Page 8 of A Demon King Called Kerak
Wylder
“Why aren’t they on us yet?” Silva said as they jogged through the trees, following as best they could in Kerak’s wake.
Wylder shook his head, panting. He was moving as fast as he could, but he could tell Silva was itching to move faster to find out what was happening up ahead. “Go, I’ll catch up.”
Silva shot him a look over the short distance between them. He’d disappeared one of his swords but had the other clutched and ready in the hand farthest from Wylder. “Not a chance.”
Wylder nodded and pushed harder. The surrounding forest was dense, so thick with trees that underbrush didn’t have a hope of surviving. Which made spotting all the tree roots easier, but dodging them took every bit of Wylder’s coordination and focus.
The dim light around them grew brighter and brighter the farther they ran. Ahead, an end to the trees came into view. Kerak stood just beyond the treeline with his back to the forest.Across the clearing from him was a line of creatures Wylder couldn’t have imagined on his own, even with growing up surrounded by the paranormal community.
He couldn’t focus on all of them, though, because in the center of the line stood a human woman.
“No,” Silva said with a hiss from beside him and reached for Wylder’s hand.
Wylder had only ever seen pictures of her. He didn’t realize he’d stopped moving until Silva gently tugged him forward.
“It can’t be…she wouldn’t…” Thoughts spiraled around in Wylder’s head. His mother was a hero. There was no way she was working with the Hunt willingly. But she was standing there among them, looking healthy and strong.
Wylder took one step forward, then another, his heart pounding in his chest. As he reached the edge of the trees, only a step behind Silva, the woman—his mother—blurred in his vision. “What—” He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. She was still blurry and was the only thing that was blurry in his line of sight.
“What’s wrong?” Silva stopped moving forward and turned to him.
“I don’t know.” He took another step. The blurry image of the woman he’d thought was his mother started to clear. Another step and her hair settled in black waves over her shoulders. After two more steps, Wylder could clearly see her face and clothes.
It wasn’t his mother.
“That’s not my mom.”
Silva’s eyes widened, and he looked at the fake-Maren and squinted. Kerak looked back at them, a question in his eyes.
“It’s not,” Wylder said, conviction growing with every step. “She must be using a glamour.”
“What?” Kerak asked, still facing the line of Hunt members.
“Wylder can see through Fae glamour.” Silva was staring hard at fake-Maren. “It must be a powerful one because I can’t seem to.”
“I didn’t see through it at first,” Wylder admitted.
Kerak growled. “Drop the glamour, witch. Where’s the real Maren?”
“Witch?” The woman laughed. “I am no witch.”
“Where is she?” Wydler yelled, charging forward. He only made it a couple of steps before Silva gripped him around the waist to hold him back. He didn’t know what had come over him. Maybe the cruel, high-pitched laugh of this woman who’d tried to imitate his mother or just the burning desperation taking root in his chest. If his mother was alive, he wanted tosee her. And he wanted to do it now.
“I remember you, changeling.” His Uncle Sigurd’s voice came from behind them. “Now answer my nephew. Where is Maren?” Sig stopped beside where Silva was still holding on to Wylder. Lenette and Bellicent stepped up beside him.
“Sig,” Wylder started.
Sigurd’s gaze softened when he looked at Wylder. “It’s okay, son.” He reached out and gripped Wylder’s shoulder before turning his attention back to the enemies across from them.
Each side was standing in a line with a grassy expanse of ground between them. Wylder didn’t know how long this stand-off might last, but he still had enough of his wits to be worried about what it’d look like when the fight started.
The changeling smirked. “The witch is here. Not that it will do you any good.” She glanced to her left and right. “Kill them.”
The creatures on either side of her bellowed and charged forward. Some of them were humanoid. Some had antlers like the Fae he and Silva had seen in Chicago. One of them couldn’t be anything other than a minotaur—bullhead and all.
“Find Maren,” Kerak shouted at them and charged forward himself. A rush of invisible power swept across the ground between Kerak and the Hunt, knocking their enemies off their feet.
