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The horse skidded to a halt at the front porch. The rider threw back their hood to reveal Matilda, otherwise known as the Night Mallt. The ancient Celtic spirit slid from the horse’s back with an expert’s grace.
“Inside,” Matilda demanded.
She squeezed past me, and I closed the door behind us. Spotting the coat rack, she relieved herself of her cloak. “I can’t wear wool anymore. I need fabrics that breathe.” She noticed the brown suede jacket with fringe on the coat rack. “You’ve been making friends, I see.”
“How do you know that isn’t mine?”
“Because you wouldn’t be caught dead in fringed suede, cariad.”
Addison wasn’t a friend, but I wasn’t ready for that conversation. Knowing Matilda, she’d zip upstairs and murder the hunted woman right under my roof to protect me.
“How did you get here?” I asked.
“Through the crossroads. Those werewolf guards aren’t too quick. I blew right past them without stopping, and they didn’t even bother to chase me.”
My phone lit up with a text message from Anna Dupree, a member of the Arrowhead werewolf pack. Guards reported a cackling woman on horseback riding at breakneck speed. We assume she’s a friend of yours. Please confirm.
I couldn’t decide whether to be insulted or impressed. I typed back a single word—confirmed.
“I don’t think they were too concerned.”
Matilda huffed. “Well, they’d better start showing a bit more care.”
“Why?”
She cocked her head. “Didn’t Claude tell you?”
“Claude?” My mind was blown. “You sent the revenant?”
She turned her eyes skyward. “Good grief. I gave him one job. Just one.”
“Why would you send a revenant?”
“Deepest apologies, cariad. I was fresh out of hobgoblins. They all report to Vortigern now.”
“Who’s Vortigern?”
“We’ll get to that. Offer me a drink first. Where are your manners?”
“Come into the kitchen, and I’ll make tea.”
“An excellent suggestion.” She marched into the kitchen ahead of me. The Celtic Bossy Boots.
“Why send Claude? Why not come yourself?”
“I’m here now, aren’t I? Anyway, I couldn’t. I was trying to unearth their game plan first. I sent Claude to warn you that trouble is brewing and to lay low. I was hoping to divert their course and avoid this whole catastrophe.” She dropped into a chair. “I regret to inform you that I was unsuccessful.”
My head was spinning from too many sentences I didn’t understand. “Divert who and what?”
“The Wild Hunt and their leader, Vortigern.”
“Your Wild Hunt?”
“It hasn’t been mine since that backstabber ousted me. Doesn’t believe in women hunters.”
I hadn’t realized she’d been booted. I assumed she’d chosen semi-retirement. “Somebody’s stuck in the wrong century.”
“Even worse, he has no respect for the hunt. A fool if ever there was one. You should see the mess he left in the taiga in Siberia and Canada. He dishonors us all.”
