The Silver Stag (The Wild Hunt #1)

“Are you sure?” Herne asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “I know it sounds perverse, but if I see it and tell her, it will make it real for her. It’s like when somebody dies and you aren’t able to go to the funeral. Unless you’re actually there, it’s hard to fully accept it. If I see her house, I can help her put it in the past.”

“All right, but it’s not a pretty sight.” Herne swung through her neighborhood. The heavy scent of soot still lingered in the air and as he slowed down in front of what remained of the house, I grimaced. He stopped the car and I quietly got out and walked up to the charred ruins.

Herne was right, it wasn’t pretty. There wasn’t much left—of anything. I couldn’t see clearly in the dark, but Herne was suddenly standing beside me, carrying a large flashlight. The light illuminated the ruins. Even though the fire had been out for some time, the scent of soot and ash hung heavy in the air.

I slowly walked up to what had been the front of the house and stared at the pile of rubble and ashes. Blackened timbers had collapsed on themselves, glass shards were everywhere, and the entire house had collapsed. The garage, too. The skeleton of Angel’s car peeked out from under the rubble. I caught my breath, staring at the destruction.

That someone had actually deliberately done this, that they had targeted Angel, made everything very real, too frightening to think about. I shivered, folding my arms as a gust of wind blew by, scattering ashes around me. At least the rain was holding off, but everywhere were pools of soot-laden water. After a moment, I turned to Herne, who had a grave expression on his face.

“This is so much worse than I imagined.” It was all I could think of to say.

“Yeah. See why I didn’t want Angel to come over? While it might make it real for her, it would make it too real. Sometimes it’s better to leave things to the imagination. Sometimes the imagination isn’t worse than the reality.” He waited for another moment, then asked, “Ready?”

I nodded. There was nothing I could do. Whatever had survived, Herne and Viktor had already found it.

“Yeah, let’s go.” I followed him back to the SUV, where he opened my door for me and took my elbow, helping me in. I didn’t need the help but it felt comforting, and so I just thanked him quietly.

Viktor looked at me. “Once Herne and I saw the mess, we wanted to spare Angel the heartache.”

“Thank you.” I shook my head, trying to figure out what kind of people would do such a thing when they thought a child was involved. Talia may have thought that I had to come to terms with my heritage, and she was probably right, but when I saw destruction like this, it made me want to run farther away.

“I just want to focus on stopping Kuveo. I’m used to having to kill some of the sub-Fae like goblins and the like, but the kind of brutality that we’ve seen the past couple of days makes my stomach churn. Do you ever get used to it?” I looked up at the ogre, hoping—and yet fearing—that he would say yes.

“No. You’d think it wouldn’t bother me so much, given I’m half-ogre. But I think anybody who has any sort of empathy will find this job challenging at times. That’s why we do it. If we didn’t care, why bother? Why try to make a difference? It’s always going to be difficult for those who really care. But we are the ones who can make a difference, who can put wrongs to right. Or at least, most of the time. Herne hasn’t told you something, but you deserve to know.”

“What are you talking about?” Herne asked.

“I know what he’s talking about. Sometimes, we have to be agents of chaos,” Yutani said, his voice low as he stared at his tablet.

“What does he mean?” I glanced at Viktor, who had a dark look on his face.

“Sometimes we’re called on to right the balance when light overshadows darkness. There’s a balance between good and evil, and it must be maintained.”

“I know that,” I started to say, but caught sight of Herne, who was giving Viktor a long look through the rearview mirror. He shook his head ever so slightly.

“Never mind. I’m sure things will sort themselves out.” The ogre went back to looking out the window, and feeling confused, I did the same.

We entered UnderLake Park and were nearly at the turnoff to Castle Hall when Yutani asked Herne to slow down.

“Going about as slow as I can—fifteen miles an hour,” Herne said.

“There should be a turnoff near the ruins. Take that and park. It’s going to be difficult to see in the darkness, but you should be able to find it if you’re going slow enough.” Yutani consulted his tablet, then said, “On the right side.”

Less than sixty seconds later Herne eased into a parking spot. I could barely see the sign indicating that turnoff, but apparently Herne’s eyesight was better than mine.

“All right, everybody out and grab your bags. Try to move as quietly as you can, although I realize that’s asking a lot.” Herne gave us all a look that told me that this had been an issue in the past. By Viktor’s response, I knew I was right.

“Dude, are you going to bring that up every time we head out in the field?” the ogre whined.

Herne snorted. “I wouldn’t have to if you’d watch where you put your big feet.”

Their sparring sounded good-natured, and one look at Yutani told me that. As much as they might poke and prod each other, they really did care.

“We need to get into the basement level. From there, we search for an entrance to the underground labyrinth,” Yutani said. He paused. “You all should know that I saw a coyote on my way to work.”

Herne let out a slow breath. “Just what we need. All right, thank you for warning us.” He glanced at me. “You’d better tell her. She still doesn’t know.”

Yutani slid his tablet into his bag and switched to his phone. “Every time a coyote crosses my path, it means trouble’s ahead. Sometimes it’s danger, other times just chaos.”

He shrugged into a denim jacket and pulled his hair back in a sleek ponytail. He slid on a black Deadman Tophat with a blue feather in the band, and suddenly he went from gangly geek to gorgeous hunk. It was amazing what the right look could do, I thought, then tried to shake off my libido, which had been on overdrive since I met Herne.

“Well, I guess I’m forewarned.” There wasn’t much else I could say. I showed Herne my dagger.

“That’s a good blade. Looks sturdy. Nice sharp edge. You have a secondary weapon?”

I blinked. “Not on me. But I can shoot crossbow with dead accuracy. And I can fight double-handed. Two blades at once.”

He motioned to Viktor, who handed me one of the small crossbows I had seen in the armory. “Have you shot this kind before?”

I glanced over it. The pistol crossbow was handmade, that much I could tell, but not dissimilar to the ones I had learned on. But there was enough variation that I wasn’t sure how quickly I’d ramp up with it.

“I’d better put in a little practice with it before I take it into a hostile situation. If you have any nunchaku, those I can use.” I handed him back the crossbow reluctantly. I enjoyed target practice, and they came in handy when you didn’t want to get too close to an opponent.

“I can provide a pair,” he said, putting away the crossbow and handing me a pair of nunchaku.

I tested the weight and found them to be almost identical to the ones I owned, and hooked them onto my belt. The weight of the extra weapon calmed me down, and I realized just how nervous I was.