"Don't move."
Despite his strong desire to flee, once Ros spoke a command his body obeyed her will.
She touched his throat and stole his words. Lyrri giggled. They dragged him into the linen closet, shoved him down, and Ros straddled him. Her fangs descended.
Darmyk looked up at them, tears staining his cheeks.
Ros tangled her fingers in his hair to get a good angle to enter the artery in his neck. Uncle Malthus says I can't kill you until after he kills your Grandpa. So I'm just going to hurt you."
Darmyk sobbed. Malthus had killed his maned hunting cat, Kenly, to deprive him of the cat's protection, and now he was killing Claw. Ros coercions prevented him from telling on them.
She licked his neck, found a spot she liked, and opened his vein with her fangs. Her mouth tightened on him as blood spurted from the artery. Her sucking felt obscene and she hurt him. Darmyk grew dizzy as his life slipped down her throat. He wet himself as his weakening body lost control of its muscles.
Lyrri made a face. Oooh. He stinks!"
Ros nose wrinkled in distaste, she pulled her fangs out of Darmyk, and licked the wound closed.
"Your daddy killed our daddy. Your grandpa ate his heart. I'm going to kill you and eat your heart."
Lyrri made another face at him. Nasty little lycan cub."
They dragged Darmyk to his room. Ros touched his door and jerked her hand back, the tips of her fingers blistered. She had forgotten about the warding. You'll have to dump him in yourself, Lyrri. I can't cross the threshold."
"Why does it let me in?"
"I don't know. Maybe because you don't have your fangs yet."
* * * *
It had taken longer to get ready to leave than Kynyr would have liked. He had deferred to Lord Brodrig's wishes and remained until Fergus body had been prepared for burial and placed within its casket. Kynyr had helped load the casket onto the wagon that was taking Fergus home to lie with his ancestors.
Darcy was being left in command of the MacLachlan forces in Hell's Widow, since Brodrig and Father Gileaus were escorting their dead and wounded home.
Kynyr sat his big warhorse, Bucky, as the MacLachlan wagons trundled from sight and then signaled his company to move out.
Finn nudged his horse alongside Kynyr's. Darcy says she's going to come visit."
Kynyr gave his spiritbrother a sidewise glance, noting a silly glint in his eyes like a hound dog that smelled a bitch in season. You're sleeping with her, aren't you?"
Finn flushed. Yeah. But it isn't what you think ... I mean ... well... Finn sighed. Now that you're married and all, I'm kind of like a third wheel when you don't got a fourth."
Nearly as well educated as Kynyr, Finn could school the sloppiness from his speech when he had a mind toproblem was that he rarely had a mind to. Finn, tell me you haven't already gotten her up the stick?"
"Nah, no such luck."
"But you are thinking of proposing to her?"
"Yeah."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
DEATH AND DESECRATION
In the aftermath of his confession, Caimbeul felt hollowed out from releasing the inner storm he had so long suppressed. He barred all the doors and the shuttered windows, so that they could not sneak into the house. His primary form, as a lycan, was old. It had been nearly a century since he last fought with anything besides words. Caimbeul considered taking on his fireborn shape, but he had heavily taxed his aging powers fighting the Serpent's hold over Clodagh for the past two weeks. Placing the stasis spell on her had exhausted him.
He wore a coarse, traditional robe that wrapped comfortably and would accommodate changing to his hybrid lycan form. The fighting knife he had not used since the death of his son, now hung again at his hip from a wide leather belt. He dozed in his chair after Pandeena returned to her home to put things in order for being gone a few days. She intended to take Clodagh to her mother's house and then stay there.
A knock at the door roused Caimbeul.
On his threshold stood eight myn with animal masks over their faces: a cat, a dog, a lion, a serpent, a bird, a bear, a frog, and a deer. The overpowering scent of their blood lust flooded the sitting room, like the stench of rotting corpses, too strong to be missed or overlooked. They wore traditional robes and were already in their hybrid forms. His stomach did a slow roll. They had come to kill him, as he had expected. Until that moment, he thought he was prepared for it, but now that it stared him in the face, Caimbeul realized that he didn't want to die. What do you want?"
He started to close the door, only to have it shoved back in his face hard enough to stagger him. Caimbeul retreated, trying to concentrate and reach for Pandeena through the Godmark, but it was not as easy as he had expected it to be with these youths confronting him. Age and a comfortable century of life had cost him his edge.
The youths pushed in past him.
The one in the leering serpent mask carried a long glass rod in his hands.
