Holidays Bite: A Limited Edition Collection of Holiday Vampire Tales

by Laura Greenwood

  Normally, I knew my country so well, every inch of it—but now, I felt as confused and lost as a Duine who’d never been here before.

  I stopped running long enough for my boys to drink from a waterfall that cascaded down through the rocks. A thick grove of Scots pine surrounded us, while the ground was soft and springy from a summer of purple moor grass. The wind carried the scent of nearby animals—foxes, badgers, rabbits—and my wolf skin longed to hunt.

  I fought that primal urge and focused on another instead. We needed a way of escape.

  While my boys rested, I searched for a path that would lead us down to the sea. Then, I remembered that the longboats were no longer waiting for us. Panic surged through my veins, causing my fur to shiver. I needed to find another way out of the hills and this country.

  It felt as if the thick foliage closed around us, branches and bushes turning into a trap. I couldn’t even find the path that had led us toward the waterfall. I’d never felt so lost or alone before.

  There was no one to call upon for help.

  That was when I heard the warriors that Faelan had sent to kill us. Their footsteps rustled to my right and my left, too loud and clumsy to be a deer or a mountain goat. I motioned to my children, warning them to be silent.

  “They went this way!” a man cried, so close he could have reached out and grabbed my twins.

  “Ma, they’re coming!” Benen whispered.

  “Hush!” I warned him. “Hide, quickly both of you. But stay close enough that you will hear me if I call.”

  They scampered off, following one another through the tall pine trees until both my wolf cubs disappeared in shadow. The last I saw of them was their long white tails wagging and their noses to the ground as they loped away.

  I held my breath, wishing I had a sword.

  “You cannot hide from me, Eire,” a man said somewhere behind me.

  His voice brought tremors to my flesh.

  I turned around swiftly but saw no one. He must still be hidden in the forests. I recognized his voice, but how could it be? I’d heard Faelan kill him back in the cave, centuries ago.

  Yet, here Greagoir was, striding into the clearing, his skin darker than the last time I’d seen him, his muscles glistening, his expression fierce. Sure enough, it was my once-trusted manservant. ‘Twas his hand that had given the enchanted wine to my lads and me.

  He flashed a sinister grin, revealing teeth as long and sharp as my own wolf canines.

  “Surprised to see me?” he asked.

  If he’d had a bow and arrow, I might have escaped with my life. Instead, he carried a broadsword, the color of metal unfamiliar to me. It was dark silver, instead of bronze. I’d never seen anything like it.

  It would take only one well-placed swing to separate my head from my body. No Tuatha de Danann could survive such a blow.

  “How are you still alive?” I asked. I kept my head low to the ground, sizing him up, wishing he would walk close enough for me to leap and seize his throat in my wolf jaws. “I heard Faelan kill you, a thousand years ago.”

  He shook his head, obviously enjoying my confusion. “He was merely keeping his promise to give me immortal life. I’m just like you now.”

  “Not like me,” I continued to circle him, making sure his sword could not reach me. “You’re a servant to the vampiric Leanan Sidhe—a blood drinker. You have no soul.”

  “Neither do you.”

  I raised my head and howled, singing a sweet banshee song crafted just for him. He would fall to the ground in a heartbeat—dead forever.

  Except he didn’t fall. He didn’t even stumble.

  I stared at him, wondering if this was the same magic the Milesians had used.

  “She’s here, men! Come and catch her wolf cubs. Faelan wants all three of them dead by nightfall.”

  I heard a rustle in the nearby wood, branches breaking, men talking to one another as they ran, and I howled again, setting my banshee voice free. I had to kill all of these prowling half-human/half-monsters and quickly. I left an octave or two out of my song, just enough to protect my own boys. Meanwhile, all around me, the sweet woodland creatures began to die. Wrens and blackbirds fell from the skies, squirrels dropped out of trees, white foxes slumped over in the midst of running.

  Each one of them broke my heart. I’d never wanted their sacrifice.

  Only Greagoir’s.

