The Orange Cat & other Cainsville tales (15 page)

While Liv changed her clothing for the ride, Ricky sipped his tea and ate his scone and basically gave up every hope of embracing his inner badass biker. He also composed an e-mail to Gabriel.

Hey,

Got your messages, and I wanted to let you know we are about to do exactly what we promised we wouldn’t. We’re going back to the swimming hole. The gwragedd tricked us about the baby. Fucking shock, huh? A fae playing a trick on us? Yeah, so there’s a baby up there, and we’re the only ones who can get her back, and I know you don’t give a shit about that. But Liv does, and you can’t ask her to walk away. You know you can’t. Even if you managed to convince her, she’d spend years scouring the paper to see what happened to that baby.

So we’re going back. Taking all precautions, but going back.

I’m going to ask you not to call and try to change our minds. Especially don’t call Liv. Trust me. I know you don’t, not when it comes to her. But she can take care of herself, and I have her back, always. So I’m asking you to step aside and stay out of this one thing. For me. If you can’t do that, then I guess we know where we stand.

I’ll send you the coordinates of where we’re going, just in case. I’ll text when we head in, and you should hear from us in an hour.

Ricky

He had time to take exactly two bites of scone and one sip of tea before his phone pinged with a reply.

He sighed. Well, at least he’d tried.

He opened the e-mail. It was a quick note, no salutation or closing. Ricky read the first line.

Avoid the swimming hole.

He winced and forced himself to continue.

The gwragedd won’t have taken the baby into the water, so stay out of that if you can, and if not, the primary concern is the cavern itself. Do not allow Olivia near it. The danger is that you will be separated by a vision, and she will wander into it unknowingly. Impress that upon her, please.

Also, Patrick said that gwragedd have claws in their fae form. They are somewhat smaller than typical fae, which might make them seem easily overcome, but the claws are sharp, and the lore suggests they can bite as well.

If you stay out of the swimming hole and are aware that the gwragedd is more dangerous than she looks, you should be fine. Also, as I said before, do not let the creature know what you are.

Please contact me when you are done.

Ricky read the note twice to be sure he wasn’t missing some trick, some thinly veiled threat. Then he exhaled and turned the phone off.

“Everything okay?” Liv asked as she walked into the dining room.

He smiled. “Everything’s fine.”

Fourteen - Liv

As we walked to the swimming hole, Ricky told me he had spoken to Gabriel and let him know what we were up to. I was glad. I’d been mentally arguing with myself on that. I didn’t want the hassle of fighting him on this, but neither did I want to come back later and tell him we’d done it.
Well, since you let me down before, I see no reason to keep you in the loop now.

We were about a quarter mile from the swimming hole when we split up. Definitely not something Gabriel would approve of, but it made sense. Ricky’s Cŵn Annwn stealth skills were our best chance of getting a jump on the gwragedd. Better for him to roust her while I stayed clear.

I watched Ricky go. Then I kept an eye on my watch. We’d agreed that if it took him more than fifteen minutes to find her, he’d loop back to let me know he was fine. He’d keep doing that—checking in and heading out—until he’d tracked her down. We had a signal too. Bird calls. One to say he was in trouble. Another to say he’d found her and I should start approaching carefully in that direction.

Fifteen minutes passed. I was to give him five more, in case he had a lead. Then I would—

The bird call came. The one I
wanted
to hear, telling me Ricky was closing in. I headed that way, taking it slow, listening for the sound of his attack. He would attack if he had a clear shot. That’s what we’d agreed. I might prefer to be within sight when he went after her, but the baby came first.

As I moved, I had my knife in hand. I hadn’t lied to Gabriel—I didn’t dare bring a switchblade across the border. But one of the first things we’d done was find small folding knives. Our lives were too dangerous to be unarmed, and our powers sadly weren’t the kinds that help in a fight. In my case, I’m liable to plunge into a vision mid-fight.

I didn’t hear Ricky or the gwragedd. I kept going and then—

I saw him. Ricky. Creeping through the trees . . . in the other direction.

That’s the problem with the bird-call alert system. Works great in movies. In real life? I’d had three seconds to process that it was Ricky and not an actual bird
plus
that it wasn’t the danger call
plus
pinpoint his location. Clearly, I’d screwed up figuring out directionality.

