Betrayals (Cainsville Book 4) (29 page)

“That’s the only reason she’d go to that neighborhood. For them. Her family … My family …”

“They’re samhail,” I said. “We know.”

“My family broke away from the pact. They didn’t see the point in it. The Hallorans kept some contact with fae, and they’d help for adequate compensation. Fae don’t have the power they once did. We’ve learned so much as humans that petty fae magics and healing are all but useless. At least, that’s what my family believed. To the Madoles, though, it was an ancient obligation, and they still wanted to help.”

“By setting up a drop-in center for the lamiae.”

He nodded. “That was their mother’s mission. Then Aunika’s. But Lucy … Lucy wanted more. She couldn’t break away completely, though. She still cared. That was the part I hated. If the
lamiae needed her, she went, any time of the day or night. I said they didn’t appreciate it. They treated her help like it was their due, resented her for not giving as much as Aunika did. Ungrateful little—” He bit the word off, his voice snapping with old anger.

“So Lucy went to help the lamiae and she was killed, and you blamed them.”

“I was crazy with grief, so when he said that the lamiae actually
killed
her …”

“What?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “I was out of my mind, and I hated—
hated
—them so much. He said the lamiae murdered Lucy, that they summoned her there, pretending they were hurt, and then demanded money, claiming she owed them for abandoning her duty. When she threatened to tell Aunika, they killed her. The Huntsman couldn’t touch the lamiae because Lucy isn’t fae, so he came to me. He said that if I killed four lamiae, I’d get Lucy back, just like your parents got you back.”

“And that was the same Huntsman who was holding you captive?”

“He wasn’t holding—Not at first …” Ciro ran his hands through his hair. “I failed. God, I failed, and now I won’t get her back—”

“I never died,” I said.

“The Cŵn Annwn can’t resurrect the dead,” Ricky said.

“How do you know that?” Ciro said, meeting Ricky’s gaze with a look that was belligerence and fear and hope, because he still wanted to think it was possible, that he could somehow get Lucy back, but he also wanted to believe it
wasn’t
possible, that he hadn’t lost an honest chance.

“How do you know?” he repeated.

Ricky
met his gaze and said, “I just do.”

“Whatever that Huntsman told you?” I said. “He’s full of shit.”

“I …” Ciro swallowed. “I suspected that. After the—” He closed his eyes again and rocked on his heels. “After what I did. After I stopped being so angry. After I had a long talk with Ani.”

“Aunika?” I said, trying to keep the worry out of my voice. “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing. I mean, I said I thought the lamiae called Lucy out that night. We talked, and I started to think I’d made a mistake. So I told the Huntsman I thought
he’d
made a mistake. He said that was fine, I could stop. Next thing I know, the Cŵn Annwn were after me, and I needed to get to safety.”

“The Cŵn Annwn were after you? You saw them?”

“It’s mostly what I heard. Hooves. A hound baying. I caught a glimpse of it, but only a glimpse.”

“It,”
I said. “You saw one hound. Heard what could have been
one
set of hoofbeats.”

“I guess so.”

That’s what I’d seen in my vision. Like Ciro, I’d presumed it’d been the whole pack of Cŵn Annwn. But it’d only been one hound and one rider. The rogue Huntsman and the wounded
cŵn
.

“Then the Huntsman offered you sanctuary here. To escape the Hunt.”

“Right. Then I overheard him on the phone after he thought I fell asleep. He was talking to some guy he’d sent after Aunika. Apparently, someone had been hurt. When I heard that, I freaked out, and he said Ani was fine, just fine, and I’d misunderstood and he’d been saying someone
else
went after her, and his friends were trying to stop it. But I knew then it was a lie, that Ani was right and the lamiae would never have hurt Lucy. I didn’t dare
accuse him of lying, so I’ve been trying to sneak out, but the hound …” He looked around quickly. “Where’s the hound?”

“Close by,” Ricky said. “It’s mine now. Answer our questions and you’ll be fine. But you really don’t want to run.”

As if on cue, a hound bayed, loud enough that Ciro wasn’t the only one jumping. I spun, and then realized it wasn’t Ricky’s hound.

“The Cŵn Annwn,” Ricky said. “They must be stuck outside the forest. Like the ravens.”

“Wh-what?” Ciro said. “You said the
real
…?”

