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Kov
I’ve ridden with the wild hunt in the mortal world once before. The first time it was for fun; tonight, I ride to hunt vampires, and if I am lucky, to catch a fairy-human halfling. The ride is fine. The dropping out to actually hunt is much less fun, like having my insides ripped out and returned to what I hope is the correct place.
It’s all I can do to breathe and wait for the world to settle around me instead of spinning.
Overhead, the hunt rides past in a dark eddy of magic made up of all four corners of Fairy. I remove my helmet, sucking in the rank air of the human world, and hang the horned helmet off the pommel of my saddle. My horse walks down the street, its hooves sparking on the asphalt, both of us still wrapped in the shadowy glamour.
I don’t know how the humans manage in a world without magic, but I understand why fairies who choose to live here become corrupted and turn to drinking blood. There is nothing else to sustain them.
The gut twisting eases, and I focus on what dragged me out of the hunt so I can do my job and re-join them. I do not want to risk being left here until the next hunt at Beltaine.
My nose twitches as I sense the corrupted magic of a vampire.
My horse’s breath steams, hot from being part of the hunt. He is a big silvery beast, not one of the delicate, colorful ponies the fae ride, or the dark horses of the elves. Shifters do not ride; they join the hunt in their animal form. Trows have heavy beasts in shades of metal, from the darkest iron to the palest of silvers.
Something human-like with ears and a tail runs across the road in front of me. It’s chased by several other creatures in an assortment of clothing and capes and crowns. My horse rears. I grip the reins with one hand and place my palm on his neck, muttering soothing words.
One of them glances back as if they saw something. She’s dressed in black with a tall, pointed hat perched on her head. That’s when I smell it, the scent of fairy magic. The girl is quickly pulled away by her friends, and I watch as they jog up the steps of a large house and disappear inside.
Given that I am the only fairy in the vicinity, and I smelled fairy magic, means that one of those people is a halfling. What the humans call a witch. And where there are witches, there are vampires—there is nothing they love more than halfling blood because it is full of the magic they crave.
I grin. Glad I dropped out of the hunt. Killing a vampire and bringing home a halfling mate will increase my standing. Some live for the hunt and the kill, others like me do it for the reward and standing.
Now that I’m looking more closely at the house, I notice more humans in costume and other houses decked out with skeletons and pumpkins. It takes me a moment to understand what I am seeing as I didn’t drop out to hunt last time. This is the Samhain hunt, one of two times each year when the fairy world and human world are close enough for us to pass through. On Samhain, the humans dress up as if they can trick us. Fools.
I stop my horse in front of the house and slide down, still wrapped in the shadowy glamour. We are warned to keep the glamour up at all times and to hunt in the shadows, but since everyone else is in costume, I will fit right in. I leave my horse with the protection of the glamour and step away, passing out of the shadow and into the moonlight. Despite my armor and ax, for a moment I feel naked and exposed.
More revelers approach the door and I follow them as though part of their group. The welcoming scent of beer and the pulse of music draws me closer.
If there’s one thing a trow likes more than fighting, it’s a party with beer.
If I can combine all of that with some vampire killing and halfling catching, my night will be made, and I will craft a tale worthy of singing to the trow queen. I touch my ax, loosening it so it is ready to taste vampire blood, and then I am at the door.
The halfling went in not long before me. Her magic should make it easy to find her. That, and she will be surrounded by vampires eager to drink her blood and drain her magic, leaving nothing but a sickly husk.
The man at the door smiles, revealing the sharp fangs of a vampire. “Great costume. That make up must have taken you hours!”
I sniff and stare. He’s human. Why would he want to dress as a corrupted fairy?
His smile falters and his gaze narrows.
I grin, using my fairy charm to win him over. “Yeah. The armor was the worst.” Not a lie. I sweated over the anvil to craft this. Every trow warrior must learn how to forge armor and a weapon before being allowed to fight.
He allows me into the house that pulses with music like a fae den at midsummer when they are all high on pollen. Human’s are shouting and dancing in a myriad of colors and costumes. I take a moment to center myself.
I don’t need to see to find my quarry. The scent of magic in this realm is enough, as it doesn’t belong. Left here, a witch will create chaos and attract vampires, and if a vampire gets hold of the witch, the witch will wish they were dead.
Fairy magic bleeds into the air, a delicate hum that almost makes me homesick even though I haven’t been gone long. Beneath the sweetness is the rot of a vampire.
3
Andrea
Iknow I’m supposed to be looking for someone to hook up with, or at least to kiss—kisses break spells, right?—but all I can manage at the moment is dancing with my friends or talking to the few people I vaguely know.
That hasn’t stopped me from looking around and seeing if there is anyone I’d consider banging. My gaze keeps drifting back to a tall guy. He must be well over six foot, and is dressed like some kind of barbarian. He’s even painted his skin an elaborate blue-grey.I’m only checking out his costume, I remind myself. I could never approach him. He’s too big and dangerous looking and so not my type, but my gaze is drawn to him. He hasn’t danced with anyone, just helped himself to beer and cake.
He has a beer in one hand and a slice of cake in the other as he peruses the room as though he is also looking for someone.
