Tadhg ended up back on the trunk.
I secretly hoped the road would be riddled with potholes so his ass ended up as bruised as the trust I’d nearly placed in his cursed hands.
He smelled bloody awful, like perfume and stale booze.
My eyes remained trained on the window as Padraig maneuvered the carriage through the puddles and streams toward the edge of town.
“What’s worse than one witch?” Tadhg grumbled.
I glanced up to find him watching me through red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes. Angry red welts covered his forearms; bloody streaks marred his chest beneath his torn shirt.
What had happened to him?
“I said, what’s worse than one witch?” he repeated, rolling his hand like he expected me to answer.
“I don’t know.”
He grinned. “Two witches.”
I waited for him to say something more, for an explanation for the awful state he was in.
He was the first to look away. “I’m sorry for what happened last night. I was gone a lot longer than anticipated.”
Gone away with two witches.
“What you do in your free time is no business of mine.” He owed me nothing. The slight tug I’d felt wasn’t worth remembering.
“That’s all you have to say to me?”
How could I respond without giving myself away? Without telling him that I’d spent the entire night tossing and turning and wishing he hadn’t left me in the bloody pub?
“Dammit, I said I was sorry. What do you want me to do?” Tadhg’s eyes flashed, and the carriage came to a jolting halt.
“I want you to stop messing with my bloody carriage!” I didn’t want another day added to this cursed journey because of his tantrums.
“That wasn’t me!” He pulled the drapes aside and peered into the forest.
“You’re so full of—”
Wait.
Tadhg couldn’t lie.
“Padraig?” No answer. “Padraig? Is everything all right?” I unlatched the door and stepped down from the carriage. The rain had stopped, but the air was heavy, like it would begin again any moment.
My boots sank into the mud with a loud squelch squelch.
Padraig slumped in his seat, reins still in hand.
At first I thought he had fallen asleep.
Then I saw a dagger protruding from his chest.
“Padraig!” My cry echoed around the hollow. Who could have done such a thing? Was he breathing? He had to be breathing. Maybe the dagger had missed his heart. Maybe he was still clinging to life. I made to run to him, then froze when a man with silver hair rounded the skittish horses in a lazy stroll.
“What have you done?” I screeched.
Don’t be dead.
Please don’t be dead.
“Easiest way to make a man stop a carriage is to stop his heart,” the man drawled, his grimy fingers drumming against a wicked looking knife hanging from his belt.
Crushing weight left me paralyzed. I darted a glance through the carriage door.
Tadhg was gone.
The selfish coward had abandoned me.
Had I really expected anything more from him?
The man stalked forward, withdrawing the dagger from its sheath. “Now, hand over yer coins or ye can join ‘im.” He gestured toward Padraig with the blade.
My staunch ally couldn’t save me.
No one could.
The mud swallowing my boots felt like quicksand. I could feel myself sinking as I loosened the purse from my belt and set it in the man’s dirt-crusted palm.
He leaned close, gagging me with the stench of sweat and rotting teeth. “And the ring.”
The ring? “N-no.” Not the ring. Anything but the ring.
He caught my wrist and yanked the wedding band from my finger. “There. That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”
When I tried to pull free, he dragged me against him and exhaled in my ear, “They’re gonna ‘ave fun with ye.”
Three burly men emerged from some crumbling ruins beyond the brambles. From the broken high cross and empty rosette window, it looked like the remains of an old abbey.
The tallest man wore more knives on bands around his thick biceps. An angry purple scar ran from his lip, across his too-square jaw, and down to his Adam’s apple.
The man beside him wore thick leather armor that looked too heavy for his lanky frame. He gave a leering smile, revealing teeth as black as his greasy hair.
The third was stocky and made of muscles. His shirt had no sleeves, and his breeches had been cut off at the knee.
Bile rose in my throat, and the blood drained from my face, leaving me cold and shaking. “You have what you came for. Let me go.”
