Betrayals (Cainsville Book 4) (24 page)

“Is there someplace you can go?” Ricky asked. “Someplace safe?”

“There’s no
safe
for us. He’s found our haunts in the city, and we need to be around people. The only true sanctuary for us is the one we cannot enter: Cainsville.”

“Cainsville?” I said.

“I tried to get Pepper in there after her attack. I pleaded through an intermediary for temporary sanctuary until she was stronger. The elders refused.”

“On what grounds?”

“The only grounds that matter. Who we are. What we are.”

“Lamiae? That’s enough to deny you sanctuary?”

She gave a bitter laugh. “They don’t need a reason to deny us. It’s
their
sanctuary. They don’t allow foreign fae. I hoped they’d make an exception. I was willing to repay them, of course, but they wouldn’t even meet with me.”

“I know you’re Greek, and Cainsville is primarily Tylwyth Teg, which is Welsh. Those from the British Isles are the ones identified as fae in human folklore. Lamiae are not. Yet you
are
fae.”

“That depends on who you ask. The Cainsville elders say that if I was true fae, I’d be immolated if I stepped through Aunika’s warded door. I wouldn’t. I’d still be burned, though. I am fae.”

“Evolution from a common source,” Ricky said. “Evolution, however, alters the genetic structure. A fae from Greece or from Russia won’t have the same genetic makeup as one from the British Isles. Celtic fae are the ones with the deathly allergy to cold-forged iron.”

“Which doesn’t mean non-Celtic fae are inferior,” I said. “Only that they don’t have the same genetic makeup. But since Celtic fae are the defining type in folklore, they see themselves as the superior subtype.”

Melanie smiled. “Exactly. Thank you. In the old country, we consider ourselves fae. It was only when we immigrated to the new world—where Celtic fae had already settled—that we were …” She struggled for a word.

“Reclassified. Okay, so Cainsville is for Tylwyth Teg. Which explains why the place is so damned white. As for the rest of you, if you didn’t build your own secret towns three hundred years ago, that’s not their fault. The fact that you weren’t
here
early enough to settle a town? Also not their problem.”

“That sums it up nicely.”

“But you still need a place to stay, and if Cainsville wouldn’t let Pepper in, even with her condition, they won’t let you in. How many are we talking about, anyway?”

“There are three more I’m looking after and another one I’m trying to find shelter for, but she’s … stubborn.”

“We need to figure out what to do with you guys. Find a safe place. I’ll work on that.”

“Stopping the killer would do that,” Gabriel said.

I nodded. “You’re right, of course. Catch the killer and the problem is solved.” I snuck a look at Pepper, who was gawping
at Gabriel like he was the second coming. The lost and broken child. Catching a killer wouldn’t solve her problem.

I pulled my gaze away and said, “Gabriel? Can you drive them wherever they need to go? Ricky and I have an appointment.” We had to talk to Ioan about the hound. I knew that would be important to Ricky.

Gabriel took out his phone and texted me … making it obvious to all that he was conveying a message he didn’t want them to hear.

Cainsville?

I texted back.
Ioan. I’ll explain later. But yes, then Cainsville. With you, if that’s okay.

He read my message, and I waited for a nod. But he kept his gaze on that text, his frown growing.

Then he texted back,
You want to ask for sanctuary for them in Cainsville. That puts you in a precarious position.

I replied,
Discuss first?

He exhaled, relieved that he didn’t need to fight me on this. Which told me exactly how deep the schism between us had become, our relationship fractured to the point where he could not rely on me to seek his counsel.

“Text me later,” I said. “We’ll meet up.”

I
oan
ushered us into his office, told his assistant to hold all calls, and shut the door.

“I want to know more about the hounds,” Ricky said before we were even seated.

Ioan stopped partway to his desk. He glanced at me. Then at Ricky. And he struggled. God, how he struggled. I couldn’t ask questions about the Cŵn Annwn without violating our agreement. Ricky could. While Ioan could—and should—refuse to answer, this was what he’d been waiting for—Ricky taking an interest in his ancestry and his future.

“The hounds …” Ioan said carefully.

“I saw an abused hound in Chicago, and I want to understand how the hell that happens.”

Outrage simmered behind Ricky’s eyes, and seeing that, Ioan lost the battle. Neither Ricky’s interest nor outrage was feigned. Ioan looked on Ricky, saw Arawn, and could deny him nothing.