  My nemesis swung his sword and the blade nicked me, blood spilling onto my white fur and down onto the snow.

  “Your song can’t hurt us, you cursed banshee witch.” He touched one hand to his ear. “Just like the sailers of old blocked out sirens, we’ve filled our ears with wax. Your song is nothing more than the desperate howl of a she-wolf.”

  Then an arrow sailed through the clearing, just missing his shoulder.

  “Watch it, you fools!” Greagoir cried out as he glanced behind himself. “You almost struck me! Aim for the banshee.”

  Another arrow flew and then another, all of them aimed right at him. I didn’t know what sort of treachery was afoot, whether Greagoir’s own men were turning on him or if one of my beloved Guardians was nearby. I didn’t care. I only knew that my enemy was temporarily distracted.

  I had to strike now.

  I leaped through the air, speaking another enchantment at the same time, my fur changing from white to brown. In less than a second, I got bigger and stronger, while Greagoir’s eyes widened in fear. He let out a horrifying scream, like that of a lost soul.

  I descended upon him.

  My shape had changed from that of a white wolf to a massive brown bear. With an angry swipe, I ripped open his chest. His scream turned to a gurgle as his heart was exposed.

  Then he swung his blade at me, slicing my left shoulder.

  A long, deep bleeding gash exposed muscle beneath my thick brown fur. I roared, the pain thudding through me like fire.

  I circled him three times, until I no longer feared his sword. At that moment, I lunged again, grabbing his heart in my teeth and ripping it from his chest.

  I expected him to collapse, his knees to buckle, and his body to slam to the ground.

  Instead, he glared at me, defiant, demonic.

  It didn’t make sense. How could he stand without a heart? What sort of magic had Faelan used to create this monster?

  Sensing my hesitation and confusion, Greagoir lifted his sword, ready to swing and chop off my head—it was the very move I’d been dreading, but I wasn’t prepared for it. He began the death blow, pulling his sword back to his shoulder, then swinging forward in a swift arc—

  A barrage of arrows flew from the woods, a single archer firing one barbed missile after another.

  One arrow flew through Greagoir’s empty chest, another shot pierced his left thigh, a third arrow sliced his right hand in half—

  My enemy dropped his weapon.

  Greagoir spun around, wild and angry, a warrior’s cry in his throat.

  A fourth arrow plunged through his right eye.

  He should have died, but he didn’t. He stumbled, lost his footing, blinked his good eye and then screamed. It was an unholy, horrible screech, so raw and powerful that the ground shook. For one brief instant, I thought I saw Faelan standing there in the clearing, a dark look on his face, his golden eyes glaring.

  It was so terrifying that I took a step backward.

  And then, Greagoir righted himself and he loped away, his joints loose and his balance unnatural. It was as if he was being propelled by Faelan himself, until Greagoir managed to disappear into the shelter of the forest.

  Chapter 10

  Faelan’s image faded, but he left behind a patch of scorched and burning grass where he’d been standing. I shuddered, glad that the black-furred, Leanan Sidhe master wasn’t really here. I wasn’t even sure if he’d been able to see me or, if he had, whether he recognized me since I still wore the skin of a bear.

  My left shoulder hung crooked and bleeding, Greagoir’s heart clutched in m
y right paw.

  Unable to stop the pain from my injury, I roared again, loud and wild.

  Then a hunter strode into the clearing, passing right through the spot where Faelan had stood. I knew it must have been the archer who had fired a storm of arrows at Greagoir. But when the stranger’s gaze fell upon me, he saw a bear with a dangerous taste for human flesh.

  His next arrow flew through woodland mists and it struck me in my wounded shoulder. I growled and faltered, then growled again.

  Another arrow nocked and ready to fire, the archer halted, several paces away from me, a stricken expression on his face.

  “What kind of magical creature are you?” he asked, suspicion in his voice.

  Without realizing it, my cries of pain had changed. I no longer growled like a bear. I now screamed like a woman. Without me willing it to happen, my skin shifted. I could not hold the shape of a bear, for the pain was too great. This was the problem with the Incantation of Change—it was an unpredictable and unreliable spell.

