Spirit Read online

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, carefully pushing myself to my knees before sitting back on my heels. I wrapped my arms around my ribs and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to get a handle on the pain. After going so long without feeling anything whatsoever, to have so many sensations suddenly assaulting me made me dizzy.

  “Hurt, are we?” the elf asked, and before I could answer him, I felt two of his fingertips touch my forehead. Just that quickly, the pain disappeared. My head stopped spinning, and when I drew in a breath, I no longer felt the hot sear of burning coals in my side.

  “What did you just do?” I asked, touching my face, feeling for the cuts that were no longer there.

  “Put ye to rights,” he said casually, still balanced in a crouch, watching me.

  “Why?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. He just shrugged one shoulder. Apparently it didn’t take much for him to perform magic. It didn’t even look like he had taken time to draw up his power from anywhere.

  “So,” he said, “what’s the name then? Or do ye like being called girl?”

  “Oh, um,” I stumbled lamely, “my name’s Shay.”

  “Aye, Shay.” He nodded and held out a hand for me. “Gwyn.”

  I reached for his hand, but he slipped past my hand and clasped my wrist, making me clasp his. It was an odd sort of old-fashioned handshake, and before I could let go, he pulled me to my feet. Standing in front of him, I blinked up, realizing just how much taller he was than I had thought while watching him on his horse. My head barely came to his shoulders.

  “Bit of a pixie, aren’t we?” he asked, smiling down at me.

  “Oh, uh, no.” I shook my head, but he just laughed, squeezing my wrist one last time before releasing it. I glanced around and saw the three goblins eyeing me, clustered together and chattering in that foreign language. The rest were bundling up their kills and strapping them to the horses. Some had already mounted, waiting for the rest.

  “We are away,” Gwyn called out, circling a finger in the air as he walked over to his mount. He let out a sharp, loud whistle, and the red-eared white hounds came together in a herd and bounded after him.

  “No!” I called out and hurried after him. “Please, wait!”

  “Aye?” Gwyn asked as he gripped the reins of his horse before swinging himself up easily, flying through the air to settle on the horse.

  “Listen,” I said, “I don’t know where I am or how I got here.”

  “The Outlands is where ye are, girl,” Gwyn said as he situated himself.

  “Wait, the Outlands?” I asked, shaking my head. “Like outside the Shide?”

  “Ah, aye, perhaps an angel and a pixie.” He nodded. My grandmother had told me about the Outlands when I was a child. It was a place without rest, a place banished spirits were sent. I had always thought it was just a scary story told to kids to ensure they behaved, kind of like being afraid Santa would know when you were being naughty or nice. The Outlands was where restless spirits went to roam. So really, it was very much like Hell.

  Gwyn made a hand motion to part of his hunting party, and I knew he was about to lead them off, so I reached up and grabbed the length of his reins and held on to them.

  “Please, I don’t know how to get out of here,” I said. “I have to get home.” Gwyn glanced down at my hands, one silver brow arching high before he turned those black eyes on me.

  “Home? So ye really think ye can escape the Slaugh?” I snatched my hands back, dropping the reins, and stumbled back a few steps. He tsked at me and shook his head.

  “The Slaugh?” I repeated. He nodded slowly, that sly smile spreading into a grin as he watched the color drain from my face. I heard my grandmother’s voice in my mind, warning me to never anger the Fae for fear of facing the wrath of the Slaugh. The Wild Hunt. The harbingers of justice and fury. The Slaugh brought the damned souls to this forsaken place. They were a relentless hunting party, always looking for kinslayers and oathbreakers. If you were wronged by someone, you could invoke the Slaugh to take that person from my former world to this one to exact your revenge. But the Slaugh hadn’t brought me here, which was why I hadn’t known where I was until then. And I had let the Hunt Master touch me, heal me.

  “And remember, Shayna Bridget,” my grandmother said as she bent over to kiss my forehead. “If the Hunt catches you and the Hunt Master heals your wounds from your journey into the Outlands, you will be caught there forever.”

