Wolfsbane: 3 (Rebel Angels)

by Gillian Philip

  As I staggered to my feet I had to wrench Taghan’s dead fingers off me. I took an unsteady pace back, rubbing my wrist, incapable of turning to watch the clash of fighters behind me. One more step back, and someone snatched at me.

  I spun round, growling, but it was only Hannah again, trembling and panting for breath. Fear and rage made my heart trip and slam inside my chest. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘It was – this wasn’t supposed to happen. It was meant – it was Taghan, only Taghan. She was meant to be here. Not those men. They were here. Hiding. They knew we were coming.’

  I raked my hair behind my ears; it was something to do with my hands that would stop me striking her. ‘You gave them Rory!’

  ‘No! No, he was only bait!’

  ‘Bait?’ I didn’t understand. ‘For Seth? For Kate?’

  Some kind of reason came to her terrified face. She licked her lips, wrapped her arms round herself to control the shaking, and when she looked up at me again she was almost calm. ‘For you.’

  I stood up and shoved her away, but the shriek and smash of weapons had already faded to silence. Eili stumbled to her horse and freed it with a slash of her blade; Seth’s sword arm dropped to his side as the last enemy fighter scrambled into his saddle and made off. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Iolaire change course as fast as a fish to intercept him, heard the collision of horseflesh, but I didn’t watch.

  Nor did Seth. He was staring at me and at Hannah; he was sprayed with Sithe blood from his thigh to his ear. He dropped to a crouch and splayed his free hand across his face, but his right hand didn’t let go of his sword.

  ‘They had him. Oh, Finn, they had him.’

  ‘I know.’ If Hannah had been closer I’d have hit her.

  ‘Why? Why now?’ Seth raked his hand through his hair. He didn’t know that he was smearing himself with trails of blood; he didn’t know that Rory was watching the blood trails, grey eyes wide with horror. Eili stood exhausted, panting, her eyes still glinting diamond-hard. Branndair lay panting on the coarse sand, his loathing gaze riveted on the lifeless Taghan. Sionnach dismounted and began to examine the corpses, turning their faces to him, and in one case lifting a head by its hair. Jed only sat on his dun horse and stared emptily at Rory.

  Seth seemed to focus on his son properly for the first time. He was breathing hard, but there was sick relief on his face as well as fury. ‘What happened?’

  ‘The kelpie. I wanted – I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry–’

  ‘The kelpie? Taghan’s dead!’

  ‘I didn’t know, I didn’t – want anyone to die.’ Rory made an agonised sound. ‘I don’t want anyone to die over me!’

  A sound made us all turn, then. Iolaire was kneeling over a figure propped against the corpse of a horse, while his own horse limped oddly and badly behind him. Iolaire’s sword was pressed to the throat of the man beneath him: a strongly built, shaven-headed man. There was a gold torque round his neck, visible at the open collar of his bloodstained khaki shirt. Staring up calmly at Iolaire, he waited for death.

  Rory took a breath. ‘No. Not another one.’

  Iolaire’s fingers trembled slightly. Jed growled and drew his own sword for backup.

  ‘Please, Iolaire. He doesn’t have to die. He’s beaten.’

  ‘Stay out of this, Rory.’ There was an edge of fear to Seth’s anger.

  At last Iolaire spoke. ‘I can’t kill you, Cluaran. If I kill you I lose myself anyway.’

  Cluaran gazed up with narrowed eyes. ‘Careful, Iolaire. You’re playing with your own life as well as mine.’ His mouth twisted. ‘If you show me mercy now, I will not do the same for you tomorrow. I’ll kill you when I catch you. Listen, you are young and beautiful and in love.’ His eyes slid briefly to Jed. ‘Your lover is young too, and he won’t live as long as you. He won’t live long at all, so love him while you can. I am old and gnarled and my woman is already dead. Don’t gamble with your life, Iolaire. You know what the rules are? They’re changing faster than you know, so play the game quickly.’

  Iolaire’s eyes flickered to Rory and back. ‘It’s not a game.’

  ‘Are you worried about the boy?’ Cluaran laughed humourlessly. ‘We came to get him today, Iolaire. We’ll come again. We’ll keep trying until we get him, because that’s what Kate wants and those are Laszlo’s orders.’ His tone gentled, so slightly as to be almost imperceptible. ‘Remember what they did to you, Iolaire? Murlainn was right to kill us where he found us, and he’ll have to go on doing it. Perhaps it’ll go on and on, back and forth, till there’s none of us left and that’ll solve everyone’s moral dilemmas.’

