Wolfsbane: 3 (Rebel Angels)

by Gillian Philip

  ‘Yet,’ growled Jed, and Seth slapped him consolingly on the back.

  It was hard to believe they’d once loathed one another. They fought often enough, verbally and sometimes physically, but you only had to watch them play shinty or football on the same team, or see their slightly drink-fuddled eyes meet in the great hall at night as Seth tuned his guitar for the key of Jed’s whistle, to know that they were soulmates of a sort.

  They joined their blood when I was eight. I was sent to bed early, but I didn’t go. I crouched in the shadows outside the great hall, holding my breath when I heard Carraig draw his dirk. I was scared, because I knew it wasn’t easy. I’d heard the toughest men shout with pain when the savage cut was made, I’d seen stains from the blood that was spilt, and the healers always stayed out of it. I knew my father had tolerated worse things in the great hall without crying out, but I worried for him, and even more for Jed.

  But there had been only a long silence, then fierce pride racing through me when I realised it was over, that neither my father nor my brother had made a sound. I’d curled up outside the door, letting the music and the raucous laughter wash over me till I fell asleep there. But I woke up in my own bed, and nobody ever gave me hell for disobeying my father. Indeed I had a vague half-formed memory that it was my father who carried me to bed. There was even a cloudy image in my mind: blood soaking through a bandage on Seth’s left hand, staining my t-shirt. I knew it wasn’t a dream because I still had the outgrown t-shirt, and the t-shirt still had the bloodstain.

  Now, as they cut across the wide expanse of beach towards the pinewood, it would be easy to think Seth was pulling rank, throwing his weight around as Captain of all the captains and the only surviving son of Griogair. Watching his scarred left hand clench and unclench, I knew my father was only afraid for Jed. Really afraid, behind the cool sarcasm and the laughter.

  ‘Besides,’ Jed shrugged, ‘I don’t hunt alone.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’ Seth jerked his thumb back at Iolaire. ‘I know he’s a superhero, but there’s still only two of you.’

  ‘And Liath.’

  ‘And Liath. Where is she?’

  ‘Hunting.’ Jed’s brow furrowed. ‘What you’d call proper hunting. She’s been gone all day.’

  ‘Must be a good hunt.’ Seth raised an eyebrow.

  ‘She’s been gone for longer before now.’

  ‘Fine. Anyway, this Turlach. Where are they getting the nerve to come so close? Right into the dun lands.’

  ‘That bothers me,’ said Iolaire. ‘Turlach wasn’t the type to be taken unawares.’

  Jed made a face. ‘A kelpie that size wouldn’t have to take him unawares. It didn’t take Seth by surprise and it nearly killed even him.’

  ‘Seth was, ah…’

  ‘Incapable,’ grimaced Seth.

  ‘Disarmed,’ said Iolaire with a kindness that I knew would set my father’s teeth on edge. ‘And Turlach would not have been alone if he was spying. Why wasn’t he saved? His corpse, at least?’

  ‘I see what you’re saying,’ said Seth.

  ‘Well, I don’t,’ I snapped. I was sick of cryptic remarks.

  Glancing back at me, Seth sighed through his teeth. ‘All right. Iolaire is saying Turlach was given to the kelpie.’

  ‘He – what?’ The blood drained from my face. ‘Why?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ said Iolaire, sucking his teeth. ‘Even Kate’s a little too evolved for blood sacrifices, so why would she do such a thing?’

  ‘I wonder if he was dead before the kelpie got him?’ said my father. ‘The state he was in, it’s not like we’d see a disabling wound. His throat could have been slit and we wouldn’t have known it.’

  ‘I hope it was,’ I muttered.

  ‘There’s another possibility,’ said Iolaire. ‘Turlach could have been trying to get to us.’

  ‘Yes, but why? And they didn’t come after you when you defected, not straight away.’

  ‘I had a head start. And I didn’t know anything important. If I had, it might have been different.’

  ‘It’s the most likely explanation.’ My father sounded glum. ‘I wonder what the hell he wanted.’

  ‘Maybe nothing,’ said Jed. ‘Kate would do anything, and Laszlo would do it for her. Maybe she didn’t like him. Maybe she did it for fun. Or to taunt us.’

  ‘You think Laszlo’s capable of that?’ asked Iolaire. ‘Giving a man to a kelpie for a laugh?’

