Amon, now a shaggy caveman holding an animal’s jawbone in one of his thick-knuckled hands, affectionately cuffed his child. “You’ve had your fun, Rolf. Now it is your father’s turn.”
Rolf bowed his head and stepped back.
I wondered what the odds were of my squeezing off a shot at Amon before one or more of his children fell upon me. Not good, I decided.
Then I had an idea. I raised my left hand and displayed the mark upon my palm. “My master, Lord Edrigu, will be displeased if anything should happen to us.”
Amon looked at the mark for a moment and then burst out laughing. “That symbol merely means that Edrigu has laid a claim on your soul, zombie. I’m sure he’d be happy to collect it earlier than anticipated.”
“Then what of my father?” Devona said in her best haughty-regal voice. “I am not just his daughter; I am also the keeper of his Collection. He would be furious if any harm were to come to me or my companion.”
She sounded convincing enough, but I could tell by the uncertain look in her eyes that she wasn’t sure that Lord Galm would be all that upset if his half-breed daughter died in the Wyldwood. I felt sorry for her then. What would it be like to have known a father for over seventy years, to have taken care of his Collection for nearly thirty, to have worked hard for him in hope of some simple recognition and still not know whether he cared if you lived or died?
Maybe Amon sensed her uncertainty as well, for after a moment’s thought, he said, “You have aided in an assault on one of my subjects and trespassed on my Dominion. Galm cannot gainsay my right to justice.”
Amon shimmered and was now a beer-gutted, flannel-shirted, John Deere-capped, shotgun-toting hunter, complete with chewing tobacco juice dribbling down his stubbled chin.
“But as it’s the anniversary of the Descension and we are in the middle of the Wild Hunt, I shall make you a proposition.” He turned his head and spit a brown stream into the grass. “Several miles from here is a small glen. You will be taken there and set free. All you need do is reach the other side, and I shall let you continue on your way to the Sprawl and will seek no further action against you for what happened to Honani and Thokk.”
“And the catch is?” I asked.
Amon smiled, displaying tobacco-stained fangs. “I shall be hunting you.”
“You have been given a great honor,” Rolf said. He and his feral siblings escorted us through the forest, Rolf leading, the others enclosing us in a circle.
“Yeah, it’s a dream come true,” I replied.
He snarled and his clawed hands tensed. I’m sure he would’ve taken my head off if we hadn’t been his father’s prey. Before we’d set out, Rolf had taken my gun from me and now carried it in his left hand. Lykes are highly allergic to silver, but my bullets were safely encased within the gun, allowing him to hold it without harm. Still, I thought I could detect a slight swelling of his hand. I was surprised and puzzled that the lykes hadn’t gotten rid of my gun as soon as they’d taken it from me. But when we reached the glen, I understood why.
“The hunt shall begin as soon as we depart,” Rolf said solemnly. “My father, in deference to your weakness, shall give you a head start.” His sharp-toothed smile reminded me of Amon. “How much of a head start, however, you shall not know.” He pointed a clawed finger toward the other side of the glen. “The rules are simple. Reach the other side and your lives will be spared. Fail to do so, and you die.”
He dropped my gun to the ground. “Once we are gone, you may pick up your weapon and begin.” Before we could ask any questions, Rolf and the others bounded away into the forest, moving through the underbrush with silent, liquid grace.
I retrieved my gun and checked the clip. The five silver bullets were still there.
“It seems Lord Amon doesn’t believe in hunting defenseless prey,” Devona said.
“Or that he isn’t as vulnerable to silver as an ordinary lyke. Let’s get moving; the clock’s ticking.”
As soon as we stepped into the glen, it became night. I don’t mean the perpetual dusk created by the diffuse shadowlight of Umbriel; I mean honest-to-God night, with stars and everything. Despite our situation, I was so surprised that I stopped and stared overhead. They were the first stars I had seen in two years, and they were beautiful.
For an instant I had the dizzying sensation that we had somehow stepped through an unseen door between Nekropolis and Earth-that I was home.
“Are those stars?” Devona asked, her voice soft with wonder. “I’ve heard about them, but I’ve never actually seen any before. They’re lovely-and so far away. They make me feel small, and yet somehow big at the same time. Does that make any sense?”
“It makes perfect sense. But they can’t be real stars. What we’re looking at is most likely an illusion, a distraction designed to slow us down.”
“You’re right, of course. I’ll lead the way; my night vision is better than yours.” She took my hand and pulled me forward.
“And keep a nose out for Amon. We don’t know what form he’ll be wearing when he attacks, but it has to have a scent.”
“Right.”
We ran. The grass was slick with dew, and the sound of crickets chirping filled the air. I knew it was all just special effects supplied courtesy of Amon, but a wave of homesickness hit me hard, and I thought that if I had to die for good, I could pick far worse places in Nekropolis.
We continued forward, Devona’s gaze fixed unwaveringly on the opposite treeline, her heightened senses alive and alert; I held my gun at the ready, my comparatively weak vision and hearing working overtime, cop instincts on full.
Moments that felt more like hours passed, without any sign of the master of the Wyldwood.
“Why is Amon even bothering to stalk us?” Devona said in frustration. “He’s a Darklord, one of the six most powerful beings in the city, including Father Dis. How can we possibly provide him with a real challenge?”
“I don’t know much about Amon, but I’ve heard it said he gets as much pleasure from swatting flies as he does from stalking big game. To him, the hunt is everything.”
Devona started to reply, but then she suddenly squatted down, yanking me along with her so hard I felt something pull in my arm. I heard rather than felt something large pass through the air above us, approximately where our heads had been. A shrill cry of frustration sounded, followed by the flapping of wings as whatever it was began gaining altitude for another run.
“Looks like our head start’s over,” I muttered, scanning the night sky for Amon. I looked for a black patch against the stars, but whichever shape Amon was wearing, he was moving too fast for me to locate him. And then I heard something large whistling through the air and Devona screamed.
The starlight didn’t provide much illumination, but it was enough for me to see that Devona was struggling with a large bird-an eagle or maybe a condor; it was difficult to tell in the dark. Whichever the particular avian, I knew it really was Amon. I raised my gun, but didn’t dare fire for fear of hitting Devona.
“Throw him off you so I can get a shot!” I shouted.
Devona grabbed the bird by the wings and hurled him forward. It was dark, the bird was moving fast, and my reflexes are not nearly as good as they were when I was alive. But I didn’t worry about any of that. I squinted my left eye, aimed, and squeezed off a shot.
The bird shrieked and hit the ground with a heavy thump. I held my gun on it, waiting for it to stir, but it didn’t move. Without taking my eyes off it, I asked Devona if she was all right.
“A few cuts on my face, a couple fairly deep. Messy, but otherwise I’m unharmed. I should heal before too long.”
The bird remained motionless, but I didn’t lower my gun an inch; I knew better. “He was probably going for your eyes. Makes sense, since you’re the only one of us who can see in the dark.”