Spark(51)

“I said no.”
She glanced at the sky, then back to him, eyes flashing. “I’m coming back for you. Soon. You may be working for the queen, but my job is to return you to the mortal world. Whether you want to or not.”
“I choose not.”
A dark shadow swept over the clearing. Aran looked up to see a company of faerie folk mounted on black horses with fiery hooves riding across the sky. At their head rode the horned hunter, and before him dashed his flame-eyed hounds.
Spark let out a gasp and, clutching her arm against her body, sprinted for the faerie ring. As soon as she leaped into the center, Puck flung up his hands and chanted three syllables, high and chiming. Blue light flashed, and Spark was gone.
The sprite rounded on him. “Oh, foolish, foolish choice. She braved the realm for you—indeed, bears an injury because of it—and you turned her away.”
Guilt twinged through him. Had Spark really gotten hurt because of him?
“It’s not my fault she came in here.” The words rang hollow.
“It is.” Puck shook his head sadly. “Think well on that.”
An instant later the sprite disappeared, just as the horned hunter landed in the clearing.
The hounds circled, growling at Aran. Despite the panicked pumping of his heart, he didn’t move. He was under the queen’s protection. He clutched that thought as the master of the hunt rode toward him, antlered head silhouetted against the storm-tossed sky.
“Mortal,” the hunter said, in a voice that held the echo of doom. “You have lost your way.”
“Not really. More of a detour.”
The hunter slowly turned his head to regard the faerie ring. When he looked back at Aran, his eyes were lightless pools.
“We shall escort you back to the court,” he said, reaching out a hand gloved in thick leather.
Aran hesitated, and the hunter grabbed him, quick as a snake striking. An instant later, Aran was seated behind him on the huge black horse.
With a shrill whistle, the hunter pointed into the sky. The fey mount leaped, and Aran lurched forward, forced to take a handful of the hunter’s cloak to steady himself. It was way closer than he ever wanted to be to any of the fey folk.
A rank, feral odor surrounded him as the hounds flowed around the horses’ feet. From somewhere behind came the high keening of pipes. The wind ripped tears from the corners of his eyes. Aran glanced down to see the dark tops of the trees billowing beneath them like waves. Silver ponds blinked their still eyes as the hunt rode over, leaving shadows in their wake.
He held on, clenching his jaw as the Wild Hunt stormed across the sky like his worst nightmare made real.






 
    Nine by Night: A Multi-Author Urban Fantasy Bundle of Kickass Heroines, Adventure,   Magic
    
 


 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN


Spark fumbled, one-handed, at her gaming helmet, and managed to yank it off. Her wrist throbbed, and she knew she had to call Vonda and get it tended to right away. All she could do for the moment, though, was sit there, half in shock.
Aran was the mortal who had stumbled into the Dark Court. Aran! And not only that, he’d gone there on purpose.
Dammit—why hadn’t she nailed him to the wall and demanded more information?
Well, and what if she had? He’d been evasive with his answers. Did she really think he would have told the truth?
Even if he’d confessed, it wasn’t like she could have done anything, other than warn him.
Her wrist twinged. With a soft groan, she got out of the sim chair and stumbled to the hotel phone on the nightstand. It was beyond late, but she had to wake Vonda. Sinking onto the bed, she punched in her manager’s room number.
“Hello?” Vonda’s voice was groggy. “This better be an emergency.”
“It’s Spark. And yeah, you should probably call the med techs.”
“The hell?” Vonda sounded suddenly wide awake. “I’ll be right there.”
Spark unlocked the door, then sat on the bed, waiting. She felt wretched, inside and out. Her first assignment as a Feyguard, and so far she was failing miserably. How could she rescue Aran if he refused to leave the realm? But how could she let him remain there, in such danger?
As soon as she got her wrist fixed up, she had to talk to Jennet and figure out what to do next.
Vonda burst into the room and hurried over to the bed.
“No blood,” she said, after looking Spark over with a critical gaze. “What happened?”
“My wrist.” Spark held it out, then winced when Vonda touched her.
“Aw, damn. Can you wiggle your fingers?”
She tried, and this time was able to manage a little motion, though the pain that followed made her gasp.