Page 21 of What Hunts Inside the Shadows

He glanced toward the wolves as they surrounded me, their fangs and jowls red and dripping with blood. In front of us, the hounds of the Wild Hunt did the same with the carts full of Fae Marked. As my guardians snarled and snapped at the air around them, I sat in the circle they formed. Caldris stepped forward with fluid, animalistic grace. His army of the dead lay upon the ground, their corpses unanimated once more as the tang of iron filled my lungs.

Caldris pulled his swords from the sheaths strapped across his back, the base of his neck gleaming and dripping blood from where the iron had touched his skin. He strode forward into the edge of the trees, disappearing from view as a scream tore through the air.

A body fell from the trees, already dead by the time it landed. The Mist Guard stared up at the sky with blank, unseeing eyes in a slashed face.

“I think they pissed him off,” I whispered, reaching down to pet one of the wolves. I rolled my wrists, flexing them in this moment of freedom. I knew he intended for me to be able to defend myself should the fight reach me, but the least he could have done was given me a blade.

Asshole.

The female of the wolves turned her ruby eyes up to me, her mouth, ears, and eyes all tainted with the color of death. The low growl she gave beneath her breath settled through me, feeling like an extension of the bond I shared with Caldris.

Shouts rang out from the woods as he finally appeared, his clothing and armor bathed in blood. The Wild Hunt fought with the Guard members emerging from the other side, and still the corpses remained on the ground. The skeletons didn’t move, and I knew it had to be the iron surrounding us and buried in his skin that rendered Caldris’s controlling magic useless.

Even the bond between us felt distant, as if I couldn’t just reach down and pull on the strand of Fate that tied us together.

Glancing toward the tree line opposite of where Caldris fought, I watched Holt cut through man after man, taking them down with the sort of lethal grace I’d always imagined the Fae would have. He fought as if he’d been trained alongside Caldris, the two of them moving in sync even though they weren’t anywhere near one another.

A member of the Mist Guard stabbed one of the riders, breaking through the barrier they’d formed. Others followed, their sheer numbers proving to be a challenge to the Wild Hunt as they were weakened by the iron.

Fenrir bared his teeth at the Guard who came closest to me, the fiercest growl I’d ever heard coming from his chest as Caldris snapped his head toward us. Our eyes connected for a breath, his attention unwavering as he dropped his sword and pulled his axe from the sheath. He swung it in an arc, embedding it in the face of the Guard who’d dared to challenge him. The man froze in place, the center of his face disappearing entirely as Caldris’s axe collided with it and bit deep. Raising a foot and pushing on the other man’s chest, Caldris tore the axe free with a splash of blood as the body fell to the ground in front of him.

“Do me a favor, Beasty,” Holt called, demanding my attention while riding toward me. He pulled the knifeDainsleiffrom its sheath and tossed it to me. I caught it by the handle with both hands, the familiar pulsing warmth spreading through me as the cursed blade demanded the price for drawing it. “Stop eye-fucking your boyfriend and kill something already.”

“My mate is not your rider!” Caldris yelled as Holt rode past him, cutting down a member of the Guard in his path. Holt merely chuckled in response, his smile lighting up his face as he fought and slayed his enemies. I felt like anyone who smiled during a battle was not someone I felt particularly motivated to attack, even before understanding that he couldn’t die.

Fenrir nudged my free hand, his eyes gleaming with the need for blood. I felt it hum through me, as if an extension of the distant bond I shared with Caldris. The blade in my hand seemed to warm all over again, spreading the heat of its curse through me and smoldering in my blood like red-hot coals in the fire.

Black hovered at the edges of my vision, bathing the world in an unnatural darkness as I spun the dagger in my grip. The whimper of one of the hounds of the Wild Hunt made Fenrir snap his head to the side, his focus going entirely to where the animal fell to the ground. A Mist Guard stood over the enormous half-rotten hound, scowling as he raised his sword.