  I became myself.

  Vulnerable. Wounded. Unarmed.

  I was now Eire, bloodstained, pale-skinned, faery ears and all.

  Arrow pointed at my chest, the hunter did not flee, neither did he shoot.

  Then came a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Perhaps the wind blew my hair aside, revealing my face or my ears. Perhaps it was the Royal Celtic tattoo on my right shoulder.

  “Eire?” he asked incredulously. “Is it really you?” The archer fell to his knees before me, his bow on the ground. “Forgive me, I didn’t...I didn’t know you had woken up.”

  His words stirred something inside me, a welcome memory, but my pain pushed that thought away.

  Something about these wounds was far worse than any I’d received in any battle. My skin felt like it was on fire, like a hundred knives were stabbing my flesh, beginning at my shoulder and then moving throughout my body. I stumbled, my hands curled into fists.

  “Drink this!” He pulled a vial that hung from a cord around his neck, broke the tiny flask open, and offered it to me. “My arrows carry poison. ‘Tis the only way to weaken the Leanan Sidhe when the blood hunger is upon them.”

  I paused, the vial to my lips. My thoughts had grown so cloudy, I didn’t know if I should believe him. His head was down, Greagoir’s sword lay in the snow. If this was another one of Faelan’s tricks—

  Then I saw the crest on his tunic.

  A wreath of roses.

  You will recognize your Guardians by the crest on their tunics—

  My sister’s words, spoken so long ago.

  This stranger was a friend, I could trust him—

  “My leanaí—you must save them!” I gave one final command. “Faelan’s warriors are after them.”

  Then I swallowed the bitter drink he had offered me, wincing when it burned my throat and then my stomach.

  The hunter glanced around us, perhaps searching for more brown bears. “What shape are they?”

  “White wolf cubs. My blessing upon you, hunter, if you save them.”

  I collapsed on my hands and knees, right beside Greagoir’s sword and his still beating heart. The hunter paused only long enough to cover my nakedness with his thick cloak.

  Then he sprinted off, his voice calling out.

  “Find the white wolf cubs and spare them, men!” he said. “And kill every Leanan Sidhe bloodsucker that you see on the way. The forest is filled with them!”

  Chapter 11

  I caught my breath, then whispered a brief spell and felt the magic swirl through the snowy air until it settled upon me. The hunter’s poison rushed through my veins and I didn’t know how long the antidote would take, but I couldn’t wait. My vision blurred, my footsteps unsteady, I forced myself back to my feet, not caring that my only garment was a cloak. I grabbed Greagoir’s sword, then picked up his beating heart, and tucked it inside the cloak’s pocket.

  I leaned on the sword, trying to regain my strength.

  Had the hunter recognized me? Or was it dark sorcery that made it seem as if I had heard his voice before? I tried to remember what had happened only moments earlier during my battle with Greagoir, but my thoughts were muddled. I could only focus on one thing—

  Two legions were prowling this wood, the Leanan Sidhe and my Guardians. Either one of them could kill my sons. My children could be struck down by accident, just like I had. Or they could be killed by design, because they had royal Tuatha de Danann blood in their veins.

  Greagoir, my nemesis, still walked this forest.

  I had to find my leanaí.

  The hunter’s footprints led the way, through the trees, across a shallow river, and down a gully. I ran, following his trail, gulping cold mountain air as my bare feet sank into deep snow. The path twisted and turned, up a rocky hill, then across an old bridge, and back up to a razor-sharp crest.

  And there they were—

  Down in a narrow ravine.

  My two white wolf cubs were trapped with no way of escape, three of Faelan’s servants surrounding them. I stood at the hunter’s side as he drew his bow and let the first arrow fly. I cried out, for the arrow sailed too close to my youngest boy, Ambros. Through the frozen air it flew, hissing, until it struck one of the Leanan Sidhe in the neck.

  Blood sprayed out.

  Red on white snow.

