King of Light: Rosethorn Valley Fae #2 Page 12

  “He said they were small and twinkling, with an… otherworldly glow,” Larry replied in a low, careful voice, as if he thought the lights were going to appear right now and carry him off to Neverland.

  “It’s June, and this is suburban Pennsylvania,” Miranda said, trying to hide her smile.

  “And?” Larry asked.

  “Don’t make me spell it out for you,” she pleaded.

  But he didn’t answer.

  “Is it possible that the lights he saw were merely fireflies?” she asked.

  “Joey’s a Jersey guy. He knows what fireflies are,” Larry said, scowling at her. “This ain’t them.”

  Miranda sighed.

  “So he allegedly saw these little twinkling, glowing lights, and then what?” she asked.

  “He followed them,” Larry replied.

  “Off the path?” Miranda asked in horror. She could not imagine lights pretty enough to lure her into the tangle of trees to ruin the rest of her clothes and get eaten alive by mosquitos.

  “Yes,” Larry said. “Follow me.”

  “Is that really necessary?” Miranda asked. “If this is some elaborate hoax to trick my employer into giving you guys overtime, there’s no point bothering. It isn’t going to happen. He’d sooner fire all of you and hire a completely new crew.”

  Larry drew himself up with an expression of injured pride.

  “The Dolor corporation has flown my crew all over the country to break ground for his projects. If we wanted more money, we would ask. This is something else. Something… different.”

  “Lead the way,” Miranda said, surrendering.

  Larry held back the branches of some thorny-looking shrubbery to let her proceed deeper into the woods.

  He stepped in behind her and let the branches snap back into place. It was darker off the path, where the trees met overhead without interruption.

  Miranda had never been easily spooked, but something about the forest set her on edge. An inexplicable shiver of dread traced its icy fingers down her spine in spite of herself.

  “This way,” Larry said quietly.

  She followed him through the trees. Everything was so green and lush. There was no sign that any other human had been here before, and she had to remind herself that if she had to, she could walk her way back out of it and reach town in a couple of hours, even without her car, which waited back at the dirt lot the workers used.

  “Okay, this is where he fell,” Larry said at length, pointing to a ravine just below them.

  “Wow,” Miranda murmured.

  The ravine was steep with jagged rocks at the bottom. It was no wonder the man had been badly injured. He was probably lucky to have survived.

  “After that, things got bad,” Larry said solemnly.

  “After that?” Miranda echoed.

  “I know it sounds crazy, but saw something in the woods,” Larry said. “Something big and furry.”

  “A bear?” Miranda suggested. “Bear sightings are not unheard of around here.”

  “It was carrying a club,” Larry said, shaking his head. “Joey said it smelled like sulfur. And when it got closer, he saw that it only had one big eye at the center of its face.”

  “Didn’t he hit his head?” Miranda asked doubtfully.

  “That wouldn’t impact his sense of smell,” Larry replied.

  Miranda made a mental note to look into that.

  “So what did this one-eyed bear do?” she asked.

  “It wasn’t a bear,” Larry insisted. “It rushed through the trees at him. He could hear the branches thrashing around and then it made this loud snorting roar.”

  “Then what?” Miranda asked.

  “Then Joey said he heard someone singing in the distance,” Larry said.

  “And?” Miranda asked, finding herself sort of intrigued in spite of herself.

  “And it ran away,” he said.

  “I see,” Miranda said. “Well, thank you for walking me through it. I’ll be sure to pass along this information to our legal team.”

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” Larry asked.

  She didn’t.

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe,” Miranda said. “It’s my job to ask the questions and convey the information. Shall we head back?”

  Larry nodded sullenly.

  Well, she couldn’t really blame the man. Miranda was feeling a bit sullen herself. She’d been hired as a high level executive assistant, not a camp counselor. And while she was out wandering around the woods listening to ghost stories, her phone had been buzzing up a storm in her pocket.

  “Is there someplace around here that I can make a call?” she asked Larry.

  Larry looked at her like she had two heads and spread his arms wide, as if the forest were her personal phone booth.

  “Someplace indoors,” she said.

  “There’s an old cabin where we eat lunch if it rains,” he said dubiously.

  “Perfect,” Miranda replied.

  They marched on in silence until they got back to the trail.

  Miranda was exhausted, and a nasty blister was developing on her right heel. It would be good to take a little break, catch up on calls and emails and then head up the path to her car.

  At least she didn’t have to report back to Mr. Ward until morning. Lately, her demanding boss was spending more time away from the office, doing God only knew what.

  One path wound into another and at last Larry pointed to something in the woods.

  “There ya go.”

  Miranda turned to behold a structure that could only be called a cabin by the most generous definition of the word. The corrugated metal roof was rusty and the little building itself was shedding blackened cedar shakes like a nervous cat.

  “That’s it?” she asked.

  “That’s it,” he told her. “Make yourself at home.”

  “Only if I’m a cobweb,” she muttered to herself.