  Iolaire held his hilt two-handed, the tip of the blade pressed to Cluaran’s throat at the narrow gap in the torque. A bead of blood welled. The gleam of the sword was reflected in the gold torque, the torque in the silver blade, light bouncing between them. Iolaire’s face contorted with pain as if it was his skin the steel pierced.

  ‘Cluaran,’ he said hoarsely. ‘You brought me up from when I was a boy. I was younger than Rory when I was made your bondsman. You made me what I am, but I’m not you. I’m not even like you.’ He lifted the blade. ‘Go. Go.’

  Cluaran hesitated for a second.

  ‘You heard him. Go before I kill you instead.’ Seth’s voice was low and even. ‘Tell her she can’t have my son.’

  Cluaran stumbled across the moor, and there was heavy silence till he was out of sight.

  ‘Iolaire,’ said Rory, ‘thank y–’

  ‘Rory,’ said Iolaire. ‘I’m dead. Don’t talk to me. You’ve talked enough.’

  Seth jabbed a finger at Hannah. ‘You,’ he said. ‘You were a mistake. You’re going back to your aunt. And you,’ he snarled at Rory, ‘are confined to the dun.’

  ‘What’s new?’ snapped Hannah, grabbing Rory’s arm protectively. Glaring at Seth, she jerked a thumb in my direction. ‘This was between us and her. You weren’t even supposed to show up.’

  Seth’s throat jerked and he had trouble speaking for a moment. ‘What did you want with my lover?’

  ‘Eili and Taghan were getting rid of her. Sending her away forever, they told me. I didn’t know they were going to kill her. At least,’ she murmured, ‘I think I didn’t.’

  ‘You.’ Seth came close to Rory, unable to keep the hurt off his face. ‘You were part of this?’

  ‘No, I–’

  ‘Is that why you’ve started to block me? Is it?’

  Rory exploded. ‘I’m blocking you? That’s rich!’

  Seth’s face was a mask of pain. ‘Do you hate me that much?’

  Rory put his face in his hands, then looked up, eyes glittering. ‘I hate what you do in my name. I hate what we are. And her? Eili? I hate her most of all. For what you’ve let her do to you.’

  The wind whispered across the heather, sent early fallen leaves bounding and rustling. Otherwise, the only sound was Branndair’s low constant whimper of sorrow.

  Seth said, ‘How did you–’

  Eili’s lips twitched. She cocked her head at Hannah. ‘So you told him? You told Rory about me? Though you swore you wouldn’t?’

  ‘Oh yes. I lied to you,’ Hannah said, so coldly I shivered. ‘The way you lied to me.’

  There was a dry brief laugh from Eili, and the smile she gave Hannah was almost admiring. ‘Clever girl.’

  ‘Rory, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,’ said Seth. The muscles of his face were taut. ‘I’m sorry, all right? Now you know. Does it make you feel better? Or do you want to hurt me worse than Eili ever could?’

  ‘I’m not worth more than any other Sithe. Stop fighting over me!’

  ‘Rory.’ Seth rubbed his temples. ‘You know I don’t give a damn that you’re the Bloodstone. It matters less to me than a flea on Branndair’s neck.’

  ‘Why did those guys have to die instead of me?’

  ‘Because you’re mine, rot your thick hide!’ Seth shouted. ‘Because I love you! Because I was stronger and faster than they w
ere. Because I didn’t start it, they did!’

  ‘Sometimes you do start it, though, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, when I have cause! You want me to say you’re not worth more than them? All right, you’re not.’ Seth flung his sword to the ground. ‘Does it make you happy? Does it? You’re worth more to me. They tried to take you, Rory. You think I should have let them? They wouldn’t be dead if you hadn’t –’

  ~ Don’t say it! I screamed in his head, and he shut his mouth in shock.

  Breathing hard, Seth turned to Hannah and seized her jaw. She didn’t even flinch.

  ‘You know, I quite like you, Hannah. When did you get to hate me so much?’ Smiling sourly, Seth tilted his head and looked hard into her eyes.

  There was an angry intake of breath from Eili. ‘Murlainn! You have no right.’

  ‘Oh, Eili,’ he murmured, ‘I think I have every right, in the circumstances.’ As his silver glare intensified, Hannah shivered once.

  He dropped her jaw like a spent match and took a step back, his breath caught in his throat.

  ‘Jesus,’ he said. ‘Jesus.’

  I couldn’t watch, and not know. I slipped my mind inside his, and my blood froze colder than nitrogen.

