Rituals

by Kelley Armstrong

  This task more than fully occupied Gabriel, leaving no time to worry about the Huntsmen and whatever battle was unfolding there. He did look up sharply, for the dryads, calling, "Helia? Alexios?" They raced through, presuming he needed help, and he let them think as much, not that he'd felt a spark of worry.

  He got Ricky inside, and the dryads cleared a spot in the vine-choked debris. As Gabriel lowered him, Helia checked Ricky's pulse and declared it strong, and Gabriel said, "Good," not caring if it was obvious that he was concerned.

  The Huntsmen came in then, and Wmffre nodded at Meic and said, "The sluagh took his hound, Derwyn."

  Gabriel paused, feeling the Huntsman was waiting for a response, and then finding it with, "I'm sorry," which he was--sorry for the fact that Meic had come to their aid and paid for it with a beloved companion. For Gabriel, though, the news only made him think of that raven, torn apart by the melltithiwyd.

  He couldn't stop thinking about that damnable bird. Of seeing it explode in blood and feeling his heart seize, a flood of fear and pain. For a bird? Of course, he understood that it was not merely a bird, but these things did happen. Casualties of war.

  But that raven...

  Another thought rammed forward, taking precedence, and his head shot up as he said, "Lloergan?"

  "She was there. That's all we saw."

  Gabriel's gaze shot to the door, and he had to squelch the urge to go after the hound. The urge itself gave him pause, but he rationalized it easily enough. Olivia and Ricky cared for the beast, and he did not want to see them hurt by its death.

  He nodded toward Ricky. "Is that what's happened? He's bonded with his hound?"

  "Perhaps." Wmffre checked Ricky's pulse. "He seems all right."

  "What if--?" Gabriel was about to ask what happened if Lloergan perished with Ricky bonded to her. The answer seemed suddenly paramount, not only for Ricky but for...

  For what? He didn't know. He kept seeing that raven. Yet before he could get the question out, a blast of icy terror seized him, his head shooting up, one thought taking over.

  "They're coming. Now. The sluagh. Close the--" He was about to tell them to close the shutters, but enough of himself remained to realize that was ridiculous in a half-ruined building. "Farther," he said. "Get in farther. Look for a room without windows. Hurry."

  "We'll stop the sluagh," Helia said. "You take cover. Let us--"

  "No."

  "We can--"

  He wheeled on the dryad. "No, Helia. You cannot. You will not. You'll stay with us. This isn't the melltithiwyd. It's the sluagh."

  He expected her to argue, but that was the problem with her human glamour--it was easy to forget he wasn't speaking to an impulsive youth. She studied his expression and then nodded and hurried away with her mate to find a windowless room. Gabriel strode off to do the same, gesturing at Ricky, wordlessly telling the Huntsmen to watch him.

  And what exactly is the point of this, Gabriel? Gwynn's voice asked in his head as he jogged through the building, hunting for the right spot.

  He didn't answer.

  You're safe. The sluagh won't hurt you. You mean too much to her.

  It isn't about me.

  No?

  No.

  Good.

  He didn't ask what that meant.

  He needed to get everyone someplace safe. Part of him knew it was a fool's errand--nowhere was safe from the sluagh. But he had to try. Buy some time until he figured out what to do next, how to help them, how to save them.

  Any advice you have would, at this moment, be appreciated, he said to Gwynn.

  Silence.

  He growled a curse, pulled open a door, and saw an empty and windowless room.

  "Here!" he called.

  The sluagh struck the building like a fist, shaking it to the foundation, plaster raining down.

  Gabriel ran back to the front room, where Meic and Wmffre were lifting Ricky.

  "Back there!" Gabriel shouted to be heard as every unbroken pane of glass exploded.

  Wmffre handed him Ricky's arm, and Gabriel took it without question, helping Meic haul the unconscious young man across a floor littered with glass.

  "The room is right back here," he said, then shouted, "Helia! Alexios!"

  They answered from somewhere in the building. Outside, all had gone silent, which was worse, so much worse, as if the sluagh waited, biding its time, knowing it had them.

  They turned a corner, and Gabriel realized Wmffre wasn't following.