  “Aye, the Slaugh,” he said, pulling me out of the memories. The rest of his party circled around us, the horses and hounds crowding in close, making me feel small and vulnerable.

  “You healed me,” I whispered, my hands clasped close to my chest.

  “Aye.”

  “Am I trapped here now?”

  “We were not hunting you,” he said. “So, we did not catch you.”

  “So I’m not trapped here,” I said, glancing away from him, looking around as if I could find the door out of this place.

  “Perhaps not, but then again,” he said, drawing my attention back to him, “perhaps ye are.”

  “Can you help me?” I asked quickly, stopping him again.

  “Do ye wish to join the Hunt, pixie girl?” he asked, and the crowd tittered with laughter. I felt my cheeks flush with heat. Obviously I wasn’t interested in joining the Hunt if I wanted to go home. Once the Slaugh took you, there was no leaving it; you were bound for eternity.

  “I want to go home.”

  “Aye.” He nodded.

  “But I need help; I can’t survive out here alone.” I thought of those cat monsters and the carnivorous birds and whatever was roaring in the distance. I was powerless, weaponless.

  Gwyn cursed in a language I didn’t understand, but once he caught his breath, he held out a hand for me. When I took it, he pulled me up easily, swinging me around to sit behind him. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I prayed I hadn’t made a mistake asking the Hunt Master for help.

  With another sharp whistle, he urged his steed forward with his heels into its flanks, and then we were off. The horse set off at a gallop so fast that when I tried to pick my head up to see where we were going, the force of the wind brought tears to my eyes. The stripling trees went by in a black and grey blur. The creatures of the Hunt let out cries and hollers of joy and excitement as we rode. I gripped Gwyn hard enough to break a human’s bones, but it didn’t seem to bother him one bit. In fact, I thought I felt him chuckle. But I was terrified I would slip from the back of the horse and, at this speed, I was sure to break my neck. Being dead, I wasn’t sure if that would kill me again, or if I would just have to live with the interminable pain of a broken neck. I really didn’t want to find out either way.

  With my cheek pressed into Gwyn’s back and my eyes squeezed shut, I didn’t notice the scenery change, but after a moment of confusion, I realized I could feel the air shifting around me. It was vaguely familiar, like a forgotten memory. I chased the memory, trying to snatch it out of the mist, and finally I realized I was feeling the shifting currents of magic.

  My eyes burst open, and I picked my head up just in time to see the forest around us fade away. The horses and hounds slowed down and the riders’ joyous cries stopped. When Gwyn pulled on the reins, slowing the horse to a walk, I peered over his shoulder. The forest was gone, and we were in a clearing just before a slow rise of hills. At the foot of the hills was an encampment. I could see the smoke from small fires and figures milling about. The hunters dismounted, taking their kills with them, and headed toward the fires. Gwyn reared his horse next to a small figure who reached for the reins. When I looked at him, I realized he was a brownie, an Earth faerie. I smiled at him, but he only stared back at me with his mud brown eyes, his crooked mouth turned down in a frown.

  “Off ye get, pixie girl,” Gwyn said as he dismounted, landing silently in the brown grass. I slid off the horse clumsily. The height made me nearly fall to my knees when I landed, a shock of pain vibrating through my knees. Only Gwyn’s quick hands
kept me upright.

  Heat rushed to my face, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at the elf. I felt Gwyn grinning at me. I’m sure he didn’t meet clumsy humans very often anymore since so many of us had forgotten the old faiths. I couldn’t imagine when the Slaugh had last been summoned from the Outlands.

  Gwyn started off without a word before I could thank him. I had to hurry to catch up, his strides the length of two of mine. I cleared my throat. “So, this is the Slaugh?” I gestured to the encampment. “I thought it would be bigger.”

  “It is,” he said with a nod. “This is only one hunting party. There are many, many more.”

  “Oh. Listen, I was hoping you could tell me how to get back to my world.”

  “Now is not the time for that,” he said bluntly, cutting me off.

  “Why?” I realized I was almost out of breath from trying to keep up with him.

