Curse And Craving

39

The room was quiet as everyone considered the implications of Merlin’s appearance. Lochlan continued, this time addressing his men. “As for your concerns that Rebecca was involved in setting up the trap, I’ll vouch for her innocence in this plot. It is evident to me that we have a traitor somewhere at this table, and that is where our focus should lie.” When he spoke, the room stayed chillingly silent. No one moved or spoke. “Throughout my years in the Hunt, nor in any times in its history, have I ever heard of treachery from within. But I know of no other way this could have transpired.” He took a brief pause as he met the hard stares of the men at the table. “With our protections in place, there was no way information could have left these grounds without it coming from one of us. No one here would have dropped that kind of information accidentally.”

Several men grunted in agreement. “We cannot afford the weakness of a traitor among us. We must discover the source, and I know of no other foolproof way to test each man’s allegiance than the Sword of Light.” I scanned the room in a futile attempt to read the men for any signs of fear or derision. If there was a traitor in the group, he must have had nerves of steel to sit among such dangerous men and boldly lie to their faces. Despite my efforts, I could not read a single defensive posture or possible sign of guilt. “Lochlan, no one has seen the sword for a millennium. How will we get it?” asked Michael. “We’ll do whatever we must to uncover and retrieve it. I’ll speak with my sources to start the search, and in the meantime, we must all be on our guard. There’s no telling what other information has been leaked from behind these walls.” Suspicious eyes scanned the room as he spoke. “Does anyone else have anything further for the group?” There were murmurs throughout the room, but no one offered anything aloud. “Get back to your duties. Once I know more, we’ll meet again.” The men stood and disbursed. When the room was empty, Lochlan approached me. “If you'll wait a moment, I'll get these arrows out and take you home.” I should have been more adamant that he needed rest after getting his wounds treated, but I was too tired and defeated to argue. Instead, I plopped back down on the couch with a wince, momentarily forgetting my healing wound. I lay my head on the arm of the sofa, and visions of Lochlan’s hand being zapped off the necklace played in my head. I was bound to this reality with little hope of escape. The fantasy of magic may be alluring for some, but the feeling that had overcome me when I was killing that creature was terrifying. If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was a darkness to this magic. Under its influence, I reveled in that creature’s death. That wasn’t a gift. It was a curse. As I lamented my situation, my eyelids grew heavy. Before I knew it, Lochlan was murmuring for me to wake up, his warm hand lightly touching my arm. He had changed into a clean shirt, and I couldn't see any evidence of his wounds. “Sorry, I guess I was more tired than I realized.” I stood on legs that were thankfully steadier after my power nap. “Is your chest okay?” I asked groggily. “It's fine. Now that the iron has been removed, it won't take long to heal. I grabbed this for you.” He held out a T-shirt, soft and faded. “You didn't have to do that, but thanks.” I faced the wall and put on the clean shirt. His smell enveloped me, and my eyes slowly shut while I soaked in his woodsy scent. “Iron prevents you from using your magic?” I asked on our way downstairs. “For the most part. It makes it difficult to trace, heal, or do any magic that requires substantial power.” “Was that the extent of the Hunt, the twelve of you?” “There are thirteen here in Ireland when our leader is among us. He’s in Faery at the moment. We have a good number more men back in Faery, so he has to split his time between the two realms.” I was ridiculously curious about the Hunt and figured I'd ask questions while he was in an accommodating mood. “He’s the Erlking, right? Does that mean he’s the king of the Hunt?” “That's his title, but he’s not exactly a king. It means he’s the leader of the Hunt, but we aren’t bound to any particular lands as a kingdom would entail.” “A while back, you said the Hunt had government ties. Do you follow Queen Guin?” “No, the Hunt isn’t ruled by the Seelie queen. Although, we often ally with her when it suits our purpose. We have no desire to wage a war against her, but we have no true allegiance to anyone but our own. That’s why it's such a grave insult to have one among us turn into a traitor.” “The queen didn't command the Hunt to stay here and keep Fae out?” “No, it was more like a good fit to our natural proclivities. The Hunt seeks those who would run, which tends to be the guilty and scared. Prior to the Fae returning to Faery, the Hunt roamed both Faery and Earth, tracking prey wherever the trail led.” “Do you hunt humans?” I asked cautiously. His eyes cut over to mine, and I could see a feral glint in them. “At times, but they aren't the challenge that Fae present.” It was clear that he liked the chase. The exhilaration of the hunt. I wondered if the men became a part of the Hunt because that drive was already a part of them or if being a part of the Hunt fostered that need. “How do you end up in the Hunt? Are you forced into it, or is it something you choose?” “We have no desire to have a fellow hunter as a brother if he doesn’t want to hunt. In my case, I was raised by our leader, so I was practically born into the Hunt. It’s in my blood.” I took in what he had said, and when I compared the Hunt to a military organization, it didn't sound nearly as horrifying as it had been depicted in legend. Granted, they didn't have to report back to the Pentagon or some other governing body, but I had never suffered the delusion that the US Army Rangers or the Navy SEALs were exactly Boy Scouts.