I took a step forward before I’d even realized what I was doing, the other foot never landing as Fenrir slid his head between my feet and knocked me off balance. Another one of them urgently nudged me as I stared at them both in surprise. Swallowing back my nervousness, I held Fenrir’s gaze and straddled his large, furry body.

I’d barely settled onto his back when he bolted forward. I grasped him by the fur, hanging on for dear life as he raced into the fray. Men shouted around me as the other wolves tore through flesh, spraying blood all over me as we passed.

The man who’d been about to stab the hound spun to face the enormous, snarling wolf barreling toward him, raising his sword as fear lit his eyes. But Fenrir stopped, slowing to a walk and tipping to the side to help me get down.

He curled his neck around my body, offering support as I stepped toward the man and gripped my dagger tighter. The moment felt ceremonial, like a sacrifice, like tearing a bit of my soul from me to fight alongside the very creatures I was supposed to hate. But the low whimper from the forest floor made me stride forward toward the man, keeping the dagger at my side as he glanced at the wolf waiting behind me.

“How nice of you to separate from the rest of them,” the Guard said, shifting the sword at his side as he stepped forward. The magic ofDainsleifwrithed in my hand, whispering through my mind with its cry for blood. It sank into the hollow inside of me, reaching in with taloned fingers and pulling my hunger to the surface as I tilted my head to the side in the same way I’d seen Caldris do on so many occasions. From the corner of my eye, I watched Fenrir mirror the movement as if he felt compelled by the unique bond we shared through his master.

TheViniculumwas silent, still against my skin as the iron coating the ground suppressed the magic of the Fae, but the cursed blade still pushed, demanding a life in reparation. The Mist Guard struck, his thrust slow and lazy as I twisted to the side to avoid it and sliced the dagger across the man’s wrist.

He gasped, yanking his hand back as blood dripped to the ground beneath him. Pressing his free hand into the wound, he tried to stem the bleeding that would become inevitable. The blade in my hand hummed, the blood expelling from the man’s wound faster and faster as we watched.

He struck again, desperation driving him to attack with more speed. I twisted too slowly, wincing as the blade cut into my skin, slicing through the flesh of my bicep and burning it beneath the press of iron. Fenrir growled at the same moment Caldris roared, the sounds of the two of them filling the air around us. Only the hand I laid atop Fenrir’s head stilled him and stopped him from taking the life that was mine to demand.

I wanted the blood I was owed.

It poured free from that wound at his wrist, but the brutality within me demanded more, driving me to kill until nothing remained. I twistedDainsleifin my hand, letting the blade lay parallel to my forearm as I swept it in an arc across the man’s throat. Blood splattered across my face as the flesh parted beneath the blade. Staring into the split in his skin, where layers of muscle briefly showed, I watched as he dropped his sword and pressed both hands into the wound.

He fell to his knees, that pulsing warmth in the dagger dispersing as death came over the man. “I don’t like men who hurt animals. Even if they are halfway to the grave,” I said, feeling that hollow inside of me burn. His eyes turned unseeing, blood pumping from the wound at his throat in horrifying waves as I glared down at him.

Fenrir pressed his nose against my hand, turning my glare away from the body in front of me and severing the connection I felt between us. The Void called to him, the pull on his soul lingering at the edges of my awareness.

I stared into the red eyes of the wolf, his knowing expression making me swallow and glance toward Caldris. The God of the Dead continued to fight, cutting down members of the Mist Guard left and right to get to me. He seemed unaware of the pull of the afterlife on the souls, of the way it tempted my very soul to leave my body.

I stepped toward the injured hound, crouching down in front of him and extending a hand slowly. I swallowed as he bared his teeth, a growl rumbling through his chest. Pulling my hand back, I waited and watched as he finally lifted his head and extended his neck. What remained of flesh on his nose wrinkled, working to scent me. I avoided the venomous shadows dripping from his jowls, touching only the top of his head as I glanced down to the wound in his side.

Already the skin worked to knit itself back together, covering the mangled mess of flesh and bones it had revealed. “Will you be alright?” I asked, scratching the fur on top of his head as the hound leaned into my touch.

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