Spirit Read online

  “And so you are in the Outlands.” Gwyn dusted off his hands and started to turn away from me. I ran to get in front of him and stop him from leaving.

  “But how? Why?”

  “Because he didn’t banish you to anywhere. The Outlands are nowhere and everywhere,” he said, staring down at me.

  “What? So if he had tried to send me into the Light, I would’ve gone to Heaven, or if he had told me to go back to where I came from, I would’ve gone outside?”

  “Correct.”

  “But he just told me to leave and this is where I ended up?”

  “Correct again. The pixie girl can learn.” He tapped the tip of my nose before he moved around me and started walking again. I rushed to catch up with him.

  “So am I stuck here then?” I asked.

  “There are ways to leave, if one is so inclined.”

  “Well I am inclined,” I said, starting to lose my breath from keeping up with him.

  “Very well,” he said cryptically.

  “So, are you going to tell me what they are?”

  “What what are?” he asked, and I realized I had walked into a damn faerie word game.

  “Gwyn, please tell me what the ways to leave the Outlands are,” I said through gritted teeth. I stopped trying to keep up with him and just watched as he kept walking a few paces. I figured he was just going to ignore me and continue on, but he stopped, turned, and faced me.

  He held up one long finger, his voice changing slowly from the lighthearted tone I’d grown accustomed to to something lower, darker. “What you must first understand is this: It is almost unheard of for a captive of the Slaugh to leave the Outlands.”

  “You said I wasn’t a captive,” I interrupted.

  “Yes, because we were not hunting you, but that does not mean you cannot still become a captive. If you allow the Slaugh to take you, there will be no leaving, no returning to Earth and to your life. You will ride forever with the Wild Hunt, leaving only when invoked to carry out the wrath of another.” I felt my stomach churn as he spoke. I noticed he was very careful not to explain to me how I could become a captive if I wasn’t actually hunted and caught.

  “All right,” I said, “I’ll remember that. Go on.”

  “There are only two ways to leave the Outlands. The first,” he said, lifting that same finger, “is you must travel to the very edge of this world. If you can find the end of the Outlands, then the gates between worlds will open for you, and you can leave.” I tried to wrap my head around the idea of a world having an end and found fathoming it difficult. I shook my head to force myself to concentrate and not wander off in daydreams.

  “The second,” Gwyn continued, lifting a second finger, “is you must be summoned.”

  “Summoned?” I repeated, shaking my head in confusion.

  “Yes, someone from that world may very well summon you to them. If you are not a captive, they can draw you out.”

  “And if I am captive?”

  “They can only summon you as part of our host, to bring the Wild Hunt.”

  “To kill someone?”

  “We do not kill.” Gwyn finally dropped his hand to his side.

  “What do you do then?”

  “We hunt them,” he said simply.

  I thought about what it felt like to have something chasing me with teeth and claws, spears and arrows. To always have that creeping feeling in the small of your back, to never truly rest, sure that they were just behind you, forever. “So, if you don’t kill them, what happens when you catch them?”

  “This,” he said, gesturing toward the encampment.

  “So if you’re invoked to bring justice to a…” I struggled to remember what my grandmother told me about why the Slaugh was called. Finally, the words came to me. “To an oathbreaker or a kinslayer, you don’t kill them? You hunt them and then kidnap them?”

  “To ride forever.”

  “Like a spirit not at rest,” I said, more to myself than to him, but he answered me anyway.

  “Aye.”

  “Is that why time here doesn’t move?” I tilted my head up to look for the moon, finding it in the same exact spot once again. “So that it’s like a never ending night, no respite, no change? It just goes on and on?”

  “That’s as good a reason as any,” Gwyn said. He had lifted his eyes to the sky as well, staring at the tiny moon.

  “You don’t know?”

  “There are many unknowns in these many worlds, more than time allows us to ponder,” he said, cryptic as ever. Before I could press him further, he turned on his heel and walked away, disappearing into the shadows so I could not follow.

