October 31
Puck’s tortured words rang in Kelley’s ears as she lifted her head, struggling against the darkness that threatened to descend upon her. She stared in horror as the Central Park Carousel shuddered in the cloud-shattered moonlight. Though no one was there to operate the machinery, the platform lurched into motion and the painted horses began to bob up and down. The gilt and jeweled trappings of saddles and bridles glimmered, winking at Kelley like hundreds of wicked, malevolent eyes.
In the sky above the merry-go-round, amid clouds bruised purple and black by the violent winds, a figure appeared, hovering in the air astride a fiery roan horse. Kelley felt the hot sting of tears on her cheeks as she looked up and met the eyes of the Rider. He stared down at her-cold, pitiless, with no hint of recognition in his beautiful, haunted face.
Beneath him, driven to madness by the presence of the Rider on his back, the Roan Horse screamed defiance. Bucking and rearing, it lashed out with hooves of flame.
The carousel began to turn.
In the distance, Kelley heard the sound of the hunting hounds.
The Rider drew his sword, the blade flaring like a firebrand. Kelley’s breath strangled in her throat as the carousel began to spin faster and faster.
Smoky, glittering figures coalesced out of the air to ride the painted mounts. Bloodthirsty and red-eyed, brandishing swords of flame, their joy was a terrible thing to behold. Beneath them the wooden horses transformed, snorting furiously and stamping hooves on the spinning carousel platform.
Then they burst forth. Legs churning, they galloped madly into the night, climbing an unseen path into the heart of the roiling storm.
After centuries spent imprisoned, locked in the chains of uneasy, enchanted sleep, the Wild Hunt was awake.
It was Samhain. Tonight they would ride out. Tonight they would kill. Nothing in the world could stop the Faerie war band-not with the Rider and the Roan Horse at their head…
I am feared in field and town.
Goblin, lead them up and down.