Wicked Hunt

Chapter Sixteen, Part II

"I...yes...of course, sir. I can fetch Lady Ursula." She curtseyed in a rush, nearly dropping the last of his cutlery, and scurried from the room.

Lady Ursula. So, he's taken Faraday and his nephew with him. But to what end? More questions. Mores secrets. No answers. He uncrossed his arms and turned back to the window. It was starting to rain again.

"Where are you?" he asked out loud, not sure if he was talking to Jamal, Five Fingers, or himself. Things like this did not usually happen. He was the type of man who knew what was going on at all times. He kept control of situations and people so things like this did not happen. His harsh brutality kept people in line. They did not sneak behind him, making up their own rules. They did not cross him.

For some bizarre reason, he thought of Dorius then, and how the man's recent show of disobedience had forced Rafe to take action. That's when everything started going to shit... It was the truth though.

And what of the wolf tracks?

He vaguely remembered some old stories of the wolf protecting the Shadow Wood, keeping the evil Black Stag at bay: whispered legends casting it in a sinewy light.

Ten minutes later, the groan of the door again drew Rafe away from the window, where he had sulked until the back of his neck hurt. The tiny girl struggled to keep the door ajar as a man in purple livery forced a wheeled chair into the room. In it sat a grumpy looking young woman with striking amber-colored eyes: the trademark of the powerful Denizen family. They narrowed at him as she was wheeled nearer.

He had met Ursula Denizen probably ten years ago at the Dawning Ball when Bruce Palisade had been crowned the heir to Verlic. That had been their first and last meeting. Every other subsequent opportunity for her to be present, her uncle had always explained that she was ill or was out of town. Seeing her now, Rafe could hardly blame either of them for wanting to keep Ursula and her whereabouts hidden.

"Well, go on then, Commander," she urged roughly, her voice like dried wood. "Stare a bit more." Where the smooth ebony skin stretched even and shining across Jamal Denizen, Ursula's was scarred and hooved. It was especially rough on the left side of her dark face, the lumpy bumps and charred skin extending down her neck and disappearing beneath the neckline of her gown. She had no eyebrows. Her hair was matted and half missing, arching into a deep, unflattering widow's peak on her broad forehead.

He didn't apologize for gawking. How could Ursula be upset when she looked like that? "What happened to you?" he asked without preamble.

"Me first," she remarked. She was pushed closer, and she looked worse to him than he had first thought. "Why are you here?"

"I have business with your uncle," he replied stiffly.

"What business does the king's dog have with Jamal Denizen?" Her voice was haughty and mocking.

Rafe pursed his lips. In spite of himself, he had to admire her taciturn. "I need to speak with your uncle about a... mutual acquaintance." He extended his hand onto the table, opening his palm.

Ursula's lips turned into an ugly frown. "You're here for Five Fingers."

"Is he still in Hawthorn?"

Ursula's eyes roamed around the room, and she was pushed closer still to Rafe. He resisted the urge to inch back, instead keeping his back straight.

"Leave us, Sabine," Ursula called to the girl behind her. She quickly turned and hurried from the room; relief evident on her face. Ursula turned back to the Commander. "He came here some time ago, seeking answers, but that's all I'm at liberty to say while my uncle is away." She clenched the armrest of her chair tightly. Rafe raised his eyebrows. Something was gnawing at her. Could he learn what it was?