  ‘Course he is,’ said Jed.

  Iolaire nipped his lower lip in his teeth but he said nothing.

  Seth spoke to the blue roan and it broke into a trot through the pine trunks, Jed moving in an echoing flanking movement to the right. They melted into the trees like mist to hunt for signs of spies or danger. I knew they were there close by, but I couldn’t have pinpointed where. I knew how to do it but I wasn’t as good at it as they were, because I didn’t concentrate long enough. I didn’t even care enough. Anything was more rewarding than learning the tricks of war.

  Jed was good at it, but he would be. Jed should have been the half-breed Sithe. He had the instincts, the ruthlessness, the courage. He had that necessary, unflinching loyalty to his Captain, even when he disagreed furiously and vocally with him. Jed was much better at the Sithe life than I was. Which wasn’t really fair, because one day Jed was going to die and leave me. I would be without Jed for years, for centuries, and that wasn’t fair either.

  I didn’t like Iolaire’s silence, but finally he looked at me and grinned. ‘Don’t let it put a damper on your day, Laochan. We’ll celebrate tonight and you’ll see your father and brother in a better mood.’

  ‘You don’t think Laszlo would do it.’ I stared at my brother-by-love. ‘Do you?’

  ‘He’d do almost anything. I know that as well as anyone.’ Iolaire sighed. ‘Just… not that. I don’t think he’d do that. Not to one of his own men.’ He chewed his cheek. ‘Nils is a cold-blooded murderer. But as a captain he gets loyalty and trust, and he’s a popular leader. Strikes me as odd, that’s all.’

  ‘What will you think when Jed kills him?’

  Iolaire smiled at my confidence. ‘I’ll be glad, of course.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t do it, would you?’

  ‘No.’ Iolaire’s face lost all expression. ‘I don’t kill for vengeance. Besides, Jed claimed him. He claimed Laszlo’s life from me in the great hall, in front of witnesses.’

  ‘I know. I was there. Didn’t you resent that?’

  Iolaire shrugged. ‘Jed did it to spare me. Ach, Rory. He knew it wasn’t in me, to turn my love for my child into killing-hate. It would have warped me, so your brother claimed Laszlo from me. It’s one of the reasons I love him. One.’ He twisted a strand of his horse’s mane. ‘I’m not morally against revenge killing. There’s a place for it, and it’s not for me to judge. It’s just that it’s not in me. I will have to kill Cluaran, but that isn’t vengeance on either side.’

  I hesitated. ‘Then why do you have to?’

  ‘I don’t want to.’ Distractedly Iolaire rubbed the little thistle tattoo on his collarbone. ‘But I’ll have to, unless he kills me first. He was my captain; it’s his duty to kill his renegades. He won’t like it any more than I do. But one of us has to kill the other, just to survive.’

  ‘Iolaire.’ I hesitated. ‘I’m sorry. All this killing. Because of me.’

  ‘We’re at war, Rory.’ Iolaire gave me a gentle smile. ‘And we were killing each other centuries before you came along. It’s the human condition.’

  ‘I don’t even know how to fix the damn Veil. It’s like I’m meant to be creating some brilliant tapestry and I can’t even do cross-stitch.’

  ‘Ah, Rory. You can only live and do your best, like the rest of us.’ Iolaire sighed and slapped my horse’s rump, making it start and buck. ‘Now. I want to know if a boy with a name rides faster than one without. You’ve never beaten me yet.’

  ‘You’ll be sorry you said that.’

  There was a mile
to the dun, and the air was sweet, and for once I was free. I wrestled my horse’s head back and then I drove it to a gallop. Iolaire never had a chance, not this time. I rode fast enough to drive my own thoughts, and everyone else’s, from my mind.

  FINN

  I tugged on a t-shirt against the cool of the night. Yawning as I sat on the bed cross-legged, trying to make myself comfortable but not too comfortable, I touched Seth’s back with my fingertips. He slept on his front, unsurprisingly. I traced the distorted pattern of the knotwork tattoo and then, avoiding the ugly raw punctures between his shoulder blades, I stroked the furrowed scars of his punishment. Those didn’t hurt any more, and there was no chance of him waking up. I’d made sure of that.

