Page 22 of Back in the Hunt

“You just need a bit more practice,” Merlin said and offered Everly a hand up. “The witch hazel could use a trim.” He pointed at the tree in the corner of the yard and its spiky yellow flowers, chuckling at Everly’s jaunty salute.

Many of the flowers and trees in the front yard were medicinal or had magickal properties, but Everly had learned that most were also good for attracting butterflies and bees. There was a hive in the ancient maple tree and Merlin said that both were almost as old as the house!

“It’ll be winter soon,” Everly noted, sad as he looked around at the flowers and herbs flourishing in the beds and pots.

“That’s why we gather and dry the things we need in the colder months,” Merlin murmured as he worked in the bed under the front window. “But there is plenty of magick in the dark months of the year. We celebrated the Yule long before the Christians adopted it for their Christmas.”

“I love Christmas!”

Merlin laughed softly. “A truly magickal time, is it not? Do you think it’s a coincidence that it’s also one of the few Christian holidays that celebrates an immortalsaintwho can teleport and keeps a legion of elves in a magickal realm? Can you think of any other Christian saint who behaves like that?”

“No…” Everly’s brow furrowed as he stretched on his toes to reach the lowest witch hazel branch. “But I don’t know that much about saints. Do you think Santa could be a god?” He heard Merlin snicker at the bergamot.

“I have no way of knowing since I’ve never met him myself. But if the measure of a god is immortality and the number of believers, then I would say so and that Nicholas could give the rest of the Christian pantheon a run for their money, depending on the number of children in the world and how close we are to Christmas Eve. When was the last time you saw a child waiting to sit on Jesus’s lap and how many letters do you think he gets a year?”

Everly frowned in concern. “I write to Santa every year but I’ve never sent Jesus a letter. Do you think he’s mad at me?”

“Jesus?” Merlin asked and Everly nodded. “I’m sure he understands.”

“Does the post office know his address? I just put ‘North Pole’ on Santa’s letters and they make sure he gets them.”

Merlin blinked at Everly, his mouth opening and closing. “Do you think he’s…? How do you know Santa got your letters?” he asked.

“Well… They never came back. But one time, I accidentally sent a birthday card to the electric company instead of my barber and it came back because the address was wrong.”

“I see.” But Merlin continued to blink at Everly.

“And one year, I asked Santa for a new streetlight by the bus stop because me and the old woman across the hall used to get nervous waiting in the dark and guess what?”

“What?”

Everly’s lips stretched into a wide smile. “Just four months later, a streetlight magickally appeared! A crew from the city’s department of transportation worked for five days,” he recounted, giddy as he recalled how exciting it was to see allthe bright orange cones and neon vests. Several construction vehicles had been used, including a backhoe and a bulldozer. “And then it was there: the light she had wished for almost every night!”

“I’ll bet she was thrilled,” Merlin said but Everly shrugged.

“She moved a week later. But it wasn’t so bad being alone because I had my own streetlight.”

“Well!” Merlin nodded at him, his gaze misty. “It’s a blessing to be able to find magick in even the smallest things.”

Everly nodded, then frowned when he recalled the blurry photo of a very large man that had recently been added to the board in the study. “What do you know about Ronan O’Sullivan? Are you sure it’s him in the picture? It barely looks like a person.”

“That’s Ronan,” Merlin confirmed and laughed quietly. “Nox’s father took me to see Ronan a few times. He took Nox as well. He thought he’d get a picture from the top of the old lighthouse once and Ronan nearly strangled him with the strap. If you believe Nox. Which I’m inclined to because Ronan does not take kindly to cameras.”

Everly made a note to never ever go near a merrow with a camera. “Why?” he asked and Merlin clicked his teeth.

“Nox swears he doesn’t lookthatbad, especially once you get used to it, but Ronan’s…hideous. Merrow men always are. Nox says it’s the kind of ugly that makes him interesting and bizarrely beautiful, but I don’t see it. Either way, it’s just his face as far as I can tell,” he explained with a shrug, then turned back to Everly. “How are you doing with that witch hazel?”

“Um…” Everly’s teeth scraped over his lip as he checked the basket and counted the sprigs he’d cut. “I have two,” he said and hid his hand behind his back when he noticed he’d taken a few snips out of his fingers as well and was bleeding.

“That will do, I’m sure,” Merlin said with a wave as he turned back to the bergamot. “We probably have more than enough.”

“Maybe you should take the scissors,” Everly suggested, then froze when he spotted a child-shaped shadow between the townhouses across the street. It raised its hand and Everly shuddered as a chill rushed up his spine. He glanced at the flowerbed to call for help. “Mer—” he started but stopped when a pair of young joggers crossed and turned into the narrow lane between the houses, right where the child’s silhouette had been.

“Yes, lad?”

“Maybe I’ll keep these,” Everly decided, hugging the shears as he backed away from the street and closer to the house. “I hope Bryn will be back soon,” Everly said and as if he had been summoned, Bryn came around the corner.

His arms and legs were a blur and his hair was loose and streaming behind him. He staggered to a halt on the sidewalk outside the gate, panting as he braced his hands on his knees. His gray t-shirt clung to his torso and the thick hair on his bare legs was wet with sweat.

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