The Hunter's Prey (The Fay Morgan Chronicles Book 5) by Katherine Sparrow Read Free Book Online

and saw nothing but blackberry vines covering a vacant lot. I blinked and saw snakelike energies writhing up the hill, searching for me.
    The thing on my back dug in deeper, twisting into muscle and bone.
    I screamed.
    Merlin leaned forward and began to run. The world blurred like an Impressionist painting, hinting at the shape of the world that we passed by. Every time Merlin's foot touched down, the surroundings crystallized into focus for a brief snapshot moment, and then blurred again. Evergreen trees. Rushing cars blaring their horns. A field full of fallow grasses. A coal train. A rocky beach. More trees.
    I clung to Merlin and stared at his face in profile. He was the one thing that stayed steady inside this wild motion. He kept his gaze forward and his jaw clenched. What had happened? Had that really just happened? And what must we do now? The thing on my back stopped biting into me and nestled down deep within my flesh. It turned from a stabbing fire poker to a smoldering coal, and what was it? And which of the hunters would find me first? And how would I fight them? My heart raced and a cold sweat covered me.
    Merlin ran and his arms crushed me to his chest. I closed my eyes and pressed my ear against him, listening to the comforting metronome of his heart as it beat fast but steady with every step. Nothing was safe. He couldn’t keep this hunt away from me. But I felt right then and there like nothing bad could happen to me.
    “Where are we going?” I asked Merlin. Did he have a plan? I needed him to have a plan.
    “Almost there, lass,” Merlin said.
    He stopped with a lurching motion and stood cradling me like some fabled princess in need of saving. I knew I should tell him to put me down, that we must get ready for what was surely coming right behind us, but I clung to him. Less than a minute had passed since we'd been at the palace. Since I was named the prey for a host of monsters to hunt down. Merlin kicked off his boots, lest any small motion propel us far away, and turned around in a small circle to survey our surroundings from all directions.
    We stood in a clearing edged by trees, and every one of my senses, magical and otherwise, told me there was nothing and no one nearby. A good spot, where innocents wouldn't randomly get hurt due to their proximity. I approved. Merlin set me carefully down, and I felt, as surely he must too, the thrum of natural magic that pooled at our feet.
    “A former faerie glen?” I whispered.
    Merlin nodded, hawk-eyed and frowning. “A pixy hollow, before they moved on to LaConner. Tell me why they’re after you,” he said. “Quickly.”
    “Why me?” I swallowed and shook my head. “I have no idea.”
    He scowled. “Tell me why, Morgan.”
     

 
     
     
     
     
    8
    A Thing of Nightmares
    “I… I don't know.” I met his fierce gaze. “I know you have no reason to trust any of my words. Ever. But I have no idea what Agnes Stonehouse is after.”
    He shook his head. “And yet you know the name of this witch?”
    “From the fifteen hundreds, the burning times. I sought to free her, and she sought to hurt others. I have not seen her since, have not crossed paths with her that I know of, ever since—” I swallowed. “I don’t know, but I have two guesses why.” I’d had no time to fully think about any of this. “First, perhaps she had some business with Guinevere and is angry about her being gone. It is easy enough for me to imagine the two of them were up to some kind of nastiness. The video where I fought Guinevere is rather public, so she would know about that. Second, she may have been after the Grail.” I stuttered on the last word as the endless ache for it pulsed through me. Just the mention of it filled me with desire.
    “She’s immortal,” Merlin said. “She’s lived centuries. She doesn’t need the Grail.”
    “Yes, there are a dozen tricks a magic user can use to extend their lives, but it is tedious. The Grail is… easy.” Easy, and