The Silver Stag (The Wild Hunt #1)

Once we were on the trail, I realized that my size was a definite benefit. While Vik was strong and muscled, he was definitely not light on his feet. I scrambled up the steep trail well ahead of him, not realizing I had left him behind till I got near the top. I turned around, and saw him struggling up between the trees. By the time he reached me, he was panting.

“Ogres don’t make good climbers,” he said.

“I thought ogres mainly lived in the mountains and that’s what they do—climb with the goats.”

“You’re thinking about giants. Ogres are not the same. People mix us up all the time and it annoys the fuck out of me.”

“All right, you’re not a giant. But don’t ogres live in the mountains?”

“Ogres tend to live underground. Or in caves. My father’s family happens to live near Mount Rainier, but not way up the mountain. There’s a trail up to the cave system they live in.”

He seemed rather touchy about the subject, so I decided to leave it alone. I wasn’t sure what the difference between ogres and giants were, but it might be a good idea to find out so I didn’t make the same mistake twice.

I looked around. We were near the trailhead, and like most of the woods around Western Washington, the ground was a mass of forest detritus: fallen leaves, fir and cedar needles, old pinecones, mushrooms, sodden bark, as well as the burgeoning plants of the spring. All in all, our forests were a tangle to get through and it was easy to sprain an ankle if you weren’t watching where you are going.

“So, you said there’s an entrance to the catacombs near here?” I was doing my best to look for anything that could be construed as an entrance, but I had no clue what to look for.

“This way.”

Vik led me across the trail to where a small stream burbled along through the forest, curving to flow parallel to the trail and down to the lake. Before the stream turned, it was buttressed by a narrow walkway that led to an outcropping of boulders.

Vik scrambled across them, doing his best to avoid falling in the water.

I followed. Just beyond the boulders, I saw what looked to be a lightning-scarred tree trunk. It was a good five feet wide.

Vik stopped beside it. He reached into one knothole that was as big as his fist, and I heard a small click. The front of the tree trunk split open as a small door on hinges slowly swung back. He nodded for me to look inside. Hesitantly, I crept forward and peeked down into the tree trunk. A ladder led down, on a slant, in a narrow metal shaft.

“Wow. They really go out of their way to make these things invisible. So this shaft leads… Where?”

“It leads to a tunnel that goes beneath the stream, and that tunnel leads to a passageway that goes all the way back to the catacombs. It stretches under South Seattle, with a number of offshoots leading into other areas that the vampires have mined out over the years.”

“Just how many vampires are in Seattle?” The amount of work gone into creating the catacombs seemed monumental.

“Probably not more than five or six hundred. However, you have to remember that vampires are extremely strong, their stamina is amazing, they don’t need to breathe so they don’t have to come up for air, and they have a lot of time on their hands when they’re underground. Think about it. They have the entire day to work belowground. Just because they can only come out at night doesn’t mean that they sit around playing poker all day.”

“I can’t imagine that the city officials approve.”

“The city officials don’t have much to say about it. I’m sure the vampires use their financial connections as leverage. The mayor’s not going to argue with the people who pay for his campaign.”

I was beginning to realize just how little control humans had in this world. It seemed like everybody had their fingers in the pie. Pull on one end and you’d find another.

“So where were the bodies found?”

“Just below the trailhead, over beneath that cedar.” He pointed over to a large cedar near the stream. “They were found over a period of twelve days, one every two days. Before that, the other six bodies were found one every three days.”

“So whatever it is, it’s escalating. When was the last body found?”

“Last night. That’s when the informant talked to Herne and we got called in. Didn’t you read the dossier?” Vik gave me a look like I had farted or something.

“I looked it over, but I was kind of busy figuring out what the hell I’m supposed to be doing.” I glanced around. “Why haven’t they closed off the trailhead? If the last six bodies were found here, you’d think they would steer people away from the area.” I paused, suddenly aware of a faint scent that seemed out of place. “Hold on, I smell something.”

I closed my eyes, raising my nose to the wind. There was a scent of something boggy, almost fetid, like vegetables left too long in the refrigerator. It made me nervous, and I realized that I had goose bumps all over my arms, even though I had my jacket on.

“There is something here that makes me uneasy. I’m not sure what it is, but alarm bells are going off really loud right now.”

“Is it near here now? Are we in danger?” Vik glanced around, his hand on his dagger.

I tried to tune in as best as I could. The scent was cloying, but it was fading rather than growing stronger. I realize that the wind had blown a gust past me from the south, beyond the stream. I shut the door on the trunk and scrambled over the top of the blasted tree.

Once on the other side, going was more difficult. My footing was precarious, the rocks covered in slippery moss. I was holding on to the side of the embankment as I jumped from stone to stone, trying to keep from falling into the stream. The slope was getting steeper, and the rocks fewer and farther between. I would either have to follow from the cliff above, or jump down into the water and wade upstream. I glanced back at Vik, who was watching me carefully.

Turning back to the water, I tuned in, listened to it as it cascaded along.

It whispered to me, asking me if I would follow it upstream a ways. There was a sadness to it, a melancholy feeling that made me want to cry.

Finally, I eased my way down into the water and, knee-deep, pushed against the current, slogging over the slippery rocks in the streambed. I had only gone a few feet when I noticed something ahead, lodged against the side of the embankment. Whatever it was, it sparkled in a sudden spate of sunlight that burst through the forest, slicing through the clouds.

Taking a good look around to make certain nothing was waiting to pounce on me, I followed the water over to the sparkling item. I found myself staring at a necklace, the chain of which had been broken. I slowly reached for the pendant, and as my hand met the water to scoop up the necklace, a shriek ran through me as sure as if I had heard it aloud. I let out a shout and stumbled back, surprised by the sudden pain that accompanied the cry.

“Are you all right?” Vik called.

I glanced up. He had followed me along the top of the embankment, and was leaning over to look down. About eight feet above me, he looked ready to jump over the edge if I needed help.

“I’m okay. I found something and I think it belonged to one of the victims.” I pocketed the necklace, then looked around to see if I could see anything else. There was nothing in sight, and the odor I had smelled earlier had vanished.

I looked upstream, wondering how far the creek actually went. Twenty yards ahead, it seemed to disappear into the side of the slope. I closed my eyes picturing where we were in the park and figured that the stream must feed into the park from one end of Lake Washington and then trickle down back into another part of the lake. Wondering what we were getting involved with, I turned around and headed back toward the trail, motioning for Vik to meet me there.





Chapter 8