Blood Faerie (25 page)

Suddenly, rustling noises came from the woods. It sounded as though help had finally arrived and brought an army with it. Cridhe leapt into a crouch, turning his head quickly from side to side, peering into the darkness. “My queen. Have you come to claim your place at my side? Watch then, as the era of glory begins.” Cridhe extended a hand toward Munro, and Munro’s heart started to pound in his chest. Munro screamed as Cridhe peeled back one of his broken ribs.

A hundred fae warriors stepped into view, all wielding knives and moving in perfect unison. “Stop!” Eilidh thundered, her voice coming from every direction and echoing like a storm. She stepped to the edge of the clearing, her eyes fastened on Cridhe.

Cridhe frowned, puzzled. “We need his heart, my queen. Krostach demands it.” But the blood faerie smiled as though he understood. “Sacrifice is difficult for all of us.” He glanced at Munro. “I love Jon too. No…” He shook his head, as though trying to maintain a grip on which druid he was killing. “We must be strong and set an example for our people.”

“We have no people!” Eilidh shouted with ferocity.

Rage contorted Cridhe’s features. He looked around, noticing the warriors for the first time. “You would bring kingdom Watchers against me? Eilidh, what have you done? You will find I can be a gentle and loving mate to you…or not. Do not try my patience.”

He pointed at the warriors one after the other, and Munro could sense the power he directed at them. Shock passed over his face as each winked out of existence. “You would try to battle me with illusions?” His expression darkened. “Very well. You have made your choice.”

Throughout the exchange, Cridhe did not release his magical grip on Munro’s heart. It beat wildly, as though straining to be exposed and wanting to leap into Cridhe’s hand. Munro’s world faded. He fought to hold on, knowing that as long as he lived, Eilidh would be stronger. She needed that strength if she was to survive. Munro couldn’t bear to think what it would mean if Cridhe had his way. His evil was horrific enough, but his madness was terrifying. With that last sorrowful thought, Munro plunged into darkness.

***

Cridhe sent pulses of dark energy toward each of the shadow warriors, just as Eilidh expected he would. One at a time, they disappeared. But with each disappearance, Eilidh focused and cast the azure, causing a new illusory figure to take its place. Cridhe growled with frustration.

It sapped her energy in a way magic never had. But she’d never cast anything powerful before she met Beniss and the other azuri fae. Even now, if Beniss had not been using a mental link to refresh her energy, Eilidh didn’t know if she could have maintained the constant multiple illusions. They had planned to test Cridhe’s strength, to distract him, and as long as possible, to hide Beniss’ presence.

Cridhe’s frustration caused him to lash out, knocking back all of the illusion warriors in one huge sweep of his arm. Every time he did it, Eilidh brought up a new set. Cridhe pointed a finger at Eilidh. “Do not make me hurt you.
Do not be like her.
”

Eilidh couldn’t help but wonder who he was talking about. Cridhe was clearly insane, so they might never know. He had some plan to make her his queen, thinking that together they would challenge the kingdom fae. She’d never seen such madness in one of their race. Many would have denied it was even possible, saying that such malady of the mind was the province of the weaker races, but dabbling with the dark Krostach ritual had exacted a price. While it repulsed her, it also made her sad, and a little afraid.

Cridhe stepped toward Eilidh and stopped just feet in front of her. His deathly, contorted face looked angry. It wouldn’t require much more prodding for him to snap and strike her down. It took all her strength and focus to hold the illusion that made her appear cool and unperturbed. Because of their bond, only Munro could have known of the turmoil within her. The bond told her he still lived, but she didn’t know for how long.

It was time to act. Eilidh raised a hand and flicked her wrist. Four more warriors stepped out of the woods.

“Must we continue to play these games?” Cridhe sighed, as though tired of indulging her.

Cridhe had not noticed these warriors were different. Saor and his three companions lifted their hands in unison. Eilidh felt a half smile tug at her mouth.

