Page 5 of Bound to the Orc Hunter

Also, my crystal necklace is warm, really warm, against my palm. I sit up and pull it from my shirt, and my eyes pinball all around, not sure what to look at first. My crystal pendant glowslike someone stuck a mini light bulb inside. That weirdness competes with the view all around me.

I’m on top of a tall column of stone in a small clearing in the middle of a forest, but it’s not like any forest I’ve ever seen. Some of the trees are pines covered in deep blue-green needles, but other trees have bright-blue leaves like something you’d see in a movie.

The air smells fresh and clean like flowers and pine, and a gentle breeze brushes over my face and arms with the refreshing cool of a summer morning. It’s quiet but for birdsong and the sound of the wind stirring the trees—way too quiet to be anywhere near the fairgrounds. There isn’t a single building anywhere in sight.

Is this some kind of prank? Did Calvin knock me out or something and leave me here as a joke?

Why? He clearly expected me to keep doing his job for him. Or did he freak out when I questioned him and decide to get rid of the person who knew he’d been slacking? Because if people get hurt when his rides break, it’ll be his fault.

But I was falling…

I shake my head and stand. Thank god, I’m good with heights from crawling all over rides, because the ground issonot near, and the sides of the stone are hella sheer.

And glowing! There are crystals all over the surface, and they’re glowing light blue, just like my necklace!

Before I can figure out what any of it means, a rough croak comes from above, yanking my gaze up right as a black bird dives at me, red eyes blazing menace.

I throw up a hand to shield my face, and pain lances my palm where its pointed red beak jabs in. “Oww!”

It attacks again, another joining it, and a whole cloud of them darkens the sky overhead.

Shit!

What the hell is making them do this? I wish I’d never watched that old Hitchcock movie where birds start killing people.

More and more dive at me, and I can’t see anything, my heart pounding, my breath coming in desperate gasps. I wave my arms, batting at them to try to fight them off.

They drive me back until my next step lands on nothing. I tip over backward, just like I did on the ride’s maintenance platform.

Not again!

I can’t hit the ground from this height! I need something to break my fall!

A zip of electricity shoots through me, and yellow flashes across my peripheral vision.

I hit a rubbery surface and bounce a few times before coming to rest in the middle of a… a bouncy castle? What the hell? There wasn’t a bouncy castle here before!

The black birds wheel overhead, framed by the roofless walls of bright yellow. They’re making lots of complaining squawks, like they can’t believe the bouncy castle appeared, either. Then one of them dives toward me.

“Fuck this.” I roll, the movement awkward on the squishy surface, and crawl out onto the solid, moss-covered ground.

They all dive toward me.

A man wearing green body paint runs out of the trees and scoops one of the birds out of the air with a bag. The rest of the black birds go quiet, hovering overhead with their red beaks and eyes still looking hella creepy.

He’s seriously good looking, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw. But what really gets me are his eyes. They’re gorgeous and a deep brown that’s warm and full of life. He’s also wearing fake vampire teeth, but kind of big and turned upside down, so they point up. His hair flows around his shoulders in along, black wave. If that’s a wig, it’s one of the really, really nice ones.

Tall and built like a bodybuilder, he has lots of heavy muscle through his chest and shoulders. But this guy doesn’t skip leg day. Those are some seriously buff thighs.

His clothes are like something out ofWitcher—a deep-blue long-sleeved tunic shirt and brown leather pants and boots. He’s got a sword strapped to his hip and a huge-assed bow on his back. This guy’s gorgeous, like a movie star, one of those guys with his own chef and three personal trainers.

“Are you filming a fantasy movie or TV show?” I squint into the surrounding trees. “Where are the cameras?”

Then another thought hits me. Has all of this been some elaborate prank? Am I on reality TV?

No one leaps out, yelling “surprise!” Guess they’re going to keep the joke going for longer.

Instead, he points to the bright-yellow bouncy castle, and a stream of foreign language pours from him. God, what is that? German, Gaelic, something Scandinavian? It could be any of them or none of them. I’mhorribleat languages.

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