The silver-haired man shoved me forward and backed toward the carriage. “I have what I came for,” he cackled, climbing into the driver’s seat and pushing Padraig’s body to the ground with a sickening thud, “but my men need to claim their prize.”
With a flick of the reins, the horses took off at a trot, and my carriage disappeared around the bend.
A twig snapped.
Three villains stalked toward me, knives drawn.
The witch’s dagger was beneath my cloak, but my hands were dead at my sides. I would’ve run if I hadn’t been waist-deep in terror. My breathing matched my racing pulse, my lungs and heart were about to explode . . . Until Tadhg appeared on the broken high cross with kohl over his eyes.
“Three against one isn’t a fair fight, lads,” he said, his feet swinging back and forth like he was on the edge of a dock, kicking the water.
I tried to call out to him, but the heavy air clogged my throat.
“We didn’t know our prize had a friend.” The biggest man cracked his knuckles; his lips twisted into a sneer.
“Look at its eyes.” The man without sleeves tossed his dagger between his hands, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he navigated the rubble. “Never seen anything like it.”
Tadhg laced his fingers together and yawned as he flexed his hands over his head.
The lanky man stalked toward me.
My joints stiffened, refusing to yield. I wanted to run. I needed to run. Why couldn’t I run?
“There’s no need to be frightened,” he crooned in a pleasant enough voice. “We’re gonna treat ye like the lady ye are.”
The other two sniggered.
Tadhg’s head cocked to the side, reminding me of the twins last night. His movements were rigid, jerking. A puppet on a string being controlled by someone—or something—else.
A hand closed around my throat, stifling the cry in my strained windpipe.
Fight back. Fight back.
Dammit.
I couldn’t bloody move.
A pulse of power, like a phantom wind, surged around me, sending my attacker flying headfirst into a tree. A sickening crack rattled the golden leaves, and the man’s body crumpled onto the thick grass.
Tadhg vanished, reappearing behind the other two men. “I had a shitty night last night,” he drawled, brushing some invisible specks from his waistcoat, “so consider yourselves lucky that I’m giving you a chance to run.”
The largest one laughed. “Ye think ye can best the two of us?” He stopped in front of Tadhg. The stocky one continued circling, his expression growing more malicious with every step. “Ye think we ‘aven’t dealt with yer kind?” The man pulled something from beneath the neck of his shirt. Yellowed claws, a shriveled finger, and human teeth dangled from the leather strap. “We’re gonna make ye watch us fuck yer one”—he winked at me—“then carve her up like the pretty bird she is. Then I’ll cut out yer eyes and add ‘em to this.” The claws clacked together when he shook the necklace.
Tadhg’s eyes were as black as the kohl around them, the light of magic swallowed by whatever darkness lived within him. “Turn around, Keelynn,” he said in a quiet voice laced with rage.
How could I turn around when I couldn’t move or speak or breathe?
The stocky man lunged, but Tadhg was quicker. Whirling, lifting his elbow, ramming it into the man’s nose. The man howled. Blood gushed down his lips and dripped from his chin. The knife fell. Tadhg flicked his wrist. It was in his hand before it hit the ground. He caught the man by the chin, yanked his head back, and drew the blade across his throat.
Blood sprayed. A gurgling sound escaped.
Aveen.
She had made the same sound when the merciless Gancanagh had stolen her from this world.
I screwed my eyes shut against the horror. If only I could drown out the strained cries. Heavy grunts. Low groans. The unmistakable thud of a body connecting with the ground.
I clutched my chest, pulling and dragging at the lace and buttons, desperate to loosen them. To free myself.
“Look at me.”
It was Tadhg.
I squeezed my eyes tighter.
Two hands settled on my shoulders. “Look at me.”
Tadhg’s face was smeared with blood and kohl. Black eyes searched mine. There was a body to my right. And a second to my left. One man was missing his arms. Where the hell are his arms?
