Hunter Betrayed (4 page)

She remembered. He’d forced information into her brain she
hadn’t known what to do with. Within one heartbeat and the next, she’d learned
everything she’d needed to know about how to avoid falling victim to the
redcaps and sluaghs. He’d also implanted a compulsion to have an obsidian blade
made that became her constant accessory. She never left the house without it.
It was the only thing that could kill the fairies’ creatures.

She forced herself to nod. “Yeah, you saved my life.”

“I thank the gods for that, little female. I was right about
you. You are the key.”

“The key to what?”

“You will be the one who will unlock me from my prison and
allow the Wild Hunt to ride again.”

Her pulse kicked up. “The Wild Hunt?”

The trembling in her voice betrayed her fear. She couldn’t
help it. Over the past nine years, she’d wavered between wondering if she’d
imagined him or if he was one of the fairies’ creatures trying to drive her
crazy. What he suggested was worse.

Another stroke of his fingertips and energy skipped down her
spine. “Why are you afraid?”

She stared into the disembodied eyes that had haunted her
dreams and curled her fingers so she didn’t reach for him. “You’re kidding,
right? An imaginary man tells me he wants me to release the Wild Hunt and you
ask why I’m afraid.”

“Trust me, I’m very real.” He chuckled.

The sound of his laugh slithered through her and left heat
behind. Her lower belly quivered. She ignored the instant arousal and narrowed
her eyes. “Who are you?”

“I am Calan. You are?”

Calan. Great. Now I have a name to scream the next time I
fantasize about him.
She shook off the thought she had no business thinking
at the moment and answered him. “Mine is Harley.”

“Harley.” Her name whispered in his rich accent sounded
sexy, something she never thought her unusual name could be.

“Now explain to me your fear of the Hunt, Harley.”

Was he kidding? “Are we talking about the same one? The
spectral procession of hounds and horses riding across the night sky?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

She chuckled, the sound bitter and sad even to her own ears.
“Then the answer’s no way, Calan. I’m not releasing another evil entity to
torture the world. There’s enough here already.”

“That is because the Huntsmen are not in your world to
curtail the activity of the fairies’ creatures.”

“Curtail?”She glared at him. “What are you talking
about? The Wild Hunt is known as a group of horseman who kill everyone in their
path.”

He growled. “Lies. All lies. Not once in all the years we’d
ridden had we ever caused the death of an innocent on purpose.”

“On purpose?” She shook her head. “And that’s supposed to
convince me you’re not one of the bad guys too?”

“Come to me and see for yourself that I’m not the evil one.”

She held his gaze and asked the one question she’d always
posed to herself. “Aren’t we all evil?”

“Everyone holds the potential for corruption, but people
like us must struggle to maintain our honor.”

“Easy to say. Hard to do.”She closed her eyes as the
years of struggling to remain honorable weighed on her. She was tired, so very
tired of everything. “Is that the reason you saved me? So I could release you?”

A long moment passed before he ran a fingertip down her
cheek. Her skin tingled and warmth spread. He dropped his hand before the
sensation could consume her.

“Walk toward the lake and you will find me. Don’t be afraid.
I promise you. You’re safe with me.”

With his assurance given, he faded. She stared at the spot
where he’d been and sighed. He’d never answered her. She supposed that in
itself was one.

She was a means to an end.

Dammit, after the hellish life she’d lived, didn’t she
deserve more?

At the impatient knocking, Harley scrunched her brow and
pulled the throw blanket over her face. The pounding continued to reverberate
through her head.

“Open up. I know you’re in there.”

Unsure of where she was, she swept her gaze over the room.
Dust sparkled in the afternoon sun. A bucket and mop stood against the wall and
a take-out bag sat on the coffee table. Awareness returned with a rush of
memories—Raul, Bea’s body and her ghost man.

Another rap to the front door and she jumped.

“Dammit, Harley, it’s Ian. Open the goddamn door.”

Ian
. The tension drained from her limbs. She threw
the blanket off and stood. “Hold on.”

She rubbed at her achy lower back and made her way across
the room. At the mantle, she stopped mid-step. Her gaze darted to the picture
above it, the one she’d looked at countless times and had never really seen—a
charcoal sketch of a group of horsemen and their hounds racing feet above a
burning landscape.

The Wild Hunt.

Harley had never really understood why her mother had bought
it. She’d usually collected obscure scenes and objects.

“Harley? Are you okay?” Ian asked through the closed door.

She forced her attention from the picture and the
implications of her mother’s chosen subject.

“I’m fine. You just woke me up.” She shuffled to the door,
unlocked it and flung it open.

Ian stood there with a bunch of grocery bags. Tall, wide
shoulders, thick biceps and a beanie—he could’ve passed for a redcap, but she
knew better than to let the thought take hold. Ian was a good guy, one of the
few left. His girlfriend should consider herself damn lucky to have landed him.

“What are you doing here?”

