How do you cope with learning that your mother was murdered before you were born, your father is a fairy hitman, and you wield the power to raise an army of devoted love slaves... except you haven't the least idea how to control it?
Tom Corwen's di...
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A landscape of scents unfurled in his path as he sprinted between and over buildings, invisible to mortal eyes. The usual offenses irritated his nose—vehicle exhaust, the biological waste of an omnivorous race, chemicals used to scrub away and mask their filth—but another, one that didn't belong, drew him away from his target.
His mistress had given him precise instructions and he'd get an earful when he returned, but once explained she would understand the need. He had no trouble following the trail through the city. Remaining unseen was an inconvenience, but manageable, as his soundless, loping gate effortlessly chewed through the miles. He dropped low to circle behind his prey, leaped over a busy street, and continued through an empty alley, passing like a figment caught from the corner of an eye, then back to the rooftops.
Once across the city border, there were fewer places to run swiftly without risk of detection, forcing him into detours that prevented a quick end to the chase. He nevertheless continued to close the gap. The vermin were fast, but few could outrun a barghest without taking wing. He cleared the college grounds in seconds, melding with the mid-morning shadows, and passed beyond, into a suburban sprawl. An involuntary growl escaped his jaws, too low for human ears, and a shiver ran up the collective spines of humans nearby, living out their days in ignorance of the dangers that walked among them.
He launched into a cul-de-sac, following the spoor, vaulted the houses at its end, and slid on fallen leaves, damp with dew, as he dropped into a young wood. The great, black wolf lifted his snout to taste the air. They were close. Red eyes burned brightly in anticipation, and he exhaled a thick cloud of steam.
A hundred meters flashed by quicker than thought, then a sharp turn across forsaken railroad tracks and another stretch of forest before his vast body shattered an encampment of at least twenty goblins. The satisfying crunch of bones splintering between his teeth vibrated along his jaw as he pulverized another beneath the weight of a massive paw. They squealed and ran in all directions, but none of them were fast enough.
Cleigh chased down two more and was on the next before the first drop of blood hit the ground. Nictis must have been desperate to send so many. Goblins were sentient enough to understand an order and feral enough to kill without remorse, but they were wild and unpredictable, prone to violence and gluttony. Their sole virtue was a unique ability to reproduce quickly and asexually in an unforgiving world, arming Mab with an inexhaustible army of eager, if reckless, soldiers.
Were they not so foul, the barghest would have relished the opportunity to feast freely, but his only thought was keeping them away from the boy. The crow demanded it, and the fox was happy enough to oblige, though she would have been more invested if she knew the Winter Court had sent so many minions into the city. Had he not found them, they would have quickly grown bored with the search and begun to slaughter innocents, risking exposure. Not even Finn would be entertained by another wide spread cover-up.
He couldn't eat them all, even if he wished it, so as the last goblin lay twitching in the grass, Cleigh dug a shallow grave with his foreclaws to hide the remaining bodies. It was only temporary. Finn would have to send a crew to properly dispose of them and search the area for any pieces the barghest might have missed. Satisfied with his work, Cleigh lifted a leg and pissed on the grave, not as an act of contempt, but to mark his territory. None of the local wildlife would dare dig it up.
Though robbed of their bodyguard, the boy and his women were safe from this pack and that's what mattered most. He was certain Finn would send him out again to make sure there were no other threats nearby.
Cleigh resisted an urge to howl at the smell of death and sniffed the air for a sign that messengers were abroad, but instead of ravens, another familiar scent stung his nose. Nictis wasn't behind the goblins after all.
Finn needed to know that there was a new player in the game. Perhaps she could use the information to her advantage. Their plans would have to change regardless. Without acknowledging the owl-like strix perched nearby, Cleigh bounded through the wood, taking pains to ensure he couldn't be followed from the air before returning to his mistress.
Pane's black eyes followed the barghest with mild irritation. He'd already determined not to check on the other goblin bands since they would soon be lost to them as well, but Mortas Vesh had been right about his queen's enemies. The barghest's presence could be a feint and Vesh would keep it to himself until he knew for certain, plotting, as usual, from the shadows.
It was, nevertheless, a victory. The hound had clearly sensed Pane, but endeavored to make it seem otherwise and left the way he came. The darkling's allies would soon be aware that the court was not united, but the high sorcerer of the Winter Court now knew that the old crow wasn't acting alone, and she had few allies. Wheels within wheels, Vesh would say, and laugh with sinister pleasure at the entangled plots between men and gods. The next move belonged to the crow, and Pane the strix would be watching.
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