Wolfsbane: 3 (Rebel Angels)

by Gillian Philip

  The look the boy sent Jed curdled his blood. There was fear in it, but there was revulsion too. He was edging as far away as Iolaire’s grip would allow.

  ‘Don’t let him near me.’

  ‘What?’ Iolaire let go of his arm to clutch his throat instead. The boy’s face turned purplish red, but the hateful glower stayed on his face.

  ‘I know him. He’s cursed!’ Scratching at Iolaire’s fingers, the boy rasped in air, his voice a hoarse crackle. ‘Everybody knows it. He’s Lammyr-turned.’

  Iolaire dropped him, and the boy collapsed onto the grass like a sack of stones, retching and gasping. Silent, Jed watched him.

  Iolaire flicked a worried gaze at Jed. ‘Don’t listen to him.’

  Jed spat and turned away, wading back into the water to retrieve his weapon. He shoved one of the dead fighters out of his way; the man bobbed and turned in the eddying current. How very little that bothered him, Jed thought; and the water was colder than it had been.

  ‘So where are you going to go?’ Iolaire eyed the boy with contempt. ‘You can’t go back to your home right now.’

  ‘Dunno,’ he croaked.

  Iolaire shut his eyes and sighed. ‘You’ll have to come with us, then. For now.’

  ‘I can’t.’ He glanced sullenly at Jed.

  ‘Die, then.’ Jed shrugged as he cleaned his blade.

  ‘Wait.’ Iolaire turned and climbed up the slope through the ragged birks, halting and staring out when he reached the ridge. After a few long moments, Jed heard the snap and rustle of horses in the undergrowth.

  The patrol was five strong, its leader a woman with a choppy shock of brown hair, moss-green eyes and a belt of throwing knives across her hip. She reined in her grey horse and stared down at them, then nodded at Iolaire.

  ‘Taghan,’ he said. ‘Can you take this one back to the dun?’

  ‘Must I?’ She cocked her head and studied the boy’s face. ‘What’s his name and why’s he our responsibility?’

  Jed jerked his thumb in the direction of the river, and the two bodies drifting idly downstream. ‘Our responsibility? Them,’ he said. ‘No idea what the brat’s name is.’

  Lightly Iolaire kicked the boy, who grunted, ‘Fuaran. It’s Fuaran.’

  ‘Ah, Cuilean.’ Taghan shook her head at Jed. ‘Causing trouble again?’

  ‘I didn’t cause it,’ snapped Jed, and instantly regretted rising to her bait. Taghan smirked.

  ‘So the lad doesn’t trust you to take him anywhere in one piece? That seems to be a problem with you, Cuilean.’ Taghan turned to one of the fighters behind her. ‘Gruaman, get the boy. I suppose we’re accustomed to taking in refugees. This one won’t be any riskier than the last.’ Her gaze slewed back to Iolaire, and this time she didn’t smile.

  When Gruaman had pulled the boy onto the horse behind him, and he and the rest of the patrol had vanished back through the trees, Jed whistled a low note to summon his horse. It crashed through the bracken, halted to snort fondly at his scalp, and Jed rubbed its nose. The dun stallion was uncomplicated, and it trusted Jed. He liked that.

  ‘I don’t like that woman,’ he said at last.

  ‘Taghan?’ Iolaire shook his head. ‘It’s her manner, that’s all. And she still hasn’t got over Feorag. Can you blame her?’

  ‘If she was so fond of her brother, she should have gone over to Kate with him,’ said Jed bitterly. ‘She wants to fight alongside Seth, she can bloody well stop having a go at the rest of us every time there’s an incident.’

  ‘She doesn’t like the war.’ Iolaire shrugged. ‘Doesn’t mean she isn’t loyal to Seth, or to Conal before him. She stayed with Conal when Feorag defected. Just like I stayed with Kate.’

  ‘That’s kind of my point. Minds can change.’

  ‘Hers hasn’t. Which means she’s truer than I am, doesn’t it?’

  Jed gave him a sharp look. ‘Don’t say stuff like that.’

  ‘I’m only saying you don’t have to worry. Taghan doesn’t like Kate, hates what she stands for, doesn’t want the Veil destroyed. So? She doesn’t have to like a renegade like me, and she doesn’t have to like being at war with old friends. She certainly doesn’t have to be happy Seth killed her brother.’