Worse, I was behind him. Far behind, and if I ran, the noise would warn the gwragedd.

Take it slow then. Loop around if I could. Plan my trajectory so if she heard me, she wouldn’t look in his direction.

I could see him ahead, moving through shadow. The midday sun had disappeared into cloud, and I had to follow Ricky by tracking his blond hair. His actual movements made no sound.

When he disappeared behind a stand of trees, I strained to spot him. Another glimpse of blond hair . . . about twenty feet back from where I expected to see him. Had he turned around? I squinted. I could see his hair, and it looked as if he was bent over, his head down. He passed a tree and—

And that was not Ricky. It was the gwragedd.
Behind
him. Following him.

I resisted the urge to shout a warning. Instead I fell back, circling to get in behind her. Follow her. Now, if I could let Ricky know what I was doing . . .

I checked my phone in case I suddenly had service. Of course I didn’t. That was the point of the check-ins and the bird calls.

I had a bird call of my own to let him know I was in trouble. But I wasn’t, and he wasn’t either. Not yet.

I managed to circle wide enough to come up behind the gwragedd unseen. Or that was my plan, but by the time I got there, she was far ahead, closing in on Ricky. I caught a flash of her arm and saw she wasn’t using her glamour. Her claws were out, quite literally, and she was moving fast as he crept, oblivious, through the forest.

I put my hands to my mouth and let out my call. Then I ran, crashing through the bushes, letting her hear me. Letting them
both
hear me.

Except Ricky didn’t hear. Not the piercing bird call or me crashing through the forest. He kept creeping forward, and the gwragedd kept following him.

Had he mistaken my call for an actual bird?

I tried again, louder. But he didn’t even slow. The gwragedd broke into a jog, hunched over, claws out, running straight for him.

“Ricky!”

He didn’t react. Neither did she. I charged for the gwragedd. Soon she was within attack distance. And so was I.

One final spurt of speed, and I leaped and . . .

I fell through the gwragedd. I saw her there, saw my hands extended to grab her, and I went straight
through
her, the shock of that making me trip.

I hit the ground on my knees, hands thumping down hard. As I crouched there, wincing, I realized that the gwragedd had stopped her own charge. She stood behind me now . . . and yet still didn’t see me.

Because I wasn’t there. I was caught in a vision. Ricky and the gwragedd couldn’t hear me, couldn’t see me, couldn’t feel me.

Just a few minutes ago, I’d been mentally joking that my powers were more likely to throw me into a vision when I needed to defend myself. Worse? Throw me into one when I needed to defend Ricky.

I squeezed my hands shut as I rose. I’d skinned my palms, and they stung like hell, the dirt not making it any better—

I’d skinned my hands. If I was in a vision, I shouldn’t be able to do that.

I looked back at the gwragedd. She’d retreated into the forest, her gaze still fixed on Ricky as he continued—

Ricky glanced over his shoulder and . . . Uh, yeah, that wasn’t my boyfriend. The man was about Ricky’s size and wore a black leather jacket. He had similar blond hair, but his was longer, and his face very obviously wasn’t Ricky’s. Yet something about the way he held himself, the way he gazed about the forest . . .

I knew that look. And it explained why he wasn’t making any noise as he moved.

As I thought that, a dark shape crept up beside him. A giant hound with faintly red eyes. The man idly scratched the beast behind the ears and murmured to it in Welsh. The hound grunted and rubbed against the man’s hip before gliding back into the forest.

Cŵn Annwn.

How was that possible? A Huntsman showing up in this remote area when Arawn was here?

I squinted and got a better look at the man’s clothing. A leather jacket, yes. Timeless in style, like Ricky’s. But under it, he wore a vintage western shirt with a couple extra buttons undone. And the jeans? Bell-bottoms, which as far as I know, have yet to come back in style, particularly for middle-aged guys.

A vision of the past. That’s what I was seeing. A time when a Huntsman and his cŵn came here.

Great. Not that I don’t appreciate a little historical drama, but I had better things to do. Like getting back to my own time, watching out for Ricky and finding a fae-stolen baby.

The problem with visions, though, is that they’re like being at a show where ushers have locked the doors, forcing you to endure the entire performance.