"What's going on? Caimbeul's hand dropped to the hilt of his blade, and he changed to his hybrid form. Get out of my house."
"I'm sorry, said Bear Mask. We must protect ourselves."
"I'm not doing anything to you. Show me your faces, and we'll discuss it."
PANDEENA! He sent his thoughts racing into the Godmark and reaching for her.
No answer came from her.
Let me kill one of them. At least one of them. I know I'm old, but Tala ... hear me.
Bird Mask's dagger flashed in the lamplight as it came at Caimbeul in an overhand strike. Caimbeul drew his knife, sidestepped, and hooked Bird Mask's blade, locking their hilts together. Snapping his leg out, Caimbeul kicked Bird Mask in the groin, doubling him over, freed his blade, and shoved it into Bird Mask's ribs. He turned to face another as Bird Mask folded onto the ground, groaning and weeping.
Bird Mask's noises seemed to whip them into a greater frenzy; the scent of blood lust intensified into a smothering cloud.
Searing pain in Caimbeul's gut made him pitch forward. He lowered his eyes to the hilt of Bear Mask's blade that had been shoved into his belly. Caimbeul hit Bear Mask in the chest, slamming him into the wall. Bear Mask straightened and lunged in. He seized the hilt of the blade still lodged to the quillons in Caimbeul's body, jerked it out, and swept it into a thrust from below. Caimbeul blocked it with a shield hold on his knifeone hand on its hilt and the other on its bladeforcing Bear Mask's knife down.
Dog Mask slashed the lawgiver's right forearm open from wrist to elbow, and then plunged the knife into his ribs. The blade fell from the lawgiver's hand. Caimbeul felt the burn of Devil's Silver in his bloodstream.
Devil's Silver killed my son.
They circled him with drawn knives and Caimbeul could see the coppery stain of Devil's Silver on all of them. His skin crawled, knowing he would get it in the back like his son Gwythyr had. The lawgiver started to unleash a long ululating cry would bring myn running, but Serpent Mask darted in and put the rod to his throat. Sa'necari power plunged into him, silencing his voice.
"Kill him, Serpent Mask ordered.
The Butchering Serpent. Sa'necari.
Caimbeul reached for the serpent mask, desperate to see the butcher's face so he could call out to Pandeena the mon's identity. Serpent Mask stepped out of Caimbeul's reach as the big lycan in the lion mask caught him by the hair, yanked him off balance, and thrust a blade into his chest with a ripping twist. Caimbeul blinked, and his lips parted in a sharp gasp. Intense pain beyond anything the old wolf had ever experienced in centuries of fighting swept through him. He shuddered and his knees wobbled like a drunk's.
Devil's Silver. Too much Devil's Silver.
Bear Mask's expression begged Caimbeul's forgiveness as he slipped the blade into the lawgiver's ribs.
Three blades tore into Caimbeul's back. Two more plunged deep into his sides. His attackers made gleeful noises, howling with excitement. They danced around him, knowing there was no fight left in him, stabbing and sli
cing for the unholy pleasure of it.
The scrawny one in the deer mask kept jostling Bear Mask whenever he hesitated, pressuring him into delivering more cuts to Caimbeul's body, more insertions of the blade.
Internal bleeding counted for the worst of it, yet Caimbeul's body was awash in crimson, and it stained the shreds of his robe. Blood and gore splattered his assailants masks and clothing.
Lion Mask held onto Caimbeul's hair, plunged his blade expertly into each of his shoulders, severing the radial nerves, and then striking again to shatter the shoulder blades. Caimbeul's arms went dead.
Breathing hard, he started to slump as the knives continued to pierce his sides, his back, his chest, and his stomach. Only Lion Mask's hand in his hair held him up.
The Serpent chuckled, tilting his head to the side as if considering a work of art. Lovely."
Then Lion Mask released him.
Caimbeul collapsed in the middle of the floor, listening to their laughter. Blood pooled around his body. He reached desperately for Pandeena through the link she had placed between them, magnifying his inner voice with his emotions.
I'm dying. They've killed me. Take Clodagh, the journals, and flee.
No answer came.
He lay in a crumpled heap, dizzy and disoriented, too weak to move. They unbuckled his belt, rolled him over twice to get his robe off, and left him on his back nude. The chill air made him shiver violently as he broke out in cold sweat. His body rippled with convulsions.
Despair lurched through him when Pandeena did not respond. No one would call his killers to account. The masks muffled their voices and he could not identify any of them. Fear touched him: have they killed Pandeena?
Cat Mask studied his body. We cut him up good and fast."