“Did that guy honestly seem like Cŵn Annwn to you?” I said. “I know you said your family doesn’t follow the old ways, but I think you’d at least know your fae lore. They hunt in packs, right?” I waved at the baying.
“That
is a pack. What you dealt with was a rogue Cŵn Annwn.”

“No, that
thing
is an abomination,” Ricky said. “He told this guy to
murder
fae—”

“That’s why they’re here, isn’t it?” Ciro said, still turned toward the sound. “The real Huntsmen. I killed fae. I’m theirs now.”

“We’ll handle this,” Ricky said. “You—”

“Handle it how?” Ciro said. “I
murdered
fae. Killed them horribly, and for what?” His voice rose. “Lucy’s not coming back. She’s
never
coming back.”

“We’ll speak to the Cŵn—” I began.

“You can’t reason with the Hunt. I have no excuse.”

“Just calm down and we’ll call them.” I took out my cell.

Ciro started to laugh, his voice rising hysterically. “Call them? On your cell phone. Of course. Because you have their number. The cell phone number of the Cŵn Annwn.”

“Calm down,” Ricky said. “They’re not going to—”

A growl cut him off. We turned to see the hound—the broken
cŵn—on the edge of the clearing, its gaze fixed on Ciro. When I looked over, the forest tilted for a moment, and I was in a ruined building, watching Ciro crouched over the body of a lamia. Watching him dip his hands into her blood. Watching her, dead eyes wide with terror, her glow fading as her spirit passed. Seeing that, I felt the hound’s rage, one that echoed what Ciro had said—that there was no excuse, that he had murdered those fae girls and he should pay.

“No.”

The word came quietly, calmly, but it jolted me out of the vision, and I saw Ricky, his gaze on the hound as he said, “Not this one.”

The growl died in the hound’s throat as it raised its gaze to him, ears drooping, head bowing in submission.

Ricky walked over and rubbed behind the hound’s ruined ear, murmuring, “None of that,” and it slowly, carefully, straightened, its gaze on him, waiting for a raised hand or other sign that it had misinterpreted. Finally, it pulled itself up straight, submission evaporating, and it watched Ciro, its gaze saying he still deserved death, but it would wait. For now, it would wait.

I turned to Ciro. “Okay, we’re going to get you out of here. We’ll—”

“No,” he said, looking toward the baying hounds. He drew himself up straight and waved toward the unseen Hunt. “Isn’t that what I deserve?”

“Just—”

“Lucy’s gone. She’s not coming back.” He looked at the hound. “And you can take me to her, can’t you?”

Ciro flew at Ricky. The hound crouched for attack, but Ricky said, “No!” and dodged Ciro’s clumsy charge, grabbing him by the jacket as the hound stood there, hackles raised, snarling.

“Yeah, sorry,” Ricky said. “That’s not going to work.”

Ciro threw himself in the other direction, breaking Ricky’s hold. He ran. And the hound went after him.

Ricky shouted, “No!” and lunged, but they were already out of his reach. Out of his reach and running my way.

Ciro veered at the last moment, and I caught one glimpse of his face, horror mixed with resolve. He tore past, and I went after him, and I could hear the hound on my heels and the pound of Ricky’s boots as he shouted, “No! Damn it, no!” and then “Liv! Get out of the—”

The hound leapt. I felt it knock me aside, and heard the click of its fangs and I thought for one second those fangs were for me, that it was too consumed with its mission to realize it had the wrong person and I was going to—

Ciro screamed. My arms went up to ward off the hound, but it was already past me, taking down Ciro, who screamed again just as I heard another shout, a deep boom from the forest.

“Olivia!”

I threw myself on the beast, saying, “No!” even as Ricky shouted for the hound to stop, get the fuck off Ciro, don’t you dare—

The hound’s head slashed down. That’s all I saw. That massive head go down. And then blood. Blood arcing everywhere. Blood spurting, the smell of it, the taste of it as it hit my open mouth. Someone hit my side. Tackled me, pushing me off the hound, arms pulling me up, fingers going to my face, swiping away the blood, a panicked voice saying my name. I looked up into pale blue eyes, clouded with worry.

“Is she hurt?” Ricky skidded up beside us, and Gabriel shot him a look.

“Not mine,” I managed to say, the shock still thick. “Blood. Not mine. It’s—Ciro!”

I scrambled up, pushing Gabriel aside. Or trying to, because he grabbed me back and let Ricky race past to the hound.