  “Pardon?” Larry asked.

  “Nothing, uh, thank you,” she said.

  “No problem,” he told her. “See ya.”

  Larry marched off while Miranda headed inside and lost herself in her business so quickly that she didn’t have time to mind the dingy interior.

  A few hours later, she was still spread out at the rickety table in the so-called cabin. She was almost halfway through the emails on her tablet, and the phone was still buzzing like an angry hornet.

  Cullen Ward was a powerful man, with powerful contacts who weren’t used to being patient. As his assistant, it was her job to stroke egos and smooth feathers without committing Mr. Ward to anything he didn’t want to do.

  The door to the cabin creaked open and a couple of guys came in to collect their things.

  “Uh, Miss Cannon, we’re heading out,” one of them said. “Larry said we should walk you to your car.”

  She glanced back at her tablet. Three more emails had just popped up. If she could just get to the bottom of her inbox before the end of business hours, it would be much better than letting any of Mr. Ward’s contacts wait for her to get home.

  “I’ll be okay on my own,” she told him. “I just need a few more minutes.”

  “Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “You know your way out?”

  “Of course,” she said. “I’ll just follow the path”

  He gave her a little wave and the men filed out.

  She turned back to her email as the phone rang again.

  The calls went on for a bit, but finally slowed enough for her to respond to a handful of email messages.

  The next time she picked up the phone she had barely said hello when the call cut off.

  She held it away from her ear and studied the black screen. Her phone was totally dead.

  “Shoot,” she said. Of course her charger was in her car.

  She gave one last glance to her stuffed inbox on her tablet, and decided reluctantly that she’d better pack it in.

  She stood up and stretched and then did a double ta
ke.

  It was completely dark outside.

  She must have lost track of time while she was wheeling and dealing in this stupid cabin. It wasn’t the first time she done something like this, and it wouldn't be the last. When Miranda really got in the groove, she tended to completely zone out.

  She folded up her tablet and tucked it into the pocket of her jacket.

  When she turned off the single lightbulb that dangled over the table and the cabin was plunged into total darkness.

  A little shiver of fear ran down her spine and she shook her head at her own silliness.

  “You’re a capable woman, not a frightened construction worker,” she scolded herself as she felt her way to the door and headed outside.

  Once she was out, she was thankful that the moonlight illuminated her surroundings enough for her to see where she was going.

  If she had thought the nighttime would be quieter in the forest than the day she was dead wrong. It seemed to be even louder than before. The shadowy trees echoed with the cries of birds and cicada songs.

  She headed across the mossy forest floor back to the muddy path that led up through the woods to the dirt lot across the site where she’d left her car.

  The light from the nearly full moon overhead was enough to let her see where she was going, but she still found herself wishing for the flashlight on her phone.

  She honestly felt a real sense of separation anxiety over the lack of the device that sometimes felt like an extension of herself. Thankfully she’d be back at her car soon. If she remembered correctly, it was no more than a twenty minute walk back.

  The blister on her right heel burned painfully with every step. She was half-tempted to take off her shoes. But she shuddered at the thought of all the nasty little creatures might be scuttling around underfoot.

  She walked on, hoping it would go numb soon.

  Bats squeaked and flew over head. Presumably, they were eating some of the plentiful mosquitoes. She’d doused herself liberally with a moisturizing lotion that claimed to act as an insect repellent. But she was beginning to doubt its claims as she slapped at yet another pesky bite. At this rate, she be eaten alive soon, bats or no bats.

  At least her path was starting to look familiar. That was good.

  She squinted her eyes in the darkness. There was something in the trees, a small building, its roof glinting a little in the moonlight.

  Funny, she didn’t remember seeing any buildings on the way down here.

  She took a few more steps toward it and almost began to cry.

  It was the cabin again. She must have gone in a complete circle somehow.

  She let out a long breath and felt sorry for herself for a count of ten.

  Then she inhaled, ready to find her way home.

  The path back to the car wasn’t that complicated. She had obviously just been lost in thought and made a wrong turn somewhere along the way. Or maybe it was that things looked a little different in the darkness.

  But she wasn’t helpless. She would find her way back.

  This time, when she had gotten about five minutes away from the cabin, she saw a second path branching off from the first that she hadn’t noticed before.

  It was narrow, and she didn’t really remember taking a narrow path to get here. But she had probably just been distracted with her phone buzzing every two seconds.

  She headed into the trees on the tighter path. Assuming this was the right trail, she should be back at the car within fifteen minutes.

  She was already picturing the frozen mac and cheese she planned to stick in the microwave when she got home, and the crisp, cold diet ginger ale with condensation running alluringly down the can.

  A sudden burst of light in the darkness roused her from her fantasy.

  She blinked and looked around, but it was already gone.

  That was odd. Maybe she was just getting lightheaded. It had been a while since her last meal, and she didn’t function well on low blood sugar.

