I can feel it just as much as they can. The frenzy. The way our minds become totally focused on this one wonderful and terrible thing. The blissful reward after the soul is gone.
Our group of five splits in several directions, filling a need that hasn’t been taken care of in far too long. My conscious mind slips away from me, leaving me with fragments of memories as I’m running—sprinting—through smoke-filled air. The burn in my lungs isn’t a bother. Not when I find one soul. Then another. And another. And another.
The Wild Hunt is only a blur of moving bodies. Glimpses of the others come and go as we feast. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes when we finally slow, yet logically, I know that can’t be possible with hundreds of souls devoured.
My body hums with pumping adrenaline. I grip the gate behind me; it does little to steady me. The tug of our job screams inside my head to follow where death will likely be.
I shake my head as each of them emerge from the haze and peel my hands from the gate. My palms come up wet and coated in crimson. Blood.
That’s all we need before the urge to complete our job becomes overwhelming again. I take a step forward then stop. Jeriko stops just short of running into me.
“What’s the problem, pet? See a ghost?” She laughs.
My skirts twist around my legs as I spin. Nothing has ever felt so satisfying as my fist sliding over her skin. Her head snaps to the side, and a slender cut on her cheekbone appears.
“Shut up!” I snarl. “Or I’ll make good on Nollix’s promise myself.”
Jeriko flicks a finger against the flood on her cheek and licks it off. “What are you going to do? With no weapons? In a frilly little dress like that?”
“That’s enough, Jeriko,” Carver snaps. “What’s wrong, Vi?”
“We’ve been here before.”
“How can you even see anything to know that?” Cameron coughs.
“It feels familiar?” I stare at the crooked little fence. A blue-painted flower has been smeared with blood. I wipe my hands against my dress, remembering the sticky crimson.
I trudge forward, having to lift my skirt so it doesn’t catch. My silk slippers do little to protect my feet. It’s clear that the woman who dressed me didn’t expect me to be walking anywhere but polished palace floors. Every curve of the rough concrete walkway pokes and prods at the underside of my heels.
The closer we come, the thicker the smoke becomes. I cup my hand over my mouth, wishing I had a sleeve or a higher neckline to pull over my mouth and nose. The thick, burning fumes sting my lungs with every inhale.
A robin’s-egg blue door hangs crooked from a splintered door frame. With wide I-told-you-so eyes, I turn to look at the rest of the group. Cameron’s face drains of color, and she leans into Carver, who scowls at the Witch who suddenly needs help standing. Jeriko’s brows pull low over her dark brown eyes, and next to her, Nollix cocks his head.
“The Warlock,” Nollix finally says.
I push the door open further with the tips of my toes. A bellowing scream erupts from somewhere in the house. There’s a hiss and skittering paws. The brush of fur ruffles my dress as a cat goes racing past us and right out the door.
“Tell me where it is,” A deep, terrible voice demands.
“I don’t—”
“Help me throw the vale over Cameron,” I hiss at the Hunt.
I’m surprised when I feel the tug of Jeriko’s power combine with what little I and the others have. But Cameron is covered, hidden between worlds like the rest of us as magic moves over our skin like a thousand tiny sparks.
A sickly slap of something hard against flesh splits the air. Someone sucks in a breath behind me, likely Cameron. She hasn’t seen the likes of death like we have.
“Do not lie to me, Birkin!”
The quirky Warlock who collects cats like they’re precious stones. The man who broke the news to us that Cameron is a Witch and that he could do nothing to break the bond between us.
We follow the sound of quiet sobs, side-stepping falling pieces of a burning house. Another cat scurries the way we came, and—my ears ring with a high-pitched wail of a dying animal.
“Please, stop,” Birkin begs. “Please, you’ve destroyed the town. Slaughtered hundreds. And I cannot help you. Leave my animals be!”
Hundreds.
A crunch and the animal’s cries come to a halt. I can watch any number of Fae be slaughtered in a thousand different manners, but the sound of an animal being murdered makes me wince.
