Maren smiled. “Yes. He was on a mission for the Queen when Selin came for me. When he realizes what’s happened, he’ll be coming.”
Silva stepped closer. “We need to warn Kerak.”
“Yes. Help me up.” Maren let Sigurd and Wylder pull her up from the ground. Wylder slipped an arm around his mother, and she leaned against him. Together, they walked out of the forest.
Kerak
The Hunt was everywhere. If Kerak was willing to obliterate this realm, this fight would already be over. He wasn’t, though, so he kept the most destructive parts of his power in check. A dark-furred minotaur rushed him, battle axe swinging. He ducked, axe whizzing in an arc over his head, and spun around to sweep the minotaur’s legs out from under him.
Beside him, Bellicent, in full gargoyle form, was locked in a hand-to-hand fight with some type of ghoul. While the minotaur was regaining his feet, Kerak’s gaze swept the battlefield, looking for any sign that Sigurd, Silva, and Wylder had been successful in locating Maren. There was no sign of them, and the ache in his chest hadn’t dulled.
Dammit.
He continued across the clearing, towards the path the others had taken. He was confident Silva and Sigurd could handle almost anything that came their way, but if someone got the drop on them and hurt Wylder? They may need assistance.
“Going somewhere, demon?” The changeling woman who’d glamoured herself to look like Maren stepped into his path. If she’d defeated the old Hunter and managed to maintain control over the Hunt, she must be powerful. Or charismatic. Or both.
He tilted his head. “Where’s the witch?”
“Oh, she’s here. I’m sure your minions have already found her.”
Kerak narrowed his eyes. If they weren’t trying to hide Maren, then why the attempted tricks?
“It’s no easy feat to defeat the Hunter. How did you manage it?”
“You wound me,” she said, pressing a hand against her chest. “You don’t think I have what it takes? Tell me, is it because I’m a girl or a Fae?”
They’d started to circle each other now, measured steps keeping them apart. “Neither,” Kerak answered, glancing toward the path opening. “I fought the previous Hunter once. He was quite powerful, and the Hunt themselves are not always easy to wrangle.”
She smirked. “True. Of course…”
The constant tension in Kerak’s chest snapped like a twig. The spell was broken. Reid was free. He gasped, reaching for his chest.
“Oh, good. They figured it out.” She smiled, slow and menacing.
It had always been possible that this was a trap. The look on the changeling’s face confirmed it. “What have you done?”
“Me?” Satisfaction and pure evil glinted in her purple eyes. “Well, I haven’t done anything at all.”
“Kerak!” Wylder’s voice cut through the noise of the fight.
Kerak swung his gaze to the path opening. Sig, Silva, Wylder, and Maren—the real one—stood there.
Maren looked worse for wear, pale and supported between her brother and her son. Even across the distance, he heard her. “It’s not her, Kerak. It’s Selin.”
Within a heartbeat, Kerak had the changeling pinned to the ground. “Where is he?” he snarled in her face, control fraying at the edges.
“Where do you think?” She smirked again, and he lost it. Her eyes widened, and the scream trying to fight its way out of her throat died before it could escape. Kerak stood and watched while her body disintegrated, the spark of demon fire he’d let out destroying her from the inside out.
Around him, the ground burned, remnants of the power he couldn’t quite seem to lock back down.
If Selin wasn’t here, then there was only one place he’d be—Reid.
Chapter
Nine
PRESENT DAY
