Wicked Hunt

Chapter Twelve, Part III

Rafe: Whispers On The Wind 

"He was conflicted." Viktor fiddled with the collar of his shirt, his eyes darting around the table. "He said that he was getting a... an odd sort of feeling, like something wasn't right when he traveled past the Shadow Wood on many occasions." Shivering, he leaned his head across the table and lowered his voice. "You know it's a sin to believe the legends and old lore."

"I do," Rafe agreed, "but Five-Fingers doesn't?" His fingers twitched remembering the feeling of being around Viktor's scrawny neck.

"I heard from someone that he had an... encounter."

"With the Stag?" Rafe pressed. What the hell was going on? First princess Halle had claimed to see the stag and now Five-Finger? Why show yourself now? Rafe thought to the god. What has changed?

"Phineas claimed he saw it, in the forest. He said it... spoke to him, told him about releasing the shadows back to roam the earth or some nonsense."

"Could he have made it all up?" Rafe crossed his arms. He wouldn't put it past Five-Fingers to be into drug induced hallucinations, especially if he was getting back into dealing Jade powder.

Viktor shrugged. "I thought the same thing. We all know the Black Stag is our savior, the Victor of the Forest, the protector of the realm. Phineas believed that." His gaze focused intently on a crack in the tabletop. "And when he told me about what he heard... what he saw... his eyes... I'd never... there was no madness within them." He looked up and swallowed. "There was only fear. Something I'd never seen before."

Rafe studied Lord Forest a moment, trying to gage if he was telling the truth or simply blowing smoke up the Commander's ass to cover for something more serious. Rafe didn't think that Viktor would be very good at the latter. Which meant, he was probably telling the truth about Five-Fingers.

"So, you thought it would be a grand idea to have him canter off to Hawthorne for a nice little chat with the Denizen family over tea and biscuits?" he asked the lord pointedly.

Viktor lowered his eyes again. "There was little I could do to stop him."

"Well, that's true."

Lord Forest trembled involuntarily again. "The gods only know what sort of ill things the Denizen family might put into Phineas' mind." Viktor met Rafe's gaze briefly while he shifted in his seat. "It's making me uncomfortable just thinking about it."

Rafe doubted that was the only thing making him uncomfortable. He leaned forward, imposing himself into Viktor's space again. "Did Five-Fingers say when he would return?"

"I haven't seen him in about three weeks," Lord Forest confessed. "A bit odd for him, not hanging around, what with all his... business and all."

"Afraid you'll have to make some decisions actually?" Rafe couldn't help but scoff. Viktor flinched, and Rafe smiled a little. He brought his finger up and tapped his chin, moved it up to play with the scar above his lip, a permanent blank spot within his moustache.

What am I missing? The thoughts danced around inside his head. Five-Fingers, Hawthorne, Jamal Denizen, Donal Boron, Perry Gritt, cryptic words, hidden meanings...

Come to the forest. The Shadow Wood holds the answers you seek...

A voice that was not his own had wormed its way into his mind. He stepped back from Viktor slowly. Panic receded to the back of his mind, replaced by a curious urging.

Who are you? he asked.

Come to the forest. A vague, whooshing whisper. Rafe blinked.

I know that voice...

Come to the forest...

Another whoosh. The candle behind Lord Viktor flickered as if battling with some unseen force, a wavering beacon persisting among the shadows. Rafe swallowed. Viktor said something that sounded hazy.

The voice in his head had morphed into an unfortunately familiar one.

His father.

*****

That night, Rafe dreamt of his childhood, the blackened part of his life he liked to pretend never existed. He could not recall a single good memory of that time in his life. The only decent moments were when his father was away on his business trips, whatever that entailed.

His mother was sitting in a rocking chair by the fire, staring blankly into the flames, a dead, void-less shell of the woman she normally was. This version of Amelia only emerged when Tobias was away. She didn't know how to function if he wasn't there demeaning her and threatening her. She only operated under criticism, following the directions of her husband's wrath as if they were sacred rituals that must be completed. Which, in truth, was probably the best way to think of it. If things did not go as planned, Tobias flew into a heated rage. It was only stifled by hurting someone else, someone weaker than him. Most of the time, that was his son.

In this dream, Amelia stood abruptly, beckoning Rafe who was reading on the floor, closer. She waved her hand, not speaking, and he closed the book. He stood and shuffled over to her outstretched hand, eyes wide with fear and suspicion. His family did not show affection, ever.

"Listen, Raffey." The nickname irked him. It did not instill warmth in his breast or comfort at the familiarity. It made his skin crawl. He did not want to be on familiar terms with his brute of a father or this weak ghost of a mother.

"Listen," she urged again, and Rafe pursed his lips. He couldn't hear anything except the crackling fire before them. Amelia pulled him closer, her nails digging into his shoulder. "Listen."

Rafe shoved her off. Her eyes sought his frantically, shock plain on her face. She gazed down at him with her large, brown eyes, eyes that were so like his own. "Raffey?"

"I don't hear anything," he declared tonelessly. Then he stalked back over to his book.

"Come to the forest." The deep, graveled words came from somewhere else, someone else. Rafe's head shot up, catching hold of his mother's wordless face. They stared at each other, each one holding their breath. Rafe held her eyes for a moment more, then spun and went to the door. For some reason, there were no servants in the house. It was only him and his mother. He pressed his cheek to the door, listening intently. Something growled and pawed at the dirt outside. Something sinister. He looked down. The crack underneath the wood shimmered, letting deep, stretching shadows creep beneath the door.

Amelia shrieked, cuttingdeep into the base of Rafe's skull