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“Either that, or he didn’t notice the pronounced ears. He noticed the shoes, though. If I were a hobgoblin participating in the Wild Hunt, I might invest in some comfortable boots.”
“Their feet are tougher than yours. Be glad he wasn’t barefoot. The hair on their disfigured toes…” She shuddered. “Another nightmare for your collection.”
“No, thank you.”
“Why are you headed toward the crossroads? To ensure the hobgoblin obeyed your command?”
“To check on the guards. He spread a bit of mischief in order to pass through unseen. I need to fix it.”
“You’ll be faster on horseback.” She offered me a hand and pulled me atop the mare’s back. We rode hard until we were within twenty yards. Matilda slowed to a stop, and we dismounted.
Angry voices shook the pine needles from the trees.
“The book is always better than the movie,” a guard rumbled.
“Not The Lord of the Rings.”
“Blasphemy! Tolkien wrote a classic.”
“No, Viggo Mortensen starred in a classic movie.”
“Bite me!”
“Oh, I’m about to.”
Their argument was so heated, I was shocked they were still in their human forms.
“I see your concern,” Matilda said. “Allow me.” She ventured forth to address the werewolves. “Ahem, gentlemen. May I interrupt?”
Two heads whipped in her direction and let loose menacing growls in stereo. “You, again?” one of them said.
When she opened her mouth, I expected a tongue lashing to follow. Instead, the Night Mallt began to sing. The sound she produced was nothing like the sharp and commanding voice she typically used. The notes were high and soft, and I felt my own muscles relax in their wake.
The werewolves responded even more quickly; their bodies slumped to the ground, and they curled up next to each other like a toddler and his beloved puppy.
“Is this a charm?” I asked.
“An ancient Welsh lullaby,” she whispered. “When they awaken, they’ll no longer be under the hobgoblin’s enchantment.”
“While they’re sleeping it off, who’s going to watch the crossroads?”
“Call your alpha friend and have him retrieve his minions and post new ones.”
“They’re not his minions, but I get the gist.” I pulled out my phone and sent West a text message. “The hobgoblin said you were skulking around their settlement. Were you trying to get more intel?”
“Naturally.”
“You shouldn’t go back there again. It’s too risky.”
Her face clouded over. “I suppose you’re right.”
“No good news, I take it?”
She scowled. “No.”
“Is there any hope we can prevent him from coming at all?”
The scowl deepened. “No.”