As one, the four warriors shouted an ancient word of power. From each of their hands came a blaze of green light. They struck Cridhe as one, and the blood faerie staggered back, a betrayal searing across his features. He was hit hard, and huge, gaping cuts appeared on his body. But he manipulated the flows of blood magic, and the bleeding was hastily staunched.

Cridhe lashed out with his power, the full force of his anger behind it. He traded shots with the earth warriors, but they were no match for his strength, experience, and cunning. He shouted a final incantation at them. Eilidh heard a sickening snap of bones. They tried to dodge, but his magic followed as they leapt aside. Eilidh’s heart sank as two crumpled completely. Saor and the one closest to him were able to release one more spell before Cridhe retaliated with a final death blow.

The warriors had failed, and the time had come for Beniss to begin their attack of last hope. A cacophony of sounds blasted from every direction. Beniss stopped feeding Eilidh energy and cast a whirlwind of confusing sounds, voices, angry glowing lights. The nearby trees growled and twisted their many arms toward Cridhe. Even Eilidh had difficulty maintaining her nerve. Then the real onslaught began. Beniss stepped into the clearing from behind Eilidh, focusing intently on Cridhe. The elder faerie’s magic thrummed.

Beniss had explained what she would do, even though the magic was far beyond what Eilidh could even begin to form. Eilidh had not appreciated the power and destruction such a spell might bring. For an astral faerie, the realm of strength was in the mind, and the mind of Cridhe must have been a terrible place. For around him began to spring up nightmares, embodiments of those he had killed, but also more gruesome things. Dark, daemonic creatures like Eilidh had never imagined. The nightmares turned on Cridhe, opening great maws toward him, clicking hideous mandibles.

Cridhe sent out spells of great power in every direction, attempting to fight things that were not there. As with Eilidh’s warriors, when he would defeat one nightmare, another would take its place. Then Cridhe did something unexpected. Even Eilidh didn’t believe she had the mental strength to do what he did, but Cridhe gathered all of his power and ignored the nightmares even as they began to attack and devour him. He looked directly at Beniss with all the hate and malice a faerie of his ability could possess, and he uttered one word, “Boil.”

Although it appeared to drain Cridhe, his spell hit home. Beniss’ skin turned red as a cherry, and she bled from every pore. She glanced over her shoulder and met Eilidh’s eyes. Tears of blood streaked down her face. The nightmares around Cridhe exploded and disappeared as she died, her blood splattering in every direction.

Grief overwhelmed Eilidh as three of the people she cared most about lay dead or dying at her feet. Their plan had been for Saor to annoy and distract Cridhe, Eilidh to tire him, while Beniss finished him off with his own nightmares. His blood magic made him difficult to kill with physical force, and they thought his greatest weakness would be the mind. But his insanity provided him with a shroud of protection.

Only Eilidh was left to fight, and she only had one weapon left, one chance, even though it would cost her most dearly. She looked to Munro and said, “Forgive me.” Although she could not be sure he could still understand her, she hoped he knew how much he had come to mean to her and that she did not make the sacrifice lightly.

She began to draw from him. Their bond gave her access to the earth magic that had always eluded her. She drank in his essence, knowing that as she did, she also took what little strength he had left.

As the connection deepened, Eilidh felt the power welling within her. Everything before had happened quickly, but now Eilidh felt the world slow. The trees surrounding the clearing stood on their roots. His battle with Beniss had drained Cridhe, but he was not yet done. He lifted a hand to bat away the illusions, and a shock spread over his face as he realised it was no illusion. Rocks rose off the ground and hurtled at him. Lightning flashed, and thunder sounded with a hollow boom. A ring of fire sprouted in the clearing.

For the first time, fear appeared on the blood faerie’s face. As one unit, four trees lurched forward, trapping Cridhe in a wooden embrace. Eilidh screamed at Cridhe as she felt Munro’s life force begin to dwindle and the power he lent her waned. “Damn you!” A string of ancient fae words flew from her lips. Each incantation sent tongues of fire at Cridhe. The sounds he made as he died would haunt Eilidh for centuries.