  ***

  Wandering through the camp, I started to feel the bone-deep weariness of staying awake for too many hours after too much exertion. Now that I could feel my body again, and the aches and pains that went with it, all I wanted to do was lie down and sleep for a few hours. But I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t know any of these creatures, and none of them had extended a hand to me yet besides Gwyn and he didn’t seem disposed to actually helping me. If I was honest with myself, I was actually afraid to close my eyes around these creatures since my grandmother’s fables echoed in my mind.

  One last fire burned in the center of the encampment, and gathered around it were two dozen beings. They seemed to be watching something, cheering and laughing at intervals, reminding me of people watching a game on television. I crept forward, trying to peer between bodies to see what they saw. An overlarge cauldron roasted on the fire, and everyone seemed to be staring into it, watching the contents.

  “Um, excuse me,” I said to a faerie that looked like a satyr. “What’s going on?”

  “The Hunt,” he replied, never taking his eyes from the pot.

  “The Hunt?” I repeated, but he didn’t answer me again, so I lifted up on my toes to look over the shoulders of those around the cauldron. Inside was a clear concoction, and between the wisps of steam, I saw something moving on the surface of liquid. It took my eyes a minute to adjust, but then I could see a scene on the surface. A man ran through a small village, sweat streaming down a face twisted in fear. He lost his hat when he glanced over his shoulder to check behind him. Whatever he saw made him scream and stumble to the ground.

  The crowd around the cauldron cheered again; some laughed. Then I heard the hooves clattering down the street. I watched as the hunters on horseback and the giant dogs ran the man down. His screams were lost in the cheers of the crowd around me and the whinnying of horses and braying of dogs. The hunting party didn’t stop as I had expected them to. They just raced on, and when they were out of the scene in the cauldron, the dark street was empty, just lonely buildings and a deserted cobblestone street. The Hunt had caught the man.

  The crowd began to disperse quickly, each returning to their place of rest. A tiny woman, wizened and bent with a wide flat face, touched the surface of the water with her frail fingers, making it shimmer and shake until the water was clear. That was it, a window into my world, my chance to see my friends. I felt hope blossom inside of me for the first time since leaving Anthony’s apartment. I blinked back tears as I watched the old woman. She carefully kept her large, bulbous eyes from me. I wasn’t sure if she was afraid of me or if she was just trying to ignore me.

  “Are you a seer?” I broke the silence. She hesitated, her hand in midair as she reached for something with which to tend the coals of her fire. I thought she was going to answer me, but after a moment, she snatched up the stick she had been reaching for and started stirring the coals around the caldron. She walked in a circle around the fire until she was close to me. She stopped then and went back the way she came.

  My bubble of hope burst, and I was just about to give up and walk away when she said, “Thems no visions.” She stabbed the coals aggressively, making clouds of bright orange embers float in the air. “Visions are for the future; that weren’t no future.”

  “What do you mean? That was happening right
now?” I asked. She sniffed loudly and made a noncommittal noise that I took for a “yes.” The old woman dropped her stick and picked up a handful of herbs from a bundle on the ground and cast them into the flames. The herbs made the smoke turn blue and scented the air with something sharp and unfamiliar. I wrinkled my nose and tried not to sneeze.

  “If you’re not a seer, then are you a water elemental?” I asked. Again she didn’t answer me, just continued to tend to her fire. When she didn’t offer any response, I decided not to press her, afraid I’d ruin any chance of seeing my friends. I sat and tried to enjoy the fire’s warmth. She shot me an angry look, holding my gaze for a few minutes before she sniffed again and walked off. I was a little surprised when she returned a few moments later, a fish skewered on a stick in her hand. She sat on the far side of the cauldron so looking at her was awkward and began roasting the fish over the fire. For one fleeting moment, I thought about Steven roasting a hot dog over a campfire while we sat on the beach, Jodi and I eating melted marshmallows. A knot formed in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

  “Maybe a water sprite?” I asked suddenly, trying to get my mind off those beautiful and painful memories. She humphed at me and sniffed again, and I guessed that I had it right. I hadn’t ever met a water sprite before, and to be honest, I expected something prettier and younger. Once the scales of the fish were charred, she pulled it from the fire. I knew it hadn’t been cooking long enough to roast the flesh inside.

