Huntsman's Prey (12 page)

“Why are you doing this?” he finally asked when the curiosity grew too strong.

She didn’t break stride as she said, “I don’t honestly know. You’ve given me no end of headaches, and yet, you intrigue me human male.”

He barked a laugh. “I give you a headache? That is funny.”

Her brows dipped. “And what is so funny about that?”

“Only that I was thinking the same thing. This is not your quest, you did not have to come back and rescue me, you were free of the creature’s trap, now you’re stuck on this bridge with me going down to only the gods know where. You are neither a cat nor a woman; you speak of things like guardians of the woods and yet seemed as stunned as I am by all the twists and turns we find ourselves in. Who are you really?”

She cocked her head. “That is a very good question, and one I’ve never quite had an answer for. Am I spirit? Mortal? Immortal? Feline? Woman? Both? None? Was I even born?”

He stopped. “Born? Of course you were born, everyone’s—”

She sighed. “Maybe, maybe not. All I remember is one day I opened my eyes and there I was.”

“When was your first day?”

She shrugged. “Months. Years. Centuries ago. If I think back I can remember everything and nothing. I remember how the trees used to once look normal. They weren’t aggressive or sentient. They were just trees. Then one day, they weren’t just trees. They were wild and untamed. The monsters became bigger, the plants meaner.” She shrugged. “And it all just seemed to happen so subtly that I didn’t know what was going on until one day I stopped and looked and realized it was all different.”

That was interesting.

“Then tell me something you do remember.”

Her tail flicked at a pine branch. “That my most favorite thing in the world is watching when the stars die.”

“Strange answer.”

Her smile was a mile-wide. “Did you expect anything different?”

Snorting, he shook his head. “I think I’m beginning to understand you, creature.”

“Good or bad?” Teasing laughter glinted in the depths of her inky eyes.

“Not sure yet.”

His stomach choose that moment to growl. He’d not had a chance to eat this morning, and now with his pack gone, the odds of eating soon grew more slim.

She trotted ahead of him a ways, before stopping roughly twenty yards up. “Here is a licorice bush. If you’re hungry.”

It was obvious she knew he was, but he shook his head. “I’m not a fan of licorice.”

“Well then you’re in luck, because it’s not really licorice at all. It’s a doppleganger bush.”

Yet again something he had no idea what it was. “And that is?” he asked once he neared her.

“Anything you want it to be. The bush assumes a form that will keep it safe from predators. Licorice is most reviled in Wonderland, the only one I ever see actively farming it is Alice, and even she wears gloves and a mask when she does it.”

He peered at the long sticks of black rubbery tubes. It looked and smelled just like licorice to him. He curled his nose. “And how can you tell it’s not actually licorice?”

“Because I’m very suited to seeing black. My eyes you see.” She blinked. “Black isn’t just black to me, there are so many different variations of it. Smoky, light, inky, shadowy, brilliant… I can see all variants of it. But when I stare at this,” she turned her furry head and playfully flicked it with her paw, “it is the red berry of the doppleganger. It is rather exceptional camouflage when you think about it, there are few beings such as myself.”

Then a rumbling purr tore from her throat and she rubbed her face against the stick with a look of lustful delight.

“Does it not smell to you?” he asked.

“Once you see through its deception it becomes whatever you want it to be.”

“Let me guess, cat nip?”

She chortled. “I told you, man, I’m no cat. No, this is grilled steak.” She then proceeded to take a big bite of the stick, swallowing it in less than three semi-chews.

Lissa peered at him. “Won’t you eat too?”

“No.” He backed away from the bush because the noxious, sickly sweet odor of licorice was being replaced by the yeasty whiff of buttery sweet bread. “No eating in Wonderland. I’ll wait.”

She sighed. “Afraid you’ll be poisoned, Hunter?”

“Something like that. Come on, let’s go. I’d rather be off this bridge before nightfall.”

“Whatever you say, killer.”

