She pointed at the dead girl. "Is that not clear enough? You stall and you play and you tell yourself this isn't your business, and so we die." Those strange eyes met mine. "Pick a side."
I inhaled sharply. "You mean the fae and the Hunt. I have no idea which one--"
"We don't care which you pick. Just choose and be done with it. The longer you stall, the more they are distracted and the more of us die. Fae are being murdered." She waved at the dead girl. "And where are the Cwn Annwn?"
"I heard them. I know I heard--"
"A half-hearted attempt. They are distracted. By you. The rest of us? We do not matter. Lost girls never matter."
"Tell me what--" I began, but she disappeared, leaving me standing in a forest, holding tight to Ricky's hand.
--
Ricky and I were alone in a back room of the clubhouse as I downed my second shot of Scotch.
"So the young girls are fae," he said. "The same type you saw when you were looking for the apartment. The same two girls even."
"I think so."
"And they're associated with snakes--the belts and the hissing and the rattling and the slitted eyes. If we can pinpoint the language, that'll help."
He attacked the problem as rationally as if fae themselves were a perfectly rational phenomenon. As a child, he'd embraced his grandmother's tales of fae and the Hunt, in some way recognizing them as stories of his past, his heritage.
"We'll work on the language," Ricky continued. "I'm wondering if that's why they don't care which side you pick--because they aren't Welsh fae. As for the Cwn Annwn being distracted...I honestly can't imagine your situation would distract them so much they'd shirk their duties. I think they're having trouble catching this guy. Which opens another avenue of investigation. Before all that, though, you need to tell Gabriel. Loop him in. Pronto. Otherwise..."
He'll feel slighted.
He already feels slighted.
One would think Ricky'd be happy that I was spending less time with Gabriel. But even before we knew the parts we played in our ancient drama, I would tell him Gabriel had crashed at my place and he'd only joke that the couch must be more comfortable than it seemed. I'd asked him once, point-blank, if my friendship with Gabriel bothered him.
"You were friends with him before you met me," Ricky had said.
"I wouldn't exactly say friends..."
"You were. And I won't interfere with that, because that's how this all goes to shit, Liv. Arawn and Gwynn and Matilda. When they make Matilda choose, everything goes wrong, for all of them, and we aren't going to do that. It is what it is. I understand that."
"It is what it is? What does that mean?"
He'd shrugged and changed the subject.
I checked my watch. "It's late."
"It's not even midnight. You know he's up, Liv."
"It can wait." I got to my feet. "We're supposed to be at the club tonight to socialize, and it'll look bad if we're hanging out back here."
He opened his mouth, and I knew he was going to push me to call Gabriel, so I picked up the pace and was out the door before he could say another word.
CHAPTER TWO
The choice the fae girl mentioned was one I'd been putting off because, as I'd told her, I had absolutely no idea which side I would choose. Until six months ago, I would have laughed my ass off at the very thought of such a choice, so obviously straight out of a fairy tale. Which it was, quite literally.
I was the living embodiment of Matilda of the Hunt. Matilda of the Night. Mallt-y-nos. In Welsh myth, Matilda was a noblewoman who refused to give up her love of the hunt, even for her bridegroom, and so was cursed to ride with the Cwn Annwn--the Wild Hunt--forever.
In reality, Matilda was a dynes hysbys--a cunning woman or witch--born with blood from both the Huntsmen and Tylwyth Teg, the Welsh fae. The two kingdoms shared the girl, who'd grown up friends with the princes of both, Arawn and Gwynn ap Nudd. To avoid conflict, the young men had agreed not to court her. Arawn kept his word. Gwynn did not. In the fallout, the two made a deal. If Matilda went to Arawn on her wedding day, she'd be his, and the world of the fae closed to her forever. If she stayed with Gwynn, the world of the Hunt would close instead. Of course, neither told Matilda about the pact.
The night before her wedding, Matilda left for one last hunt with her old friend, Arawn. As she saw the gates to the fae world close, she raced back, only to be consumed by the fiery abyss. Unable to save her, both young men blamed themselves and each other, and their worlds had been at odds ever since.