Betrayed Page 3

  Raul’s words that night had confused and scared her. She hadn’t known what to believe. Or who.

  “I ran just like you told me to.”

  “I also told you to come back.”

  She’d tried. Raul had followed her. Attacked her. She glanced at her hands that had once been covered in blood. Raul’s blood. She lowered her gaze and prayed Calan didn’t see the elation in her eyes the memory brought. It had felt good to hurt Raul. That had scared her most of all, and it was the reason she’d stayed away.

  “Yes.” Harley turned her head, unable to look into Calan’s eyes. “You did.”

  “Why didn’t you return to me? You promised.”

  “And you promised to save me. Why didn’t you? You left me.” She was being childish. She knew it but couldn’t help it. Watching bubbles form in Raul’s blood while he struggled to breathe had been one of the darkest yet most exciting moments of her life. Temptation had held her in its grip, and she’d fought it alone.

  “I saved you the only way I could.” The featherlight stroke of Calan’s fingertips along her cheek wiped away the memory of her encounter with Raul, but not the shame she’d experienced over enjoying Raul’s suffering. “Do you not remember the knowledge I shared with you?”

  She remembered. Calan had forced information into her brain she hadn’t known what to do with at the time. Within one heartbeat and the next, she learned everything she’d needed to know about how to avoid falling victim to the redcaps and sluaghs. He’d also implanted a compulsion to have an obsidian blade made that became her constant accessory. She never left the house without it. It was the only thing that could kill the fairies’ creatures.

  She forced herself to nod. “Yeah. I remember.”

  “I thank the gods for that, Harley. I was right about you. You are the one I’ve sought.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You will be the one who will unlock me from my prison and allow the Wild Hunt to ride again.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then licked her suddenly dry lips. “The Wild Hunt?”

  The trembling in her voice betrayed her fear. She couldn’t help it. Over the past nine years, her thoughts had often drifted to the man who’d saved her. She kept coming up with the same question: why had he intervened on her behalf? It had never made sense, despite his explanation about breaking a promise and wanting to make it right by helping her. She was his enemy. Or she would be once she embraced her heritage and allowed the evil lurking inside her to take her over completely, turning her Unseelie once and for all.

  Why help her?

  Then again, a ghost can’t actually kill you. Without a body, Calan was harmless. If she released him—

  “Why are you afraid?”

  She stared into the disembodied eyes that had haunted her dreams and curled her fingers so she didn’t reach for him. “You’re kidding, right? An imaginary man tells me he wants me to release the Wild Hunt, and you ask why I’m afraid.”

  “Trust me, I’m very real.” He chuckled.

  The sound of his laugh skipped through her and left heat behind. Her lower belly quivered. She ignored the response. “You said that you’re real, just not here. Is this why? Because you’re a rider in the Wild Hunt?”

  “Yes. I am the leader of the Hunt. Now explain to me your fear of it.”

  “Are we talking about the same one? The spectral procession of hounds and horses riding across the night sky?”

  “Yes, that’s the one.”

  “Then the answer’s no way, Calan. I’m not releasing another hellish entity to torture the world. There’s enough here already.”

  “That is because the Huntsmen are not in your world to stop the fairies’ creatures.”

  Harley glared at him. “What are you talking about? The Wild Hunt is known as a group of horsemen who kill everyone in their path. Sure, you might’ve hunted the Unseelie Court, but how many unfortunate humans got caught up in your fury?”

  “Lies,” he spat. “All lies. Not once in all the years we’d ridden have we ever caused the death of an innocent on purpose.”

  She wanted to believe him. She really did, but his last two words killed any hope that her fascination with him had been justifiable. All she’d been doing for the past nine years was craving one monster over another.

  “On purpose?” Harley shook her head. “And that’s supposed to convince me you’re not one of the bad guys too?”

  “Before you judge me for what you think you know of the Wild Hunt, come to me. Then you’ll see for yourself that I’m not the evil one.”

  Harley held his gaze and asked the one question she’d always posed to herself. It had helped her survive. “Aren’t we all evil?”

