Steal the Sun (21 page)

Herne grunted, a manly sound. “We haven’t seen nor heard from the old ones in many a generation. Why were they on the Earth plane?”

It was my turn to skirt around certain issues. “They were traveling, you know. Doing that thing where they pass through the veil. They were moving a transference box from one tribe to another. I helped them out.” I hadn’t really. I’d stolen the transference box, which had been full of magic passed on to the tribe as a gift. Daniel and I had accidentally primed said stolen box, which took the gift and formed a living creature from the magic. I skipped over that part, though. It wasn’t my shining moment in life. “Why did the tribes here stay behind? Why would someone like the Hunter not follow the old ones?”

“I was born in my sithein.” His eyes studied the forest around him. “It was many years after the old ones left us behind, and the ones who can remember the time rarely speak of it. I have two theories on the matter. One is that the Fae left behind were weak and the mighty ones didn’t want the weak to contaminate their tribes on the new planes.”

“That’s awful.” It didn’t go along with the impression I had of the older faeries. They’d been just when dealing with me. They could have simply killed us all, but they’d taken the time to hear me out. I’d been weak, but they healed me. I still thought often of the small magical child they had taken with them to their plane. Sometimes that baby girl haunted my dreams, a vision of what Daniel and I could have had.

I shook off that old ache.

“My other theory has to do with my god,” Herne continued thoughtfully. “The Hunter isn’t weak. He’s the spirit of the hunt. He came into existence on the Earth plane and he must return from time to time. He’s connected to the plane on a base level. You see, Zoey, the non-corporeal gods who stayed behind all had a deep connection to something on the Earth plane. The Hunter is connected to the forest and the predators of this plane. Bris is connected to the fields and the women of the Earth plane. Arawn is probably more connected than any of the others.”

Now I found that name in my brain’s repository and I sent a startled look to the faery. “The Welsh god Arawn is in the Unseelie sithein? The death god?”

Herne nodded as though he was just a guy he hung out with, not a person who used to be the Lord of all things Dead. “Oh, yes, his host is my best friend. He’s a funny man. Not at all what you would expect the death god’s host to be. But my point is he needs humans the same way Bris needs the fields of his birth and the Hunter needs his forests. Perhaps we stayed behind because we were more connected to the Earth plane.”

It made sense. What good could a death god be if he was always surrounded by the immortal? Herne was proving to be a veritable fount of knowledge and I was curious. I had questions I hadn’t gotten around to asking Dev about the god who now shared his body and our bed. “Did you choose the Hunter?”

“Oh, no,” he replied. “A host does not choose his god. We open ourselves and if our magic is compatible, then we’re accepted. There is a ceremony, but it changes from god to god. My ceremony was a hunt. I tracked a mountain troll who’d gone insane and begun to kill for no reason. We fought for days, but I was victorious. I cut out its heart and when I feasted, the Hunter came into me.”

“Eww, that’s way grosser than what Dev had to do.” What Dev had to do had been me.

Herne’s smile was all masculine appreciation now. “Yes, well, we can’t all be that lucky. You should have had an Unseelie witness, you know. He’s our priest, as well. I heard Devinshea’s challenge was a pleasant experience for all concerned. Though you should know, it wasn’t your technique that tempted the fertility god to inhabit Dev.”

“What do you think attracted Bris?” The way I understood it, it was Dev’s magic that called to the fertility god, but I was certainly interested in hearing what Herne thought.

“According to the Hunter, Bris has had many chances to bond with a host. In the end, it isn’t merely the magic that calls to the god, but also the personality and life of the host. Bris is concerned with love and passion. The Hunter tells me that when Bris was corporeal, he had but one goddess and he loved her with all his heart. He seeks to feel that again, though he must feel that through his host now. Bris turned down several when he realized they would use the magic he gave them to attract many women. None of the previous hosts wanted a settled life. Dev is the odd man with sex magic who is willing to settle down.”