  With a helpless shrug Seth turned back to Hannah. She was smiling.

  ~ Gotcha.

  ‘Do you hate the girl, Eili?’ Seth’s voice had no inflection at all. He might have been asking if she hated butter, or hunting, or the colour green.

  Eili’s own smile was gone, making her look almost normal. ‘I hate it that she exists and that my child doesn’t. Can you understand that, Murlainn? But every time I look at her face I see him. That might well break my heart, but how can I hate it?’

  ‘I didn’t see it,’ he whispered.

  ‘I didn’t let you see it.’

  Iolaire stepped between them. ‘If I could, ah… it’s Laszlo.’ Iolaire glanced at Jed. ‘He’s coming.’

  That got our attention. And Jed opened his mouth for the first time. ‘He’s coming?’

  Iolaire touched his temple. ‘I can still feel Cluaran. I stayed with him a little.’ He flushed. ‘To make sure he was okay. And now he’s with Laszlo.’

  Jed paled. ‘Cluaran didn’t have a horse.’

  ‘No. They’re close.’

  Jed touched the hilt of his sword almost unconsciously. His face was hungry and lean, and dark with hate.

  ‘You.’ Seth stabbed a finger almost in Eili’s face. ‘Take the girl back to the dun.’

  ‘You’re sending Eili?’ I stared at him.

  ‘She’ll be safe with Eili. Oh, ever so safe, won’t she? Udhar?’

  Eili’s mouth twisted.

  ‘And Finn? You take Rory. Stay together, the four of you. A patrol will meet you; get them to escort you in and wait for us. Don’t leave the dun and don’t let Rory…’ he paused only briefly ‘…don’t let Rory or Hannah out of your sight.’

  I opened my mouth to argue, then shut it again. Rory’s mind was a torrent of white noise, but none of it penetrated his father’s. Their gazes clashed like shields. Seth wasn’t even Seeing his son, let alone hearing him.

  ‘Finn,’ said Seth. ‘Now or sooner?’

  There was nothing I could do but nod, and go to my horse, and slip the bridle over its head.

  There was no fear in Hannah’s face, only cool defiance. She looked contained, and terrifyingly self-reliant. I didn’t even try to get past her slick new block. The only two people I cared about right now were Rory and Seth. Father and son, but I could feel nothing between them. Nothing.

  I placed my mind gently between them, knew that each of them felt it, but in the direct line between Seth and Rory there was only a blank meaningless absence. It was as if they were blocking one another completely, uncompromisingly, for the first time in their lives. The father’s eyes were lightless on his son, and Rory’s were entirely blank.

  SETH

  It wasn’t what he’d expected. Seth forced the blue roan to halt although the creature was sweating with the longing for a fight, its muscles jolting with tiny excited tremors. He murmured to it absently, staring out from the mossy green shadows of the wood.

  Despite the roan’s keenness he knew Laszlo hadn’t seen them. But the rest of Laszlo’s patrol had, five men and three women. Seth knew that fine. His eyes met Cluaran’s across a hundred yards of open space and he knew, sickeningly, that anything Cluaran had given away to Iolaire had been deliberate. Perplexity made him hesitate even as Sionnach rode to his side.

  ‘Where is Jed?’ Seth asked curtly.

  ‘Sharpening his blade.’ Sionnach looked at the small patrol across the dip of the moor. ‘They were behind a little. He shared his horse with Iolaire because we had to kill Iolaire’s. What’s going on?’ He tensed. ‘Lammyr?’

  Seth shook his head. ‘Kate’s had trouble with the Lammyr, that’s what I hear.’

  ‘Well.’ Sionnach gave him a droll glance. ‘Skinshanks was promised prey, Murlainn, not his head in tiny pieces.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Seth scanned the faces of Laszlo’s patrol. They all knew he was there. All but Laszlo, who was off his mount and had his back turned on Seth as he spoke to the young scarlet-haired Sithe woman with the longbow in her left hand.

  ‘I don’t like this,’ said Sionnach quietly.

  Seth saw Laszlo’s shoulders tighten, saw his head come up a fraction.

  ‘The last time I liked something as little as I like this, Murlainn,’ said Sionnach, ‘your brother didn’t live till nightfall.’

  Seth shook his head. There was nothing to say. Laszlo turned, very slowly, and those warm beautiful burnt-sugar eyes met his.

  ‘Murlainn.’ Laszlo’s sword whispered out of its scabbard.

  Seth bit gently on the inside of his lip, but left his sword on his back. Conal had taken Laszlo’s bait. Conal had let himself be provoked. Conal was dead.