He definitely detected a note of sarcasm in her words, but didn’t get a chance to ask why, before she was off and trotting again. Keeping well ahead of him so as to make natural conversation impossible.

The silence between them was absolute for the next hour. The sun’s rays cast shadows upon the forest floor that grew longer and wider as the day pressed on.

Aeric slapped at his neck as a swarm of sweat gnats engulfed his face and neck. The buzzing shiver made his skin wet with sweat. But he couldn’t help his grin when the rolling ball of black bugs bounced against the fiery bridge, incinerating it on contact.

It was odd, the fire harmed neither them nor the forest itself, but anything else was fair game. Twice he’d spied regular forest rabbits pause and sniff with their noses up in the air before immediately hopping rapidly away.

A dangling spider had also just managed to avoid the ravenous blue flame when it spun free of its web to ensnare a passing flutterby.

He paused, aware of a noise growing off in the distance. It was low at first. Just a vibrating hum of random noise. But the more he walked, the louder the buzzing grew.

Until finally it poured from the sky like the roll of thunder. Clamping his hands to his ears, he looked at Lissa.

She nodded and mouthed, “We’re here.”

Siria sat on her rose pink duvet by the roaring crackling flame of a midnight fire. She hated the night. With everything in her. At one time, she’d loved it. Him.

Adored all that the night implied.

Secret trysts, forbidden lust, danger…

At one time it’d made her heart speed. But not now, not since the night of Jericho’s betrayal. Oh, she could be a typical woman and blame the hardening of his heart solely on Calanthe, but she refused to live her life as a fool. She and Jericho had been having problems for a while, she’d known it, she’d seen it. However, unlike him, she’d always held out hope that they could fix things.

Calanthe had never been anything but a thorn in Siria’s flesh, Jericho had held the key to Siria’s heart. His perfidy had changed her in ways even she’d not known herself capable of.

Swallowing the final sip of claret wine from the crystal goblet in her hand, she set it gingerly down on the gilded Louis the XIV table and sighed. The flames warmed her flesh, made it tingle and spark. Siria was a daughter of the sun, so it was ironic that she’d crafted a curse based on the power of the moon.

Smiling, she recalled the night. The whisper of moonlight across the babe’s brow. Clutching her heart, she straightened her chin. The curse had come at great cost to her though. Dark magic always came at a cost.

Marking young Chrysa’s soul had had nothing to do with desiring to break apart Jericho and Calanthe, that ship had sailed. So far as she was concerned, the two of them no longer mattered.

And as she gazed into the blood orange flame she allowed her heart for once to come out of its icy shell.

Here she sat, in a floating castle in the sky. Destined for all eternity to share her space with a male who did not love her, the only male she’d ever allowed herself to love. The only male who’d touched her, not only spiritually, but physically.

In all of Kingdom he was her only capable mate. The sun scorched all it touched. But not Jericho, her fire couldn’t burn him to a cinder; her fire could only love him as she had. Maybe even sometimes still did.

A crystalized tear slipped from the corner of her eye, sliding slowly down the length of her face.

No, the fact was, Siria had nothing to live for anymore. No one cared for her. What’d first started out as petty jealousy, was now… maybe a little bit more. The sliver of soul she now shared with Chrysalis was happy. Content.

Chrysalis, while as mad as her father, was also deeply loyal. Not that Siria trusted her fully. Her flesh tingled, rippled as she sensed Chrysa’s nearness to the moon pool.

It was the only time Siria could actually ‘see’ the girl. Her soul could feel Chrysa’s moods, and even at times ‘hear’ her thoughts. Depending on how powerful the emotion was behind it.

But Siria relished the moments she got to interact with the girl, in some ways Chrysalis was her only true friend anymore.

Reaching over her lap, she drew the scrying mirror into her hands and immediately the smooth, glassy surface began to waver. It was easier meeting Chrysa in a state that the girl accepted, which was why she always slightly modified herself to appear as the girl’s reflection except of course with blond hair, nothing she could do to hide the sun shining through her.

