Hart and Hunter

Chapter 38

Ch. 38: Dane

I pull the clinging fungal strands away from Ingrid's face and neck, check for a pulse, and exhale with relief when I feel a slow but steady beat drumming against my fingertips.

"She alright?" Freya asks, masking her anxiety for our sister with a casual tone.

"Cold and unconscious, but alive," I confirm. "Danni?"

Freya presses a hand to Danni's neck. "Same. The shit must have some kind of sedative property. I bet it keeps the skin-changer's victims alive while they take their time draining 'em."

"We can speculate later. Let's get them awake and get the hell out of here first."

Freya gets back to work without answering. I half listen as Julian and Rhiannon pull Halloran away from the wall and attempt to wake him. A strong odor assaults my nostrils, and I turn to see Rhiannon crushing something beneath Halloran's nose. Whatever it is, it works, and he bolts awake, coughing violently.

I'm about to ask Rhiannon for some of whatever she used on him when Ingrid stirs and moans feebly.

"Dane?"

"Yeah, baby sis. We're getting out of here. Just hold tight."

"Ugh... I feel sick. My head hurts."

Gingerly, I probe the back of her head with my fingers.

"No obvious injuries," I say. "Probably just a side effect of whatever shit they drugged you with. You'll be okay, just as soon as—"

An alarmed hiss interrupts me, and I twist just in time to see Julian blend with the eerily glowing wall. On the opposite side of the cavern, flickering shadows, the shuffle of footsteps, and the low hum of voices give me only seconds' warning before a troop of armed fae enters the chamber.

There are seven of them, armed with bows and spears. The one in the lead is tall and pale, with long dark hair worn in a plaited braid. He resembles Halloran enough that I assume he must be Darragh. There's no sign of Erickson, and I hope that means he got away and hasn't joined the corpses in the passageway.

As the fae flank us and raise their weapons, Freya and I share a quick glance. Bows and spears may not be the most sophisticated armaments, but in the hands of fae they're deadly enough. We're outnumbered, and with Danni, Ingrid, Halloran, and the children still incapacitated, we can't risk any rash moves.

We raise our hands in surrender.

Darragh smiles as he approaches, his thin lips spreading in a handsome, though sharply cruel grin while his lapis-hued eyes reflect the faint gleam of the fungus.

"Well, well—what a strange reunion this is! And still keeping strange company, dear sister," he says, glancing at me and Freya. "You always had such charmingly... eclectic tastes."

Rhiannon glares at him mutely while Halloran struggles to raise himself on his elbows, still tangled in the fungal webbing from the waist down.

"Darragh, you son of a bitch," he rasps. "I should have known you were behind this."

Darragh crosses the cavernous space, his steps echoing lightly around the shadowed chamber, and comes to stand before his twin siblings. The other fae move into position without being told, like the highly trained warriors they are. Two guard the passageway with ready bows, two cover Freya and me with wickedly long-tipped spears, and two flank Darragh.

"I suppose you should have," Darragh says. "But you always were a little dense, brother."

"This again?" Halloran scoffs. "I thought we had settled our differences."