  Seth’s mind was still tangled up in mine after lovemaking, and I could feel his innocuous unfrightening dream: that made sense, since all his nightmares were waking ones. I eased my mind apart from his, but he didn’t even stir as the connection broke. That was better. I’d been this close to sending myself to sleep along with him, and I still felt leadenly drowsy.

  Distantly I could hear music from the hall. Even Rory had long ago torn himself away and gone to bed, but plenty in the dun liked an excuse for a party and they’d probably go on till dawn, celebrating his nameday. I was still reeling a little, not so much from whisky as from the sudden realisation that I’d fallen in love with my clann at last, and they seemed to be fairly taken with me. Now that was what I called a party.

  By the time Seth and I had left, Jed was seriously drunk but he was still going strong, and now, distantly, Iolaire was singing. I smiled. They were onto the maudlin stuff and he was singing Carrickfergus. Half the battle-scarred Sithe would be on the verge of tears by now, the other half openly weeping. They sustained a lot of damage over centuries, but no-one was more sentimental than one-eyed, scar-faced faeries with missing ears and fingers and arrow-holes in their flesh.

  That reminded me. I blinked and forced my eyes back open. On the headboard Faramach’s talons scrabbled and he eyed me, head tilted. I gave an exasperated sigh.

  ‘Is she waiting for me to fall asleep or what?’

  Faramach gave a soft croak.

  ‘Come on, Eili,’ I murmured. ‘If you’re hard enough.’

  ‘Eili,’ rasped Faramach. ‘Ha!’

  In his place by the fire, Branndair lifted his great black head and stared first at me and then at the raven.

  ‘No, no.’ I gasped. ‘Don’t you dare. Don’t you–’

  The wolf took a running leap, landing on the mattress with all the grace of an Airbus, but it wasn’t enough to wake Seth. I breathed again and glared at Branndair resentfully. ‘What, just because Faramach’s here?’

  Branndair opened his jaws, grinning, then made himself comfortable, head on his paws, yellow eyes intent on Seth. Shifting a little, he licked my hand idly.

  ‘Ach.’ I rubbed his muzzle. ‘Will you keep me awake, then?’

  Gently he nipped one of my fingers between his teeth, then locked his eyes on my throat.

  I swallowed. ‘You still make me nervous,’ I growled, scratching his ear, ‘but I see what you’re getting at.’

  At my throat I felt the empty claw that had once held Rory’s shield stone. There was tarnish in the angles and corners but the coarsely-made talon hadn’t got blunter with age. I clutched it in my scarred palm. No need to draw blood this time. Drowsily my head nodded forward.

  The sting of the claw and a nip from Branndair alerted me. Wide awake again, I laid my palm across Seth’s crossbow scars. He didn’t stir. The sleep I’d laid on him was so deep he’d have a stinking headache in the morning, but I could live with any foul mood of his. Hell, I was used to it.

  My hand tingled at the knuckle and wrist and I forgot everything else, making myself think only of Eili, forcing my mind between her and Seth. A needle of pain shot up one of my finger bones and I fenced it away, feeling the recoil of another mind as the pain rebounded. I laughed softly.

  ‘There you are, you mad witch. Well, here I am too.’

  I had no idea how this was done but I was finding out, learning fast as Eili’s hate dissipated, easing past my guard. I felt it like trickling shadows at the edge of my brain, and I backed my mind protectively closer to Seth. As Eili came up against the barrier, the hatred coalesced. It slammed into my mind like a fist, but there was no subtlety in that. It hurt, but it hurt Eili worse when it was flung back at her. Wincing, I waited.

  The pause was too long, and I felt the stirrings of panic. Where was Eili?

  Gone. Oh, God.

  I swore aloud, almost crying with despair that I’d made it so easy for her–

  In a split instant, there was another mind inside mine. Not Eili’s and not Seth’s: a black jagged intelligence, hard and ruthless. The alien mind guided me and then was gone, but so was my confusion.

  There at the edge of my consciousness Eili was sliding past, her venomous hate snaking into Seth, on target and almost there. No time. Purely by instinct I separated my mind from my body and flung myself into the scars.

  Blood and blackness: it was a vile place. My mind was on its own but still I felt the shudder go through my detached body. Feeling that detachment I was afraid, panic squeezing my distant heart, because I’d never done this and it was dangerous, there was a chance I wouldn’t get back. I felt the itch of Eili’s pleasure at my fear; then the panic faded before the awfulness of the place I was in. It was all dark pain and rage, guilt and grief, and the poisonous lick of hate as Eili closed in.