“Ask,” he said.

“Are they corporeal?” Ricky said. “Mortal?”

“The answer to both isn’t as simple as it might seem. They are mortal in the same way the Cŵn Annwn are. They can and will
die. But not as easily or as quickly as other canines. They are as corporeal as we are. Yet they can make themselves unseen.”

“Same as you can,” I said. Then, “Sorry. For the purpose of our agreement, we’ll stick to the hounds.”

“As you have seen both the hounds do it and me do it, I will give you that. We cannot disappear. But we can make ourselves almost invisible to the human eye. There are still signs, if you know where to look.”

“Are the hounds your equivalent of dogs?” Ricky said. “Fae animals, not shape-shifters.”

“You mean are they sentient fae in animal form? No. In that, they are indeed the equivalent of a dog, as our loyal companions and our helpers. Unlike your dogs, they can be given detailed instructions.”

“Such as finding us and watching what we’re doing and then reporting back,” I said. “You can communicate with them?”

“We can communicate
through
them. See through their eyes. When you spot a hound, it is the Cŵn Annwn watching over you.”

“Spying on us.”

“If we wanted spies, we’d stick with the ravens.”

True. The hounds weren’t exactly inconspicuous.

“You say they’re companions and working canines,” Ricky said. “So where do they stay when they aren’t ‘on the job’? A kennel? A house? With a specific Huntsman? A handler?”

“They’re more autonomous and intelligent than dogs. They choose where they stay, usually with one of us, sometimes at the stables.”

“There are stables?” I said. “So the horses are corporeal—Sorry. Beyond the scope of the current questioning.”

He smiled indulgently. “Yes, the horses are—like the dogs and us—mostly corporeal. They have stables, although—” Another
smile. “Now
I’m
sorry. I should restrict myself to the questions asked.”

Ricky said, “If the hounds are autonomous, does that mean you can’t account for their whereabouts at all times?”

“We can summon them. Which we do, either for tasks or for hunts. You’re asking because you say you saw one that seemed abused.”

“Not
seemed.
It very clearly was.”

“That isn’t possible. It may have been another type of fae creature or glamour.”

“I know my—I know
the
hounds.”

“It was definitely a hound,” I said. “It responded to Ricky.”

“Perhaps it was only dirty? Bedraggled? They may be fae, but they are still canines. A swim in the river and a roll in the mud can be their idea of an entertaining evening.”

I detailed the hound’s injuries.
“Old
injuries,” I clarified. “Long healed. But the way it acted was worse. It hid from us. Cowered. Ricky managed to coax it out, and then a car came roaring around the corner and it took off like a shot. Exactly the way an abused dog would act.”

“But that’s not—No hound would—We’ve never lost one.
Ever.
A few have perished in the line of duty, but we’ve looked after their remains. Our lineage has been here for three hundred years, and we have
never
lost a hound.”

“Then it’s not yours.”

He looked at me.

“You aren’t the only Cŵn Annwn in existence, right? Therefore, this is someone else’s.”

“That’s not possible. If a hound disappears, the Cŵn Annwn search to the ends of the earth to find it. That is our vow. We have their loyalty because they have ours. They protect us because we protect them. Always.”

“For you. Your particular tribe, group, whatever. While you might hope other Huntsmen remain equally dedicated to the old ways, there’s no guarantee of that, is there?”

“No, you don’t understand. We are bound …” He trailed off.

“Fine,” I said. “You can’t get into details because it violates our agreement.”

“That’s not why I stopped, Olivia. I will say only that it isn’t possible for a pack of Cŵn Annwn to abandon their hounds. However, an individual Huntsman may leave the pack.”

“And take a hound with him?”

“Technically, no. The pack wouldn’t allow it. A hound may bond to one Huntsman—they usually do, like your dogs—but they belong to the pack. Both the Cŵn Annwn pack and the hound pack.”

“So this one’s fellow hounds might have ripped it up like that when it left.”

He shuddered. “Never. But if a hound was badly injured, it could lose its connection to the pack—its psychic bond.”

“Broken,” I said, thinking of Pepper.

“Yes, fae can be broken psychologically, much like humans and other animals can be. If a Huntsman separated from his pack and wanted a hound, he would be able to take one like that.”