  “Everyone holds the potential for corruption, but people like us must struggle to maintain our honor.”

  Struggle was the right word. The monster stuck inside her beautiful body wanted out. A monster he has sworn to hunt. To kill. She waited for fear to grip her. It never came. If she gave in to the lure of her heritage and became Unseelie, she’d want him to kill her.

  But he also promised to save her. Could he? Heal her, maybe?

  She blew out a slow breath. Nothing was black-and-white, and she was too tired to figure out where Calan landed on the spectrum.

  “Easy to say. Hard to do.” She closed her eyes in an effort to dim her fascination with the leader of the Wild Hunt. It didn’t help. His woodsy scent wrapped around her, leaving her feeling safe, content, and needy. She wanted him to hold her. Be her hero. “Is that the reason you saved me? So I could release you?”

  A long moment passed before he curled his hand around the nape of her neck. Her skin tingled and warmth spread. He dropped his hand before the sensation could consume her. She met his captivating eyes—her temptation, the greatest of all.

  “Walk toward the lake, and you will find me. Don’t be afraid. I promise you, you’re safe with me.”

  With his assurance given, he faded. Harley stared at the spot where he’d been and sighed. He never answered her. She supposed his avoidance was in and of itself the only answer she needed.

  She was a means to an end.

  Chapter Four

  At the impatient knocking, Harley scrunched her brow and pulled the throw blanket over her face. The pounding continued to reverberate through her head.

  “Open up. I know you’re in there.”

  Unsure of where she was, she swept her gaze over the room. Dust sparkled in the afternoon sun. A bucket and mop stood against the wall and a grocery bag sat on the coffee table. Awareness returned with a rush of memories—Raul, Bea’s body, and her ghost man. Guilt followed everything. The emotion often choked her. Today, it crushed her.

  Calan had told her to walk toward the lake. She’d thrown herself into cleaning instead. She’d needed time to go over his words. Too bad she hadn’t been able to focus on them. The vivid memory of his blue eyes overpowered everything.

  After another rap to the front door, she jumped.

  “Dammit, Harley, it’s Ian. Open the goddamn door.”

  Ian. The tension drained from her limbs. She threw the blanket off and stood. “Hold on.”

  She rubbed at her achy lower back and made her way across the room. At the mantel, she stopped mid-step. Her gaze darted to the picture above it, the one she’d looked at countless times and had never really seen—a charcoal sketch of a group of horsemen and their hounds racing feet above a burning landscape.

  The Wild Hunt.

  Harley had never really understood why her mother had bought it. She’d usually collected obscure scenes and objects. There was much about her mother that Harley didn’t understand, including her mom’s relationship with Raul. A maiden, he’d called her. Harley had never been able to figure out what that meant.

  “Harley? Are you okay?” Ian asked through the closed door.

  She forced her attention from the picture and the implications of her mother’s chosen subject.

  “I�
��m fine. You just woke me up.” Harley shuffled to the door, unlocked it, and flung it open.

  Ian stood on the doormat with a bunch of grocery bags. Tall, wide shoulders, thick biceps, and a beanie—he could’ve passed for a redcap, but she knew better than to let the thought take hold. Ian was a good guy, one of the few left. His girlfriend should consider herself damn lucky to have landed him.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He arched a brow a shade darker than the wavy, russet hair on his head. “Half the town is already talking about your return. It would’ve been nice if you’d let your dear old brother know first. Hearing about it at the grocery checkout isn’t how I wanted to find out.”

  “Sorry. I wasn’t sure I was actually going to stay. I’d thought about leaving.” After talking to the figment of the man she’d obsessed over for her entire adulthood and realizing her savior only wanted to use her to gain his freedom, she hadn’t felt like staying. She hadn’t been able to make herself leave either.

  She cleared her throat. “Being home is hard. The memories…”

  “Aww, Sis.” Ian dropped the bags on the floor and pulled her into his embrace. “You didn’t have to come. I would’ve understood.”

