City of Angels and Darkness - A Mortal Instruments Fan-Fiction

Chapter 13

He pointed his finger on one of the figures on the picture; a tall, thin man with wild eyes and an unrelenting look on his face; his mismatched eyes piercing - even on the paper. Again, Amelia felt the cold rushing through her body.

Ty let his slender finger rest on the picture. "This is Gwyn ap Nudd - the leader of the Hunt."

Everyone's eyes were fixed on the picture. Ty looked at the others and said, "He is the only one who is able to give Mark back to us. He is the one who has to give his permission."

Grayson frowned. "Don't get me wrong, Ty - but in how far does that help us?"

"I was not ready, Grayson!" Ty's voice was a mixture of annoyance and eagerness. "So, Gwyn is the one we would have to negotiate with."

"Negotiate? With the Hunt?" Emma snorted impatiently. "And how do we manage that? It's not like we can send them a letter and let them know that there is something we need to discuss about."

"I'm not saying that," Ty countered, letting the book drop to the table. "I know we cannot go the Hunt just like that. But there might be someone who can arrange a meeting with Gwyn."

"And who would that be?" Jules asked quietly and Ty grimaced. "I don't think you're going to like the answer ..."

- The Faerie -

Mark was standing besides one of the mighty trees, close to a small clearing in the wood. The sunlight had made its way through the thick roof of leaves above him, painting sparkling patterns on the grass-covered ground. The wood was like a painting, almost drowning in shades of green, yellow and brown. The air was still a little bit cold, since it was still early in the morning, and the grass was covered with tiny drops of water, left over by the mist that had been creeping through the trees at night. Mark felt comfortable here, it was calm and peaceful and made him almost forget, where he really was. When he closed his eyes, he could hear the sound of the nature, the cracking of the trees and the whispers of the wind.

"What are you waiting for, Mark? We're not here to meditate. Shoot!"

Kieran's voice was just a soft whisper. Mark had almost forgotten that the other hunter was around. He opened his eyes and turned his head. Kieran was standing beside him, his own bow strapped onto his bag, his gaze fixed on the deer in front of him. Kieran looked like a hunter, tensed, focused and relaxed at the same time. As if he was able to sense Mark's gaze, Kieran turned his head and their eyes met. There was something in his gaze that made Mark shiver. Something wild, promising and tempting, he just did not understand. Quickly he cleared his throat and whispered, "It's too far. My arrow won't reach it."

Kieran smiled. "Have faith in your abilities, Mark. You are strong enough. Try."

Mark turned his head to the deer, raised his bow and took a deep breath. With all his strength, he pulled the bowstring and tried to focus on his prey. But no matter how hard he was trying; his arms could not stand the tension. His hands began to shake; there was no way he would be able to shoot the deer. Just when he was about to drop the bow, he felt Kieran's hands on his arms. Without Mark having noticed it, Kieran had moved closer, so that he now was standing behind him.

For a split second, Mark did not know what to do. He had never been so close to another man before, except for his father and brothers of course, and the lack of distance between their two bodies made him feel uncomfortable in some way. He thought about taking a step forward to bring some space between them, but something made him stay where he was.

"Relax your bow arm. You try too hard, Mark." Kieran's voice was barely audible, a soft whisper close to Mark's ear. Mark could feel Kieran's breath on his neck, soft and warm, and his hands on his skin, holding his wrists, carefully stabilizing his arms. Kieran's touch felt soothing, comforting and somehow alluring.