offended all of them, even the ones who hadn’t deigned to send a representative, and now every one of them had a lien on my soul.
Another breeze drifted over us, yanking on my hair like an importunate toddler. “Midwinter,” they said in concord, and that single word seemed to resonate through the ground, crystallizing the air around it. “We will come for you at midwinter. You will be our prey.”
I caught my breath, stung by it even though I’d known something like this must have been coming. Nate moved closer to me, his natural warmth stolen away by the promise of winter that surrounded us. “You mean—” he began.
“If I can escape you,” I said hesitantly, trying to feel out the edges of this sentence.
The ones closest to me turned their heads to the side, and for a moment I had the sense of the Gabriel Hounds arrayed around me again, only this time we were on opposite sides. “You do not understand,” said the closest, a man in top hat, tails, and a Mexican wrestler’s mask. “You will be prey. We will hunt. So it is, now and forever, till the end.”
“You mean you’ll kill her,” Nate said.
The boy pirate shook his head. “No. We will always hunt her. That is how we hunt. That is what it is to usurp our power. She will be our prey as long as the Hunt lasts.” He looked at me again, the eyepatch glittering, then, as one, the gathered crowd turned their backs on us.
A wind swept across the plaza, tasting of frost and exorcising the heaviness of their attention. One by one, the crowd dispersed, some of the figures slowing as they reached the edges of the plaza and the anima that had ridden them here dissipated.
Midwinter.
Nate let out his breath in an exhalation that no longer turned into ice on the air. The encroaching frost was gone, but the air remained chill and dry, tasting of old leaves and fire. “Evie—”
“That gives me two months,” I said, and started across the plaza. The circle scuffed underfoot; any trace of blood was long gone, as was the mark on my throat. Inside, though, my brain was screaming
midwinter! Midwinter! That’s less than two months—I’m not ready to be torn apart by the Gabriel Hounds, I’m not ready to die—if I’d known, if I’d known I never would have—
No. I would have. And I had known. The Hounds had as much as warned me.
Nate ran to catch up with me. “Two months isn’t enough, Evie.”
“Yeah.” I paused at the edge of the plaza, listening for sound to creep back into the world. “I kind of wish I’d gone trick-or-treating with you now.”
“Jesus.” He touched my arm, and I started to push him away—I couldn’t break down here, not out in the open, please—but just then the taste of ferns and ice surged up in the back of my throat, and with it came the gray edges encroaching on my vision. I tried to brace myself and lurched against Nate instead, then stayed there a moment, sick with the cold in my gut.
I guess this was proof that the Horn hadn’t been causing these grayouts. Damn. And I’d just lost not only my last chance at a hunt, but my chance at a future beyond midwinter.
“I—” I said, then, as my mouth filled with cold water, spat to the side. “Not now, okay? I can’t—can’t deal with this now.”
His lips brushed my hair. “Not now,” he agreed, but his arms were still tight around me, as if he feared I’d run the second I had a chance.
Four
S o what do you do when you know you’ve got two months before a grisly end? Sleep, apparently. Nate brought me back to my office, and I fell onto the futon-couch without bothering to unfold it into an actual bed. “No you don’t,” he said, put me in the chair behind my desk, and folded it out himself. By the time I realized that I probably ought to be helping him with the bedclothes, he’d already finished and was helping me back up.
Sleep fell like lead wool around me, so heavy that I didn’t even run in my dreams as usual. I surfaced briefly when
Another breeze drifted over us, yanking on my hair like an importunate toddler. “Midwinter,” they said in concord, and that single word seemed to resonate through the ground, crystallizing the air around it. “We will come for you at midwinter. You will be our prey.”
I caught my breath, stung by it even though I’d known something like this must have been coming. Nate moved closer to me, his natural warmth stolen away by the promise of winter that surrounded us. “You mean—” he began.
“If I can escape you,” I said hesitantly, trying to feel out the edges of this sentence.
The ones closest to me turned their heads to the side, and for a moment I had the sense of the Gabriel Hounds arrayed around me again, only this time we were on opposite sides. “You do not understand,” said the closest, a man in top hat, tails, and a Mexican wrestler’s mask. “You will be prey. We will hunt. So it is, now and forever, till the end.”
“You mean you’ll kill her,” Nate said.
The boy pirate shook his head. “No. We will always hunt her. That is how we hunt. That is what it is to usurp our power. She will be our prey as long as the Hunt lasts.” He looked at me again, the eyepatch glittering, then, as one, the gathered crowd turned their backs on us.
A wind swept across the plaza, tasting of frost and exorcising the heaviness of their attention. One by one, the crowd dispersed, some of the figures slowing as they reached the edges of the plaza and the anima that had ridden them here dissipated.
Midwinter.
Nate let out his breath in an exhalation that no longer turned into ice on the air. The encroaching frost was gone, but the air remained chill and dry, tasting of old leaves and fire. “Evie—”
“That gives me two months,” I said, and started across the plaza. The circle scuffed underfoot; any trace of blood was long gone, as was the mark on my throat. Inside, though, my brain was screaming
midwinter! Midwinter! That’s less than two months—I’m not ready to be torn apart by the Gabriel Hounds, I’m not ready to die—if I’d known, if I’d known I never would have—
No. I would have. And I had known. The Hounds had as much as warned me.
Nate ran to catch up with me. “Two months isn’t enough, Evie.”
“Yeah.” I paused at the edge of the plaza, listening for sound to creep back into the world. “I kind of wish I’d gone trick-or-treating with you now.”
“Jesus.” He touched my arm, and I started to push him away—I couldn’t break down here, not out in the open, please—but just then the taste of ferns and ice surged up in the back of my throat, and with it came the gray edges encroaching on my vision. I tried to brace myself and lurched against Nate instead, then stayed there a moment, sick with the cold in my gut.
I guess this was proof that the Horn hadn’t been causing these grayouts. Damn. And I’d just lost not only my last chance at a hunt, but my chance at a future beyond midwinter.
“I—” I said, then, as my mouth filled with cold water, spat to the side. “Not now, okay? I can’t—can’t deal with this now.”
His lips brushed my hair. “Not now,” he agreed, but his arms were still tight around me, as if he feared I’d run the second I had a chance.
Four
S o what do you do when you know you’ve got two months before a grisly end? Sleep, apparently. Nate brought me back to my office, and I fell onto the futon-couch without bothering to unfold it into an actual bed. “No you don’t,” he said, put me in the chair behind my desk, and folded it out himself. By the time I realized that I probably ought to be helping him with the bedclothes, he’d already finished and was helping me back up.
Sleep fell like lead wool around me, so heavy that I didn’t even run in my dreams as usual. I surfaced briefly when
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