  ‘Like he had a choice.’

  ‘Not the point. Oh, for gods’ sake don’t let’s argue about it.’

  ‘I’m not arguing.’ Jed couldn’t suppress his smile. ‘You are.’

  Iolaire gave him a slow grin. ‘If Kate’s people are out looking for their missing patrol, things could get messy. We should head back.’

  ‘Or it could be a really good time to go looking for him...’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more.’ Iolaire swung up onto his horse. ‘But Seth wants us back at the dun anyway. Something about a kelpie.’

  Jed rolled his eyes. ‘God. Not again. If Rory fails he’ll be in a bitch of a mood for days.’

  ‘Seth?’

  ‘Rory. No, both of them.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I think Seth’s given up on the creature. He probably wants it off his lands.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Jed cocked an eyebrow. ‘And once that’s done, we’ll be out beyond the perimeter with nothing better to do...’

  ‘Than look for Laszlo. Who might very well be out hunting himself.’ Iolaire winked.

  Jed put his heels to the mare, urging her up through the grass-clogged hollow. ‘There are times, gorgeous, when I like how you read my mind.’

  ‘Without even having to be in it. Damn, but I’m talented.’ Ducking the low branches, Iolaire goaded his horse past the mare. On the rim of the hollow he broke into a gallop across the open moor. Jed swore and gave chase, but his heart wasn’t entirely in the race.

  If I let him in my head, he can tell me if it’s true. That I’m Lammyr-turned.

  Iolaire always said it wasn’t true. Iolaire said he’d take more joy in killing if it was.

  Well, Jed thought, he might not take joy from death, but it didn’t exactly break his heart.

  If I let him in my head, he might discover he’s wrong.

  Jed tried to imagine Iolaire recoiling, horror and disgust in his eyes. He couldn’t imagine it, but maybe that was only because he couldn’t bear to.

  Sod this. He snarled a command at the dun horse and it responded, hooves flying. Iolaire glanced back over his shoulder, his laughing eyes still glowing with the embers of spent lust.

  Sleeping dogs, thought Jed. Let them lie.

  FINN

  When I was younger, when Seth had sent me home, when I was missing Jed and raging at my exile and the unfairness of it all, I used to do a lot of gardening. Not so much with a trowel and a little fork; my mother use to call it extreme gardening. You know: hacking down trees, ripping out roots, brutalising rhododendrons. It’s therapeutic. I knew that was what Seth was up to now. Extreme ground clearance.

  The sun was high and the sea beyond the dunes was calm, and the gentlest of breezes sighed through the fields, bringing a scent of coconut from the whin: the whin, I might add, that Seth was slashing and burning like an enthusiastic orc.

  It amused me that he wore thick gloves for the job; he armoured himself for the fields, but not for a fight. There was sweat on his neck; his hair and t-shirt were wet with it, and he hacked at the twisted gorse roots as if this was somehow personal. I shouldn’t have made the mistake, of course, of thinking that just because he had his back to me, he couldn’t see me shirking.

  ‘Try again,’ he barked. ‘And don’t snap your wrist.’

  Sighing, I stalked over to the pile of logs where he’d crayoned a crude figure with crossed eyes, a sticking-out tongue and a spiky beard. Only one of my throwing knives had hit the mark and stuck; the rest lay scattered uselessly on the grass. The day was too hot for this, I thought as I trudged back to my ten-foot mark and tried again. I’d rather be swimming. With my horse.

  ‘Wouldn’t we all.’ He hauled out a stubborn branch that promptly sprang back and caught him a whack on his bare arm
. Cursing, he threw it onto the smouldering heap, ignited the lot into explosive flame with a jet of petrol, and turned to me, rubbing a streak of blood from his bicep. ‘Gods’ sake, woman, don’t you listen? You’re releasing too late. You might get his big toe off, if you’re lucky. Here.’ Pulling off his gloves he stood behind me, clasping my wrist and lifting my arm in tandem with his. In slow motion he moved it down, stopping on the arc. ‘There.’

  ‘You are a bossy bastard. I’ve only been doing this for half an hour.’ I shook him off.

  ‘So you’re lucky Laszlo didn’t arrive fifteen minutes ago with his army. Keep going. Lighter grip, Dorsal.’