  She opened her mouth to show pointy little white teeth before she tore into her dinner. The fish made a squelching noise, and I couldn’t help but to lean over and look. I was right; the fish was still raw, just blackened on the outside. I grimaced and leaned back to put the caldron between us.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met a water sprite before,” I said, mostly to cover the noise of her chewing and rending the fish. “I’ve met undines and nymphs; they’re kinda like intense mermaids, though.” I laughed uncomfortably. “I’m sure you know that.”

  She didn’t respond, only started to suck on the lethal little bones between bites.

  “So can you call up the visions in the water because you’re a sprite or because it was of another Hunt?” I asked. “Since you’re part of this Hunt?”

  Again she was quiet save for the chewing. I sighed, starting to lose steam. I inched a little closer to the fire to warm my hands.

  “I was just hoping you could tell me because if you can call up any visions, maybe you could show me my friends or my family?” I kept talking even though I was sure she wasn’t listening. Talking was better than the quiet punctuated with her gross chewing. “I’m trying to figure out a way to let them know they can still reach out to me. Gwyn told me I could get out of here if I did it before I became part of the Slaugh. But he didn’t tell me how long or soon that might be.”

  “Everyone becomes part of the Slaugh,” she finally said, startling me with her closeness. She had finished her fish, discarded the bones somewhere, and walked around the caldron to sneak up on me.

  “Ugh!” I said, shaking out my hands as if I could shake off my fear.

  “Stupid human.” She shook her tiny head, making her stringy white hair waft back and forth.

  “Maybe,” I said as she started to walk away. “Maybe I am a stupid human, but Gwyn said there were ways for me to leave, and I’m damn well going to try.”

  “Meh,” she said, waving a hand as if to shoo me away. I got to my feet and followed her.

  “Look, I’m not asking for a lot here. If you could show me my friends –”

  “What for?” she sneered at me, squinting one eye. “You can’t reach thems through the water. Why should I be showing you nothing?”

  “I don’t…” Words failed me. I guess I had been hoping I could reach out to them through the water once the window was open. But it wasn’t a window; it would be like seeing them from the other side of the mirror. Much help that would be.

  “Meh, stupid girl,” she said again, shaking her head before she walked off and left me alone again. Maybe she was right; maybe I was a stupid girl. Gwyn said I could leave if I could find the edge of the Outlands. Maybe that was the best thing I could do. I certainly couldn’t reach out to Steven and Jodi to tell them to summon me; I could only hope they would think of it on their own. I thought about Steven asking Jodi to help him bring me back and how the thought had scared her. I would’ve been scared too; that was dark magic, blood magic, nothing we ever dealt in. And besides, Jodi was right. I wouldn’t have come back. No one ever survived a resurrection with a sound mind. I shuddered to think what I would’ve become if Steven had tried.

  But they could summon my spirit. I was cognizant, not some wandering, tortured ghost, wailing over my mistakes and losses in life. If they summoned me, we could talk. I could help them think of a plan, or at the very least I could tell them to find Iris and cash in her favor. But this was all moot. I couldn’t reach them, so dwelling on those thoughts right now was pointless. Right now I had to think of what I could do, and that was to find the edge of the Outlands. I had walked for miles in that forest without an end in sight; it wasn’t until I was with the Hunt that it had changed at all. Maybe I would walk for years and never find the end of this place. I had to figure out how to tap into the magic in this place.

  I would have to get Gwyn to help me even though he seemed completely disinclined to do so.

  “But he did tell me how to get out of here,” I mumbled to myself, glancing in the direction of the horses. “Sort of.” Really he only told me what would get me out of here, not how to make those things happen. “Stupid faerie tricks!” Even in death they could still trick me, damn it! All my years on Earth and I hadn’t learned a damn thing.