  Laszlo laughed. ‘You out of your hole, you rat? Where have you been all my life?’

  ‘Look who’s talking,’ murmured Seth, raising an eyebrow at Sionnach. The blue roan was almost insanely desperate to be at Laszlo, but he kept his hand on its wither and his pressure in its mind. The roan was remembering the bite of a crossbow bolt, but then so was Seth, and he’d had double what the horse got. Lightly he reminded it, and it snorted with disgust.

  A breeze moved through the summer-green branches above them. ‘Come out, little faeries,’ called Laszlo. ‘Come and get flesh, Murlainn.’

  Beside him, Sionnach shuddered with a memory.

  Laszlo gestured his soldiers into a right flanking movement. Sionnach’s hand went to his hilt, but Seth still didn’t move. When Laszlo signalled more urgently, he cocked his head and stared at Laszlo’s patrol. They moved now, but not in response to their captain’s increasingly angry gestures. They pulled back into a semicircle around him, exposing him to Seth, effectively blocking any retreat. He saw the moment of dawning realisation on Laszlo’s face as the scarlet-haired woman withdrew from him, her smile sharp and white as a cat’s.

  ‘Gealach?’ Laszlo said, and his voice was beyond disbelief.

  She just watched him, her smile contented. No moral conflict for Gealach, thought Seth with a kind of dreadful admiration.

  Laszlo met the stares of each one of his patrol. ‘Is this to do with Turlach? Because as God is my witness, that was not my doing.’

  ‘Supposing your God gets hold of Turlach’s loyal soul, then may he preserve it,’ murmured Gealach. ‘But this has nothing to do with him.’

  Laszlo took a breath. He had to take another, deep and shaking, before he could cough out a laugh. ‘All this time and I still don’t understand your twisted Sithe minds. But come to me, Murlainn. First you, then the others. I’m protected by the strongest of you.’ He turned on his own patrol. ‘Would you go against her?’ he yelled. ‘Would you dare?’

  Gealach chuckled, and Laszlo touched his trembling fingers to his temple. His eyes widened and he swore violently. ‘Kate! Wha
t’s your game, bitch-queen?’

  The silence was heavier than before. Breaching it, Laszlo’s laughter was a little crazier. ‘Faeries! God’s sake! I should have known better, but this is not how I die, understand? That’s beyond even Kate. You Sithe can’t harm me, none of you.’ Laszlo yanked a dagger out of a sheath on his belt and gripped it in his left hand, then darted a look at Seth, who shook his head slightly.

  Laszlo’s face was distorted with contempt. His chest rose and fell swiftly with his rage, there was a glint of sweat on his skin, and Seth found it in him to pity the man, just a little. Only a very little, though, and nothing compared to the savage glee that was born in his genes and thrilled into his blood as he watched. He couldn’t take his hungry eyes off Laszlo’s face.

  And then, what he’d waited for: what they all had. Laszlo’s expression froze as Jed walked calmly out of the trees, a dirk in his left hand and his honed sword in his right.

  Jed didn’t speak or break stride, only saluted casually with his sword as he walked on. Laszlo’s face was so hideous with shock that he barely parried Jed’s first brutal slash, and the Sithe semicircle feinted back to give him space. But the line did not break.

  Laszlo barely held off Jed’s first relentless attack, and when Jed paused with his blade sliding contemplatively against Laszlo’s, he had not even broken a sweat.

  ‘Cù Chaorach showed some courtesy, wolf-whelp,’ hissed Laszlo.

  Jed gave a small laugh. ‘Cù Chaorach’s dead.’

  ‘And I should have killed you when I had the chance.’

  ‘Yeah, you bottled it. Too bad.’ Jed lifted one shoulder idly and contemplated the edge of Laszlo’s blade as it scraped against his. When Laszlo pulled back and lunged he met it easily. Laszlo stepped back. Around him there was calm silence.

  Laszlo raised his sword. ‘Where’s my renegade? Is he with you? Iolaire! Are you watching? You’ll get no replacement brats out of this lover, Iolaire!’

  Up among the trees Seth glanced sideways at Iolaire. He was expressionless, but his skin was stretched taut across his prominent cheekbones.

  ‘Only, you could wait till he’s dead, couldn’t you, Iolaire? You could still breed, if you’re capable! You’ve plenty time to change your proclivities again.’ Laszlo’s grin was suicidally vicious. ‘He’ll die young, your full-mortal faggot! Temporary aberration, is he?’