  The knives were lovely, as well they might be, since Eili had made them. Practical enough, forged out of single pieces of steel with leather bound round their weighty handles, but beautiful too, with the curved detail and the inlay on each blade. Particularly beautiful was the one that left my hand just at that moment, slamming into the log right between the cartoon figure’s crossed eyes. It hung there, shimmering and vibrating, as I turned to Seth with a satisfied smirk.

  He shut one eye, looking faintly annoyed. ‘Fine, smart-arse. Ten feet further back. You’ll give it more power if you use your middle finger.’

  I used my middle finger.

  ‘Funny. Get on with it.’ He turned back and grabbed a gnarled knot of whin, clearly forgetting he’d taken off his gloves. ‘Ow.’

  ‘Oh you big girl. Let me see.’

  ‘Any excuse, slacker.’ But he sat down on the ground and held out his hand for me to see, his eyes big and doleful.

  ‘It’s a big one.’ I rubbed my thumb lightly across the splinter, making him wince. A couple of tries with my fingernails proved futile, so I drew a knife and poked at his hand with the tip.

  ‘Why can’t you carry a sewing kit like a normal girl? Ow.’

  I sighed. ‘Why can’t you act as tough as you do in company?’

  He gave me a grin, one of those ones that were half shy, half insolent. ‘Because we can be big girls together?’

  I should have been rougher on him, but the truth was I hated to hurt him. The knife’s tip was needle sharp anyway, so it wasn’t so difficult to prise the black splinter loose from the fleshy base of his thumb. He was perfectly still now, though his hand trembled ever so slightly.

  All right, he wasn’t that soft. I frowned, glancing up at him.

  He’d been watching me, I knew it, but he looked quickly down at his hand, just as I flicked the splinter free. It was a sizeable thorn with a thick root, and I felt a little sorrier for him. Impulsively I kissed the welling blood, then let go of his hand like a hot coal.

  ‘Jeez, woman, ’tis only a scratch. I mean it really ’tis only a scratch this time.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’ I stood up quickly. ‘What did the whin ever do to you anyway? Not to mention those lovely rhododendrons.’

  ‘You give them an inch, they infest the whole grazing. Gods know where the rhoddies even came from. Like everything else, I guess. Over from the otherworld and turning into a pest.’

  ‘Well, ouch. Come on, what’s really got into you?’

  He grinned. ‘Did you pry into your mother’s life this much?’

  I sighed. ‘I consider myself reprimanded, Captain.’

  ‘That’s better. And since you’re in a penitent mood, we’ll go and get a couple of swords.’

  My heart plummeted. ‘I’ll never be any good with a sword, Seth. Let me stick with the knives. I’ll practise more, I promise.’

  He grabbed the back of my head so fast I couldn’t even dodge. Then he pulled me in close so he could growl at me.

  ‘This is not a game, Finn! If you can’t protect yourself, I’ll send you home again.’

  I wanted to slap him away and I didn’t. I wanted to storm off and I wanted to stay right there. I gritted my teeth and waited for him to feel like an idiot, which he shortly did.

  He let go of me very abruptly and turned away. ‘Armoury, Dorsal.’

  I was shivering as I trudged after him, and my stomach was churning. This was going to be a lot harder than I’d thought.

  I’d always known he was stubborn, though. I was too. I tried to remember what happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable object, but I’d paid little or no attention in that physics class. No doubt I’d been sulking that day, again. Who wouldn’t like a second try at their teenage years? So long as you could go back with an adult awareness of your future or lack of it, it would be fine.

  ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, falling back to walk alongside me. ‘Didn’t mean to snap. I only want you to know what you’re getting into.’

  ‘I know, don’t you fret.’ I stuck my hands in my pockets so that I wouldn’t reach out and touch him.

  ‘And I’m not going to make you spar today. I just want you to have a sword with you. We’ve got a job to do outside the dun. Not that Rory’s going to like it.’ He gave a sigh that melted into a deep frown as he watched a patrol ride in through the dun gates. ‘Taghan’s in early.’

  I wrinkled my nose. ‘Is she the one that’s so pally with Eili?’

  ‘As much as Eili ever has pals, yes. And the gods know Eili needs a social life, for my sake if not her own. Taghan’s all right, considering I killed her brother.’