  I barred her way, feeling my teeth clench hard somewhere far beyond me. The tentacles of pain were slick and sneaking and everywhere, and I broadened my block. Behind and around me was the black dull pulse of Seth’s blood, the slow crash of his heart, and the razor thrill of nerves rising to a familiar attack. He stirred very slightly.

  ~ You’re not going to wake him, I thought furiously.

  I felt Eili’s laughter. ~ Who’s going to stop me? Amateur.

  The hate slid against my disembodied mind like a sword blade, testing, forcing. I parried it. The sheer violence of the woman’s loathing was her biggest handicap, I realised. Turn it back and it hurt her as it should have hurt Seth: the trick was to intercept her first. It hurt and throbbed in my mind, too, but I was wrestling the blade of hate aside. Eili withdrew, recoiling in shock, then flung it back in a massive hammer blow. I met it head on, heard my detached self gasp, felt my teeth clench and my distant fingers grip my distant scalp.

  Seth’s blood pulsed again. I thought: that’s his life running in his veins, that’s his life the witch is poisoning. This time, when the hate came at him, my mind touched a new plane of anger. I no longer cared that the hate was buffeting my own mind, no longer even felt it, only deflected it and fired it furiously back. The bolt I sent into Eili’s mind was my rage, and my love, and Eili’s own frantic hate. It hit Eili like a cannonball.

  ~ Get back from him, Udhar!

  With a single furious shriek, Eili was gone.

  I blinked. This time my eyes were where they ought to be; I was out of Seth’s body and back in my own. Flexing my fingers, I sighed out soundlessly. Being back was more of a relief than I wanted to admit. My breath hissed unsteadily between my teeth and my hand was trembling; I clenched it into stillness with an angry conscious effort, then realised my whole body was shaking anyway. If I could string two coherent thoughts together I might cope, but for now I’d sit quiet and motionless, give my brain a chance to catch up. The scary truth was that my mind was fraying at the edges and I couldn’t think how to stop it unravelling. Unravelling…

  Oh, my God. Seth. I’m unravelling. Seth!

  At my side Branndair sat up, stretched, and licked my face, nibbling at my ear, his massive paws planted one on either side of me. Laughing unsteadily, I put my arms round his thick-maned neck, burying my face in his fur. He felt ridiculously real and warm. He grunted as I clutched him, my eyelids leaden.

  He lay down, letting me hug his huge body
like a pillow. The beat of his wolf-heart was a soporific sound against my ear, and he stretched lazily, one paw across my body so that I lay like a cub against its mother’s belly. My brain felt calm and it didn’t hurt any more, and my mind was in one piece.

  I fell asleep before another thought had time to cross it.

  KATE

  Why did it irritate her so much, the sight of Laszlo and Gealach together? She’d orchestrated the match herself, and lost a good fighter over it, but for her purposes at the time it had been worth it. She’d been sick of Laszlo’s suffocating attentions and he’d fancied the woman; he was happier with a second and more devoted lover, and that made him more efficient. Everything she did had a purpose. Play the long game, Kate.

  And the fact that Murlainn had finally bound himself to a lover was all to the good in the end. His temporary happiness was a vile itch that one day she’d enjoy scratching. Put up with it, Kate.

  Of course, Laszlo’s evident pleasure reminded her of Murlainn’s; that was all it was. And when she wanted the full-mortal again, he always came back to her. There was no reason to be angry with him, but the softness and the physical longing in his eyes when he looked at Gealach. It wasn’t jealousy on Kate’s part. More... impatience. The man’s emotional fulfilment had never exactly been part of her gameplan. Such a man was wasted on love. Perhaps she should never have indulged him. Perhaps she should have kept his edges sharp.

  With a languid sigh she pushed aside her wine glass. At the far side of the hall, where the silver candlelight was faint and the shadows clustered, she knew her captains were muttering. That was a pity, but she’d never expected it to be easy. Setting Laszlo in command over Alasdair Kilrevin had only been the first and most cosmetic of her concessions to her people’s resentful mood. There would be more. Alasdair was not a popular man, but after all she’d had her own doubts. It was amazing how swiftly the mind of a people could sway and bend when someone brought them successes and hope and victory.