Alpha Omega 02 - Hunting Ground

“No, no car.”
    His eyebrows lowered. “Of course not. Fairy magic, eh? Cold iron.” He took a good look at her wrist manacles. “I would have thought those would keep you safe.”
    â€œI have to go,” she told him intensely. “Now.”
    â€œThis is the Burke-Gilman Trail,” he told her. “If you are headed to Dana’s boat, this trail goes right by her dock. It’s a more direct route than running down the road—and we’re much less likely to attract interest with that thing. Not many people out on a jogging path in the middle of winter at this hour of the morning.”
    Then he let her go. Let her decide.
    She ran down the trail, stretching her legs and letting the hunt take her. Wild Hunt. It was early morning, but the darkness still kept watch over them, darkness and the faintest sliver of the moon. It was almost the time of the dark of the moon, she thought, but there was still light to hunt by tonight.
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    THEY were nearly to the docks when the geas faded. She could see Dana’s houseboat—but was able to force her legs to walk. Once she had slowed, it wasn’t such a hard thing to stop altogether. The manacles were doing the trick, she thought, because it seemed like her hands and feet returned to her control before any other part of her body.
    â€œTom?” Anna asked, panting.
    â€œAll praise to the Virgin Mother,” he said. “You’re back with me.”
    â€œMagic,” she said.
    â€œRight. What happened to you?”
    She told him, speaking faster as her tongue started working right again.
    â€œDead bodies talking, eh?” he said. “Nasty.” Then he called Moira and Anna told the story to the witch—and presumably all the werewolves gathered around the phone.
    â€œShe who takes the dead . . .” Moira sounded exhausted. “That would probably be one of the Morrigan. Babd or maybe Nemain, probably not Macha. Sorry, you don’t need that. My concentration’s shot. They want you to kill Dana. Why?”
    â€œShe broke her word,” Angus said. “Now she’s got to be an example. I don’t like them using Anna to do it.”
    â€œWild Hunt,” Anna said. “They called the Wild Hunt, I think that’s what they said. Some of it was a little difficult to interpret. It sounded like the hunt was just to be me.”
    â€œThey sent a wolf stuck in human form with a dagger—however enchanted—after a woman who is a Gray Lord,” Angus said heavily, to whoever else was listening—or maybe just to himself. “I don’t think she was meant to succeed.”
    She is Nimue, the Lady of the Lake. Brother Wolf spoke to her in clear words for the first time. His voice sounded like Charles, but not quite and it thundered through their bond.
    After the words, he added a flood of information that had no words. Pain that he tried to keep veiled from her—not hiding it, but protecting her from it. The dagger was part of a treasure stolen by Arthur—including Excalibur, which Dana now had. Worry and command—she was to return to Arthur’s apartment and wait for the Marrok. She was to stay away from Dana. He thought she was being used to return the dagger to Dana, for safekeeping.
    He thought she was only a warning, meant to be destroyed after she delivered her message.
    And then Brother Wolf was gone again—and the bond felt . . . weaker.
    â€œNever trust the fae,” Anna said. She believed Brother Wolf. But she was the only one who had heard him, thank goodness, or they would not let her do what she needed to.
    â€œMoira. How is Charles?”
    â€œNot good.”
    She knew that, felt it while Brother Wolf communicated with her. “How long does he have?”
    â€œI can help for maybe fifteen minutes more—and then it’s just a matter of time. He’s in a lot of pain, I think, and that doesn’t help.”
    â€œIf he—” She had to suck in her breath and try again. “If he had died before you got there, would you have been able to tell what had killed him? That it was a death curse? That a fae had laid it upon him?”
    â€œNo,” Moira told her. “I can’t tell who laid it upon him now. If he were dead, probably no one could even tell for certain that it was magic that killed him. If Charles hadn’t still been fighting it—”
    â€œAnd Dana had no way to