  I remembered. I remembered hiding my eyes in Seth’s back when his sword cut down. I remembered blood on an indigo shirt. Feorag had been Seth’s friend, once, but on that day we’d thought we could be in time to save Conal. We hadn’t; but still Feorag had died.

  I didn’t take my hands out of my pockets, but I felt Seth’s fingers touch my bare arm, very briefly. Then he was bounding up the dun steps like a man without a care beyond whin-clearance.

  The dun was alive with mid-morning noise. Shouts, bellows of laughter, hoofbeats in the sand of the arena, the thwip and thup of arrows from the range. The barking of dogs, the distant bellow of cattle; and the echoing ring and hiss of white-hot metal from the forge.

  Taghan was there, leaning a shoulder on the doorway, her face already beaded with sweat from the blasting heat. She said something to Eili within; then, when she got a reply, she laughed. As I passed, I saw that she was watching me. Her expression was cool and unreadable, but when Eili spoke again, she grinned. Not the nicest grin I’d ever seen.

  I caught Seth up in the armoury. In the dim coolness he ran his fingers along the racks of swords.

  ‘Eili’s on good form,’ I remarked.

  ‘Eili is always on good form.’ Seth grimaced. ‘She is not always in a good mood. Just you wait till it’s her time of the year. Me, I can wait indefinitely.’ He winced.

  I frowned, but said, ‘Oh, yes. Once a year for Sithe girls. That was a nice surprise.’

  ‘I bet. Not that I’d know.’ He gave me a droll look. ‘You’ll be singing a different tune when you get broody.’

  ‘Broody!’ I laughed.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ He stopped, a light of shock in his eyes as if the idea had just occurred to him.

  ‘Oh, give me a century or two, why don’t you?’ I slapped his arm a little too hard. ‘I’ve all the time in the world. Anyway, my name’s still mud around here.’

  ‘Don’t you believe it. There’s guys in the dun would have you tomorrow.’

  ‘Away. Me with the fish-eyes.’

  He folded his arms. ‘You’re gorgeous, you silly tart. You look like your mother.’

  I blushed, which made me feel even stupider, but Seth turned abruptly away. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to get personal. Let me know if you get any hassle. Unwanted – hassle.’ He picked up a few swords, balancing each one on his fingers.

  I took the light blade he passed me, unsheathing it. ‘That feels right, I suppose.’

  ‘I thought it would.’ He gave me that strange sideways look again.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  He was anxious about Rory, I decided. I wondered what the job was that Rory wasn’t going to like, and I wondered why, in that case,
he had to be part of it. I couldn’t help suspecting that their relationship had gone sharply downhill since I’d arrived, but maybe it hadn’t been great to begin with. Rory was fourteen years old; of course he was raging at the bars of his beautiful prison.

  ‘I can’t help it,’ Seth muttered. ‘Risk: it’s just a word. When you’re that age you think it’s the most fun in the world. I know I did. And then it’s your own child, and...’ He seized another blade, but I knew it wasn’t because he liked it better than the others. ‘And you’re old and scared and you know how fragile life is. I used to tell myself that, when I went over to Kate. She had a point, didn’t she? A place beyond this world; unity against the full-mortals instead of war among ourselves. Security on our own terms.’

  ‘She was lying, Seth.’ I risked touching his forearm with a finger, and felt a small shiver run across his skin. ‘It would have been death for us. It still would. You believe that now.’

  ‘Yes.’ He rubbed his temples, then put the sword back and pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets.

  ‘Oh, Seth. Kate spell-bound you.’

  He raked his hands through his hair and fixed me with cold and bloodshot eyes. ‘That’s an excellent excuse, Finn. I’ll remember it.’

  I examined the stone floor. ‘I didn’t say it was an excuse.’

  ‘I wasn’t spell-bound, Finn. Kate seduced me, and I let her. I was eaten up with bitterness and lust, that’s the truth. I was a pathetic lennanshee with no self-control, but it was something a lot cruder than love.’ He linked his fingers with mine. ‘You were sixteen years old. I was four hundred and something and I should have known better.’

  ‘Stop making excuses for me. You’re only doing it to make yourself feel worse.’

  ‘And you have to give your consent, if she wants to take your soul. And we both did.’

  ‘She didn’t get our souls.’ I hated to remember how close we’d come, the pair of us. ‘Seth, you thought you were doing the right thing. That makes a difference.’