Jenna Black: Shadowspell

“What’s the Wild Hunt?” I asked.

We’d entered the tunnel system to begin the trek back to my safe house, and I guess Dad must have lost his signal, because he finally put his cell phone away.

“They are the nightmare of Faerie,” he said in a tense, clipped tone. “A pack of horsemen who live only to hunt Fae and mortals alike. Their leader—the Erlking—is the only man the Queens of Faerie are said to fear.”

“That would be the guy with the sword?” I asked in a small voice.

Dad dipped his chin in a curt nod. “Yes. All the Huntsmen are dangerous, but none more so than he.”

I frowned, belatedly hearing the nuances of what my dad had said. “Wait a minute. You said the Queens of Faerie fear him, plural. But he’s Unseelie, right?” All of Faerie is divided into two Courts, each with its own Queen. The Seelie Court had the reputation of being the good guys (though since Aunt Grace was Seelie, it’s obvious the reputation doesn’t always hold true). The Unseelie Court is the Court of monsters and bad guys, but that was a generalization, too. Ethan and Kimber were Unseelie, and they were pretty decent most of the time. The Erlking seemed to fit the Unseelie stereotype to a tee. “If he’s Unseelie, surely the Unseelie Queen isn’t scared of him.”

“He is neither Seelie nor Unseelie,” my father said. “He is outside the Courts altogether, a power unto himself. He considers himself a king, although he has no actual kingdom.”

“And he’s allowed to just ride into Avalon whenever he feels like it and kill people in broad daylight?” I’d seen evidence before that the border between Avalon and Faerie was dangerously porous, but I had at least hoped that it was better defended than that .

“No. He is not allowed to hunt in Avalon. It’s just that if someone he’s hunting in Faerie comes over the border, he’s allowed to pursue.”

We were moving so fast I was beginning to be a little short of breath, so I decided to hold my questions for the moment. When we passed out of the populated section of the tunnels and into the lightless path that led to my home, Dad cast some kind of spell that created a ball of light, which hovered over our heads and showed us the way. My neck kept prickling, and I kept looking behind me. Not that I really expected to see the Erlking bearing down on me on his fearsome black horse, but I was completely freaked out. I’d never have admitted it, but I was glad my mom had covered my eyes. I’d already seen enough things here in Avalon that would haunt my sleep. I didn’t need one more.

When we finally got to the safe house, Dad asked my mom if she would make us all some tea while he and I waited in the guardroom for Finn to arrive. It came out sounding more like an order than a request, but my mom didn’t object.

The guardroom wasn’t as cozy as the living room in my suite, but there was a reasonably comfortable sitting area. I plopped down heavily on the couch, but my dad was too agitated to sit.

“Okay,” I said. “What’s the scoop on the Erlking? Why did we have to head for the hills as soon as you saw him? You said he wasn’t allowed to hunt in Avalon.”

“It’s complicated.”

I snorted. “Like anything in this place is simple. Come on, Dad. Tell me what’s going on. Don’t I have a right to know?”

He let out a frustrated sigh, which seemed to release some of his tension. He stared at the floor as he spoke, and his jaw was tight with strain.

“Once upon a time, the Erlking and his Wild Hunt were the scourge of Faerie. This was a long, long time ago. They would hunt the members of both Courts, slaughtering them at will. Those they didn’t kill were forced to join the Hunt, slaves to the Erlking’s will. Sometimes, the Hunt would ride out into Avalon and wreak havoc among the mortals living here. Mortals who were forced into the Wild Hunt invariably died, their bodies pushed to the breaking point as they tried to keep up the relentless pace of the Hunt.”

My mom entered the guardroom, carrying a tray with the tea. I was more of a coffee girl myself, but the people of Avalon apparently couldn’t live without their tea. I was learning to tolerate it in the interest of being polite. Mom put the tray on the coffee table, then poured out three cups as my dad continued.

“Eventually, the Queens of Faerie were able to make a deal with the Erlking, a deal they sealed with magic. The Erlking agreed that he would no longer hunt members of either Court without permission of that Court’s Queen. Ever since, he and his Wild Hunt have been the Faerie Queens’ assassins and executioners. Still a nightmare, but a leashed nightmare.”

I frowned as I thought that over. “What did the Erlking get out of this agreement?”

Dad stirred his tea with studied intensity. “He gained the privilege of hunting the Courts’ outcasts.”

My frown deepened. “But he was hunting them already, right?”

My dad didn’t answer.

“I think there was another part of the deal,” my mom said, surprising me. “The Erlking lives for the hunt. It’s part of his elemental nature, and yet he allowed the Queens to put limits on him. He must have gotten some advantage out of it. But it seems that the Fae who are old enough to remember are under a geis not to speak of it.”

“What’s a geis?”

“It’s a restriction that’s enforced by magic. The spell was cast by both Queens and binds all the members of their courts. The Fae who are old enough to remember literally can’t talk about it.”

Dad continued stirring his tea, round and round and round. I looked back and forth between him and Mom.

“Are you old enough to remember?” I asked my dad.

He nodded, but said nothing.

“And you’re not allowed to talk about it?”

He turned his head and looked at me, but he still didn’t speak. He didn’t even nod or shake his head.

“It must be a very powerful geis,” my mom said. “They can’t even tap dance around the truth. They just flat out can’t talk about it. They can’t even admit that a geis exists, even though everyone knows it must.”

“And no one has any idea what they’re hiding?”

Mom shook her head. “There are lots and lots of theories, but I don’t think any one is more likely than another to be true.”

I digested all that for a while, frustrated that I couldn’t get the whole story. Obviously, I’d seen more than enough evidence that the Erlking was one scary dude. But I still didn’t get why Dad had reacted as if the guy was a direct threat to me.

“If the Erlking can’t hunt in Avalon,” I asked my dad, “then what are you so worried about?”

Dad finally took a sip of his well-stirred tea. “He can’t hunt in Avalon. That doesn’t mean he can’t kill. Or worse. There is a geis on him that prevents him from attacking anyone within the borders of the city—with the exception of people he chases here from Faerie. The geis does not prevent him from defending himself, however, and he’s free to do whatever he wishes to anyone foolish enough to attack him or his Huntsmen.”

“Still not getting it,” I said. “Who’d be stupid enough to attack him when they know that allows him to kill them?” Certainly not me, which should mean he was no threat to me whatsoever. “Besides, won’t he just go back to Faerie now that his, er, hunt is over?” Once again, I had to fight off the image of that black rider on his black horse raising his sword to kill a helpless, unarmed man.

“The Erlking has a unique ability to provoke people into acting against their own best interests. And no, I very much doubt he’ll go back to Faerie. Every time he’s pursued someone into Avalon, he’s stayed for at least a few weeks. He even maintains a household here.”