Bedlam Boyz(49)

Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Kayla thought in shock, staring at the forest around her.





Chapter Ten


Kayla stood in a clearing, the damp dark leaves squishing beneath the soles of her sneakers, with a faint whispering wind through the trees the only sound around her. All she could see was the faint outline of dead, barren trees in all directions, dripping with slimy-looking ivy and covered with ugly molds. And nothing else. This forest, whatever and wherever it was, was more desolate than anywhere she'd ever seen before.

She leaned against a tree trunk, not wanting to look at the gnarled, wiry shapes of the trees, with long, sinuous tendrils coiling around the lifeless branches.

Maybe I should just sit down and cry, she thought. No, that won't help anything. I don't know where in the hell I am, but this sure isn't Los Angeles anymore.

I've read a lot of books, but none of them had any advice for what to do when some pointy-eared slimeball dumps you out in the middle of nowhere in the dark! This is probably his idea of a great joke.

Something was watching her. She turned quickly, only to hear the rustle of branches and the cry of some forlorn bird, flying away. For a moment it was silhouetted against the moonlight, then she was alone again.

Well, I can't stand here all night. Might as well pick a direction and start walking.

After a few minutes, she was convinced that she'd picked the wrong direction. But nothing here looked at all familiar, or even like any other forest she'd heard of, for that matter. Most forests had trees that looked like they were alive, at least! This forest looked like it had been dead for a long, long time. Dead and left to rot, she decided.

And there was something else about it, something she couldn't quite put her finger on—a feeling that more was wrong here than just rotting wood, a feeling of malevolence, as though the trees were dead but the forest was alive. As though there was something else here, hidden beneath the surface, watching her and laughing to itself.

And it doesn't like me very much.

She continued walking, just because there wasn't anything else she could do. She sure didn't want to sit down in the muck and wet leaves and stay here in this awful place.

The moon slid away again behind the dark clouds, and then she had to stop, just because there was no way to see where she was going in the pitch darkness.

As she waited for the moon to reappear, she heard a whisper of sound, something so faint she wasn't certain what it could be.

I wish I could've spent some time in Girl Scouts instead of in detention at school, she thought. They could've taught me to make fire out of nothing but sticks and my shoelaces, probably. As it is, I don't know what I can do. There's nothing here.

This has to be a dream. I'll wake up and find myself somewhere else, anywhere else. Even Roberta's apartment would be better than this!

I just don't understand. Why did Shari and Nataniel do this to me? What kind of game are they playing?

She heard the sound again, closer and more distinct, and with a chill touch of fear, knew what it was: the howling of wolves. She didn't know whether they could hear or smell her, all she knew was that she didn't want to be there when they arrived.

She picked a direction and started to run.



"The Hounds have scented prey," the Master of the Hunt said to Lady Catt, as he cantered easily on his horse. His eyes narrowed as he looked around the moonlit forest.

"Have they now?" she replied in an uninterested tone. She turned away from him, ignoring the way his eyes flashed angrily within his horned helmet. His face was hidden by the helmet's dark mask, the way his leather and armor-garbed body was hidden by his cloak, but she could sense his anger. And she didn't care.

There was nothing for them here. They had long since exhausted any interesting prey for the Wild Hunt, and even the Master of the Hunt admitted it. And there would not be any more prey, ever again. Unseelie sorcery had stripped this forest of its native magic, killing the trees and every other living thing that needed some touch of magic to survive, and Unseelie hunters had destroyed the last of the animals. They had drained this land so much that their own sorceries were limited by it; only the Queen, of the entire Unseelie Court, could still work her wreakings with the Greater Magic. As for Catt, she could not even work enough magic to conjure up the lovely clothes that she had once worn to these Hunts or change magically between those silken gowns into the heavy silver armor that she now wore.

But one of the ravens had said it had sighted something, perhaps a Seelie elf. A Seelie lord would be good sport. More than one would be a true battle, something none of them had seen in a long time. The mere thought of it had been enough to rouse the lethargic Unseelie from their Court, make them put on armor and swords dusty from disuse, and send them out on Hunt.