  “Because now it is time for the feast.” I gritted my teeth and kept pace with him until we made it to one of the fires. Three of the not-opossums were already roasting on a spit over the flames. When I looked around, I saw more of the skinned and spitted animals over the scattered fires, and the various creatures of the Hunt circled them, waiting for their roasts.

  Gwyn sat on a rough, hand carved stool, the only one by his fire. Everyone else crouched on the grass, gazing into their fires. I could smell the roasting meat, and the sounds of dripping fat, sizzling in the fire, made my mouth water. Like a punch in the gut, I realized it had been ages since I last ate. I stood awkwardly outside of the circle, sure I had no place there since I hadn’t caught any of those animals and wasn’t even helping cook. A cramp knotted my stomach, making me grimace.

  I rushed forward with a wash of relief when Gwyn casually waved me over to join them. He gestured to the empty space by his right, and I dropped to my knees in the grass, resting my hands on my thighs as I too became entranced by the fire. All thoughts of how to get home suddenly fled from my mind. So desperate for a full belly, I didn’t even blink when a small, hunchbacked creature with black, leathery wings bursting from his back reached over to turn the spit, rotating the cooking animals. Before long, the meat was ready and everyone had their share, Gwyn’s notably larger. I only had a moment’s hesitation as I held onto the steaming leg, the juices greasing my fingers, when I realized I was about to bite into an overgrown rodent. Then my stomach got the better of me and I bit into the charred meat.

  I groaned in satisfaction as the juices burst in my mouth and the meat shredded, almost as soft as butter. I wondered if I was being as foolish as Persephone trusting Hades, but then I reminded myself I was in the Celtic afterlife; they bound you with words, not food. And that was the most delicious risk I had taken in years.

  Chapter 5

  After the food had been consumed, the group began to scatter to the various crudely erected shelters, though some creatures disappeared over the hills. I sat and watched the flames gutter until only glowing embers were left. Those tiny sparks of heat were all it took to change my life, to steal it away. I realized I hadn’t thought about Steven or Jodi or getting back to my old life for over an hour. The draw of the Slaugh was a sneaky one; if I wasn’t careful, I would be like a mortal trapped in the Shide and all memories of my human life would be forgotten.

  I blinked rapidly, shaking my head to clear it, and got to my feet. Gwyn had disappeared somewhere. I looked up into the sky and realized the moon hadn’t moved even an inch since I last looked at it.

  “What?” I whispered. How could that be? I last looked at the moon at least six hours before, so how could it be in the exact same position in the sky? Was it perpetually night there? Or did time stand still? Was there a difference? I closed my eyes and shook my head again. That moon was just another thing that would distract me from my goals. I started walking. I didn’t know where Gwyn had gone, but the encampment wasn’t endless like that forest had been. I figured I could find a six-foot tall elf with long silver hair among those creepier, smaller creatures.

  The camp was eerily quiet, and now that I was out of the forest, the silence was all the more pressing. Acutely aware of how loud and clumsy my steps were, I tiptoed, terrified I would wake up one of the more intimidating creatures. When I came upon an over-large shadowy lump in my path, I could smell the metallic tang of old blood, and I knew I was in danger of disturbing the massive Redcap I’d seen. I didn’t want my blood providing the new coating of red to his cap, so I gave him a wide berth, creeping along on my toes.

  Eventually I heard the whicker of a horse and the soft sounds of a murmured song. Gwyn was grooming his stallion. Gwyn was singing the sweet song in a language I didn’t know, but as soon as he was aware of my presence, he stopped. Glancing up at me, he inclined his head in a small nod, acting as though he hadn’t been singing at all.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but that now-familiar and distant roar sounded, stopping me. I turned when some of the members of Gwyn’s party called out, cheering and mounting their rides. The dogs brayed as they took off.

  “Where are they going?” I asked.

  “To hunt,” Gwyn said.

  “What is that thing?” I stared into the distance as if I could see the monster through the trees. I wrapped my arms around myself against the sudden chill.

