son had considered selling his child. But it had to be done, for Maggie’s sake.

Liv asked Krista and her mom not to take it out on the Parrs. Allow them access to their granddaughter. Just make them understand that they could be part of Maggie’s life, and Owen didn’t need to be. Ricky had a feeling they’d happily pay his share of the child support for that continued access to Maggie. They were good people. As for Owen, Ricky hoped he’d grow up and pull his head out of his ass, but if he didn’t, Maggie would be fine without him. One devoted parent was all a kid needed.

Liv took the money Krista offered. There was no way to refuse. When they checked out of the inn, she gave the money to Hildy, to be returned to Krista, with a note asking that it be put into a college fund for Maggie.

Once they were sure the police didn’t need to speak to them again, they left town. Easier that way. People were grateful for Maggie’s return, and that was just awkward. It was nice to play the hero for once, but not as much fun to hang around with people wanting to buy you drinks and meals when all you wanted was to get back to your vacation and spend some time alone.

They got their alone time that night, this time in a place that rented cabins by the ocean. They’d planned to just get a B&B in town, but then Liv had seen . . . Ricky wasn’t exactly sure what had caught her eye, only that she’d wanted to pull into one of those kitschy roadside tourist trap shops. And she’d insisted on running in alone. Then she’d come out and given him directions to this place.

Not that he was complaining. It was a tiny cabin right on the edge of the ocean, surf pounding the rocks, pebble beach for walking. That was exactly what they were about to do, though Liv seemed to be taking a while to change into her shorts. He was starting to wonder whether she’d left them behind when the sliding door opened, and she stepped onto the deck, wearing . . .

It looked like a skirt. Okay, it
was
a skirt. It was the fabric that confused him. It seemed almost like . . .

“Sealskin,” she said. “It’s a sealskin miniskirt. This is what I was buying in that shop. They assured me it was ethically sourced.”

“Ethically-sourced sealskin?”

“That’s what they said. Go with it.” She twirled, the skirt flying up, showing off tanned thighs and the barest glimpse of ass. “What do you think?”