  Gabriel shouted the Huntsman's name--or the best approximation he could manage. "Get in here! Now!"

  "He's standing watch," Meic said.

  "Then he's a fool. Tell him to get--" Gabriel bit it off and stalked back around the corner. "You! Get back here--"

  The door exploded. Shards of wood flew like needles, impaling Wmffre and throwing him back. Gabriel ran for the Huntsman as he staggered, blood dripping, pierced by hundreds of needlelike shards, but still alive, still moving, reaching for Gabriel--

  Wmffre exploded, darkness plowing through his stomach and bursting out the other side, coming straight for Gabriel. Hands closed around both Gabriel's arms, yanking him back, two voices spitting words in Greek. Every vine in the room shot up to shield Gabriel as the dryads dragged him away. He twisted, getting his footing and then shoving them, saying, "Go!" and pushing them ahead to where Meic was hauling Ricky into the room. He grabbed Ricky's legs and pushed him inside, nearly tripping Meic.

  The dryads slammed the door behind them and started shouting in Greek, calling on the forces of Nature. The first words had hardly left their lips before the door was ripped from its hinges, Alexios still gripping the handle, disappearing as the door flew. Helia screamed and ran for him, and before Gabriel could react, she truly screamed, a terrible shriek of agony, and Gabriel dove, falling on Ricky, shielding him, Meic doing the same, both of them barely touching down before the sluagh hurtled into the room, darkness filling it, and then--

  Nothing.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  When the melltithiwyd attacked the raven, it happened so fast that all I felt was pain. One second of unbelievable agony, as my entire body was ripped apart, and for that split second I was still conscious enough to feel it happen.

  I hoped that was just me, my consciousness operating on a brief delay, and that the raven itself hadn't experienced that.

  There wasn't enough time between the strike and death for me to process the fact that it wasn't actually me being ripped apart. I saw myself die. I felt myself die. I had that one moment of knowing I was dead. And it was the most horrific thing I could imagine.

  When I came to, lying in that overgrown cemetery, my brain just gave up, as if my very psyche had gone into shock. I lay there, and while some part of me knew I was alive, I couldn't process the fact. Even when true consciousness returned, it felt like the ebb and flow of a tide, a lapping awareness that I lived, followed by a mental and physical and emotional blank.

  I don't know how long it took me to raise my head from the ground. When I did, I saw Ioan, sitting beside me, upright, cross-legged, his eyes shut, as if meditating, and all I could do was stare at him and think, Who is this?

  My brain skated around possibilities, traversing my mental landscape, touching on every man who'd made an impact in my life, from my earliest memories of Todd to my adopted dad to James to Gabriel to Ricky. No, this wasn't any of them, so who...

  A fiery flare. Hooves pounding. A hound baying. A hooded figure. A laugh. A smile. A voice.

  Ioan. Huntsman. Cwn Annwn.

  Cwn. Hound. Brenin.

  Ghost. Corpse. Melltithiwyd.

  It all came back in a rush. I scrambled up and grabbed Ioan's shoulder. He wouldn't wake. His vitals were strong, and his eyes moved beneath the lids, as if he was dreaming. Did that mean Brenin had survived? I hoped so. I remembered the raven and the flock of melltithiwyd, and my stomach lurched.

  When the raven died, I'd returned to my body. Ioan was still g
one. Therefore, Brenin was alive. That was the logic I would use until proven wrong.

  I rose and looked around. Still night. Still quiet.

  I'd seen Ricky and Gabriel through the raven's eyes. They'd been with Lloergan and the dryads. Everyone had been fine.

  And then the melltithiwyd attacked.

  Don't think about that part. Just don't.

  They'd fought the demonic birds before. Fought and won. They would be fine. My job was to get to them, and thanks to that poor raven, I knew exactly where to go.

  --

  The sluagh was here. It knew we were, too. So subterfuge was a must. I slipped past the nearest buildings, and was just about to dart across the road when fingers tapped my shoulder. I jumped a mile high and spun to see...

  Imogen.

  "Looking for your lost lovers, Eden?" she said, smiling.

