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Authors: C.E. Murphy

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BOOK: Urban Shaman
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“My parents are dead, aren’t they,” she said in the same thin soprano I remembered from the theatre.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“He killed them. My sperm dad killed them.”

“Yeah,” I said again, because I didn’t know what else to say.

“Why?”

God. What a question. “Someone hurt him a long time ago,” I said slowly. “I think maybe it drove him insane. He was trying to protect himself from being hurt again.”

Suzanne swallowed and looked up at me, then climbed to her feet. “He was trying to steal my soul, wasn’t he? Could he do that? What was he?”

I rubbed my breastbone. “Do you really want the answer to that?”

She gave me a scornful look. “I saw what happened. He turned into a…spirit-thing. What was he?”

“A demigod,” Cernunnos said from a few yards away. His stallion stood stone still, radiating impatience to be off. “His name was Herne, and he was my son.”

“He still is your son,” I mumbled. “Just a little less corporeal.”

“So you’re my grandfather.” Suzanne ignored me. Cernunnos blinked, taken aback.

“We must go, Father,” the youngest Rider said quietly. Cernunnos glanced at the boy, then back at Suzanne.

“I am,” he agreed, and shot me a look of venom. “But I am bound to another world, granddaughter, and I cannot stay.”

“Will I ever see you again?” Suzanne sounded very young and alone. I bit my lower lip. Cernunnos looked back at the young Rider, who smiled.

“At the hour of your birth, each and every year until your mortal life ends, we will greet you, if only for a moment, niece. I will lead the Hunt to you. Only do not fear us, and all will be well.”

Suzanne lifted her chin and nodded, green eyes wide. “I’ll see you next year, then,” she whispered, and looked down at the body at her feet. Anger set her jaw, and she drew one foot back and kicked Kevin Sadler’s body in the ribs, hard. Then, chin lifted again, she stepped over the body with immense dignity and walked away from the carousel, pausing for one moment to put her hand on the nose of the pale horse she’d ridden. Then she stepped down and began walking across the Center grounds back toward the parking lot. It was only then that I noticed red-and-blue flashes of light and the approaching sound of sirens, and closed my eyes. It was all over but the yelling.

“Not quite yet,
gwyld,
” Cernunnos murmured.

“Oh, no,” I said out loud, and opened my eyes again. Standing on the carousel, I wasn’t at eye level with the god, but at least I didn’t have to crane my neck too badly to meet his eye. “Go away,” I said, and flapped a hand. “I won. Go ride. You don’t have a lot of time.”

“More than you think,” the young Rider said. “We count the days from dusk to dusk. Still, waste no more time than you must, Father.” He shifted his weight to the side, not using the reins at all. The pale mare turned and walked away with the rest of the Hunt following after.

“I will see thee again, Siobhán Walkingstick,” the horned god said to me. I ducked my head and smiled.

“Will you visit me like you’ll visit Suzanne? I may be marked for you, Cernunnos, but not yet. I’ve got a few things to do, first.”

He reached down and slid gloved fingers under my chin, tilting it up so I met his eye again. “Not yet,” he agreed, emerald eyes full of things unfamiliar: respect, admiration, even affection. “Thou art a worthy opponent,
gwyld.
I think I will leave you a gift. It amuses me.”

He bent with all his customary grace, and even though I knew what was coming, the compulsion of his brilliant eyes held me where I was. Or maybe I just didn’t really
want
to move. In the distance, Morrison bellowed, “Walker!”, and Cernunnos kissed me, a horrifyingly good kiss that would have weakened the knees of a lesser woman.

Oh, all right, a horrifyingly good kiss that weakened
my
knees. Gary, the helpful son of a bitch, let out a
piercing wolf whistle, and I colored from my collarbones to my hairline. Cernunnos released me, chuckling. “Until later, Siobhán Walkingstick.”

I had just enough presence of mind to sketch a half bow, and reply, “Until later, my lord master of the Hunt.”

Cernunnos returned the bow, then whirled the stallion about and, with a shout, led the Wild Hunt in a gallop up over the heads of the arriving cops. Even Morrison ducked, then glared at me through the distance like it was my fault. The lights were coming back on, slowly.

“Consorting with the enemy, Walker?” he demanded as soon as he was close enough to speak.

“That’s not the enemy. The enemy’s over there.” I jerked my head toward the carousel, still watching the Hunt disappear up into the stars. Morrison climbed up onto the carousel and went to look at the body, eyebrows drawn down.

“That’s a demigod?”

“Not anymore,” I admitted. Morrison scowled at the body.

“What happened?”

I groaned. “I’ll put it in my report. That’s what I’m supposed to say, right? I’ll put it in my report?”

Morrison frowned magnificently at me. “You’re sure that’s him?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said in a chorus with Gary. We exchanged weary grins that nearly turned into exhausted giggles before I pulled myself back together. “Suzanne Quinley just walked away on her own.” I had to stare
hard at Morrison to keep my thoughts in order. “Her whole family’s dead. Somebody should get her.”

Morrison’s mouth thinned as he looked to where I gestured, then turned away briefly, calling, “Gonzalez! She’s that way.”

Jen Gonzalez came out of the dark and jogged across the Center grounds after Suzy. Morrison and I both watched her, before he looked back at me. “Her aunt lives in Olympia. Gonzalez called her. She’s on her way.” He hesitated a moment before adding, “Suzy’ll be okay.”

I dropped my chin to my chest. Jen’d come through for a girl who wasn’t missing and Morrison was enough on top of the details to be able to reassure me. I was wary of saying thanks, out of fear I might fall apart. Instead I swallowed and nodded. “Can we go back to the station so I can fill out whatever paperwork I need to fill out, and go sleep for a week?”

Morrison thrust his chin out. “Is it your fault all the lights went out?”

“…probably.”

“Care to tell me how you managed to keep power going at hospitals and emergency services and nowhere else?”

I lifted my head and stared at him for a tremendously long time. “No,” I finally said, but I smiled. “No, I don’t care to tell you that at all. Neat trick, though, huh?”

Morrison scowled some more. “Yeah. It was.” He struggled with the next words for a few moments, looking as if he was trying to find a way not to say
them: “Good job.” He gave me one sharp little nod, then flared his nostrils. “Get your ass in the car, Walker, and get back to the station. I want to know what happened here.”

I took a couple steps, then paused and looked back at him. “Isn’t that, ‘Get your ass in the car, Officer Walker’?”

Morrison glared hard enough to set my hair on fire. Thank heavens he didn’t have my exciting new power set. “Get your ass in the car,
Officer
Walker, you…” He trailed off, unable to come up with sufficient invective to describe me.

Grinning, I got my ass in the car, and fell asleep on the way back to the station. There was a hell of a lot waiting for me just on the other side of sleep, but I pushed it away. For a few minutes, at least, I figured I deserved to be satisfied with saving the girl and stymieing Morrison. The rest of the world could wait until tomorrow.

I was pretty sure it would.

URBAN SHAMAN

ISBN: 978-1-4268-3400-4

Copyright © 2005 by C.E. Murphy

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Worldwide Library, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

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