Red Hood's Revenge

then.”
    “We can’t,” said Khardija. “Some of our patients are too ill to move.”
    Roudette shrugged. “Then they’ll die.”
    “Mind your tone,” Talia snapped.
    Roudette bared her teeth. One hand went to her hammer before she caught herself. With the wolf’s rage still upon her, it was all she could do to pry her hand free. She wanted to fight , and to hell with Snow’s curse.
    “I’m sorry, Mother.” Talia’s voice dripped anger and guilt. “They came for me. I didn’t realize—”
    “The temple will survive,” Khardija said firmly. “If not this one, then the others throughout Arathea. We will move those patients we can and do our best to protect the rest.”
    “You can’t,” Roudette whispered. “You can’t stop the Hunt. None of you can.”
    But Roudette could. With Talia’s help. Very soon now, she would.
     
    Once the initial panic passed, the sisters dealt with the aftermath of the attack as calmly and efficiently as Talia expected. By the time you had worked here a month, dealing with crises of every variety, you learned to push your immediate reactions aside in order to treat the injuries before you. Talia remembered the first time she learned that lesson, the night a man had walked up the path with a carving knife protruding from his skull.
    Faziya had led the man into the temple as if she saw such wounds every day. She packed bandages around the blade and sent Talia to fetch one of the senior sisters. It was only later that day, after the man had died and Faziya was alone with Talia, that Faziya had allowed herself the luxury of fear and grief.
    Emotion could wait. For now, the sisters tended the injuries left by the hunter and did their best to calm the temple’s guests. The hunter’s body was brought to the back of the temple, where it would be stripped and burned tomorrow along with the three people he had killed, including one of the sisters.
    Talia knew they were right. Nothing could be done tonight, not with hunters still roaming the city. She did her best to imitate Mother Khardija’s steadiness as she returned to her room.
    Talia raised an eyebrow at the sight of three temple cats outside the door. As she approached, one of the cats darted inside. Talia peeked through the curtains to see Danielle scratching the cat’s neck. “Our guardians are your doing, I assume?”
    Danielle whispered to the cat, who arched his back, then sauntered out to join his fellows. “The others are atop the walls. If another hunter approaches the temple, they’ll let us know.”
    Talia drew her sword, sat with her back to the wall, and began to inspect the blade. The edge had chipped where she struck the hunter’s spear. She dug a small whetstone from her pocket and set to work. Without looking up, she said, “How do you know about the Wild Hunt?”
    Roudette cocked her head, listening as a hound howled in the distance. “It was a fairy hunter who found my grandmother. He cut this wolfskin from her body while I watched, hidden in the closet.”
    Talia flipped the sword and began to work the other side of the blade. “Has anyone ever fought them and lived?”
    “Individual hunters like tonight, yes.” Roudette’s upper lip pulled back. “It makes no difference. They’ll replace the man we killed. They always do. If you’re thinking of trying to defend the temple, you’d be better off falling on that sword of yours.”
    Danielle leaned forward. “How do they replace their fallen companions?”
    “The fairy church believes a man’s death is ordained from the moment of his birth. Decreed by God himself.” Roudette leaned back, resting her eyes. This was the calmest Talia had ever seen her, as though killing the hunter had allowed her to truly relax. “Most of those struck by a hunter’s blade fall dead as you’d expect, but a few live on, joining the Hunt. Those are the ones whose time hasn’t yet come. They accompany the Wild Hunt until they reach the end of their allotted days.”
    “The man we fought tonight?” Snow asked.
    Roudette smiled. “The church would tell you it was God’s will his life ended on this day. We were merely instruments of God.”
    Talia didn’t dignify that with a response.
    “Where did they come from?” asked Snow. “The stories I’ve heard say the Wild Hunt was cursed to ride for all time, but every curse can be broken.”
    “Not this one,” said Roudette. “Some say the leader of the Hunt is one of the old gods, fallen from