Finn made me hang back before we turned the final corner, but then I heard him greet Lachlan and beckon to me. I hated that we had to go through all this crap just for me to make a stop at the grocery store. I tried to convince myself this was a temporary inconvenience, that eventually we would find a better way for me to live safely in Avalon. I wasn’t entirely successful.
When I joined Finn and Lachlan, the little hairs on my arms prickled with the distinctive sensation of magic in the air. I wondered if my so-far futile attempts to learn magic were actually having more effect than I’d realized. I knew that Finn always had a shield spell up when he went out in public, and Lachlan had his glamour, but I hadn’t actually sensed that magic in the past. I really wished I could ask them about it, but my ability to sense magic was another deep, dark secret. When I’d told Ethan about it, he’d told me that Faeriewalkers usually had no other magical abilities. He then warned me that my potential magic skills would paint an even bigger target on my back, and that I should keep it secret from everyone—even my father.
The streets were quieter than usual—a sure sign that the Wild Hunt was still in town. Finn wasn’t exactly relaxed, but Lachlan seemed even more tense and watchful. He was usually friendly and talkative, but today he was as talkative as Finn. Which is to say not at all.
They didn’t shadow me through the aisles of the tiny neighborhood grocery store where I bought my supplies, probably only because there were only about three people in the place. I took longer than I strictly needed to, but wandering the aisles without my bodyguards felt like such a decadent slice of normalcy that I couldn’t help savoring it.
That whole normalcy thing went right out the window as soon as I set foot outside the store, flanked by Finn and Lachlan. The distinctive roar of motorcycles split the air, and both Finn and Lachlan went on red alert. Magic thickened around me, the sensation like a thousand little electric shocks pinging against my skin.
The motorcycles came flying around the corner, and I knew as soon as I caught sight of them just who the bikers were.
The Erlking rode slightly ahead of his Huntsmen, who followed two-by-two behind him. As they had been when I’d first seen them, they were all dressed in black, and the huge motorcycles they rode were as black as their horses.
The Erlking came to a stop directly in front of me, despite Finn’s attempts to keep me behind him, and the rest of the Huntsmen quickly surrounded us. They circled us in perfect unison, the Huntsmen effortlessly jumping the curb when necessary. The bikes roared even though they weren’t going terribly fast.
Finn put a hand on my arm, and the prickling increased. At a guess, I’d say he’d extended his shield spell over my body. Lachlan stood motionless on my other side. The street and sidewalks around us had emptied as if by magic.
The Erlking twisted the handlebars of his bike, making it growl even more fiercely. Flames shot out from the exhaust pipes, reminding me of how his horse had seemed to breathe fire. I couldn’t help cringing at the sound as he revved the engine again. I might have embarrassed myself by covering my ears if Finn hadn’t had such a firm grip on my arm. I could hear the Erlking laughing even over the roar of the bikes.
Then suddenly, all the Huntsmen came to a stop at the same moment, the roar of their bikes subsiding to a growling idle.
My heart beating in my throat, I glanced around at these nightmares of Faerie. Each of the Huntsmen was dressed identically in unadorned black riding leathers. Black helmets with reflective visors hid their faces, and black gloves—or maybe I should call them gauntlets—hid their hands so that not a hint of skin or hair was visible. Only the fact that their builds were slightly different from one another stopped them from looking like a bunch of clones.
The Erlking was another story. His black leather was heavily adorned with silver studs and spikes, and he actually had silver spurs attached to his heavy motorcycle boots. The spurs might have made him look silly if he weren’t so terrifying.
He, too, wore gauntlets, though his had wicked silver spikes across the knuckles. Yikes! His helmet was oddly shaped, coming to a point in front of his face like it was the helmet from a suit of armor, and silver antlers were painted on each side of his head, reminding me of the grotesque mask he’d been wearing when I first saw him. More frightening still, he wore a familiar scabbard draped over his back, though at least he didn’t draw the sword.
When I’d seen him from a distance, I’d known immediately that he was a big guy. Up close and personal like he was now, I saw that he was huge. He had to be at least six foot five, and though his body was well hidden behind all that black leather, I could tell from the way he filled out the outfit that he was solidly muscled. As if he weren’t intimidating enough otherwise.
I don’t know how long our silent standoff lasted. It felt like forever, but was probably only a few minutes at most. My mouth was dry with fear, even though I knew he couldn’t hurt me, and if my heart raced any faster, I’d die of a heart attack.
And then the Erlking reached up and removed his helmet.
I felt like my racing heart had suddenly stopped beating as I watched him shake out his hair and hook his helmet on the handlebars of his bike.
There’s no such thing as an ugly Fae. At least not among the Sidhe, the aristocracy of Faerie. Their faces are always perfectly proportioned, their skin always completely devoid of blemishes or wrinkles or freckles. Even so, not all Fae are created equal. Up until this moment, Finn had topped my list of most gorgeous creatures I’d ever laid eyes on. The Erlking set a new standard.