by Holly Evans
Together, we tore down the people-based creatures; the hounds, however, weren’t quite so simple. It felt as though we’d been fighting for days when the hounds began dancing around us. They leaped in and bit at our tendons and legs, trying to disable us without hanging on long enough to catch fire.
That didn’t stop us from lashing out with everything we had. Each time one of them tried to sink its teeth into our legs we kicked out, breaking bones and scorching flesh. Adrenaline fuelled me and blocked out the pain and damage that had been inflicted. It was life or death, and I had no intentions on giving in. I was not ready to die. Lysander’s face filled my mind, the memory of his kiss, his sexy grin. I would not be defeated.
The hounds continued to circle around us; their numbers had been thinned, but there were still four of them. They were charred and increasingly clumsy in their movements, but still determined. One charged in and went to sink its teeth into my thigh. Tabs swung around at the last second and floored it; she was on it like a rabid demon, her hands thrust into its ribcage and clawing out everything she could. Whatever restraint she may have displayed at the start of this torturous fight had evaporated. The hound yowled and snapped at her. Its ally tried to leap on my back; I shifted my weight and rolled away, leaving it to land awkwardly.
Tabs had finished; we were down to three. She was injured, but wore a mask of pure fury that fuelled our fire. It raged around us, a glorious mix of blues and yellows. We went at the one closest to us, me in front of it, Tabs behind. It sank its teeth into my lower arm; I dug my other hand into its throat. The fire burnt through its flesh and allowed me to rip out its windpipe while Tabs reached around and snapped its neck. To be sure. The final two were more cautious.
We were growing tired and desperate. I didn’t know how long we could maintain that state out of our body, but I was beginning to feel as though we were reaching a limit. A look passed between the remaining hounds; they threw themselves at us, a flurry of claws and teeth. I went down. The teeth of the hound closest me grazed my throat, but it had landed poorly; I shifted my weight and threw it over, pinning it down. Its claws raked my stomach and legs, but I choked it out, ignoring the pain. Despite my fire, it refused to give in and die, its flesh charred and turned to ash on its body while it continued to fight and struggle. I gripped its neck and broke the spine before it could do any more damage. I turned to find Tabs taking great heaving breaths on the floor. We were both coated in blood, not all of it ours. I crawled over to her.
“Please tell me you can put us back in our bodies now.”
She swallowed hard and took my hand.
“Let’s never do that again,” she said.
“Agreed,” I said, slumping down to the floor.
She took a long gasping breath and whispered something I didn’t catch. The cracking sensation as I fell back into my body never felt so good.
I gasped for breath. My heart shuddered and began thundering in my ears.
“Calm, Evelyn. Breathe,” Lysander said.
I became aware of his arms around me, his face close to my neck.
“I thought I was going to lose you for the second time in as many days,” he whispered.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to get my wits about me. Everything hurt. The room was a little fuzzy and hazy, but it was clearing. I pressed myself against Lysander and relaxed against his chest, taking comfort in his presence. Hands ran over my legs; something warm pressed against the pain. I allowed it all to happen and focused on the feeling of Lysander, my dear hound. He growled when someone new approached. I opened my eyes to see who the problem was. A priest I didn’t recognise was approaching with a pair of scissors.
“I need to cut your shirt off so we can heal the injuries on your stomach and ribs,” he said calmly.
I stroked Lysander’s chest and wriggled away from him a little. He looked into my face before he released me enough to take my shirt off. The priest kept a close eye on Lysander as he approached slowly. I almost screamed with the pain. Lysander snarled and bared his teeth at the priest who’d inflicted it. The priest stood his ground with Elise at his side.
“It needs to be done, we need to remove the harmful magic. Quickly,” the priest said.
Kadrix handed me a wooden dowel covered in leather.
“Bite this,” he instructed.
