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Weeks passed, until finally the moment arrived when he met her for drinks and she didn't talk about herself, didn't snivel over her problems. There was no need for that. She had reached a decision. He saw that in her mind, saw how she planned to do it. How she would cross that line, and where he needed to be to witness it.
All she had to do was make the move that would lead to murder. He could not act until she launched the action decisively. Only then could he pass judgment, reap her soul, and secure his hound.
It would happen at the office. Both the woman and her partner were working late, and she would go to tell him she was leaving for the night . . . only to find him dead. She'd decided that sneaking in while he worked alone would be too risky. Too many people in the building. Too many security cameras. Too big a chance that she'd be spotted. Instead, she would be there openly, with her dog at her side, as always. Just another late night at the office.
It was a ridiculous plan. She should have seen that. But the Huntsman had infected her mind and suggested this setup--perfect for his needs--and he'd swept away her doubts. It was audacious and brazen, and therefore no one would suspect a thing. Or so she believed.
He had no trouble sneaking into the building. He'd determined where the cameras were and could avoid them. As for human security, he'd retained the power to trick the eye as he passed through on a wave of shadow.
He found the woman working in her office. When the Huntsman slipped in, her dog lifted its head and whined. The woman glanced over, saw nothing, and patted the dog's head before returning to her work.
As soon as darkness fell, she made her move. As she started to close the dog in her office, again it whined. The Huntsman tensed, wondering if the dog's unease might break the spell of his magic, let the woman stop and realize she shouldn't be doing this with the canine present for fear it might raise an alarm. But the dog was integral to the process. To the binding of his hound. Fortunately, the woman was too preoccupied to notice the beast's unease and just whispered a sharp "Quiet!" as she closed the office door.
The Huntsman crept ahead into the partner's space. He watched the woman enter. Saw the blade in her hand. Bore witness as she reached around to slit her partner's throat.
He watched her.
He did not stop her.
He stood in his corner and sent forth his darkness to bolster her own, and when she slashed that blade, the Huntsman was there, keeping her hand steady.
Then he released her.
He pulled out of her mind as her partner flailed and gurgled, grasping at his slit throat, blood gushing over his desk.
The woman saw then what she had done--and she began to scream.
The Huntsman shot forward, materializing as he clapped his hand over her mouth.
"Shhh," he said. "Shhh."
She saw him, and her eyes went wide as her mouth worked.
"You?" she said. "How--?"
He removed his hand from her. "I had to stop you."
"Stop?" She blinked and looked at the dying man, now convulsing on the floor. "You can save him?"
The Huntsman gave a dismissive wave. He could. Possibly. But he had other priorities.
When he released the woman, she dropped beside her partner. The Huntsman laid his hand on her arm. "It's too late."
"I didn't mean . . ." She leapt to her feet. "You have to help me. I didn't mean to do this."
"Of course you did."
"No, I--"
"You what? You aren't this sort of person?" He laughed, his lip curling. "Tell that to your brother. To the boy at college."
She stared, uncomprehending.
"Your brother, in the pool," he said. "And the boy you stalked with a knife."
"My . . . ? Yes. I did pull my brother under, and I thought of drowning him, but of course I didn't. Just like I thought about killing that boy. But I didn't do anything. I just thought about it."
"It's the same thing."