“If he applied the right pressure, he could force it to do his bidding rather than return to its pack. It would be damaged but still useful.”

“Any Huntsman who would do such a thing—” Ioan spat the words, before biting them off. “He does not deserve to be a Huntsman.”

“Which he isn’t,” Ricky said. “If he’s left his pack.”

Ioan nodded. “Yes,” he said. “He is not.”

“So we seem to have a lone Cŵn Annwn near Cainsville,” I said. “And his hound showed up in Chicago at the site of a murder.”

Ioan frowned. “Another lamia murder?”

“No, but it’s connected.”

“What happens to Cŵn Annwn when they leave their pack?” Ricky asked. “Do they keep doing the same thing as independents? Tracking crimes against fae?”

“Rogue Cŵn Annwn are extremely rare. Yes, they could keep pursuing justice. Or they could take another path.”

“Like torturing and murdering a human to gain information on missing fae?”

“Absolutely not. A Cŵn Annwn who strayed that far from our goals and our purpose would be hunted himself. Subject to the same punishment as any of our prey, because he would
be
no better than them.”

“But we’re talking about a guy who obviously hasn’t formed a loving, companionable bond with his hound. If you’re going to treat an animal that way, it’s not a huge leap to torturing humans.”

Ioan went quiet. Then he said, carefully, “I cannot imagine that any Huntsman could torture a human or a fae. But nor could I imagine one would mistreat a hound. So the answer, then, as much as I hate to give it, is that I don’t know what you have here. But you can be assured we’re going to find out.”

I was heading to Cainsville with Gabriel. As we turned onto the highway, he said, “I would like to speak to you about this plan, requesting Cainsville as a refuge for the lamiae.”

“That was the idea, right? That we’d discuss it. Anytime you disagree with me, I expect you to say so. You’ve never had a problem with that before.”

He said nothing, just zoomed into the fast lane, bearing down on the car ahead of him.

I twisted to look at him. “I rely on you for advice, Gabriel. You know that, right? I need someone to tell me when I’m full of shit. When I’m about to do something stupid. That’s you.”

“All right. Then I believe you’re about to do something that is unwise.”

“By asking the elders to give sanctuary to the lamiae? You think it’ll put me in their debt.” I shook my head. “They owe me, Gabriel. The balance is clearly weighed on my side.”

“Where it should stay. You will be asking them for a favor. That is not free.”

“It shouldn’t be a favor,” I said. “Melanie and Pepper may not
really
be street kids, but they are vulnerable. I’m not asking the elders to throw open the doors to all lamiae. I’m asking them to take in a small group, just until we solve these murders.”

“Then let Melanie plead their case to the elders. Agree to arrange that meeting. Do not otherwise intercede on their behalf.”

Silence ticked past. Then he said, “This is why I was reluctant to bring it up, Olivia. I know how it looks. You want to help vulnerable fae. In saying you shouldn’t, I appear cold and heartless.”

“I never said—”

“It is cold. It is heartless. And it is exactly the advice I will give, because my concern is for you. I do not want to see you invoke favors from the Tylwyth Teg on behalf of strangers. I do not even particularly want to see you putting yourself in danger on behalf of strangers. But I understand that you cannot stand idly by when you feel you have the power to help. I will help you solve these murders, and I will accompany you to speak to the elders. But I’m going to ask you to be careful, Olivia.”
He turned to me. “Be very, very careful what you give up to help these girls.”

I remembered Gwynn and Arawn counseling me to forget the lamiae, while saying they knew I would not. I could not. It was what kept me human. Yet Gabriel wasn’t really telling me to forget the lamiae. Just don’t go falling off bridges for them. Don’t go putting myself in the elders’ debt for them.

“Will you keep me from doing anything stupid?” I asked finally.

“
Unwise.
Not stupid.”

I smiled for him. “Okay, will you keep me from doing anything unwise?”

“I will.”

“T
hey’re
going to give you the house,” Gabriel said.

Gabriel and I were sitting in the garden behind the Carew place. That’s where the elders wanted to hold our meeting. They’d be here shortly. Until then, I was poking around the garden, tugging vines from statuary, saying, “Oooh, a dryad. And a baby griffin.” Gabriel sat on the bench, watching me, saying nothing until …