I didn’t ask why he owned such a thing; instead, I put it in my mouth, closed my eyes, and waited for the pain to be over. Tabs’ scream was cut off by quiet whispers and hushing; she sobbed for a good while. It seemed to be never-ending, the poking, dabbing, and healing. They said it had to be done, that the witches’ magic was dark and filthy. I did my best to focus on Lysander, the strength of him wrapped around me.
“We didn’t know,” Brennan apologised when it was finally over.
He held Tabs in much the same way that Lysander held me. Her head was tucked on his shoulder with her face nuzzled against his neck while she rested. There was no peace on her pretty face, the lines of her pixie heritage made sharper and harder by worry.
“Did you at least get what you need?” I asked.
He smiled. “Yes, the plans are being analysed, we think we may have something. Thank you.”
I nodded and wove my fingers through Lysander’s. He kissed down the side of my face, fluttering touches of affection that cut through whatever darkness had filled the day. Logan brought us platters of food, and Quin came in with colourful alchemical products.
“How’re you doing, sis?”
I gave a little shrug. “Been better, been worse.”
He smiled. “Thanks to Lysander, we’re making real progress. Your work today will help us make the breakthrough we need.”
He dipped his thumb in some golden-coloured paste and smeared it in a line on my forehead. “This will cleanse your spiritual state and stop the witches from being able to find you when you sleep.”
He went and applied the same to Tabs.
I reached across the gap between the chairs and squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”
She smiled at me and said nothing; we’d done it together.
Lysander refused to leave my side for the rest of the evening. We showered together, where he tenderly cleaned all of my injuries. I was impressed with how well they were healing, which was good, given nothing was going to stop me from being out there fighting the next day. We didn’t really talk; we didn’t need to. I had Lysander close to me, and we were safe. That was what mattered.
The sun was barely creeping over the horizon when we got up. Felix greeted us with a large grin and a big pat on the back.
“Good to have you two back,” he said before he began shovelling meat products into his mouth.
Leif offered us a small smile, and the pixies pranced around us singing something high-pitched.
“Where are we going today?” I asked no one in particular.
My injuries were all completely healed. I was as fresh as a daisy. Kadrix had narrowed his eyes at that fact, but had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.
“The cathedral. It’s a huge tourist spot with a lot of natural magic; if the witches can take it, they can get a proper foothold over the city,” Bronwyn said.
“No pressure,” I muttered.
The female elf, I’d forgotten her name, said, “We’ll have another team with us. We’re to protect the cathedral; they will cover the gardens. We can’t afford to get spread too thin.”
The castle complex was large. It would have been a nightmare trying to defend the entire thing by ourselves. The team was practically bouncing once everyone had eaten their fill; even Leif looked a little brighter.
We were warriors. This is what we did. Or so I told myself.
A pair of lycans drove us up to the castle; we were deposited as close as we could get to the cathedral. The brief glance I managed to catch of the city as we jogged through the complex to the cathedral was stunning. Bubblegum pinks brushed against silvery greys and fresh blues, the soft light highlight
ing the city in all its beauty. I could have forgotten the troubles that weighed upon all of us for those short moments. I could have paused and enjoyed the sunset as though it were another boring day with nothing more exciting than telling a nymph to take fewer tourists. Instead, I focused my mind on the battle of the day. It was more important than previous ones we’d been in.
I took some pride in the fact we’d been chosen, our team. It felt forced, but I had to take what happiness I could. We had lost so much, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that we weren’t making progress. We stood in the courtyard-type area in front of the cathedral, and it all felt a little too familiar. My eye was drawn to where the hellmouths had been. Flashes of memories went off in my mind: Standing on the raised area defending the priests as we took down the demons. It was oddly fitting to have such an important fight there. There was no time for nostalgia; the witches began crawling along the rooftops, shadowy figures slipping between the many spikes and spires, blackened by age. Whatever peace I’d managed to grasp onto slipped through my fingers.