  I yawned then, and my eyes felt swollen as I stared into the fire. The exhaustion was finally getting to me. Reluctant to give up the warmth of the fire as I was, I didn’t trust anyone there enough to let myself sleep completely out in the open. I headed into the shadows of the hills just beyond the encampment until I found a small trench with overgrown grass to bed down in. With something to my back and the ability to blend into the ground, I felt just a little safer, at least safe enough to fall asleep. My last thoughts were of Gwyn and how I was going to play his little game to help me get out of there.

  Chapter 6

  A cacophony of noises woke me a few hours later, or at least I assumed it was a few hours later. The moon still had not moved in the sky, and there was still no sun in sight. I sat up in my little trench, feeling the prickling creases on my cheek from the grass, and looked around. They were breaking camp and preparing to leave. All of the campfires were extinguished, the tents and crude structures were broken down, and horses and hounds were being saddled.

  I hurried to my feet, slipping on the grass once or twice in my rush, and ran into the middle of the milling crowd. I knew none of them were disposed to helping me, but staying with the group gave me a little bit of safety. They had weapons and numbers. If any of the monstrous creatures came back, I wouldn’t have to fend them off all on my own, and they had given me food even though I hadn’t helped with the hunt. I had no idea how the magic of this place worked; they had found me in the forest and brought me to the hills, but I had no idea how. I couldn’t travel this place alone yet.

  “Excuse me,” I said, trying to stop a hobgoblin, but he just turned away, jumped on the back of one of the massive white hounds, and took off.

  “Can you tell me what’s going on?” I asked a little dwarf man, but he pretended not to hear me as well. “Oh, come on!” I stomped my foot as I yelled, but in the commotion, my noises were lost. I heard the echoing bark of a familiar dog and turned to see Balor gamboling around, snapping happily at the hooves of the milling horses.

  I ran to him before I could think about it, and when he saw me coming, his jaw opened in a goofy dog grin and he bounded toward me. He met me with a crash, his giant paws striking me on the shoulders and knocking me back. The breath was pushed
out of me when we landed. For a moment, I was terrified I had made a terrible mistake, but then Balor licked my face from chin to forehead, his whip-like tail wagging madly behind him.

  “Thanks,” I said sarcastically. I shoved him off of me before wiping my face with my sleeve.

  “Balor!” Gwyn’s booming voice rang out, making Balor’s head swing toward it automatically. “Balor, to me, ye damn dog!” Balor looked over his shoulder toward me and whined. At least I had one friend there.

  “It’s okay, boy,” I said, patting his back that was as high as my waist. “Take me to Gwyn.” His red ears perked up before he turned and pranced happily toward Gwyn, setting a pace I could manage to keep up with.

  “Balor!” Gwyn bellowed again. Balor whined again, wanting to dash away, but wanting just as much to stay with me and dodge through the crowd slowing me down. I petted him again, thanking him for not abandoning me, but as soon as the crowd parted and we could both see Gwyn clearly, he rushed off.

  Gwyn was adjusting his saddle, checking his saddlebags, and getting ready to depart when Balor rushed to his side. The hound circled him, jumping and snapping at his horse, but Gwyn did not look pleased.

  “Finally, blasted hound,” Gwyn cursed and reared back his hand, ready to let it fly at the dog.

  I rushed forward with my own hand raised to stop him. “Hey, it’s not his fault!” Balor hunched down around himself, his tail tucked between his legs and his red ears flattened against his head. When I got close, Balor turned and scuttled behind me.

  “Still here, are we?” Gwyn said in an unfriendly voice, dropping his hand.

  “Yes, still here, and there’s no need to hit Balor,” I said, feeling the heat of anger rush to my face.

  “He is to come when he is called,” Gwyn replied, tugging at the belt of his saddle roughly.

  “He was coming; he was just helping me, so it slowed him down.” Gwyn made a noise of contempt when I explained. Rather than reply, he just gripped the reins of his steed and swung up easily into the high saddle. Gwyn adjusted himself, making sure his feet were in the stirrups properly and that he was comfortable where he was, tugging on his gloves, flexing his fingers – doing everything possible besides looking down at me.