Night Myst (38 page)

Two hours of travel meant that we’d reach the Marburry Barrow around three in the afternoon. Still daylight enough to take advantage of the plague Lainule had unleashed on the Indigo Court. As we silently crossed the yard toward the ravine, the wind snapped at our heels and the snow swirled in a mad dance around our faces. The hike into the ravine would be harder this time; the storm was barely getting started.

Ulean whistled past.
Myst rules the winter. She is of the Unseelie and still carries the cold weather magic in her veins, Vampiric Fae or not. She brings it with her and I’m afraid winter for this town will be hard and long this year, as long as she is rising in power.

Yes.
Ulean’s answer was faint, as if she were looking over her shoulder as she spoke to me.
Lainule and I go back a long, long, long way.

A very short
yes
, and she fell silent and I got the distinct feeling she had no interest in pursuing that thread of conversation.

The path was covered over and, while still visible through the trees, was difficult to navigate. The rocks and branches littering the trail were covered and it would be entirely too easy to twist an ankle or trip and fall here. I focused on leading the way, cautiously testing my footing every time I came to a suspicious lump under the blanket of white.

The forest was silent, the silence of sick rooms and hospitals, of muffled cotton, of a world lost in the frozen white. We picked our way along the trail as the snow fell thick and heavy. Wet, it would pack in and freeze tonight and I thought about what Ulean had said. Myst had the power of winter at her fingertips, and she’d nestled in for a long night’s journey in New Forest. If her people now could only come out to play at night, and with the true vampires walking the night, it crossed my mind that maybe we should change our sleep schedules so we weren’t so vulnerable during the darkness.

Thirty minutes in—we were going slower because of the weather—and we came to the ravine. I wanted to take a different route down—they might be watching us—but we didn’t have the time to check out how safe the descent would be off path. Taking a deep breath, I plunged down, one step at a time, using a deadfall branch to test the way. With the bracken and vine hidden beneath the snowpack, it was doubly dangerous.

I thought I was avoiding all the traps, but without warning, caught my toe underneath a blackberry sucker and went sprawling face-first to roll about ten feet down the ravine before managing to slam into a tree.

“Are you okay?” Kaylin scrambled down the hill, kneeling beside me.

“Fuck.” Wincing, I pushed myself to a sitting position. “That smarted. The snow kept me from getting too torn up by the brambles.” As he pulled me to my feet, I checked to make sure nothing was broken and dusted off my jeans.

“Warning—incoming!” Leo’s voice ripped through the air.

I jerked around, looking back up the hill to see one of the Indigo Fae slipping out from behind a tree. The look on the man’s face was tortured, and his eyes—mad. He lunged for Rhiannon, grabbing her around the waist from behind and forcing her head to the side. He bared his teeth and dove for her neck. She screamed as Leo grabbed for the Fae. The man swung wide, backhanding Leo into the snow as if he were a dust speck.
Fuck, he’s strong!

I scrambled up the ravine, but Kaylin was ahead of me. He had whipped out his daggers and with silent, deadly accuracy, sent both spiraling through the air to plunge into the side of Rhiannon’s attacker.

The Shadow Hunter let go of Rhia and whirled around, crazed and bleeding. He let out a low hiss and lurched to the left, the daggers still embedded in his side. As he swung around, moving twice as fast as Kaylin was, even
with
blood gushing out of his side, he held up one hand and Kaylin dropped to his knees, a dazed look on his face. Damn it, he was using magic.

The bleeding man turned his face to me, his mouth open in a hideous stretch, his fangs glistening next to the razor-sharp teeth. He began to morph, his body twisting as he changed form into a hideous, twisted doglike creature. The next moment, he leapt, lunging for Kaylin’s throat.

Without a second thought, I swept the fan twice at him, whispering, “Gale force.” And a huge gust of wind hurtled toward the creature, knocking him over and knocking me on my butt in the backlash.

Leo grabbed his walking staff and cracked the creature over the skull while Rhiannon thrust out her hands and whispered something.

A short burst of flame seared the monstrosity’s skin and he screamed, disrupting his shift. Within seconds, he was back to normal—or at least, I supposed it was normal; maybe it wasn’t—and groaning as he rolled on the ground, trying to douse the flames.

Kaylin, shaken out of his trance, leapt up and, using two of his shurikens, threw them to land directly in the throat of the Indigo Court Fae. With one last shudder, the Shadow Hunter lay still.

I crept up beside him, staring down at the unblinking man. He was handsome, strangely compelling even in death, with rigid cheekbones and glassy eyes, in which the stars had gone out.

“Christ, that took work,” Kaylin said, retrieving his daggers. He wiped them in the snow, then dried them on the bottom of his shirt. “And he was hurting. Did you see his expression?”

“He looked crazed—and yes, in pain.” I stared at him. I’d never killed anybody before. Or helped kill anybody before. It was an odd sensation. I searched for guilt, but felt none. He’d been out to kill us and he wouldn’t have hesitated to tear us apart. “I wonder if his shape-shifting . . . is that how they feed?” I was thinking about Grieve. Did he shift into that form now, too?

“Yes.” Rhiannon slipped up beside me to stare down at the man. “But don’t worry,” she whispered. “Grieve wasn’t born to the Indigo Court. I’m sure that he doesn’t do that.”

She was probably lying to spare my feelings, but I was grateful for the illusion right now. A glance at her showed she was holding steady. Anadey had already worked wonders with her and I looked forward to seeing her after a few months of steady practice. My cousin was going to be one hell of a force.