“At me.” His palm connected with my chest, steady against my raging heart. “Take a deep breath.”
“I-I-I . . .”
“Deep.”
I focused on the pressure of his hand and pushed it away with my expanding chest.
“Deeper. Deeper. Good. Hold it there. And release.” Tadhg shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Again.”
Again and again, he reminded me how to breathe.
A shadow moved in my peripherals.
The lanky man hurtled toward us, dagger raised above his head.
“Tadhg!”
It was too late. The man buried the blade into Tadhg’s side. Tadhg cursed and stumbled away, holding the wound with his hand.
The man glanced at the dripping steel, then back toward Tadhg’s malicious grin.
Tadhg held out a blood-drenched hand and squeezed his fingers into a fist.
The knife disappeared. The man’s eyes bulged, and he clawed at his throat, his face growing redder and redder. His body lifted off the ground, his feet kicking as he struggled and struggled to free himself from the invisible hold.
Tadhg’s other hand drew circles at his side, as if stirring the air.
Then the earth began to shake. I stumbled away from the purple-faced man a second before the ground split open, swallowing the bodies of the other two villains. The final man opened his mouth, but before he could scream, Tadhg splayed his fingers, and the man dropped into the abyss.
Tadhg’s spinning hand froze.
The ground stitched itself back together, leaving only a line of dirt-encrusted stones and blood-smeared grass where the fissure had been.
I caught the coppery bite of blood mixed with the lingering sweetness of Tadhg’s magic. But the smell of fresh earth, the stench of a new grave, left my head spinning spinning spinning out of control. My knees cracked against sharp debris.
Tadhg called my name. Too far away.
Sharp stones sliced my palms when I fell forward, retching until my throat was on fire and my stomach was as empty as my soul.
Those villains had been human.
And I had stood by like a bloody coward and watched Tadhg take on all three of them—and nearly die in the process.
The same way I had watched Aveen die.
There was no way I could face the Gancanagh and hope to survive.
I pressed trembling hands to my sweaty forehead and tried to breathe. Something touched my shoulder, sending me skittering toward the broken bits of wall.
“It’s only me.” Tadhg’s outstretched palms shook violently from where he crouched. “It’s only me.” Shadows still clouded his eyes, like the darkness didn’t want to be contained. With a flick of his wrist, a silver flask appeared. “Here.” He held it toward me.
I gulped a mouthful, swished, and spat into the grass. “It’s just water.” Had it been water the entire time?
Tadhg’s eyebrows came together. “Would you rather something stronger?”
I shook my head and drank until it was gone. My attention drifted back to the bloodstains. “You killed them. All of them.”
Tadhg’s head tilted the same feral way it had before he’d attacked. “I told you to look away,” he said, inching closer.
“I-I couldn’t.”
Tadhg swayed. Perspiration beaded on his forehead.
“Tadhg? Are you all right?”
His eyes met mine, dulled, and he collapsed.
I crawled toward his prone form and lifted his head onto my lap. Dark lashes dusted against the greasy kohl. Gaunt cheeks splattered with blood. The pulse at his neck barely fluttered. Too weak. Too fast.
His chest rose and fell, but it was shallow. Labored.
His face was as pale as his shirt beneath the bloodstains—
Bloodstains.
I dragged Tadhg’s shirt from where it was tucked into his breeches, ignoring the tan, taut muscles stretching across his abdomen. Right above the deep cut of his hip was an open wound the length of my hand, oozing blood. If he lost much more, he wouldn’t survive. He may have lost too much already.
There had to be something I could do. Some way to stop it. If only Aveen were here. She would know what to do. Think, Keelynn. Think.
I sliced off strips of my skirt with the witch’s dagger and wrapped the fabric in a crude, makeshift bandage around his midsection. It would have to do until I could find a needle and thread.
What if it wasn’t enough?
What if he died too?