In truth the two of them looked fairly similar. Perhaps it was because Siria had shared that sliver of herself with the girl at birth. She wasn’t exactly sure of all the ramifications of the curse Rumpel had given her, but it didn’t matter either, so long as her end goal was met.

“What?” Siria demanded in that firm tone she often used with Chrysa. Not because she hated the girl, quite the contrary, but rather because if she didn’t take such a firm tone, the girl was wont to lose herself in the muckity muck of her own mind.

Chrysa blinked huge electric eyes back at her.

“I…I…don’t know…” She shook her head as if confused.

Taking sympathy on the poor girl, Siria waved her confusion away. “The man, what of him, what have you learned?”

It was difficult for Siria to solely rely on Chrysa for updates, during the day she could see all of what happened below, but at night the land was blocked from her sight. The sun and moon could not inhabit the same places.

Problem was, because the curse had been crafted from the moon, Chrysa was strongest only during the night. During the day she slept. Almost constantly, drained to the point of exhaustion.

Which wouldn’t be so bad, but for whatever reason, whenever Chrysa closed her eyes, Siria could not see her. She couldn’t understand, sharing souls as they did, she’d have expected to be privy to all of Chrysalis’ thoughts and deeds. But apparently there were limitations even to Rumpel’s powerful spell.

She gulped and seemed to take command of her emotions once again. “He travels with,
Lissa
,” the way the girl said that name, there was an obvious hint of contempt, “the self-appointed guardian of
my father’s
woods.”

“Ugh,” Siria rolled her eyes. Something about that shifting cat had always bothered her, mainly because it seemed like wherever Chrysalis went; the cat was never far behind. She’d not yet had the privilege of meeting the cat, but the tracks were always fresh and always there. Siria wasn’t sure how, but the shifter knew something about them. She had to. But what exactly? That was the real question.

And the fact that the cat now traveled with the man hell bent on their destruction, Siria, didn’t like this at all.

“I do not like her,” Siria mused.

“You do not know her,” Chrysalis shook her head. “Nor do I. She might just be a cat with a cat’s curiosity.”

Narrowing her eyes, she leaned closer into the mirror. “I don’t think you really believe that.”

Inhaling deeply, Chrysa tucked a black curl behind her ear. The moon’s marking on her cheek glowed brightly tonight. But tomorrow, when the moon was at it’s fullest, would her powers be at their strongest. She had scratches all over her face, and the bloody wound the Huntsman had inflected on her abdomen, was now obviously healed but crusted over with dried blood. Chrysalis really should bathe more.

Her eyes were bloodshot and the skin beneath them an awful purple blue.

She needed to feed to keep up her strength.

“No, I don’t. I…I think maybe Lissa knows something about us.” She squeezed her eyes, grabbed her temples and shook her head. “I don’t know, I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong.”

“Or maybe you’re not, and maybe, just maybe…” Siria looked at her sternly “what we need to do is take care of this problem now.”

Siria was sure she hadn’t just imagined the tick under Chrysa’s right eye.

“Kill her?”

Chrysa’s eyes began to stray, going here, there, and every which way. Part of what she did when slipping and sliding into her psychosis. Shoving her hand through the mirror, Siria latched onto the girl’s chin and gave it a punishing grip with her nails.

“Look at me!” she snapped.

Nostrils flaring, the whites of her eyes bright and panicked, Chrysa reminded Siria of a wounded animal in that moment.

“Get a grip on yourself. What other option do you think we have? Hmm? I’ve warned you for years that that cat was getting too close, and now she’s paired up with that man. Nothing good can come of this. You know it, as well as I.”

Nibbling on the corner of her lip, Chrysalis said nothing for a while. In fact, she didn’t even seem to be fazed by the nails gouging into her skin. But finally, after several tense seconds of heavy breathing, she nodded.