I smiled brightly, feeling better about the god in my husband. “It’s nice to know Bris isn’t a player.”

Herne looked confused. “Sometimes when you speak, I don’t understand you.”

“Well, Herne, I think you’ve spent too much time in the forest. The next time you hit the Earth plane, you’ll have to visit Dallas and I’ll show you around. I can even set you up on a date.” I had several female werewolves begging to be set up. I was turning out to be quite the matchmaker. “Unless there’s a lady huntress, of course.”

Herne snorted his frustration at that thought. “Are you kidding me? Do you know how hard it is to get a date with this man inside me? He isn’t smooth. He doesn’t know how to talk to women and he won’t listen to my advice. I’m a strong, talented warrior. I have the spirit of the hunt coursing through my body and…”

“You can’t get laid,” I finished for him.

“I can’t. Even Arawn has a girlfriend.” He stood up and lent me a hand.

“We’ll have to work on that, Herne,” I promised with a smile. He turned all kinds of serious now as he helped me to my feet.

“I must leave you, Zoey. The time has come to walk the forest, and he prefers to be in control. This is his place of power.” Herne smiled down on me. “Don’t take offense. As I said before, he doesn’t know how to deal with women. I’ve enjoyed my time with you. Don’t judge me by his actions.”

The Hunter was now staring down at me. He looked me up and down and there was disapproval all over his face. “Is there a reason you chose to be naked in my presence, Your Grace?”

I looked down to make sure everything was covered. I didn’t have anything hanging out, so I wasn’t sure what the problem was. The tank top was even black so I knew he couldn’t see anything I didn’t want him to see. “This is what I wear when I go hunting. It’s very Tomb Raider.”

“I can see all of your limbs,” the Hunter noted as his eyes roamed across my body. “And much of your skin. It looks creamy and soft in the moonlight. It makes me want to rip off what little clothing you have on and pound myself into your softness.”

Okay, ewww. “I wouldn’t try it if I were you.”

“I am not going to do it. Prince Devinshea is a friend. I wouldn’t dishonor him in such a fashion. I just thought you should know that dressing like a trollop has an effect on men. If you want to be treated like the lady you are then you should be properly covered.” On that pronouncement he began to hike. The black dogs followed along happily.

“Yes, because I don’t deserve respect for just being a human being,” I replied bitterly, following after him.

“Of course not.” The Hunter sounded pleased that I understood him.

“Can I get the other one back?” I grumbled more to myself than to him.

“No. I’m better in the woods. Why would you wish to be led by an inferior guide?”

“Well, he’s less of an asshole, for one,” I muttered.

“What does an anus have to do with…oh, you have insulted me,” he said with a frown, catching up. “Well, I did call you a trollop.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“Let me ask you something, Your Grace.” The Hunter began to lead me through the heavily treed forest. “Are the knives for ornamentation?”

“No, the knives are for killing things.”

He stopped and looked at me like I was crazy. “Do you think I won’t care for you? I gave you my oath. Do you think I won’t defend you?”

“I’m hoping you will, but I’d like the opportunity to defend myself should the need arise,” I explained, surprised by the question.

“Your men don’t defend you?” His question was tinged with outrage. He lived in a different world.

I laughed at the thought. “My husbands spend altogether too much time defending me, but one of the ways they protect me is to teach me to defend myself.”

It was true for all the men in my life. My father hadn’t cared that I was a girl. He taught me his trade and he was the first to put a knife in my hand. Danny took me to the gun range and taught me everything I knew about guns. Devinshea spent time teaching me how to fight with a sword. It would never occur to them that I should be helpless simply because I was female. In their minds, I was more vulnerable and should damn well know how to strike back.

“Seelie noblewomen keep a knife on them so they may fall upon it if they are dishonored.”