Oh god. I really was Maiden Death. Not because of my plans to kill the Gancanagh but because those closest to me—those I cared about—ended up dead.
Tadhg couldn’t die. He just couldn’t.
My fingers trembled as I touched the dark stubble at his jaw. Rough, like sandpaper. I brushed the hair away from Tadhg’s ear to study the delicate point at the top. The shape wasn’t that different. Being this close, even with his ears, it was almost possible to forget that he wasn’t human.
What was I thinking?
Only a short time ago, Tadhg had murdered three men and torn open the earth. His magic was the very thing I had been taught to fear and avoid at all costs.
But instead of killing me, he had saved me.
Twice.
In light of all that had happened, perhaps I could find it in myself to forgive him for trying to lie to get the ring last night. For leaving me in favor of two women from his own world.
I removed my cloak and used it to cover Tadhg where he slept. When the color eventually returned to his cheeks, I stood and inhaled a deep breath, praying for strength to do what needed to be done.
The air held a bitter nip, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care as I crossed the ruins toward the road. Seeing my coachman’s white hair sticking out amidst the grass made my legs falter. Flies swarmed around Padraig’s vacant blue eyes and the jagged wound in his chest. His black flat cap had been mashed into the mud.
I fell to my knees and collected Padraig’s cold hand. Calluses from a lifetime of holding reigns and training horses scratched against my fingertips for the last time.
“I’m so sorry, Padraig.” My tears fell over his pale, weathered cheeks. “I’m so, so sorry.”
How did I say goodbye to someone who had looked after me for so long? Who had been willing to bring me across the country to face a monster? Who had every faith that I could defeat him?
And whose death had been entirely my fault.
Thinning white hair, soft as a feather, slid through my fingers as I brushed it aside. My hand stilled.
Beneath the mud-covered strands, the tips of his ears weren’t round.
They were pointed.
13
The abbey’s crumbling wall cut into my spine. The dagger clutched to my chest felt heavy and cold in my clenched fist. If Tadhg didn’t wake up soon, it’d b
e dark. And I’d be alone. I had managed to drag Padraig’s body off the road and cover him with stones and debris. The abbey’s broken high cross now marked my friend’s final resting place.
My friend wasn’t human.
I’d never known. Never suspected. Padraig had always been a steady, protective presence in my world.
I’d trusted him with my secrets. My life.
The unmistakable sound of hooves and carriage wheels came and went. I had considered begging for help, then dismissed the notion. Even if the travelers took pity on me, the moment they saw Tadhg, they would likely refuse assistance. And I couldn’t leave him behind.
Tingling numbness overtook my bent legs; I stretched them toward a patch of nettles, waiting for the feeling to return to my toes before crawling to where Tadhg slept. He had barely stirred since he’d collapsed.
His forehead was blessedly cool, his pulse steady.
I lifted my cloak from where it covered him and tugged up his shirt. The fabric from the makeshift bandage didn’t appear damp, a good indication that the bleeding had stopped. The skin beneath was still smeared with blood, and the wound . . .
Where was it?
It had been there. I had seen it. Now, there was only a faint silver scar.
“Anything else you want to check while you’re down there?”
I shrieked and shoved away. Tadhg’s head cracked against the ground.
“Why aren’t you hurt?” A wound like that shouldn’t have healed without stitches.
Cursing, he rubbed the top of his head and sat up. “I am hurt.”
“Not your head, you fool. That man stabbed you.”
“Did he?”
I crossed my arms and scowled, waiting for a proper explanation. We couldn’t afford to play games any longer.
Tadhg watched me through eyes as clear and green as the grass he laid upon. “I should think the answer to your question would be obvious,” he said finally, glancing toward the edge of the forest.
If he’d been human, the wound would’ve likely killed him. But he wasn’t human. “Your magic did this?”
A nod.
Hope flickered inside of me. “Can it heal others as well?”
A Cursed Kiss (Myths of Airren Book 1) Page 13