Eventide of the Bear (The Wild Hunt Legacy #3) (45 page)

“What?”

“Not. There.” His words snapped out. “Help me find her.”

Without another word, Emma followed him downstairs. She set everything on an end table. “Bree! We need to find Minette.”

Bree came out of the kitchen, followed by her mates. Barefoot and shirtless, Shay was obviously preparing to patrol as a wolf. Thank fuck the brothers hadn’t left yet.

“I can’t find Minette upstairs,” Ryder said.

“Not good,” Zeb muttered. He headed toward the rear of the lodge.

Shay ran upstairs, Emma to the small reception and library area, Bree to the game room. Ryder checked the closets and under furniture.

“Nothing up here,” Shay called down.

“Nothing here,” Bree yelled.

A whine drew Ryder to the laundry-room exit where a darkly colored wolf paced in front of the door.

“Zeb, what’s up?” Shay entered the room, followed by Emma and Bree.

The wolf sniffed the floor, the doorknob, and whined again.

Ryder froze. Minette’s scent shouldn’t be there.

“No pup would go out in the dark. This can’t be, bro.” Shay’s voice stayed even despite the concern etched on his face.

The wolf pawed the door in an obvious demand.

Icy fear ran up Ryder’s spine.

“No,” Emma whispered.

“Minette might,” Ryder told Shay. “If people shout, she runs outside and hides. At Genevieve’s, I found her cowering in a well-worn hollow under a tree.”

“Herne’s hairy balls.” Shay started spitting orders, “
A bhràthair
, start the search. Ryder and I’ll be right behind as soon as we shift. A howl says you found her. Two says call out all the assistance we can get.”

The yip said Zeb got it. When Shay opened the door, the wolf leaped out.

His cub, outside. On dark of the moon. A cold, fear sweat dampened Ryder’s clothes. He stripped off his shirt.

Shay gripped Bree’s arm. “
A ghrá,
Calum isn’t home, so Joe Thorson’s at the tavern in charge of problems. Call and let him know what’s up. He can redirect Alec and Ben.”

Good. Call everyone in.
But Emma was unbuttoning her shirt. Ryder shook his head. “No, little bear. We need you and Bree here, in case Minette returns.”

Her mouth turned stubborn. His brave female.

“No argument. You
will
stay inside.” He took her hands. “Remember, one howl means we’ve got her. If you hear two howls…”

“Two means we call Joe Thorson to say there’s a hellhound near here.” Although her eyes held fear, her legs were braced, her stance ready. She was amazing.

“Thank you, little bear.” Ryder quickly brushed her lips with his. By the God, he loved this female.

Shay shifted to wolf.

A second later, Ryder dropped onto his paws and flexed his claws against the hardwood floor.
Ready.

“Herne protect you,” Emma whispered as she pulled open the door and let them out into the moonless, black night.

Kitten, where are you?

*

“Minette, wherever you
are, come back,” Emma whispered to the empty room.

Rattling noises came from the kitchen. Bree was preparing something hot for the men—and Minette—when they returned. She said it was her way of working off her worry.

Emma paced through the lodge and stopped at each window and door to listen for sounds outside. But little silent Minette couldn’t even cry out for help.

Tears blurred her vision. Genevieve’s shouting and screaming. Had the slamming door driven the already frightened cub out into the night? It was getting cold out there. Dark.

Damn Genevieve anyway. Emma’s hands fisted. If she ever saw the female again, she’d hit her.
Hard
. Knock her fangs out, leave her a toothless wolf.

She leaned her head against the back door to listen and heard an owl hoot and the gurgling creek at the forest’s edge.

The fire was dying in the living area. Emma stopped to build it up. Minette would be chilled when she got back. The extra log wakened the salamander into doing a slow slither through the coals.

In the library, Emma listened at the windows, straightened the magazines on a table, picked up a jigsaw puzzle piece from the floor, and bookmarked a murder mystery book left face-down on a chair. Minette would adore this room, especially the bookshelf filled with picture books and children’s board games.

Noises still came from the kitchen.

Emma started another circuit. Leaning her head against the front door, she heard…something. Not the Douglas firs sighing in the wind. There it was. A high, thin sound.

Only the men’s warnings kept her from flinging the door open. She peered out the tiny viewing pane. Nothing was visible in the glow of the porch light. Beyond lay only blackness.

What had she heard? A cubling’s cry? Or a screech owl, or a cat?

“Do it again, sweetheart. Did you yell?” Emma pressed her ear harder against the door. The rising wind made the lodge’s hanging sign creak. Tree branches groaned in complaint. An owl hooted again.

Emma straightened.
Tell Bree.
Her friend could stand by the door while Emma went outside to check.

Before she’d gotten two steps toward the kitchen, she heard a high, thin scream. A child’s sound of fright.

Emma broke fingernails undoing the bolt. She flung open the door. “Minette!”

No response.

She stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind her.

“Minette, where are you?” The front parking area was empty. The narrow gravel road leading to the lodge was empty. Small log cabins extended in wings to the right and left of the lodge, but nothing moved. She squinted, trying to see into the darkness on the other side of the parking area. Somewhere over there was the path to the Wild Hunt tavern.

The wind caught her shirt, flapping it against her skin as she started down the porch steps.

There.
Something moved.

Just past the glow of the porch light, a small figure stood unmoving on the path to the tavern.

Couldn’t she see Emma? “Kitten…” Emma’s voice trailed off as she realized the child was frozen, eyes wide with terror. She was staring off to the right.