The gwragedd was long gone, the Huntsman having never realized she’d been there. He continued along like a professional tracker, checking broken twigs and scuffs in the dirt, assessing and changing direction and sometimes, just standing, his eyes half closed as if relying on a sixth sense.

Finally, he made his way to the swimming hole. He crouched beside it, his fingers dangling in the water. The hound approached again. It looked at the swimming hole and whined.

“So, am I right?” he asked, and I presumed he still spoke Welsh, but now I heard English. “Is this what it seems to be?”

“You actually expect her to answer, don’t you?”

The second voice startled me, but the Huntsman just kept running his fingers through the water. “But she does. Doesn’t he?” He nodded at a second cŵn coming from the forest.

A younger man stepped out behind the hound, dressed in jeans and a denim jacket and what looked like a bowling shirt.

“He only tells me if he’s hungry or needs to take a shit. I got ripped off.”

The second cŵn growled. His Huntsman chuckled and patted his head.

“So, what did she say?” the second Huntsman asked, nodding at the other cŵn.

“She agrees with me. As usual. Because I’m usually right.”

The second Huntsman rolled his eyes and hunkered down on a rock to stare into the dark depths of the swimming hole. “Is it even possible? Out here?”

“I’ve heard of such things. It feels like it, doesn’t it?” The first Huntsman closed his eyes. “Closer than it’s ever been. Closer than I’ve ever felt it.”

“Hmm.”

The first Huntsman opened an eye. “You disagree?”

“No, I’m just not sure I’m as thrilled by the idea as you are. Passages are dangerous. You never know what will get in. Or out.”

“Nothing leaves this one. It’s sealed.”

“Dare I ask how you know that?”

“The same way I know that humans aren’t likely to wander in. Don’t you sense her?”

“Her?”

The first Huntsman sighed. “You are such a child, sometimes. That’s what happens when you lose your connection to the old world, become too immersed in this one.”

“Blah-blah-blah.”

The first Huntsman raised a middle finger.

“Whoa. Do you even know what that means, old man?” the second one said.

The finger stayed up as the first Huntsman said, “How about you humor this
old man
and close your eyes. Tell me what you feel. Besides the passage.”

“
All
I feel is the passage.”

“Humor me.”

The younger man did. Then his lips formed a curse I knew well, even in Welsh.
Cach
. Shit.

“Exactly,” the older Huntsman said. “She’s been following us. Trying to decide what to do.”

“She knows what we are, then?”

The other man’s brows rose. “I should hope so, or she’d be a very poor Gwragedd Annwn. Almost as poor as a Cŵn Annwn who didn’t realize she was here.”

The young man’s hound gave a snort, like a laugh, and his Huntsman said, “I suppose
you
knew.”

“Of course he did. Someone has to watch out for you.”

“Which is why I have him. He’s the brawn. I’m the brains.”

The hound made a choking snorting sound, and his Huntsman said, “Hey!”

My experience with the Cŵn Annwn had been limited to a few visions and chance encounters. This was a side of them I hadn’t seen. Just a couple of guys hanging out, bantering, exchanging insults. Kind of hard to picture them on flaming black steeds, hunting the souls of the damned and dragging them to the Otherworld.

The first hound stopped moving, her head swiveling, her Huntsman’s head swiveling too, as if in sync. Her Huntsman rose from the swimming hole.

“Come out,” he called. “We know you’re there. Show yourself, or we’ll need to set the hounds on you, and you don’t want that.”

The gwragedd edged around a tree, pressed against it, ready to run.

“Come closer,” the Huntsman said, and his voice deepened to that sonorous tone I’d heard from other Cŵn Annwn. The gwragedd dropped to her knees.

“My lords,” she breathed, in the same tone she’d used with Ricky.

Fy arglwydd.

The older Huntsman walked toward her, frowning. “You did not know what we were?”

“You’d think the giant hounds would give it away,” the younger one murmured.

“I did not dare hope, my lords. It has been so long. I thought I must be mistaken.”

The first one looked around. “What are you doing here? There are no packs for miles. Not on this entire island, I believe.”

“I am guarding the passage. For you, my lords. For when you come. And now you have.”