He arched a brow, several shades darker than the wavy,
russet hair on his head. “Half the town is already talking about your return.
It would’ve been nice if you’d let your dear old brother know first. Hearing
about it at the grocery checkout isn’t how I wanted to find out.”

She cringed. “Sorry. I wasn’t sure I was actually going to
stay. I’d thought about leaving.”
After talking to the figment of the man
I’ve obsessed over for my entire adulthood and realizing my dream lover only
wants to use me to gain his freedom.
She cleared her throat. “Being home is
hard. The memories…”

“Aww, Sis.” Ian dropped the bags on the floor and pulled her
into his embrace. “You didn’t have to come. I would’ve understood.”

“I had to, Ian.” She tightened the hug. “You’re all I have
left.”

“I’m glad you did. I need you.” He released a shaky breath.
“I’m getting a horrible case of cold feet.”

She frowned at the panic in his voice. “Don’t. They say it’s
common.”

“Maybe.” He eased out of the tight circle of her arms. “It’s
just…”

After a moment when he didn’t say anything, she prompted,
“Just what?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” He crossed his arms and lowered his
chin to focus narrowed eyes on her. “How long are you staying?”

“I’m leaving right after the ceremony.”

“Three days.” He dropped fisted hands at his side. “I get my
sister for three lousy days?”

She grinned. “And if you hadn’t invited me to your bachelor
party, it would’ve been less, so stop complaining.”

She still couldn’t believe she was going, but his argument
that they barely got to spend any time together had convinced her. With her
life constantly in danger, she had to grab the few opportunities to spend time
with her brother.

“I’m glad you decided to come. Do you know what Trevor has
planned for me?”

Trevor, Ian’s best friend, had texted her the date, time and
location only. She shrugged. “No clue.”

“No matter. I can’t wait.” He worked his jaw back and forth.
“I need a little fun.”

She glanced from his white-knuckled fists to his scrunched
brows and sighed. “You want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing. Same stuff, I guess.”

“Ahh,” she nodded, “your dream girl is steaming up your
nights again?”

A blush crawled up his neck. “It isn’t right, Sis. I’m
getting married and I can’t stop lusting over a damn figment of my
imagination.”

She’d suggest his girl was as real as her phantom man, but
Ian was human. He’d never have to deal with the shit she’d had to endure.

“Once the two of you actually have sex, you’ll want her.”
His very strict girlfriend had nixed any suggestions for premarital sex. “Is
Cynthia nervous too?”

“No.” He snorted. “She told me she’s been reading lots of
steamy books so she knows what to do with me once she gets me naked.” He shook
his head, a small smile playing on his mouth. “She’s a good girl.”

Too good in Harley’s opinion. She kept her thoughts to
herself. “Look, I’m happy you came to visit, but I need some sleep. I’ll see
you tomorrow at your party.”

She turned toward the stairs. Yes, she needed sleep, but she
mostly wanted to think about what Calan had said. She’d been too emotionally
drained after his visit a few hours ago to make sense of it. Hopefully, the nap
she’d taken had cleared her mind enough to consider his words and not simply
react to her riotous emotions.

“Excuse me?” He blocked her path and glared at her. “I
haven’t seen you in months and you dismiss me?”

“Raul left another present for me. I skipped town and
haven’t slept much since. I’m exhausted.” Which was true, just not her sole
reason for wanting privacy. She sidestepped him.

“Wait a minute.” He grabbed her arm. “What happened?”

“The same thing a visit from Raul always brings. Death. This
time he killed my neighbor, but…” She worried her lower lip. “But something was
different about the whole thing. He didn’t make a play for me. He made sure I
knew he’d killed her and walked away.”

For serial killers, a change in their pattern often
indicated an unraveling mind. Raul, though, wasn’t crazy or sick, not in the
same sense as normal human repeat offenders. He needed to kill. Without his
victim’s fear-laced blood to soak his gauze cap, he’d die.

“Shit, Sis. That’s not good.” He released her and crossed
his arms over his chest. “Until we figure out why, I’m postponing the wedding
and you’re going to the bunker for a while. I’m not taking—”

“No.” She raised a trembling hand. The thought of being
locked underground in an iron prison chilled her. The metal acted as a buffer
and made it harder for the redcaps and sluaghs to find her, but the last time
Ian had insisted she go there, she’d had a breakdown. She feared closed-in
places. She’d spent too much of her childhood locked inside her house. Going
outside had been a rare treat. “I can’t, Ian. I can’t. Please don’t bring it up
again.”

He reached for her and let his hand drop. “If you take those
tranqs—”

“No!” Rough pants heaved her chest. She squeezed her eyelids
shut and pulled up the image of blue eyes to chase away the rage. A few more
heartbeats later, she groaned and dropped onto the couch. “Medicine doesn’t
work quite right for me. I’m not human, don’t forget.”

They’d always known she had a different father, but growing
up, nothing had ever been said about him. After her mother’s death, Harley had
found out why she’d never met her real dad. He was a monster and a rapist.