  The other two monsters growled, but they didn’t pause. Rather, they became more fierce. One of them charged at my older son, Benen, with open jaws.

  “Run!” I screamed. Then I began to sing.

  Snow and frost and ice, obey my voice—

  I conjured what I could, since my banshee voice wouldn’t work against these creatures. Not if they all had wax in their ears, like Greagoir. As my song echoed throughout the canyon, a fresh, thick layer of ice appeared everywhere, glistening on the rocks, and my two wolf cubs slid across it without falling. But the balance of the Leanan Sidhe demons was made precarious, their footing unstable; they stumbled and tripped as they chased my boys.

  The hunter shot one more arrow.

  I focused my attention on that flying missile, transforming it until it became as sharp and swift as a bolt of lightning. Thunder rocked throughout the small canyon when the arrow struck the second villain, square in the chest, straight through his heart.

  The impact shook the ground and nearly knocked me off my feet.

  The hunter glanced at me, obviously surprised at how my magic had affected the impact of his arrow. Then he gave me a quick nod as if to say, do it again, lass.

  I grinned.

  He let the third arrow fly.

  The last Leanan Sidhe turned to run, his scream ringing out.

  The arrow glowed as if it had turned into fire. As soon at it struck the villain, he burst into flames. Light filled the ravine, so bright it challenged the sun. Both the hunter and I shielded our eyes with our forearms, for the glare was blinding. By the time the beast struck the ground, there was nothing left of him but charred ash and bone.

  The entire ravine had been blackened by the fire.

  But none of it had touched my boys. Not a hair of their white fur was darkened by ash.

  They both scampered up the ravine toward me, yelping and howling. I knelt to draw them into my arms and once the three of us were reunited, I buried my face in their thick fur.

  “The fire!” one of them cried.

  “It almost killed us!” the other whimpered.

  “You shall never be harmed by my magic,” I reminded them. “Nor by an arrow shot by a friend.”

  I glanced up at the hunter, who watched the three of us, a broad grin on his face. This was the true hero. This was the Duine who had rescued Ambros and Benen. I swallowed, my throat and chest thick with emotion.

  “Thank you for what you did today. A blessing upon you and your house, stranger,” I said.

  “Kellen,” he said, telling me his name.

  This time when he spoke, standing so close to me, my memory of him returned. He was
Cara Maith! Despite the poison that had clouded my thoughts, all the times he had visited me in the cave came back. He’d been tending to my lads and me for years.

  “Cara Maith,” I said.

  He gave me a smile, slow and gentle at first, but it broadened until the very sight of it brought heat. Both Benen and Ambros yipped and pranced around him, and he bent to embrace both of them, scuffing their fur and kissing them.

  Only then did other human hunters run out of the forest, all with swords, bows, and arrows, all wearing a crest of roses on their garments. These were my last few Guardians and my heart cheered at the sight of them. They stopped at the edge of the chasm, staring down at the blackened rocks and charred grass. Before they could lift their gaze toward us, Kellen stepped to my side, blocking me from their view. Even though I wore his cloak, it was still hard to cover my nakedness. He removed his tunic and handed it to me, all while hiding me. I was dressed in a moment.

  “‘Tis your long-lost queen, men,” Kellen then announced, bending to one knee, his bow on the ground. “Eire has returned to us.”

  A rousing cheer rang out, a band of eleven or twelve men rejoicing at Kellen’s words. They joined us from the shadowed wood and from across the gulley, all first bending the knee and laying down their bows, arrows, and swords. Then, once I had acknowledged them, they each rose and approached.

  It was a time for rejoicing and I delighted in it. My boys yipped and barked, running circles around us. I imagined them wearing their rightful golden crowns, sitting upon thrones and sharing their kingdom. They would make gentle, benevolent rulers. I could see it in their good-natured, frolicking attitude.

  But I feared ruling was not in our future.

  While we all laughed and planned a great feast, I fell to my knees in the snow one last time. I blinked and everything around me wavered. The sun vanished from my sight as everything grew dark; my skin turned cold and all voices faded to a whisper.