Eilidh went to her knees, exhausted. She never imagined it was possible to harness so much power, or lose so much in so short a time. All was still, and Eilidh wept.

“Get the bolt cutters after that gate. We’ll need an ambulance all the way up here.”

“What the hell happened here? Who are these people?”

“Eilidh? Is that you?”

“Can you hear me?”

“He’s alive.”

“Madam, you need to let us help him.”

“
Dem’ontar-che
.”

A mask was fitted over Munro’s face, sending cool sweet air into his lungs. Voices continued to drift in and out.

He was lifted and handled, but he did not have the strength or desire to fight them. He heard Hallward and Getty in the crowded mix of voices. All he could think about was how he would explain things. He tried to speak, but a man’s voice said, “Calm down, son. Everything’s okay now. You’re going to be all right.” Munro stopped fighting. He didn’t know what he would have said anyway.

He opened his eyes. He was inside an ambulance. Eilidh was nowhere in sight, but he could sense her. She was tired and grieving, but alive, and that was more than he had hoped for.

Before Munro could refuse, the paramedic said, “Quick scratch,” and injected something into his arm. Within seconds, Munro’s pain and confusion eased. Warm darkness enveloped him.

When he opened his eyes again, he blinked at the glaring lights in a hospital room. Eilidh sat by his side in her human guise, muttering words in a language he did not understand. Getty was there too, sprawled across two uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs and covered by a hospital blanket.

Munro smiled, tentatively at first, and then more widely when he realised he didn’t hurt. When Eilidh opened her eyes and smiled at him, warmth spread through his body.

“Quinton.”

He loved the way she said his name. “What day is it?” he asked.

“The Equinox passed seven moonrises ago.”

Munro laughed, suddenly not caring what day it was, happy to be alive. The memory of what had been done to him came crashing back. He lifted a hand to his chest. He was surprised to find no bandages, only skin rippled with twisted scars. “But…”

“It turns out the azuri fae were mistaken when they said there would be little benefit to you from the bonding. Everyone is astonished at how well you have healed, including me. I feared I had taken all of your strength. I thought you might not come back.” A single tear slid down her rosy cheek.

“Hey, now. None of that.” He wiped the tear away with his thumb. “You’ll have to fill me in on what happened. I seem to have passed out.” He grinned. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t much use.”

Eilidh knitted her eyebrows together. “Quinton, that isn’t true. I could not have defeated the blood faerie without your strength and without your earth magic. The words were mine, but the power was yours.” Once she seemed reassured that Munro was taking enough of the credit for the magic that had put an end to Cridhe, she went over the details, filling in the blank spots where he could not remember or had not been aware. When she came to the end of the story, Munro realised Getty had woken up and was listening intently.

“That’s some story,” Getty said, and hesitated as though choosing his words carefully. “It’s the sort of thing a man would be tempted to not believe. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen the things I saw. The bodies, they weren’t…”

“Human,” Munro finished for him. “I know. It was hard for me to believe at first too.”

Getty cast a furtive glance at Eilidh, as though he were afraid to meet her eyes. “You look different.”

Eilidh smiled and wrinkled her nose. When she did, the illusion of humanity disappeared, but only for a moment. After the flash of reality, her curly ears became rounded again, and she again appeared human once more.

Getty gasped with surprise. He seemed as though he still wasn’t quite ready to accept that some things were not as they appeared. Munro understood the feeling.

“What’s the official word about all of this?” Munro couldn’t imagine the report on what happened at Abernethy.

“You should have seen Hallward.” Getty grinned. “He took it all in stride, like seeing
unusual
people, fireballs, and human sacrifice was an everyday thing. I hate to imagine what it would take to rattle that guy.” Getty turned serious. “It was Frankie who called me, you know. It didn’t make a lot of sense at the time, him calling from your phone. He was pretty panicked. But he said you were in trouble and we should bring the cavalry. He also said it was all his fault.”