  “I had to.” She returned the hug, squeezing him tight. “You’re all I have left.”

  “I’m glad you did. I need you.” He released a shaky breath. “I’m getting a horrible case of cold feet.”

  Harley frowned at the panic in his voice. “Don’t. They say it’s common.”

  “Maybe.” He eased out of the tight circle of her arms. “It’s just…”

  After a moment when he didn’t say anything, she prompted, “Just what?”

  “Nothing. It’s nothing.” He crossed his arms and lowered his chin to focus narrowed eyes on her. “How long are you staying?”

  “I’m leaving right after the ceremony.”

  “Three days.” He dropped fisted hands at his sides. “I get my sister for three lousy days?”

  “And if you hadn’t invited me to your bachelor party, it would’ve been less, so stop complaining.” She still couldn’t believe she was going, but his argument that they barely got to spend any time together had convinced her. With her life constantly in danger, she had to grab the few opportunities to spend time with her brother.

  “Do you know what Trevor has planned for me?”

  Trevor, Ian’s best friend, had texted her the date, time, and location only. She shrugged. “No clue.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can’t wait.” Ian worked his jaw back and forth. “I need a little fun.”

  She glanced from his white-knuckled fists to his scrunched brows and sighed. “You want to talk about it?”

  He shook his head. “It’s nothing. Same stuff, I guess.”

  “Ahh”—she nodded—“let me guess. Your dream girl is steaming up your nights again?”

  Years before, Ian had confided in her that he thought he was going crazy. When she’d asked why, he’d told her about his vivid dreams and the woman from them he’d fallen in love with. Harley had convinced him it was normal to fantasize about sex and not to worry about it, even though she didn’t believe anyone could fall in love with a make-believe person. It had eased his mind, though. That was all that mattered to Harley.

  A blush crawled up his neck. “It isn’t right, Sis. I’m getting married, and I can’t stop lusting over a damn figment of my imagination.”

  She’d suggest his girl was as real as her ghost man, but Ian was human. He’d never have to deal with the shit she’d had to endure. If anything, he actually was a little unstable. And why wouldn’t he have a few issues? His parents and little brothers had been murdered, and his sister wasn’t human. That was enough to send any man over the edge.

  “Once the two of you actually have sex, you’ll forget about your dreams and want Cynthia only.” His very strict girlfriend had nixed any suggestions for premarital sex. “Is she nervous too?”

  “No.” Ian snorted. “She told me she’s been reading lots of steamy books so she knows what to do with me once she gets me naked.” He shook his head, a small smile playing on his mouth. “She’s a good girl.”

  Too good, in Harley’s opinion. Cynthia came across as fake. Her sickeningly sweet, always-happy reaction to the world wasn’t normal. Of course, Harley couldn’t help but see the bad in everything around her.

  Harley kept her opinions to herself. The few times she’d met Cynthia and their brief phone conversations weren’t a good enough reason to ruin Ian’s chance at happiness. Besides, he was the one marrying her. After all the years they’d dated, Harley hoped he knew the kind of woman he was planning to spend the rest of his life with. Why else marry her?

  “Look, I’m glad you came to visit, but I need some sleep.” And thinking about the happy life her brother would soon be living reminded her how crappy her life was. “I’ll see you tomorrow at your party.”

  She turned toward the stairs. Yes, she needed sleep, but she mostly wanted to go over what Calan had said. Hopefully, the nap she’d taken had cleared her mind enough to consider his words and not simply react to her riotous emotions. She’d learned not to let the strong feelings take root. They left her teetering on the edge of madness.

  “Excuse me?” Ian blocked her path. “I haven’t seen you in months. And what? You’re dismissing me?”

  “Raul left another present for me. I skipped town and haven’t slept much since. I’m exhausted.” Which was true. It just wasn’t her sole reason for wanting privacy.

  She sidestepped her brother.

  “Wait a minute.” He grabbed her arm. “What happened?”