The door of the third cabin to the south banged open. Followed by two males, Genevieve dashed out. “Where is she?” She spotted the girl and started across the drive.

Emma’s stomach flip-flopped as the wind brought her the distinctive stench of rotting carrion and citrus.

“I smell a… Fuck, there’s a hellhound around,” one male shouted.

As if summoned, a nightmarish creature charged out of the darkness—straight for Genevieve.

One male yanked the female back.

The other male sprang in front. The hellhound didn’t slow, and the male’s fist bounced off the armored creature. Massive jaws snapped onto the male’s arm, and he shouted in pain. And fell.

As the hellhound savaged its screaming victim, Emma raced across the gravel lot and snatched Minette up. Trembling, the cub clung to Emma.

The other male started toward the battle, but Genevieve shrieked, “You have to protect me!” Grabbing his shirt, she dragged him into their cabin. The door slammed shut behind them.

No!

Emma’s pulse roared in her ears. The male and Genevieve had left her and Minette outside. Alone. With that
thing
. Emma tried to breathe through the fear clogging her throat.
Oh, Mother Goddess, what could she do?

All the cabins would be locked. She needed to get them to the lodge. Could they make it?

The creature stood in front of the row of cabins—not directly in front of the lodge. But there was no cover in the road or parking area. The minute she and Minette stepped onto the graveled area, the creature would see them.

Emma knew too well how fast the hellhound could move. It’d intercept them before they even reached the porch, let alone got the door open. The lodge was out.

Behind them was the trail to the tavern. Run to Joe Thorson?

But the gusty wind was already blowing their scent toward the hellhound. Once finished with the male, it would smell them. Probably hear them. They wouldn’t make it to the tavern. Not before the creature caught them.

A whimper bottled up her throat. The wind swirled, carrying the scent of blood and death. A tiny sound escaped Emma.
Run. Just run.
She could smell her own fear. Courage was for those who hadn’t faced a hellhound before.
Run.

Minette trembled in her arms. It would attack the cub first.

No. Never.
Emma’s mouth compressed into a determined line. No hellhound would touch her cubling.

She whispered almost inaudibly into the tiny ear, “I want you to run toward that light. To the tavern.” She pointed at the light flickering through the trees. She set the child on her feet. “I’m counting on you, Minette. Run fast and get help.”

Keeping an eye on the hellhound, she gave the girl a push.

After a second of resistance, the girl fled—her light footsteps still too loud in the still night.

The hellhound lifted its head from the now lifeless body. One red eye blazed viciously; the other was covered in white scar tissue. It’d lost an eye in the past.

Oh, Mother, help me.
This was the very hellhound that’d almost killed her. That’d hurt her and left her crippled. Fear welled up until she was drowning in it. Choking.

It hadn’t seen her. Yet.

Every instinct demanded for her to run, to take the only possible escape down the path behind her.

Minette was on that path.

The shark-like head moved to the left and right as it surveyed the area, the closed cabin doors, the lodge, the graveled lot. The one-eyed gaze settled on Emma.

Despite her heart slamming against her ribs, terror froze the blood in her veins. Her body cringed at the memory of razor-sharp teeth ripping into her leg, of her bones snapping like kindling, of…agony.

The strength seemed to drain from her bones, muscles and sinews.

Trawsfur.
She should shift into bear shape, be faster, stronger.
No.
No time to undress. Her clothes would tangle and trap her.

Eye fixed on her, the hellhound sniffed the air. It stiffened and then snarled, revealing savagely pointed teeth.

It knew her.

Run. Run, run, run.
Every cell in her body was screaming, a cauldron of noise.

But she still heard the pattering footsteps and rustle from Minette on the path. The gusts of wind held the scent of the terrified cubling. Such easy prey. The monster wouldn’t be able to resist.

Then give it an easier kill.

On a sucked-in breath, Emma lunged into a desperate sprint directly away from the path to the tavern.
Here I am. Panicking game.
She darted toward the lodge, keeping her gaze only on the target.

A snarl from the right made Emma run faster. Blindly. Genuine, mindless panic flooded her. She couldn’t outrun it. It’d get her. Kill her. Her skin shrank in anticipation of the pain.

The scraping sound of the paws on the gravel increased as the creature narrowed the distance. Just before it reached her, she veered sharply left.

Much heavier, it overran her position before circling back toward her.

She dodged again, almost too late. Its spiked armor plates snagged at her clothes.

Each breath, each step felt like her last. Regret grayed her sight.
Ben. Ryder. I love you.
What might have been…

The beast hit her from behind, knocking her onto her face. Gasping for breath, she rolled onto her back and kicked frantically.

It lunged for her vulnerable stomach. Her foot knocked the huge jaw away.

The hellhound twisted back, snapping, catching her thigh. Savage teeth bit down through her jeans and deep into her flesh.

Pain.
Sharp, horrible, inescapable. Screaming, she shoved and kicked and then, fighting off her terror, she poked her finger toward its unscarred eye.

Instinctively, the hellhound released her, turning its head to avoid losing its remaining eye. Growling hideously, it darted at her so fast she could only grab its throat as it went for hers. Gore dripped from its mouth onto her shirt as she struggled to hold it back.

Her arms shook uncontrollably, weakening against its massive weight.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw a dark shape. It streaked across the lot. With a chilling scream, the cougar landed on the creature’s hindquarters. As the feline’s claws scraped uselessly over the bony armor, the hellhound whipped around.

*