I gaped at him. “Seriously? What the hell kind of women are they? And what man wants his woman to choose death over dishonor? Let me tell you something, Hunter, if someone raped me I wouldn’t feel any dishonor. You know what I would feel? I would feel pissed off. I would feel like revenge. And I know neither of my husbands would want me to cry and fall on my sword. They’ll take me ‘dishonored’ or not.”

The Hunter smiled slowly, the emotion tugging up one side of his mouth in approval. “You are not like Seelie women. You’re more like a goblin female.”

I wasn’t quite sure how to take that. “Well, if the goblins let their females defend themselves then I’d rather be a goblin.”

The Hunter laughed, and it was a surprisingly pleasant sound. “Oh, the goblin males quake in fear of their women when they’re angry. A goblin female in a rage is truly a sight to be seen.”

“Good to know.”

The Hunter’s eyes gleamed. “I just thought that Prince Devinshea’s bride would be a noblewoman. Though he always seemed more comfortable with human females, I assumed when the time came he would attempt to please his court and marry a proper Seelie.”

“I don’t think Dev married me for my good breeding.” He’d always liked the fact that I could take care of myself in a fight.

“Not at all.” The Hunter agreed far too readily for my satisfaction.

I wasn’t exactly poorly bred. I knew which fork to use. Albert had slapped my hand every time I used the wrong one until it finally sunk in. I tried to dress properly for an event. I couldn’t help it that I’d grown up with a thief for a dad, who was way more concerned with my professional skills than etiquette.

“I guess that’s why the nobles don’t like me.” It sounded pathetic even to my ears.

“You mistake me, Your Grace. I was not judging you poorly. I was merely reassessing you. I’ve been judging you based on the fact I thought you were trying to be a Seelie noblewoman. If you aren’t then I will judge you based on yourself. As I said before, you remind me of the goblin females of my acquaintance. They don’t wear many clothes, either. I apologize for thinking you were trying to tempt me into fornication. This is merely your traditional dress. I like you much more now that I realize you’re a straightforward female.”

“Well, good then,” I said. “I’m glad we got that out of the way. So someone lost an ogre and now you have to get him back? How exactly are you planning on making the ogre go back with you? Do you leave a bunch of detached body parts like a trail for it to follow back to the Unseelie
sithein
?”

The Hunter stared at the trees as though trying to select the easiest path to his destination. We veered left. “I hadn’t thought of that. It’s a good plan, though. You have a devious mind.”

“Dude, I was joking.”

“I’ve been wondering exactly how the culprits managed to get the ogre to follow them out of our sithein,” the Hunter explained. “You’ve given me a reasonable explanation. But taking the ogre back isn’t my mission.”

If he wasn’t going to take the ogre back to the Unseelie lands then that left only one possibility. “You’re going to kill it then?”

“Yes. I’m going to kill the ogre.”

His job would be easier if he’d brought along a few more people. It was just me, the Hunter and two dogs—albeit incredibly large dogs. He should have let me bring Danny along. I would put Danny up against an ogre any day of the week. It made me wonder why exactly he thought I would be helpful. I supposed it was the banshee prophecy. They said I could stop the war and obviously the presence of an Unseelie ogre could start a war. I hoped how I was supposed to stop this would become clear to me.

The Hunter led me into a small clearing. There was a pond and the moonlight was reflected off it, giving the whole place a lovely silver glow. He looked around as the dogs sniffed the air and started to whine. “Yes, my friends, this will do nicely.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath because I knew something was about to happen. I was about to meet my first ogre and I sincerely hoped I survived the experience. I knew I was risking a lot but I couldn’t sit by and let Dev die. What was I supposed to tell my child one day? Was he supposed to understand that I had a shot at saving his father’s life but chose to stay in bed? “What do you want me to do? How do I help you kill this thing?”

The Hunter chuckled, and he set his pack on the ground. He pulled out a long strand of thick rope. He walked toward me. “Your Grace, your job is simple.”

I found myself with my hands tied behind my back before I knew what was happening.

“I need bait,” the Hunter explained.

Chapter Thirteen