  I didn't get a chance to even open my mouth. She leaned in, her fingers wrapping around my arm as she said, "Here, let me help," and blackness enveloped me.

  --

  I came to in the belfry tower. I was lying on the floor, the sluagh beside me, nudging me with her toe.

  "Come, come, Eden. No time for sleeping. Your lovers await rather anxiously."

  I rose, rubbing my eyes, feeling like I'd taken a double dose of sleeping pills. I swore I heard Gabriel's voice in my ear.

  You've been drugged. It's likely magical in nature. Be aware of that, and proceed with caution.

  Yes, sir.

  "Where are--?" I began.

  "Over here," the sluagh said.

  She stood across the room, pointing down. As I walked, I saw broken, rotted boards, from when Ricky and Gabriel had been up here months ago.

  The sluagh pointed through the hole. I crouched beside it. At first I saw nothing but darkness below. Then it was as if a peephole opened, drilling all the way down, level after level, until I could, improbably, see two rooms with a wall between them. And in the rooms, two men, action-figure size. I knew who they were, though. I would always know.

  "They're fine," she said. "Before you ask."

  I wasn't going to. I knew in a glance that they were all right, my anxiety instantly settling.

  "Now comes the part--" she began.

  "Don't bother."

  Her lips tightened, that smug composure rippling.

  "I know what comes next," I said. "This is the part where you tell me to choose. We've done this dance before. I remember the steps. You insist. I refuse. You threaten. I continue to refuse."

  "The last time--"

  "You backed down. Now you'll warn me that won't happen again. I've had time to think about my choice. Here's my decision: take away my cure."

  "That isn't one of the options, Eden."

  "Why not? You don't need me. You never did." I rose and faced her. "I finally figured it out. There's always that piece that doesn't quite fit, and the temptation is to play two-year-old, smash it in and say good enough. But if you're not two years old, you know it doesn't fit, and that keeps plucking at you, whispering you've missed something. That means you need to re-evaluate. Throw the puzzle in the air and start over."

  I took a step toward her. "You say you want me to choose the sluagh. But why? Your reasons are bullshit. No side can force me to choose it. The Cwn Annwn know that. Even the Tylwyth Teg reluctantly admit it. They woo me. You threaten and punish, and you say it'll achieve the same goal, but it won't. Because you don't have the same goal."

  I walked to the hole and looked down at Gabriel and Ricky. "The Cwn Annwn and the Tylwyth Teg want Matilda, whatever form she may take. Gabriel and Ricky want me. That's not arrogance. It's confidence. They want to be with me. They love me for who I am--the good, the bad, and the incredibly annoying. Then there was James. He wanted me symbolically. He wanted me for the role I would play in his life. I was, to him, the perfect wife--smart but not a genius, attractive but not gorgeous, cultured but a little bit wicked, too. When I left, he couldn't handle that. Not the loss of me, but the loss of the idea of me. He felt as if he'd lost me to Gabriel and to Ricky. He was like a child watching two other boys argue over a toy and wanting it, too--not because he gives a damn about the toy, but because they want it."

  "I'm presuming there's a point to all this reflection?"

  "You're that third little boy, watching the other two fight over the toy. You don't actually want me. You just want to take me away from them. You want to win. And then, presumably, use me as leverage to gain whatever it is you really want, which I suspect is nothing more than power."

  "Nothing more? What is there if not power?"

  "Not a single thing that you'd understand. You are the darkness. You are the unforgiven. You are the end point, the conclusion to all things. There is nothing more. You take life. You consume it. And you do nothing with it except add to your ranks, increase your power. Power for the sole purpose of gaining more. That's all I am to you. A source of power."

  "Do you honestly believe you mean more to the others?"

  "In my way, I do. The Cwn Annwn were with Gabriel earlier, and they protected him. Ricky has been in and out of Cainsville for months, and the Tylwyth Teg has made no attempt on his life. That would hurt me, which would be counterproductive. You don't give a shit. Your only goal is to break me. Break me. Claim me. Use me. So go ahead. Take my cure. As for making me choose between Gabriel and Ricky? That's the other thing I learned. We need to stick together. If you want them, you have to take them, which will only make me all the more determined to see that you never win."

