4
Ronan
Icatch her head before it can hit the rough ground and lay her down. It’s for the best that she passed out, maybe she won’t remember a thing, or will wake believing it to be a nightmare. That might be wishful thinking on my part, but I hope anyway as it will make my life easier.
But I can’t leave her lying in the middle of the path in case she wakes up and starts talking about monsters—humans don’t take well to that kind of rambling and I don’t want her getting locked up for something I did to her. Now that she can see them, she’ll never go back to being an ignorant human. There’s nothing I can do about it now.
I almost feel guilty for ripping away the protection. But the ceffylant had nearly killed her. When it had picked her up, I was sure it had eaten her head. But it had simply been playing with her and tormenting me. At least now she’ll be able to see the danger.
And if I tell myself that enough times, I might believe it.
The truth isn’t always a good thing, and it’s certainly not always pleasant. It can wound as easily as any sword.
I scoop her up and carry her into the forest, so I can wait with her where people won’t stop and ask questions that are none of their business.
In a clearing near a stream, I place her down. While she sleeps, I clean my sword before sheathing it. Then I check my gun. I grow restless and prowl the clearing, waiting for her to wake.
Now she’s not screaming or fighting me, I take a proper look at her.
She’s pretty, in a human way. Dark curly hair and full lips. Her face and body are soft curves instead of the angular edges of the fae. The leggings she wears leave little for me to imagine. I look away, but the thought is firmly lodged in my mind. I can take her to faery and go home. It should be an easy decision…but I’ve been here for so long I don’t know if I want to leave. Until today I’d have said I love hunting more than anything. Now the idea of claiming her and living in faery has an appeal that I’ve never before considered.
The sun reaches its zenith, and she hasn’t stirred. How long until she’s missed from her life?
Did she hit her head when the ceffylant threw her? I run my fingers through her hair and over her scalp, searching for open wounds or swellings that don’t belong.
Nothing.
Her pulse is strong.
So perhaps it is shock, partly caused by the ceffylant and partly caused by me tearing open her vision.
I’m on the cusp of reaching into her pockets to find out where she lives when there’s a bark and a rustle. I pick up my sword—unwilling to use a gun when there might be humans close enough to hear.
One of her dogs runs into the clearing, tail wagging like it’s been having the best day. It probably has been. Running wild is more fun than being leashed. So in that I agree with the dog. I lower the sword.
The dog looks at me, then at her, and decides I’m not a threat. It runs over to lick her face.
Gross.
When she doesn’t wake, it whines and looks at me like I should do something to help her.
“Sorry, boy. I’ve got nothing.” I’m a hunter, not a healer. I kill things, that’s all I’ve done for the longest time. I’ve never wanted to go back to faery, even though it calls to my blood. I live close to the breach because I can feel the magic trickling out and I ache for it.
Have I been in the human world too long?
I remember a world before cell phones and cars. When it was easier to do magic and hunt monsters and not be seen as a monster myself.
Maybe I am. I used her as bait without even thinking.
I glance at her sleeping form. The dog lies next to her, guarding her. If not for my concerns about her memory I’d leave her in its care.
But when she’s sees another monster, will she think of me? Will she lose her mind without knowing why? If I explain, she will be fine, and I can leave her in the human world and go back to hunting. No one will know I’ve broken the rule. Another lie I tell myself.
The rules of the fae are clear, and I have broken them. I told a human the truth and worse, revealed it. I am supposed to take her to faery, but if I do that, then my time as a hunter is done. I will be expected to stay home and prove that I am a worthy partner to her. I don’t even know her name.
But I want to know.
I stare at my hands. Dark dust stains the lines of my palms. Death is ingrained in my flesh. When I volunteered for this duty, I’d wanted honor. Gradually, all I’d wanted was to kill.