They didn’t hurl curses at us; they’d clearly learnt we were protected from that. Instead, they brought hellish creatures. The clicking of the long claws sent shivers down my spine. Mutated mongrels stalked towards us, elongated legs with thin black skin stretched over them meeting bony bodies. Patches of fur clung onto purple-ish flesh that shimmered green from rot. Their lips pulled back into mocking smiles, revealing needle-like yellow teeth. Shreds of ears were pinned back against half-exposed skulls, coated in oozing black gunk.
They weren’t the only friends the witches had brought, but they were the ones I focused on. To begin with, at least. One small battle at a time, I reminded myself. Leif and Bronwyn had holed up in one of the recesses of the cathedral; Bronwyn wasn’t strong enough to work through the heavy stone of the cathedral. It held too much magic of its own. She had to be outside with us where she could see us. They were close enough that we could defend them if we needed to. Chaos and Mayhem were already up on the rooves, living up their names. A witch went flying over my head just as I hacked a beast’s eyes. It snarled and lunged forward; I danced away from it and hacked at its hocks to reduce its movements. Another came at me from another side and almost succeeded in taking my legs out. The male elf threw a knife into the back of its skull. Not enough to stop it, but it distracted it.
I used the time to kick the original in the ribs hard enough to make it stumble. I drove my celestial blade between two ribs and wiggled it as much as possible, destroying whatever organs were in there. It snarled and howled; I only just managed to pull the blade out in time before it spun around to face me again. Lysander was in his full flaming hound form. He barrelled into the beast and tore through its throat. I hacked at the throat of its friend while keeping moving around, just out of the way of its snapping jaws. It was slower; the knife in its skull wasn’t doing it much good. Our little team worked together seamlessly. We were becoming a well-oiled machine, and I didn’t know how I felt about that.
Finally, the hound slowed enough for me to break its spine and decapitate it. I looked around to see the pixies in a flurry of movement up on the rooves. The elves were working as a pair, the male weaving magic while the female looked like a ninja hacking and slashing everything within reach. Her gymnastic abilities were almost as impressive as Kadrix’s. The entire courtyard was swarming with enemies. The rooves were crawling with witches and shadowy creatures. I had a moment of feeling overwhelmed before I shoved it down and got down to business. Killing the bastards. One at a time. There was nothing else to be done. One enemy at a time. Kill them, move on. Continue until we’d won.
The witches were getting creative with their beasts. I had no idea what they were made from, but they were all freakish and fucked up. There were people with animal parts, nightmarish takes on animals, and then they added in creatures from myth and legend. A naga started slithering its way to Leif and Bronwyn. The elves were busy trying to fight off a three-headed hellcat, the pixies were still on the rooves, and Lysander was busy with Bryn tackling more fucked up people. I vaulted over one of the hounds and almost slipped on the smooth stone in front of Leif and Bronwyn.
I had to give it to them, they were both in fighting stances as they watched the fifteen-foot-long snake with the upper body of a pissed-off deformed woman approach them. I’d been concerned about Leif when he first joined us; he was an arrogant, nervy little thing. Bronwyn wasn’t much better, a delicate healer that apparently needed protection. I was grateful for her help, but she didn’t seem like the fighting edition.
The naga was much like the other creatures, a mix of blacks and greys formed of dark magic. Bronwyn was muttering something under her breath; the naga’s movements slowed. Its oddly flat face contorted with fury as its body tensed and it tried to propel itself further forward. I took the opportunity and began hacking at the torso where the snake merged with the human; there had to be vital organs in there somewhere.
“You need to take its head off!” Leif shouted as he ran around to the other side, blades in hand.
Leif was oddly calm and composed. Gone were the nerves and the jittery anxiousness that I’d come to associate with the young Sidhe. He was in control, calm and collected as he ducked in and out around the naga, testing the limits of its movement and attacks. I was impressed, and more than a little bit proud.
The naga’s head was some five feet above my head, and I had no way to reach up and get to it. She lunged forward at Leif and tried to sink her fangs into him; Leif skittered away from her as if it were nothing more than a game. I jumped up and tried to slash at the naga’s throat. I missed. Its claws dug into my ribs and raked downwards. She had the nerve to laugh at me. Of course, the dog beast things chose that moment to come and join in the fun.