Ian shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Okay.” He dropped
onto the seat next to her. “But I’m worried. Their patterns have been slowly
changing over the past year.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s almost as if they’ve
changed their goals from killing you to watching you. It makes me wonder why.”

She worried about the same thing and the implications scared
her. The temptation to embrace her rage had grown over the past few months, so
had her awareness of the fairies’ creatures, Raul especially. At times she
wanted to get closer to him and take his taint into herself. It’d make her
powerful…unstoppable. It’d also destroy the good part of herself she’d been
trying desperately to hold onto.

Calan had hit it on the mark. She did have to work hard at
remaining honorable.

“It doesn’t matter. We both know I’m living on borrowed
time.” She slumped against the cushions. “Hell, I don’t know why I’m still
fighting. I can’t escape what I am. All I do is kill the people around me.”

He tugged her limp body up and captured her gaze. “No,
Harley. Don’t fucking go there. You understand?” He shook her and she bit her
tongue. Tangy and bitter blood filled her mouth. She swallowed the reminder of
her nonhuman status down. “You didn’t ask for any of this, nor did you ever
cause a single death.”

“But I—”

“No. Raul and those other hideous bastards would still be
killing people whether you lived or not. You can’t blame yourself for their
actions.”

She dropped back onto the sofa. “True, but they usually pick
people who live close to me.”

He turned his back on her and paced. “That’s not true
either, you just focus on those. Less than ten percent of their victims have
been your neighbors.” He stopped his prowling and faced her with glinting hazel
eyes. “Do you want me to recite the damn statistics again?”

Ian had dedicated his life to studying the redcap and sluaghs’
crimes. Obsessed over them might be a better term, actually. She shook her
head. She couldn’t bear to hear the worry in his voice over the rate at which
the associated murders and disappearances had grown in the past couple of
years.

She wanted to stop them too but didn’t know how. Actually,
that wasn’t quite true. If she believed what Calan had told her, she could’ve
prevented hundreds of deaths by keeping her promise to him and freeing him.
Guilt choked her but so did uncertainty. How was she supposed to trust him?
Sure, he’d saved her life but had he done so because he wanted to help her? Or
so she’d release him?

She peered into Ian’s face. “What do you know of the Wild
Hunt myth?”

He looked past her to focus on the sketch above the mantle.
“I think Mom knew your father was fairy.”

She’d come to that conclusion too. It explained the
oppressive rules and the eccentric modifications her mom had made to the
property. Iron spikes surrounded the house and every window and door had the
metal embedded into the frames. She might not have loved Harley the way she had
Ian and their younger brothers but she’d tried her best to protect Harley. Her
mom had succeeded too until Harley had started sneaking out. She must’ve drawn
the attention of a redcap on one of her many excursions into town.

Ian walked toward the picture. “I always wondered why she
displayed this piece so I researched it.” He leaned against the mantle and
faced her. “There are numerous versions of the Wild Hunt myth. Most have one
thing in common. They’re a bunch of spectral horsemen riding across the night
sky with their hounds. They’re unstoppable and those unlucky enough to step
into their path are killed or carried back with them to hell.”

She sighed. That was what she feared.

“But,” Ian went on, “some said they were true hunters who
roamed the earth in search of escaped beings from hell. One version even
suggested they hunted fairies.”

Her heart raced. Hope rose. She joined him at the fireplace
and stared at the picture. “Do you believe they’re real?”

Ian shrugged. “Maybe. I never thought redcaps or sluaghs
were until they killed our family.”

“But do you think they’re good?”

“Good is relative, Sis. Look at you.”

She stood on her tiptoes and brushed her fingertips over the
horseman leading the procession and thought of Calan. It wasn’t him. The rider
in the sketch was a distorted creature that looked like a cross between a
horned-demon and a dog. He could be the one to stop the fairies, though. He
only needed to be freed from his prison.

She glanced toward the sliding glass door and the deck that
offered a perfect view of the lake. He’d told her she could find him there.

She had to go to him and discover once and for all if he’d
told her the truth.

She touched Ian’s arm. “I really need to rest. I’m tired.”

He bent and kissed her forehead. “Okay. Call if you need me.
The phone still works.”

He walked away. The front door closed with a click. The
rumble of his car’s engine reached her moments later. She waited a heartbeat
more, then ran to the bathroom. If Calan was real, she didn’t want to meet him
looking like a homeless person.

No matter the reason why he’d saved her, he’d left a lasting
impression on her. She hadn’t been able to let him go. He’d starred in her
sexual fantasies and his eyes were the first things she pictured whenever she
was afraid or angry. In a twisted way, he’d become the center of her life.

One way or another, it needed to stop. Either he’d be the
answer to her problems or the one who’d finally succeed where the fairies’
creatures had failed. She’d reached the end of her rope. Living sucked when
death followed her everywhere.