  “The same thing a visit from Raul always brings. Death. This time he killed my neighbor, but…” Harley worried her lower lip. “But something was different about the whole thing. He didn’t make a play for me. He made sure I knew he killed her, then walked away.”

  For serial killers, a change in their pattern often indicated an unraveling mind. Raul, though, wasn’t crazy or sick. He needed to kill. Without his victim’s fear-laced blood to soak his gauze cap, he died.

  “Shit. That’s not good.” Ian released her and crossed his arms over his chest. “Until we figure out why he’s acting different, I’m postponing the wedding, and you’re going to the bunker for a while. I’m not taking—”

  “No.” She raised a trembling hand. The thought of being locked underground in an iron prison chilled her. The metal acted as a buffer and made it harder for the redcaps and sluaghs to find her, but the last time Ian had insisted she go there, she’d had a breakdown. Harley feared closed-in places. She’d spent too much of her childhood locked inside her house. Inside the basement. Going outside had been a rare treat. “I can’t, Ian. I can’t. Please don’t bring it up again.”

  He reached for her and let his hand drop. “If you take those tranquilizers—”

  “No!” How could he even suggest it? He’d seen how drugs affected her. They made her delusional. Enraged.

  Violent.

  Rough pants heaved her chest, and the burn centered deep within ignited. Wicked laughter followed. Real or imagined, she wasn’t sure. She only knew she couldn’t let the emotion grip her.

  Harley pulled up the image of blue eyes to chase away the rage. A few more heartbeats later, the scent of a campfire filled her nostrils. The fire burning her veins cooled. Her breathing slowed. The all-consuming wrath eased, and the taunting laughter cut off.

  Calan might’ve left her alone to face temptation, but the memory of him had become her crutch. Maybe he had helped her the only way he could. She didn’t know and couldn’t figure it out with the echo of evil in her head.

  She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes and sat on the couch. “Medicine doesn’t work quite right for me.” She glanced at Ian. “I’m not human, don’t forget.”

  He shifted on his feet uncomfortably, then dropped onto the seat next to her. “Okay, but I’m worried. Their patterns have been slowly changin
g.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s almost as if they’ve changed their goals from killing you to watching you. It makes me wonder why.”

  She worried about the same thing, and the implications scared her. The temptation to embrace her rage had grown over the past few months; so had her awareness of the fairies’ creatures, Raul especially. At times, she wanted to get closer to him and feed on him, taking his taint into herself. It would make her powerful…unstoppable. Evil.

  “It doesn’t matter. We both know I’m living on borrowed time.” Harley slumped against the cushions. “Hell, I don’t know why I’m still fighting. I can’t escape what I am. All I do is kill the people around me.”

  Ian tugged her limp body up and captured her gaze. “No, Harley. Don’t fucking go there. You didn’t ask for any of this, nor did you ever cause a single death. You understand?”

  He shook her, and she bit her tongue. Tangy, bitter blood filled her mouth. No iron aftertaste. Her blood almost tasted rancid, and the strong flavor was getting stronger every year. She swallowed the reminder of her nonhuman status. “But I—”

  “No. Raul and those other hideous bastards would still be killing people whether you lived or not. You can’t blame yourself for their actions.”

  Harley dropped onto the sofa. “True, but they usually pick people who live close to me.”

  He turned his back on her and paced. “That’s not true either. You just focus on those. Less than ten percent of their victims have been your neighbors.” Ian stopped his prowling and faced her with glinting hazel eyes. “Do you want me to recite the damn statistics again?”

  Ian had dedicated his life to studying the redcaps’ and sluaghs’ activities. Obsessed over them might be a better term, actually. Harley shook her head. She couldn’t bear to hear the worry in his voice over the rate at which their crimes had grown.

  She wanted to stop them too but didn’t know how. Actually, that wasn’t quite true. If she believed what Calan had told her, she could prevent more deaths by freeing him and allowing the Wild Hunt to ride again.

  “What do you know of the Wild Hunt myth?” It’d been playing over and over in her head. She kept trying to find a good spin on it, but the little she’d read about it left her wary.