Sequel to Animal Instincts
Hallie conjures a magical romantic reunion for her brother Hugo that takes them back in time. They locate Zane right away, and he and Hugo take off to share the special moment alone.
All magic isn’t good, though, and soon, when Hugo and Zane can’t be found, Hallie starts to worry. She meets a young royal, Charlemagne, who speaks of his own lost love, William. When Hallie gets a read on William, she discovers he didn’t leave of his own will but is being held prisoner.
Together, the witch and Lord Charlemagne discover an evil plan afoot. Sometimes hard to tell the good guys from the bad ones, with animal instincts on their side and some knowledge from the 21st century, can they rescue their loved ones and save them from the literal hunt?
“We’re throwing a foxhunt.”
Xarfos was quiet, letting Griogaire speak for them both, proving the cahoots they were in if I was using Hugo’s phrase correctly.
“It has become the most festive precursor to the holiday season in the countryside, dear ones. I’ve over a dozen trained hounds now, and the guestlist boasts social elites and now royalty.” Griogaire’s bow seemed a mockery. “Each year, the honor of the huntsman is awarded to a very special individual. It is a revered position, one many a man would fight for, young Charlemagne. And though this year’s huntsman was prior chosen, everything is suddenly different -- suddenly more splendid. The privilege and pride of the title huntsman shall be bestowed upon no other than the ninth cousin of King George II.”
My gut fell. “Me?”
Griogaire came to my side, and though I had once almost yearned to feel his arms around me, embraced by one now I felt sickened and trapped. “All who gather will cheer you. History will place you in the highest regard, Charlemagne, when you perform the feat upon which our faith and admiration has been laid.”
“And what would that be?” I had a sick feeling I knew.
“Kill the fox,” Hallie whispered.
I shook my head. “I won’t do it.”
“No?” Griogaire turned to Xarfos, who seemed to know his cue. He took a step toward the paintings, opting not for the newest one with Hugo, which I feared he would choose, but instead moved toward William and the gray fox. “Are you sure, naif? It would turn you to a local legend, bring you fame, make you something other than a worthless pissant, unworthy of the arrogance you wear like your frock.”
“I do no such thing.”
“Well, no matter. You are free to choose, of course.”
“I denounce your entire endeavor.”
“Very well. That decision comes with consequences. Xarfos ...”
I watched intently as the sorcerer followed his evil mentor’s orders. Every bit as wicked, he pulled a lit taper from a nearby candelabra and held it close to William’s enchanted portrait.
“No ...”
Then against it.
“No!”
My own voice harmonized with a bloodcurdling wail from the silver fox and a desperate plea from William. “Help me, my prince!”
Was it a hallucination -- the sound and movement I perceived within the brushstrokes? “Stop!” Whatever it was, I wanted no more of it.
“Will you act as huntsman?”
I looked to Hallie then quickly back toward the wall where the corner of the painting had caught the flame. “Stop! Yes. I will do it! Put it out! Put it out!”
Xarfos extinguished the fire.
“Good.” Where the sorcerer looked almost grieved and as shaky as Hallie near or back from death, Griogaire was the epitome of robust and pompous, his head trauma and kindness both forgotten. The more deranged his doings, the more pleasure it brought. “Everything is working out as planned. I have my fox, my huntsman, and I will have my special audience members. For I did not want this one dead.”
Hallie slapped his hand away as he dared to touch her.
“Having the witch there to watch her brother hunted and struck down is far too precious a treat to erase by my zeal to choke from her breath. Your chivalry, Charlemagne, played right into my hands. The briefest cessation of life undid the enchantress’s spell.”
“So, you were really ...?”
“It would appear,” Hallie said.
“And Hugo will remain a fox until you change him back to Hugo?”
“Yes.”
“Except,” Griogaire took glee in reporting, “that cannot happen with him captured in the portrait. Here’s a lovely thought, though, to bring you sweet dreams. They will all be free tomorrow. All at the hunt. William, the silver fox, and the guest of honor, the red one. Who will live? Who will watch a loved one die? It shall frankly be the most exciting foxhunt ever.”
“And this fiasco begins ...?” Hallie asked.
“At dawn.”