“Ideas?” I asked Leif.
“You take the dogs, I’ll take her,” he said.
There wasn’t even a waver in his voice. Bronwyn’s hands had begun moving. The naga stopped moving forward altogether, and the dogs became slower. Her radius seemed to be about twenty feet in front of her, plenty of room to keep her safe. I hoped.
I had to give it to the young Sidhe: He took down the naga. By himself. Of course, Bronwyn helped by stopping it from slithering around, but I was too preoccupied killing the beasts to help him. Unfortunately, the happiness didn’t last. A high-pitched keening cry cut through the air, over the roars, snarls, and cracking of bones. One of the pixies had just been thrown off the rooves. Her body lay limp on the pale stone for all of a few seconds before the beasts descended. No one was close enough to do anything. There was nothing left of her. Witches went flying, along with lumps of the roof.
The remaining pixie was a blur of fury and blades. It wasn’t enough. We were out-numbered, exhausted, and things weren’t improving. We moved closer together; the pixie came down off the rooves and danced around us. She was coated in blood, her face a dark mask of anger and grief. The lycans were in their full lycan form. They tore into everything that came within reach. We never stopped moving, never stopped attacking. It wasn’t enough.
Felix went down with a snarling howl. They tore him apart with Sam only a few feet away. We couldn’t do anything.
“Fall back!” I screamed.
Leif’s eyes glazed over for a second; I grabbed his wrist and pulled him after me.
“They’re coming for us,” he said.
We retreated as quickly as we could, while continuing to hack apart everything that got close enough. We closed ranks, making sure we didn’t lose anyone else. The other team was waiting for us near the road. There were supposed to be ten of them; I only counted four. They joined us as soon as they could and tore a cat-beast off the female elf. A shield of some form erupted when three large black SUVs skidded to a halt near us. The beasts bounced off and quickly began circling, looking for a way in. We scrambled into the vehicles, slammed the doors, and clung on as they sped away with a squeal of tyres.
Tears streamed d
own my face. Lysander held me close, his arm around my shoulders and his head resting on top of mine. I wrapped my arm around Bronwyn and pulled her close to me. Her shoulders shuddered as she began sobbing. What was I supposed to say or do? I was numb. We’d just lost two good people and the big fight that we couldn’t afford to lose. Sam reached across and squeezed Bronwyn’s knee.
“It’ll be ok, little witch,” he said gently.
I wanted to shout at him. How could it possibly be ok? Lysander ran his hand over my thigh.
“Breathe, Evelyn. This was just a battle. We will come back from this,” he said.
I looked into his face, searching for answers, for peace, for hope. He placed his hand on my cheek.
“I am a war dog, Evelyn. I am a marrok,” he said firmly.
I smiled and relaxed into him. I trusted him. I trusted our magical people. What choice did I have?
Word had clearly gotten around; how could it not? We filed into the war-room with our heads low, our steps stiff and exhausted. We reeked of blood, sweat, and failure. The lycans were waiting for us, their shoulders back and heads held high. They’d lost three of their number. Felix’s mate stood at the front of the group, her cheeks tear-stained, but her expression fierce. She looked at Sam.
“You are alpha now,” she said.
Sam stood a little straighter before he threw his head back and howled. A deep, mournful sound that filled the air with sorrow and rage. The others joined him; Felix’s mate first, the others each in turn. Lysander and Raif put their heads back and joined. Everyone else stood in quiet mourning, heads low. The pixie had joined her fellows. The other pixies in the group surrounded her. They began rocking and singing in hushed voices. We all had our different ways of marking the passing of those we loved.
Things slowly returned to normal. People returned to their tables, hunched over colourful maps and pages full of sigils and magical markings. Others went into trance-like states. Alchemists continued throwing powders into bowls and such. The world kept turning. We kept fighting, in every way we could.