The Silver Stag (The Wild Hunt #1)

Stands of birch, with its startling white bark, dotted the park, breaking up the constant clamor of forest green and the dark trunks of the trees. Light could—and did—peek through the foliage, but only in patches, and as I crept along, looking for the trailhead that led to the shortcut, I found myself quickly descending into a brooding watchfulness. I opened my window even though it was chilly and humid, and listened to the call of the birds.

To my left, a murder of crows had set up a racket, and to my right came the shriek of a red-tailed hawk, which was setting off the crows. The hawk was hunting, that much I could tell, and as I listened, a gust of wind came rushing through. For a moment, I could swear I heard voices on it—talking, as though a group of people was passing by. I squinted, but could see nothing. I wasn’t good at catching a glimpse of the Unseen, although I could sense when they were around. Angel was better at that than me.

As the energy settled around me, I felt like I had entered claimed territory. I was an intruder here, and there were eyes all through the forest. I breathed a sigh of relief when I finally arrived at the Wonder Trail, the shortcut DJ usually took, and guided my car into one of three parking spots. Turning off the ignition, I leaned back in the seat, listening.

Below the layer of the crows and hawk, below the voices I had heard, there surged a current of energy. I followed it, sourcing it back to the trees and the soil and the animals that made up the forest around me. City park or not, this was a Wild Place, and even though I was Fae and used to them, that fact made me nervous. Wild Places could be dark and brooding areas, and they were dangerous for the unwary—human or otherwise. They were tied into the very heart of the planet, the deep forces that made up the bones of the world and there were spirits and creatures in them that were far more deadly than anything walking on two legs.

I focused on lowering my vision to below the level of the trees, diving deep into the core of what made up UnderLake Park.

The sentience that ran below the surface of the park was thick, like a shadow creeping through the night. It coiled around the roots of the trees, trickling through the soil like rivulets of water, seeping into the rocks and vegetation. It crept up the tall trunks to filter between the branches and around the limbs of the trees. It seeped into the water and the debris that littered the forest floor.

Foggy and dangerous, it had an edge that could slice through flesh like a razor blade. The spirit was angry, with a voracious appetite that felt like it would never be satiated and it churned with all the fervor of an ocean wave, threatening to sweep me under as it rolled by.

“Holy fuck,” I muttered, pulling myself out of the trance. I hadn’t expected to key in so easily. Most places that had experienced great violence had some sort of sentience, but this was like a monster, frothing below the surface as it waited for the next victim. And I could only hope that the chosen target hadn’t been DJ. If he was in here, I had to find him and fast, because there were numerous dangers that lurked within the woodland.

Grateful for my tracking skills, I retrieved my backpack from the backseat, then jumped out of the car and locked it. I kept a pack with all my tools ready to go. Rope, a first-aid kit, a spare knife, water bottles, food, a thermal blanket, and a flashlight took care of most of my needs.

While most of my jobs were simple track and catch, occasionally I found myself on a search and rescue mission, and I wanted to be prepared. I slipped the pack over my shoulders and headed down the trail, into the forest.

Some forests were dark and brooding, obviously dangerous places for creatures of any sort. Others were welcoming, while still others gave the illusion of tranquility, when in truth, they sought to lure in victims. As I headed to the entrance of the trail, I listened to the trees murmur around me and quickly realized that, though they were dangerous and didn’t trust humankind nor any of its ilk, neither would they play favorites. They would harbor both good and evil, favoring neither.

Pausing at the entrance, I inhaled a deep lungful of air, paying attention to the scents.

My sense of smell was heightened, thanks to my Fae heritage, and as I let myself sift through the layers, I searched for anything that would tell me whether DJ had come this way.

Beneath the fragrant smells of water dripping from the cedar and fir branches, I could smell moss and the mildew, the tang of decaying leaves that had fallen from the trees last autumn, the smell of mushrooms and fungi that were so prevalent in the woods here.

I patiently sifted through them, discarding the ones that were obvious. Below that I could smell the faint stench of skunk. One must have passed this way within the past twenty-four hours. And a faint musk hung in the air, suggesting that a deer or an elk had crossed through the park. Lowering my sense of smell even further, I stretched out my awareness as far as I could. There, on the edge of my perception, I could smell chocolate and nuts, and fear.

I began to head along the trail, staying on the center of the path. Overhead, the canopy of trees wove their branches across the path, forming a lattice-work roof.

Deciding it best to trace the chocolate, I focused my attention on the scent. That was the only clue I had. DJ loved chocolate, I knew that much.

About five minutes in, the scent abruptly veered left, into the undergrowth. I had been watching the ground carefully, looking for any sign of footprints or anything to tell me that he had come this way. Even though it had rained, the soil of the path was compacted, with few mud puddles. Pausing, I stared into the foliage. Finally, deciding that following the scent would be my best chance, I turned to the left and forged my way into the tangle.

Within a few minutes, I found myself at the top of a ravine. The grade was steep and I paused to yank a broken branch off of a nurse log to use as a walking stick. Grateful for the nonskid tread on my boots, I began to make my way down the slope, half-sliding, half-stumbling down the hill.

At least it wasn’t raining, although clouds had socked in and we were due for a good spring drenching. A rustle to my left caught my attention, but it was only a small animal, out hunting. A breeze coasted past and I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply as I tried to read whatever I could from the flowing breeze. Once again, the smell of chocolate came over me, coming from down below, and I picked up my pace as best as I could.

The ravine was steep and slick, but the trees were thick enough that I was able to weave my way, using their trunks to steady myself. It was slow going as I slogged through the undergrowth, and I tested each step to make certain I wouldn’t turn an ankle, but as I built my rhythm, the going began to get easier.

“Thank gods I wore long sleeves,” I muttered out loud. I passed through a tall stand of stinging nettles. The barbs on the plant caused severe welts, even for the non-allergic.

A moment later, I realized a low mist was beginning to rise. I froze, sensing a faint sentience to the fog. Wrapping my hand around the hilt of my dagger, I breathed softly as I waited. There was danger everywhere within this park, and I wondered whether whatever had killed John and Vera Castle was still around. Maybe not a serial killer in the usual sense of the word, but a deeply entrenched danger? After a moment, the mist rolled lightly across the ground, ignoring me, and I continued.

I came across a small puddle of water at the base of a tree, and squatted beside it. Placing my palm on the surface of the water, I reached deep with all of my senses, searching for the essence behind the element. All elements were sentient to a degree, and if there were any elementals around, I should be able to pick up on them. At least water elementals.

I could feel the connection of the water in the puddle to the water running through the roots of the trees, to the water dripping off of the needles and branches of the trees, to the moisture in the air. And then…behind that, a presence.