Hart and Hunter

Chapter 9

Ch. 9: Julian

A little after three o'clock, I park some ways up the street from Lagrange's shop, giving myself time to think.

Usually, the area would be swarming with tourists, but today it's almost deserted. Most of the businesses are closed for the day out of respect for Lagrange, and there are only a few other cars besides my own. Halloran stands near one of these, leaning against the hood of a small dark sedan with his arms crossed. He glances up and down the sidewalk and checks his watch, clearly waiting for me.

As I observe him, I ask myself for the hundredth if this is a good idea. My gut tells me it's not, and that my lies of omission have hefty price tags attached; but a stubborn—and currently dominant—part of my mind doesn't care.

I've been to Faerie—the Fae realm—only once. From my perspective, mere days had passed, and having been unconscious for most of it, I don't remember much. For Dane, six months went by between the moment I disappeared through the gateway at the standing stones, injured and near death, and the moment I reappeared, whole and healed once more.

My absence had scarred him, in a way. He'd spent half a year not knowing if I was alive or dead, or how long he'd have to wait to find out. He'd been prepared to wait for the rest of his life, sustained by nothing but hope.

In the months after my return, he'd barely let me out of his sight. Something like this—letting me investigate on my own, especially after what happened with the rune—is a sign of healing and trust.

Trust I've already betrayed by failing to tell him everything.

And yet I can't deny how deeply curious I am, or how strong my desire is to learn more about my father's people, and by extension, myself: curiosity and desire awakened by this case, and by Rian Halloran, who may hold the key to more mysteries than one.

Popping the door of my car, I get out. It falls shut with a solid thunk, and Halloran turns and spots me. He waves, and I find myself staring again.

From his height to his proportions and the fit of his clothes; from his black hair and flashing blue eyes, to his flawless skin and bright smile, his perfection is almost uncanny—like an image so overly idealized it becomes oddly unsettling.

It makes me wonder if that's what people see when they look at me, and why Dane and I seemed to see different things when we look at Halloran.

Shaking free of my tangled thoughts, I cross the road and join him in front of Lagrange's shop.

"Julian; you came after all."

"Rian," I reply, as it seems we're on first names now.

"You're alone?" He lifts a perfectly arched brow.

I hesitate as the question summons a fresh unease. He sees it and smiles disarmingly.

"You have questions," he says. "Ask away; then you can decide if you'd like to proceed or not."

I consider, and decide to start with the basics, as Dane would.

"Is Rian Halloran really your name?"

He smiles. "It is, indeed—as far as this world is concerned."

"Are you really a police officer from Ireland?"

"More or less. My paperwork's in order, and I carry out my duties as assigned. But I have another set of duties as well. The human authorities are ill-equipped to handle the sort of criminals I pursue; your Wolf and I have that much in common."

"Then why not bring Dane in on this, too?"

He lifts one shoulder in an elegant shrug. "Policy. I've got to keep those who know of me to an absolute minimum. I'm only bringing you in because you saw right through my glamour, and there was little point denying it. From what I've heard, you've got a keen sense of second sight, so I suppose it shouldn't surprise me. That's another reason I invited you: you've got exactly the skill I need."