Page 15 of The Howling
“There’s nothing else down here which howls.”
“I told him he was disgusting for peeing in his cage.” I hold up my hands. “Which he is.”
Lilburn smiles and continues filling the teapot before replacing the kettle and popping a tea cosy around the pot.
“I would agree, but then as an inhabitant of the Yeavering, I wouldn’t want to encounter a Barghest in normal life either, disgusting or not.”
“I know, he take souls.” I sigh, regaining my feet and collecting two cups and saucers from the sideboard along with some milk from the pantry. “And is a friend of death.”
“It’s worse than that,” Lilburn says as she pours out the tea and adds the milk, before handing me my cup.
“How can it possibly get worse than taking souls?”
“Enjoying it, as Reavely has always done. He helped the Reaper in the Night Lands, as well as fighting for the Faerie, and then once he was recalled, he continued his work with gusto.” She makes a sour face. “No one wants a creature like him near them.”
“Perhaps that’s the point. Perhaps he wants to be feared?” I suggest, thinking of my original encounter with Reavely.
“Then he has achieved his desire. Because every inhabitant of the Yeavering will drive him away if they get half a chance.”
“Wolfsbane?” I query.
“Moonstone. A rare commodity here. Said to repel the Barghest, although I’ve never seen one,” Lilburn says.
The howl comes again, low and mournful.
“But apparently you’re also something else which repels a Barghest,” Lilburn says.
“Oh, thanks, I think.” I chuckle without mirth as my stomach dips.
“Or you’re something he wants,” she adds with a strange twinkle in her eyes. “I’m not sure if that’s worse or not.”
WYNTER
Islept like shit last night, my dreams filled with monsters. Monsters who wanted to eat me and not in an unpleasant way. I woke covered in sweat, panting for breath, and a complete mess.
All of this means the very last thing I want is to run into Lord Guyzance. Instead I would rather be able to get on with my work without having to deal with anyone, but as I leave my quarters to go about my business of cleaning the unclean-able, there he is, talking with Reavely once again.
The second I see him, I dodge back behind the door which leads to the storerooms in the hope he hasn’t seen me either.
I doubt very much if it was a good move. I listen to the voices, the Faerie Lord and the low rumbling growl of Reavely. Although I can’t make out the words, I’d recognise the Barghest’s deep, dark tones anywhere. They put a strange squirm in my stomach, something I try to get rid of instantly.
He’s the black dog of death. A harbinger. The Reaper’s right hand. He is not a creature I should have any sympathy for or interest in. Especially the sort of interest which makes my insides go weird. I wait until I can’t hear them anymore and riska peep. Reavely is at the back of his cage, the outline of his huge shape only just visible.
I shut the door to prepare for the afternoon’s work.
“If it’s not the little human I sent to the dungeons,” Lord Guyzance says, inspecting the collar of his opulent robes where a huge diamond sits on a pin, whilst standing, incongruously, in amongst my mops and brooms, his clothing dazzling in the dim lamp light.
“I’m doing as you wanted.” I stumble over the words. “As you asked.”
Being in this confined space with him is terrifying. Like all Faerie males, he’s big, and his power radiates from him in a way I know will result in being turned into a bug if I make one wrong move.
“And, it appears, our jailer is happy with your work.” He tips his head on one side. “But you are wasted here in my dungeons.”
A smile steals over his face.
This is the one thing, the one fate I was hoping to avoid. The Faerie struggle to have children with each other. Maybe once in a hundred years, a new Faerie is born. To maintain their power, they need to procreate, and for that they use humans. They always have, only now they don’t have to steal them. The lottery put paid to that particular practice.
The resulting hybrids, witches and warlocks, make up much of the rest of the inhabitants of the Yeavering. Their magic is limited and enhanced only with spells provided by Faerie such as Lord Guyzance, ensuring they are dependent upon their lord sires for survival.
