Rough Justice (Cainsville 5.5)

Ms. Keating's mouth opened, and nothing came out, which gave him time to read his text. It was from his aunt, which explained why he'd been in no hurry to read it. There was only one reason Rose texted him at this hour, and as he read the message, his stomach tightened.

"I need to go," he said, rising. "A sick relative requires my attention."

She snorted a laugh. "I think you can do better than that, counselor."

He met her gaze, his pale blue eyes fixing on hers, and she shrank back.

"My mother is ill," he said slowly. "I do not appreciate levity."

"I...I'm--"

"If you wish to discuss this case again, please contact Olivia. I suspect you'll find her far more pleasant company. Just do not expect her to divulge any useful information on the case, either. Now, good evening, Ms. Keating."

Three

Olivia

I didn't share my misgivings with Ioan. I couldn't, not after I'd said that it was enough for him to know this man--Keith Barent Johnson--was guilty.

It wasn't enough.

I retreated to put on my cloak and focused on that, as if it would help.

A cloak for Matilda.

It was old. Maybe even ancient. Not hers, though. Not the original Matilda's. That wasn't possible. But there had been other iterations of her, like me, through the centuries, and some had taken their place with the Cwn Annwn. This cloak had belonged to one of those. To a woman whose name I didn't even know, who once stood in a grove like this and donned the cloak for her first ride.

She had chosen the Cwn Annwn. That was what all Matildas were supposed to do. Choose a side. Cwn Annwn or Tylwyth Teg. Whichever she chose received the gift of her power, which was even more critical in the modern world, as fae struggled to find the pure elements--clean water, air and earth--that would sustain them.

I hadn't picked a side. I refused to. I looked back at the original story where Matilda died because Gwynn and Arawn needed her to choose between them, between their worlds. Ever since that, the fae and the Huntsmen have been trying to make her choose. But in the beginning, there was just a girl who loved two boys, a girl who was half Cwn Annwn and half Tylwyth Teg, her best friends the princes of each side. She'd divided her time between the two kingdoms, and the three of them had been inseparable. Best friends, until she'd realized she loved Gwynn as more than a friend, and Arawn couldn't accept that.

When Matilda had been forced to choose, that was when it all went wrong. I decided on her original choice--to divide her time between the two, honor both sides of her self.

It wasn't a perfect solution. In giving part of my power to each, I deprived both of my full strength. But this worked for me. It worked for us--Gabriel and Ricky and me.

The Matilda who wore this cloak did choose, though. Did she turn down the Tylwyth Teg...or were they never part of the equation? Did she have an Arawn? Were they friends? Lovers? And Gwynn? Did he lose, or was he, too, never an option, never someone she met? I had seen all configurations, and I knew I was rare--a Matilda who met both her Gwynn and her Arawn, who knew both Tylwyth Teg and Cwn Annwn. A Matilda who faced all the complications that came with that.

I fingered the cloak. It was dark green wool, lined with silk and trimmed in white fur, with a jeweled clasp. Thick and heavy, it smelled of wood fire and forest.

I slipped it on and...

Horses. I heard horses--the pound of hooves, a snort, a whinny. The smell of pine and moss. A flash of fire, the sizzle and pop. A hound baying. The croak of a raven. Laughter. A wordless voice at my ear. Then a scream, cut short--

"Olivia?"

I snapped out of it and stepped into the open to find Ioan waiting. The other Huntsmen were a few dozen feet away, horses stamping.

It might seem as if we should have been in hot pursuit, but the Huntsmen would let the hounds get Johnson deep into the forest, herding him rather than driving him.

While I'd been talking to Ioan, the other Huntsmen had moved the car to the side of the road, shut the door and turned off the lights and ignition. Johnson would vanish here, leaving only an abandoned vehicle. That was one reason for making sure the hounds got him as far into the woods as possible.

"I'm coming up behind you," a voice said. "Just letting you know it's me."

I could tell it was Ricky by his words, but his voice was distorted, as if booming from deep within the cloak's hood.

"Yep, I got the Darth Vader upgrade, too," Ricky said and took a few deep breaths.

He made light to lift the mood but also to reassure me that he was still Ricky. It didn't sound like him. And it sure as hell didn't look like him.