Beyond the Gateway (Cranksepticeye)

Twenty-three

The fog dispersed and Herne's ancient world faded into nothingness. The pictures in Jack's mind disappeared and, with them, the silken outfit. Hee found himself sitting once more astride a painted carousel pony, bobbing gently up and down as the ride wound to an end. He looked over and saw that Ethan's eyes were closed, and there was a grayish pallor to his skin.
"Did it work?" He demanded.
His eyes snapped open, and he struggled to focus his gaze on Jack.
"Ethan?"
"It did. Leaderless, the power of the Hunt itself was diminished, thrown into chaos and confusion. Auberon and Titania were able to weave an enchantment that would lock them away, forever sleeping in a place that is not in this world, not in the Other."
"And Herne?"
"Free. Ultimately . . . ," Ethan said sadly. "But even though he was released from the horrific enchantment, Herne was broken in spirit and body. Despairing of the crimes he had committed as leader of the Wild Hunt, he retreated deep into his forests. After so much time spent in the company of the immortal Faerie, Herne found that he himself was unable to die. But he faded, century after century, until he was no more than a shadow of his former grandeur. And the Hunt has remained in enchanted slumber."
"So . . . where's the problem then?" Jack asked, although he had the uneasy feeling that he already knew the answer.
"As per Mabh's vile enchantment, they will only stay that way as long as they remain leaderless."
"Okay . . . " The uneasy feeling deepened in the pit of his stomach.
"And they will only remain leaderless as long as the Roan Horse remains riderless."
"But I saw the Roan Horse poof!" Jack protested.
"It did." Ethan nodded, the color slowly returning to his cheeks as he swung himself out of his saddle. "The Roan Horse was destroyed. But the magick that Mabh used to create the Roan Horse remains.
"And . . . it's all tangled up in Lucky's mane. Isn't it?"
"I'm sorry."
Bad Lucky, Jack thought.
Ethan helped him down off the back of his painted mount, and Jack found that his knees were shaky. Ethan put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.
"It's not all bad, Jack," he said. "Not yet. The creature is safe as long as he stays in your bathtub. Water is a gateway - if he stays standing in it, he's not in this world and he's not in the Other. As long as he stays that way, even if someone were to blow Mabh's war horn, the call of the Wild Hunt can't touch him."
"So I have a Faerie water horse stuck in my tub for the rest of eternity?"
"No. Just for the rest of the Nine-Night, until the door to the Otherworld shuts again. Then there would be no way for the Wild Hunt to cross over, and we could try to remove the enchantment."
"And the unthinkable happens? If he gets out somehow and he's still enchanted?"
"Then if someone were to sound Mabh's war horn, Lucky would transform and become the Roan Horse," Ethan said in a quiet voice. "The Roan Horse seeks out a Rider. Once it has a Rider, the Wild Hunt wakes. Once the Wild Hunt wakes, they come thundering through the Gate on the backs of their shadowy steeds, and they kill. They are insatiable and unstoppable. The whole of this city - the whole of the mortal realm - could conceivably be destroyed."
Images from one of his recent nightmares flooded back into Jack's mind: Manhattan awash in blood and fire; himself staring down at his own hands grasping, white-knuckled, the tangled strands of a dark mane . . .
He shuddered and stared at Ethan. "And is it, then, some kind of lunatic coincidence that the Roan Horse is in my tub? And I just also happen to be the son of a Faerie king?"
"I don't know. But I don't beleive in coincidence." Ethan smiled at him wryly. "No - I do think the two things are connected. Because I'm reasonably sure that, insofar as you are a son of a Faerie king, someone wants you dead. I believe that is why a Black Shuck was set to track you. To lead the Wild Hunt to find you specifically" - his expression darkened- "among whatever other quarry they might find to give them sport."
Jack stared at him, his eyes wide. "Isn't that a little like hunting quail with a cannon? Haven't these people ever heard the phrase collateral damage?"
"I suppose. But for someone like Mabh, for instance, collateral damage is the fun part. And she does hold something of a grudge toward your father. The whole imprisonment after the Wild Hunt thing."
"Oh, right." Jack hugged his elbows, possessed of a sudden deep chill, and muttered, "She sounds delightful. But she's still locked up?"
"She is confined. Within her own realm, a grim place called the Borderlands. But she has outside agents through whom she can still work her will." Ethan scowled. "Auberon suspects her of trying to wake the Hunt. If he's right, she will most likely try to do it on Samhain - when the Gate is open widest."
Jack shivered. "You know, New Yorkers take Halloween pretty seriously. There are going to be a lot of halpless partygoers and trick-or-treaters on the streets come the thirty-first. Sounds like a recipe for a whole lot of collateral damage."
"The Jade guard will also be put that night," he said, one hand reaching out to squeeze Jack's shoulder. "Just as we have been and will be for every night of the Nine."
"Good."
"Speaking of which - Jack . . . " Ethan seemed suddenly exhausted. He turned his face to the west, and Jack could see the fatigue etched into the lines and planes of his face. "It's getting late. You need to leave the park. Please. Don't argue with me this time. Just go. The sun will set soon, and I have to go to work."
He squared his shoulders as though he expected Jack to put up a fight.
He did - a little - but only out of actual concern for Ethan. "Shouldn't you be taking it easy? I mean, you try to hide it with the whole tough-guy-swagger thing and all, but I saw the bandages. You're really hurt. Aren't you?"
"It's not so bad."
"Wow. You are a terrible liar."
He frowned fiercely at Jack.
"You also look like you haven't slept in a week." He took a tentative stem toward him and put a hand on his chest, looking into his ocean-blue eyes.
Ethan put his hand over Jack's, and he could feel the rhythm of Ethan's heart beating under his palm, through his shirt and the bandages.
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
With his other hand, Ethan reached up and brushed a stray brown curl put of Jack's eyes. "I'm sure."
He smiled at Jack, and Jack felt his insides melt a little. His whole face changed when he smiled. It was like the sun coming out.
"But," Ethan continued, "I'll be even better if you are safe at home and I don't habe to worry about you for tonight."
"I can take care of myself, Ethan Nestor," he bristled, halfheartedly.
"Please?" He turned up the wattage on his smile.u
"I . . . okay. " Jack felt his own lips turn up in a shy, answering smile. "I'll be good. This once."
"That's a good boy."
Jack was silent. Those three words of Ethan's had managed to render him utterly speechless.