  “Best you didn’t know,” Gwyn said. “It can smell fear.” I blinked at him, but he just continued to brush his horse.

  “Listen,” I said, my voice catching awkwardly. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I didn’t thank you for helping me out of the forest.”

  “Aye, very smart,” Gwyn said, his eyes following the path of his hand along the side of the horse.

  “What?” I asked, my brow furrowing. I stepped closer, sure the distance between us had made me mishear him.

  “So few mortals remember the danger in thanking the Fae,” he replied.

  I stopped then, staring at him. I heard my grandmother’s voice again, but it was so far off, I couldn’t make out the words. What he said had stirred something in my memory.

  “Right,” I said slowly. I walked toward the horse’s head. He loomed over me by a good three feet. His dark eye was the size of my fist, but I mustered the courage to reach up, touch his cheek, and pet him gently. “What are the dangers again?” I asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

  “So ye have forgotten,” Gwyn said with a tsk as he brushed the horse’s flank. I tried to scratch the horse’s nose, but my reach wasn’t long enough and the horse had to dip his head forward. I kept my mouth closed, not wanting to fall into some trap. “If someone thanks the Fae, they are admitting that they owe them something.”

  “And that’s bad,” I said slowly.

  “Because who knows what the Fae would ask for in return of such wondrous generosity on their part.”

  “Right,” I replied as if I had known that all along. Still I could hear my grandmother’s voice, but it slipped further away by the moment.

  “Though it was very rude not to say something at the very least.” Gwyn tsked at me again before he started working on the tail.

  “I appreciate what you did,” I said carefully. I finally remembered the magic word that wouldn’t get me faerie-caught. I leaned around the horse and saw Gwyn nod, accepting my vague thanks.

  “Appreciative though you may be, I believe you would still rather leave us,” he said, working out a knot of tangled hair.

  “I want to go home.” I let my hand drop from the horse’s nose and walked around to stand by its side to better see Gwyn as we talked.

  “I doubt that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you died, did you not?”

  “Yes.”

  “But somehow you made it here without the Wild Hunt being called upon you.”

  “Yes.”

  “So I believe when the Light came for you,” he said as he stood up straight to look me in the eye, “you ran from it.”

  “I wasn’t ready to die.”

&n
bsp; “But you did, and that Light would take you home, yet here you are. Therefore, you do not wish to go home.”

  “Of course I do!” I barely caught my voice before I started yelling. “But I wasn’t ready to die. Heaven, or whatever it is that’s waiting for me, isn’t my home.”

  “It is now.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “But I’m not going to play faerie word games with you. I meant to say that I want to be alive again, back on Earth, living and breathing.”

  “Ah,” he said, tapping the brush in his hand.

  “I don’t even know how I ended up here to be honest with you.”

  “I hope you wouldn’t lie to me,” he said, his voice dropping dangerously low. I had to think about what he meant before I realized some of the more human expressions would be lost here and might get me into trouble.

  “Sor-,” I said, stopping myself before the word slipped out. If it wasn’t safe to thank him, then I doubted it was safe to apologize, even casually. Gwyn lifted one silvery brow as he watched me choke back the word. “I mean, it’s just a figure of speech; of course I wouldn’t lie to you.” Gwyn nodded, but I knew the Fae lied all the time; it was just a matter of twisting the truth to get what you wanted. I had to be very careful while I was there.

  “I’m sure you know how you ended up here, you just didn’t know it would happen,” he said, tossing the brush into a nearby bucket.

  “Well, I was trying to contact a friend of mine,” I said.

  “Someone still alive?” Gwyn interrupted me.

  “Yes,” I said with a sigh. He was going to take every damn opportunity to remind me I was dead. “Anyway,” I said, waving a hand in the air, “I was trying to contact him, but he thought I was some random spirit, and he banished me. I flew out of the door, but instead of ending up outside the apartment, I was in that forest.” I gestured behind me uselessly since the forest wasn’t there anymore.

  “Ah, so you do know how you ended up here.”

  “No, I told you, I don’t. He didn’t send me anywhere; he just banished me out of the apartment.”