Sneak Peek: The Horror and the Wild (unedited)

The bar is empty, save for a few others like yourself, and a surprisingly human bartender on the other side of the burnished white oak.

The air of the room is heavy, thick against your skin like you’re swimming in it, cold water sloshing up to your neck, though you’re seated on a barstool with a pint in your hand. A man to your left smokes a cigarette, then another, then a third, nicotine turned caustic in your nose. He fixes his eyes on you, beady and anxious, whites expanded with frenetic anticipation. You turn away.

“They’re shrouded.” The bartender tells you gently, leaning on her elbow. “The féth fíada hides them. They watch from behind the fog.” The mist lingers at the edges on the room, stretching along the floor and walls with eerie, ghoulish tendrils.

“I didn’t notice…”

“You’re not supposed to. Not until I tell you.” She smiles. It’s warm, and welcoming, and you wonder what she’s doing here. What she’s traded away to work here, whether it’s punishment or privilege. “They watch. Then they choose. Sometimes it can take a while.” She gestures to your glass, now empty. Odd. You don’t remember finishing it. “Another?”

“Please.”

He appears from nowhere.

The weight to the air freezes, ice forming into needles, scratching against your skin. Boreal pieces prickle your spine, your neck, jerking you from the edge of the stool to your feet unwillingly, knocking you off balance.

He catches you at the waist, calcine touch startling against the cold, evaporating the air in your lungs.

“Careful.” It’s irreversible instinct to stare at the floor. The knowledge of these creatures, of their power, their possibilities, is engrained in you as it was in your mother, and her mother’s, and all the ones who came before. The fear is natural, as easy as breathing.

But you’re no match when gloved fingers pinch your jaw and tilt your head back.

Deep, rich alluvium circles his pupils, anthracite bronze alight in the dim shadow. Most of his face is covered, a black mask spun over his jaw, his cheeks, even his head, leaving only the sharp, unreadable eyes visible.

A trick. A disguise.

You are terrified. Your desire to endure this ordeal evaporates, along with your courage.

“Here to strike a bargain, little fawn?”