Page 31 of Teeth To Rip & Tear

I remained silent, watching as grief flashed over his scarred face. “We lived in Kansas. A small little pack, a few families.” He shrugged, his gaze fixed on his hands. “The Huntsman had to replace a wolf. He has to have a hundred in his retinue. Fuck knows why. Maybe it’s something to do with the gods. Maybe it’s just OCD. The Huntsman came for a wolf, and we all lined up like a firing squad, ready to meet our doom. He picked Milo, and off he went.”

“What happened next?”

The muscle in his face jerked. “Milo wasn’t a good fighter. He hated violence. He cried at scary movies. Hell, he cried when watching the news for Pete’s sake.” Mitchell’s nose wrinkled. “Milo needed me. I didn’t know why the Huntsman chose him and not me. I’d been training since I could walk. Swordsmanship. Martial arts. Boxing. I was the jock, and Milo dressed as Doctor Who on Halloween. One of the obscure ones with a scarf no one knew the name of.”

“Tom Baker?” My nose wrinkled.

Mitchell chuckled, shaking his head. “You would have got on. Kaleb told me about the hamsters. He used to collect things like that, too. Figurines from Japanese cartoons.”

“Anime.” I supplied.

Mitchell rolled his eyes but kept speaking. “Everyone knows about the Gate in Locket. About the Huntsman throwing away his Hounds like cannon fodder. The older wolves would pray to Lugh and the Wolf Lord—any assignment but the Gate. The Gate is a death sentence. Stationed at the rip between worlds.”

“Our picture-perfect town.” I joked.

“I came to Locket and begged Dean to let me stay.” Mitchell ignored me. “I had no idea where Milo was stationed,but if the Huntsman put him in Locket, I could protect him. I didn’t have to be a hound to hunt monsters.”

“You patrolled the Gate willingly?” My brows threatened to disappear into my hairline.

“The Huntsman has fae that work for him.” Mitchell jerked his chin, meeting my eyes. “I killed one. It wasn’t an accident.”

“What kind of creature?”

“The Huntsman has several Fae he keeps close. The Dullahan—the Headless Horseman. A Redcap named Dorly. A soothsayer with teeth of iron.” Mitchell listed. “They are his agents. He sent the Redcap to Locket, and he killed a boy. We let him walk the town because he belonged to the Huntsman, unlike one of the feral beasts coming through the Gate. But Dorly came and took a child. He was scouting for something and gothungry.”

It took everything in me not to gag, but my mouth tasted of metal, and my vision clouded with anger. “He ate a child?”

“The Tanner boy.” Mitchell nodded. “A couple of years ago.”

“I heard about that,” I gestured to the clothes on the chair, and Mitchell passed them over, giving me his back as I pulled one of my loose dresses over my head. When dressed, I stood up and placed my hand on Mitchell’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. Dorly killed the child. Not you.” I struggled to remember what I knew about redcaps. “Redcaps dip their clothes in their kills, don’t they? They paint their hats red with blood.”

“Yes.” Mitchell’s scarred lip twitched in distaste. “Redcaps are Wild Fae. Like the Selkies, Kelpies, Hags and Wolfkin. Capable of higher thought. They are not known to hunt humans; they are most regarded for their skill in battle. Ruthless and clever.”

“But Dorly ate a child?”

“Yes.” Mitchell rubbed his thumb over his good eye. “Redcaps live and hunt in hordes. They have their own society and ranks, much like the Wolfkin. Dorly aided the Huntsman during the war. He was his horde's sole survivor, and the Huntsman rewarded him for his bravery and cunning. Redcaps do not do well when separated from their hordes. The working theory was that Dorly had been alone too long. Given free reign to do whatever he liked.”

Mitchell continued speaking, his voice empty of emotion. I knew why he was telling me all of this. To make me feel better for sharing about Joel, to show I wasn’t alone even though I felt lost. Empty.

“The Huntsman came to Locket, full of piss and vinegar. Angry that his agent had been killed.” Mitchell sneered. “I’d succeeded in getting his attention.”

“Was Milo with him?” I wondered. “As one of his wolves?”

Mitchell shook his head. “The Huntsman took his pound of flesh for killing Dorly.” He waved his hand toward his face. “I thought he would kill me, but he said he had an opening. He needed a wolf.”

“He has to have a hundred hounds.” I echoed.

Mitchell wordlessly agreed. “It seemed there was an opening. One of his wolves had been killed a few days before.” His voice was empty of emotion. “It seemed that Milo had failed to return from a hunt during Samhain. I was too late to save my brother, so I took his place.”

Chapter Seven

Though none of the wolves of the Locket pack had come out and said it, the danger level had risen from one to a hundred. Kaleb’s injury changed things by forcing the pack to take the town's humans more seriously in their threats or by acknowledging that something nefarious was happening. Either it was all connected, or it wasn’t, but there were only a few days until Samhain—when the walls between worlds would be at their thinnest.

With Joel and the HAOB, combined with whatever durrach placed glamoured gifts on my Prius, I had several puzzle pieces that didn’t fit together. My lack of knowledge was more frustrating than I would care to admit.

I didn’t know much about the outside world. Grandmother Eva had continuously operated an‘us VS them’attitude. I’d been raised to protect myself by hiding and twisting the truth, though my tongue couldn’t tell a lie. But my world was falling apart around me.

I started the underground journey to the bar. I didn’t have to walk for long before I heard the whir of the golf buggy. Wyatt waved from the front seat with a bright smile that almost split his face. He honked the horn once, and the pathetic sound echoed through the tunnel.

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