  "Pretty speech, Eden, but I don't actually need you for this part. You're about to have a front-row seat to the conclusion of this silly romantic drama."

  I opened my mouth to respond...and she disappeared in a swirl of shadow.

  FINALLY

  The walls appeared to be solid. While Gabriel was not the one subject to visions--nor even the out-of-body experiences Ricky had with the hound--he was taking nothing at face value. He'd circled the room twice now, methodically searching for a hidden door. That was not merely a desperate and foolish hope, but a very real likelihood, because otherwise, the room had no exit. Which didn't make sense. There seemed little point in constructing a room without a door. Which was exactly what it looked like, solid walls with no hint of a depression where a door had been plastered over.

  He'd tried breaking through the plaster, with both fist and elbow. That had won him nothing more than throbbing pain. Which was vexing, both the pain and the fact he'd been unable to break through. Proper plaster should give under the right amount of pressure.

  He considered his options, positioned himself, and drew his foot back for a kick--

  The only thing you're going to break is your foot.

  Gabriel grumbled at the sound of Gwynn's voice.

  I couldn't help earlier. Anything I know, you know.

  Gabriel tapped at the plaster, looking for a weak spot.

  This isn't your battle, Gabriel. Your war, yes. Your battle? No. This is hers. You know that.

  Yes, he did understand that, because of the simple fact he'd been placed in this damn room. The knight had been moved off the chessboard. Set aside while the real showdown began.

  Or, perhaps, not so much a knight as a pawn.

  Yes, almost certainly a pawn. Not swept clear of the board but moved to where he could be useful. Useful to the sluagh. A captive pawn.

  He kept tapping.

  Gwynn's sigh rippled through his mind. Gabriel ignored it.

  You can't help her. You know that.

  More tapping. Was that spot...? No.

  Do you trust her, Gabriel?

  Absolutely.

  Then trust she'll get you out of here. Trust she'll win her battle. In the meantime, take this. If nothing else, it might calm you down.

  Something slid through him, almost like a warm breeze. Then it was a warm breeze, and he was kneeling on a blanket in a meadow.

  No, not him. Gwynn. He realized that as soon as he saw Matilda c
rouched beside him, taking cheese from a basket, as she laid out a picnic.

  They were alone in the meadow, the sun blazing, a soft breeze tickling past, a hummingbird chasing the smell of spring wildflowers.

  Matilda set out the last slice. She pulled back, as if to grab something else from the basket, and he reached for some of that cheese, not because he was particularly hungry, but because it would make her laugh. She would laugh and swat his hand and tell him to wait, her eyes dancing--

  Matilda changed course, reaching for the plate at the same moment he did. They nearly collided. Both stopped short. He stared at her, just inches away. Close enough that he could lean in and...

  Kiss her. That's what he could do. What he should do. What he'd been trying to do on each of these damned picnics, so many picnics that by now he was surprised she hadn't said, "Can't we do something else, Gwynn?"

  But this was the one activity Arawn wouldn't join. Terrifically dull. He never asked to join their picnics, and Matilda never offered to invite him.

  It was just the two of them, and each time, Gwynn vowed he would kiss her. He'd devised a hundred ways to do it, a hundred ways that would allow him to brush it off if she pulled back in shock.

  Too much wine, too much fresh air, whoops, how did my lips end up there?

  Yet each time he screwed up the courage, he panicked. What if he offended her? Upset her? Angered her? And then there was Arawn, and he tried not to think of that, tried to relegate their promise to the foolish vow of children. It wasn't as if Arawn hadn't taken a dozen lovers since. He seemed to have no feelings for Matilda beyond the fraternal. No, Arawn was not an obstacle. The obstacle was Gwynn's fear.

  But there she was, her face in front of his, lingering there, and yes, yes, this was it, the perfect moment. All he had to do was lean in and--

  Matilda kissed him.

  Gwynn never saw it coming. Possibly because his own eyes weren't quite open at the time. They opened fast, though, as her lips pressed against his, and he looked to see her kissing him, absolutely, beyond any doubt, kissing him.

  Then she wasn't. She was pulling back, blushing, but her eyes still danced, and in those eyes he saw challenge.