“Goddamn it!” Ricky said. “God-fucking-damn it!” and I knew Ciro was dead. Of course he was dead. That was the hound’s job, and when Ciro bolted, nothing could hold it back. Ricky still cursed, and I knew he was cursing himself, his failure, but the hound whined and backed off Ciro’s body, head lowered.

Ricky reached for the hound, and it tried to duck again, to avoid a blow, but Ricky only rubbed it behind the ears, murmuring, “It’s okay. Just … damn it.”

“Sit,” Gabriel said to me.

I lowered myself to the ground, and he surveyed my blood-covered face. Then he pulled out his shirttail and started to rip the cloth and Ricky said, “No, here,” and tugged at his shirt, but Gabriel said, “I’ve got this,” and gave him another of those hard looks. Ricky ducked it, not unlike the hound, murmuring, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” I said. “Whatever happened out here, it was both of us.”

Gabriel said, “I know,” and the look he turned on me was softer, but I still saw the reproach there, that edge that said we’d done something reckless and foolhardy. Worse, we’d done it without him there to help.

Gabriel tore a strip from his shirt and used it to clean my face. I glanced over at Ciro, lying on the ground, his throat torn out, and I felt … I didn’t know what I felt. Well, yes, I did. I just didn’t like it.

“He killed them,” I said as Gabriel cleaned my face. “The lamiae. He was told they murdered Lucy and that killing them would bring her back.” Another glance Ciro’s way. “Whatever the excuse, he still murdered them.”

“I know,” he murmured. “He had a choice.”

I nodded. When he worked at a spot on my temple, I leaned against his hand, just briefly, and he rubbed his thumb across my cheek instead, the touch equally brief, but equally meaningful.

“Like Pamela,” Ricky said, his voice low, as if not wanting to interrupt.

I glanced to see him crouched beside the hound, one hand on it, his gaze on me, and I nodded, because that’s exactly what had been swirling through my brain since Ciro first told us of the deal he’d made with the Huntsman. Ricky understood that. I’ve had people in my life whom I felt a deep bond with, but it was never like this. I look at these men, and I feel that connection, the sense that they get me in a way I’d always presumed no one could.

“Like Pamela,” I murmured, as Gabriel’s critical eye declared my face clean of blood spray and I started to rise. “Which raises a hundred questions, all of which Ciro’s not going to be able to answer.”

“I don’t think he ever could,” Ricky said. “He was just another human pawn in a fae game.”

“We need to figure out this rogue Huntsman’s particular game. I’m guessing he killed Lucy and set it all in motion. The question is why. But first: we have a dead body.”

“I believe they can take care of that,” Gabriel said, and before I could ask, I caught the thunder of horses. The hound heard it too and leapt up, quivering in anticipation. Then it went still and gave a convulsing shudder and turned sharply, ready to flee.

Ricky caught it, his hands wrapping in its fur as he said, “Uh-uh.” Then he turned to me. “Can you guys …?”

“Head them off before they scare the hound away?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

G
abriel
and I caught up with Ioan and his Cŵn Annwn. They weren’t in actual Hunt mode—just regular guys in jeans, boots, and jackets, astride horses. Not unlike the Saints, really. All they needed were patches on their jackets.

They’d managed to breach the forest, which was the best proof that the rogue Huntsman was gone, his power fading as he fled and his hound shifted allegiance to a new master.

Ioan acknowledged Gabriel’s presence with a nod, curt but not rude, and I said that everything was under control. Then I asked if he’d walk with me, leaving the horses and the others behind.

“We have the hound,” I said. “But if you go tearing over there, we won’t have it for long. It’s already spooked.”

Ioan was off his horse without a word. I explained what had happened as we walked. When I finished, Ioan said, “You’re right. We cannot bring back the dead, nor could we facilitate such a deal with any power that could. To resurrect the
immediately
dead, within moments of their passing? Perhaps, if death came from something reversible, such as heart failure. But to return someone who has been in her grave for months? It speaks to his grief that he even believed such a thing was possible.”

“People will believe anything when they’re in pain.”

He dipped his chin. “And this impostor took advantage of that. I will not even call him Cŵn Annwn.”

“That’s what Ricky said, too.”

Ioan smiled. “Of course he did. Our ways have always been there, in his head and in his heart, and he can pull on that as easily as he can recall the alphabet. Proof he is not another imitation of Arawn.”

He looked at Gabriel as if to make a point.
Ricky
was the real deal.