“You think he was in pain because he’s out in the day, even though we’re under a cloud cover? If he’s infected with whatever plague Lainule and Lannan cooked up . . .” Leo knelt beside the Shadow Hunter and began searching his pockets. At my quizzical look, he shrugged. “Why not see if he might have something we can use?”

And just like that we became looters as well as killers.

He held up an odd-looking blade made of obsidian. The blade looked so sharp that I was almost afraid to touch it, but when I took it in my hand the energy seeped right through me, chilling me through. I almost jerked away but that would have been a dangerous mistake and I caught myself. The energy was sinking deep, curling around my nerves, sucking me into a numbness that felt oddly familiar.

“Help . . . me . . .” The words became molasses in my mouth and I rolled my head back, sinking to my knees.

Kaylin reached over and lifted the blade off my palm. “Your eyes . . . they were shifting, changing to—I’m not sure what. But I saw something there.”

The fog began to lift. I shook my head. “Don’t let me hold that again, it scares me.” And it did. It made me think of sinking in quicksand, of being sucked down into the tar pits, of being consumed alive. “But we need to know what it is. Is there a way to transport it safely?”

He nodded, hoisting off his backpack. Retrieving a small box from the pack, he slipped the blade inside, then wrapped a rubber band around the box and replaced it in the pack.

“It should be fine for now. But yeah, I think we’d better find out just what the fuck’s up.” Reaching out, he rubbed his hand up my arm and I shivered. Kaylin did things for me, definitely, and if I hadn’t been with Grieve, I’d be so right there. “You okay?”

“Yeah, but we’d better keep our eyes open. If one of the Shadow Hunters is still out and about, you can bet more are. And they aren’t very happy right now, which tells us that Lainule’s plan seems to have worked, at least to some extent.”

We resumed our trek down the side of the ravine. I was more cautious in my footing and, muffled by the thick cover of falling snow, we silently descended to the bottom. The stream had totally frozen over, though I didn’t trust the layer of ice to hold us, so we cautiously navigated the stepping stones again.

On the other side, we started back up the hill.

“Look,” Rhiannon whispered. I followed her gaze.

Stretching between two of the firs was a giant spider-web, the strands shimmering with frozen droplets to create a sculpture in ice and silk, a monument to Arachne, a tribute to perseverance. It was huge, at least twelve feet from top to bottom, and the guylines were anchored a good fifteen feet between trees. A shiver ran up my back as I watched, waiting.

Slowly, out from behind the tree, scuttled the sculptor, the creator. The spider’s body was easily the size of a salad plate, the jointed legs spreading out to easily two feet in diameter. The golden orb weaver was milky white, with shimmering gold markings on its body, and it scurried into the center of the web. Another joined it, and a third, and they waited, watching us.

“Motherfucking son of a bitch . . .” The sight took my breath away. I wasn’t fond of spiders, but these gave me the creeps in a way most others never had. A wave of malevolence rolled off of them, toward us.

They are deadly in their bite—they are not your typical orb weaver. Be cautious, for these are Myst’s pets.
Snow weavers.
Ulean blew in next to me on a chill gust, filled with snowflakes and ice.

I nodded, slowly, unable to tear my gaze away from the sight. They were beautiful and horrible, sparkling with energy that beckoned me to come forward.

A sudden gasp and I realized it was me—I’d been holding my breath and my body had taken matters into its own hands. I shook out of the trance and hurriedly turned to the others.

“Don’t look at them too long—they have some sort of control and they will lure you in and kill you. Or bind you for Myst. They’re magical, and they belong to her.” I reached out and shook Rhiannon, then Kaylin and Leo, making sure they weren’t caught, like I’d just about been.

“Then she knows we’re here? Are they her eyes and ears?”

“The owls and spiders hate each other,” I whispered, looking back at the spiders to make sure they were still in their webs. And in truth, when I looked at them, I wanted to strike down the web. They gave me the feeling of overripe fruit, or cloying sweets covered with translucent flies.

“And you are Uwilahsidhe . . . of the owls.” Kaylin stared at the spiders. “Should we try to kill them? Is it too late?”

“I think the question is, can we kill them?” I looked at him, and we read each other’s eyes. He slowly shook his head. I gave him an affirmative nod. “No. We leave them. I have a nasty feeling that we’d be playing Russian roulette.”

I whirled around to see Rhiannon bringing out one of the Molotov cocktails. “Stop.” I motioned for her to put the bottle away. “Ulean just told me that fire won’t hurt them—their magic is too strong. But they stay in their webs. Just be cautious as we continue, not to stumble into a stray web because there are, apparently, more of them.”

And so we continued on our way to the Barrow, but now Myst surely knew we were coming. And we’d killed one of her people. I knew that the Mistress of Mayhem would be waiting with open arms and ready teeth.

We came to the circle of mushrooms and cautiously skirted it, taking extra care since the path was now obliterated by snow. A few footprints here and there showed someone had been through here recently. As we turned to head toward the Twin Oaks, I heard a noise from off to the side. Before I could raise my fan in readiness, Chatter stepped out of the trees.

“Chatter!”

He rushed over to us. “Something has happened—Grieve is sick. Indigo Fae all over are ill. The light is making them sick and they can’t come out, but even staying in the dark doesn’t help too much.”

Rhiannon reached out and gently slid her hand down his arm, which seemed to calm him down. “It was unwitting. Cicely was—”

“Rhia—stop.” I couldn’t tell Chatter what had happened, nor Grieve. Lainule would have my head if I spilled secrets. “Chatter, how is Grieve? I thought he might be sick, my wolf tattoo has been upset all morning.” A twist here, a little lie there, it added up but my life was no longer mine and I’d do what I had to in order to protect my family and friends.