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“She bites.”
I smiled. “Where are the hounds?”
She waved a hand at the forest behind the house. “Crawling your woods.” She stuck her fingers in her mouth and blew a shrill whistle. “We’ll need them now.”
“They don’t like me, remember?” Dogs in general didn’t like me, which was one of the reasons I avoided suburban neighborhoods. Everybody had a dog there.
“They’ll like you if I tell them to. Besides, these aren’t regular hounds. They’ll recognize you for who you really are.”
I didn’t want to think about that. “I appreciate your help, Matilda.”
“No need to thank me. This is exactly the kind of activity I was hoping to partake in. You’ve given an old crone a moment of happiness, Lorelei. That’s very difficult to do.”
“Glad I could be of service.”
Matilda gestured for me to mount the horse first. I didn’t have much experience with horses—my abilities didn’t involve them—and I was mildly embarrassed when Matilda felt the need to give my bottom a shove. Up and over my leg went until I was stable on the horse’s back. Matilda positioned herself in front of me.
“Taller than my motorcycle,” I remarked.
“Hold on to me, cariad, or you might find yourself rolling down that steep hill of yours. On second thought, perhaps you’ll end up on the doorstep of some handsome farmer. Might be worth giving you a shove.”
“There are no handsome farmers.”
She cackled. “I suppose your plan is to remain celibate forever. A pity, a pretty woman like you. There are all manner of hunts, Lorelei, and some are almost as wild as mine.”
I leaned forward as though straining to listen. “What was that? I can’t hear you over the wind.”
Laughing, she spurred the horse onward. “How I’ve missed you, cariad.”
We rode to the forest, and two hounds joined us en route. They were fearsome beasts—the size of gorillas, with powerful limbs and razor-sharp teeth. Their red eyes glowed with the same intensity as the mare’s.
Matilda leaned over to hold out the bracelet for them. Each hound inhaled the scent of the bracelet and charged.
“Are they running because they smell something?” I asked.
“I suppose we’re about to find out.” She jammed her heels into the mare’s side, and off we went.
The hounds were fast and agile. They leapt over fallen trees with grace and avoided collisions with low-hanging branches. Matilda and her horse were equally adept. I felt mildly nauseous, but I refused to say so. I’d never hear the end of it.
The deepest part of the forest was eerily quiet; it seemed as though every living creature sensed the arrival of members of the Wild Hunt and made themselves scarce. Not that I blamed them. If I didn’t know Matilda, I’d hide too.
In the six months since my arrival, I hadn’t yet managed to hike in Wild Acres or kayak the Delaware River. I’d intended to take time in the spring to enjoy outdoor activities when the weather was more favorable, but the Castle seemed to occupy me day and night.
Or maybe that was an excuse to stay inside and away from people. Sometimes even I was unsure of my true motivation.
I caught the literal tail end of rabbits and squirrels and foxes, all manner of woodland creatures. It was nighttime now, too late for hikers, and the campsites were miles away. It was pitch dark; nobody would see us even if they were here. Nobody alive anyway.
The moon stared down at us with what seemed like a disapproving gaze. Or maybe that was me projecting. I didn’t like to ask friends like Matilda for assistance. It wasn’t fair to keep my distance but then rely on them when it suited me.
The hounds pressed their noses to the ground and finally stopped in front of a massive oak tree. The tree was remarkable for its position; alone in the middle of a clearing, its long, substantial branches seemed to mark the area as its own territory.
The hounds howled in unison.
“She’s here?” I asked, climbing down to the ground.
“She was.” Matilda approached the tree with cautious steps. “But not anymore.”
“How long ago?”