  She kept walking, picking up the pace a little. It would probably be best to get to the car as soon as possible. She needed to get home.

  The night air was cooler but still heavy with moisture. A bead of sweat rolled down her spine.

  A tiny light appeared before her again. This time, it glowed long that she was sure it was there.

  Then another light appeared.

  And another.

  The first light winked out and more appeared, further down the path.

  They were too big to be fireflies.

  Miranda rubbed her eyes, wondering if she was losing her mind.

  You haven’t had anything to eat or drink since breakfast, she told herself. And that idiot Larry told you about spooky lights in the woods and put the thought in your head.

  But when she took her hands from her eyes, the lights were still glowing in front of her, twinkling and moving, as if urging her forward.

  They seemed to be moving right along with the path, though the path was almost impossible to make out now, since the glowing lights were brighter than the moonlight filtering through the trees.

  She took a deep breath and continued, moving slowly to be sure of the ground beneath her feet.

  You’re being an idiot, Miranda, she told herself. They’re not evil lights leading you into a ravine. It’s probably just big, healthy Pennsylvania lightning bugs.

  One buzzed past her face, and she swore she saw a tiny glowing human body with whisper-thin wings before it winked out and darted further down the path.

  Now her imagination was really working overtime.

  “One foot in front of the other,” she whispered to herself.

  The pain in her heel and the humidity faded away until there was only the pounding of her heart and the cold sweat prickling at her forehead.

  Why did the pounding of her heart seem so loud?

  She realized that the birds and cicadas had stopped their song.

  An instant later she heard thrashing through the trees to her left side.

  The twinkling lights seemed to shiver as a whole and then swarm around her, preventing her from being able to see a single step ahead on the narrow path.

  “No,” she murmured to herself.

  But there was no place to hide. She was lit up like a Christmas tree by whatever these things were, blinded by their light so she couldn’t escape.

  The movement drew closer. She could hear the snapping of individual branches. Whatever it was, it was right on top of her.

  The breeze carried its smell to her - a rotten, evil odor like a combination of spoiled meat and the tiger cages at the Philly Zoo.

  Miranda closed her eyes and screamed.

  There was an answering cry from somewhere in the woods to her right - low and throaty and raw.

  Her own scream cut off instantly at the haunting sound of it.

  Then the trees began to tremble and crash on the right side of the path as well.

  She wrapped her arms around herself and sank to her knees.

  Thunderous footsteps, almost like giant hoofbeats, rushed her. Something huge and hairy was coming at her from the left. And she saw a hint of sleek fur and the moonlit outline of antlers on the right.

  Oh, God. There are two of them.

  They were going to rip her to pieces in their turf war.

  She was going to die here in the woods. And Larry would stand over her grave and say, “I told you so.”

  2

  Bron

  Bron leapt through the trees in the form of a giant stag.

  There was a woman.

  What was she doing out here?

  Something about her primal scream left him undone, though the King of the Wilds was a fierce warrior and not one to be shaken by a mortal scream.

  He smashed past saplings and sailed over fallen logs. Fingers of foliage reached out to caress him as he passed, but he had no time to commune with them.

  He could see her now, huddled on the ground, arms over her head.

>   Mischievous will o’ the wisps surrounded in her like a cloud, showing the bloodthirsty fachan exactly where to find her.

  The fachan itself was nearly there. Bron could smell its horrible carrion breath.

  He let go of his stag form and shifted back into a man shape, then threw back his head and roared again, calling to his own to help him.

  The woman trembled.

  On the other side of her the fachan yelped in surprise as the roots of the nearest tree reached out to trip him.

  The enormous monster hit the forest floor so hard Bron could feet the wet ground reverberate under his feet.

  He roared a third time and was gratified to see the awful thing drag itself further into the forest, away from the woman.

  Bron stood over her, feeling a surge of pride and possessiveness.

  “Woman, are you hurt?” he asked.

  She wasn’t hurt, he already knew that. But he hoped it would make her feel better to answer the question.

  “I’m f-fine,” she murmured, slowly lowering her arms from over her head as the will o’ the wisps dispersed.

  She gazed up at him - her eyes were large, dark and filled with fear. They were set off by the extreme paleness of her moonlit skin and the bright, fiery red of her hair.

  “Come,” he said, offering her his hands.

  She took them and allowed him to help her to her feet.

  He was surprised to see how tall she was. He still towered above her, but she was a very healthy specimen as mortals went.

  He felt an odd pang of kinship towards this other large being with flame-colored hair like his own.

  “What was that?” she asked him, looking over her left shoulder into the woods.

  Who are you? would have been a more common question for a shivering mortal, but she seemed utterly unafraid of Bron’s bare, muscled chest and impressive height.

  “That was called a fachan,” he told her. “It’s a one-eyed, hairy harbinger of hell.”

  “What did it want?” she asked.

  “To club you over the head and eat you… eventually,” he replied. “They like to play with their food first.”

  “Thank you for saving me,” she said earnestly.