Rheu, wearing a dog mask, licked his lips. The blade slid in so easy..."
"It's good steel. Torquil adjusted his lion mask. Parts the flesh like cheese."
Preece knelt and cleaned his blade on Caimbeul's robe, rose with the cloth in his hands and passed it around. Take care of your blades, and your blades will take care of you."
"We're not finished. Malthus snarled impatiently. Open him up, Yren."
Deer Mask slit Caimbeul's belly open from groin to sternum, and poured a vial of liquid into the lawgiver's guts that burned like acid, poisoning the fireborn half of him. A canine whimper forced its way from his throat. That takes care of that. He'll be good and dead when we're finished."
Cat Mask wiped his blade and passed the robe on to Bear Mask. The priest is next. I'm going to fuck her while she's dying. Give her a taste of what she gives others."
Lion Mask leered. I want inside that trolleymog bitch myself."
Bear Mask sucked in a breath and stepped away, shaking his head. I don't know."
"Shut up. Shalto hit Oswyl's shoulder. You stuck him at least twice. I saw you."
"I know. I just ... didn't expect it to feel like this. Oswyl knelt beside Bird Mask, who still groaned and sobbed. He pulled a wadded handkerchief from a pocket of his robe and stuffed it into the wound. What about Nesswen?"
"What about him? Lion Mask came to stand beside Oswyl.
"I think he's dying."
I killed one . Caimbeul felt a glimmer of satisfaction. His body jerked as he coughed hard, bringing up a bloody froth from his lungs.
"We all took our chances, Bear. We all knew he might get one of us. Torquil growled behind his lion's mask. Would you rather it had been you?"
Malthus scowled, knelt beside Nesswen, and pulled the bird mask off. He took a blue vial from his pouch, and lifted Nesswen's head up. Drink this. All of it. It will take the pain away."
Nesswen took a long swallow of Pollendine, and closed his eyes.
"All of it. Malthus coaxed in soothing tones, putting the vial to Nesswen's lips again. You must take all of it, or it won't help."
Nesswen took another long swallow.
"You do want the pain to stop, don't you?"
"Yes, Nesswen whispered hoarsely.
"Then take the last swallow. When we're finished, I'll find you a healer."
Nesswen gave Malthus a look of gratitude, and drank the last of it.
Malthus pocketed the vial. Grab a pillow off that sofa for Nesswen. It looks serious, but I don't think it's fatal."
Oswyl put the pillow beneath Nesswen's head. Don't die on us."
"I won't. Gradually the lines of pain eased in Nesswen's face, his eyes closed, and he lost consciousness.
Malthus stood, walked back to Caimbeul, and kicked him. That's for Nesswen."
"Did you like sticking him, little dog? Preece ruffled Rheu's hair. Do you want to stick another?"
Fourteen-year-old Rheu looked up at Preece. It's exciting."
Seeing what Malthus had done, Yren also kicked Caimbeul. For Nesswen."
"I ought to cut his damned cock off. Shalto spat on Caimbeul. If he's Patton, as you say, then he's been sticking it in the women too."
Preece parted his robe and pissed on the lawgiver. Wheee! He shook his cock to get rid of the dribbles.
They all followed suit, until it seemed like there was as much urine as blood on the floor.
Caimbeul's awareness grayed and grew misty, but he cried out again with his mind and emotions to Pandeena.
Pandeena, flee. Take Clodagh .
What happened? Pandeena asked in his head.
I'm dying. They're coming for you next. One of ... is Yren. Serpent called his name. And Nesswen.
The Serpent pushed at them. We're losing time. Search the house. Find Clodagh."
The youths dispersed, leaving Malthus alone with Nesswen and Caimbeul. As he knelt beside Caimbeul, he noticed the wolf's head Godmark on the lawgiver's chest near the junction of his shoulder. Godmarked.... Malthus ripped a piece of Caimbeul's robe off and used it to wipe the Godmark clean, careful not to touch it and burn his fingers.
"I don't recognize it. I've never seen a godmarked lycan before. It's a shame you're in no condition to explain it. You were an interesting old wolf, pity you stuck your nose where it didn't belong. Malthus shoved his fingers into the wounds, glanced to see that he was alone, and licked them off. Delicious."
Malthus took out a second vial of the fireborn poison, pouring a little into each of the wounds until he had used up the last of it. Then Malthus put the glass rod to Caimbeul's chest, beside, but not touching, the Godmark. He sent a lance of death magic into Caimbeul. The wolf's eyes bulged and he gasped like a landed fish.
Caimbeul's lips silently formed the words, Cockwhoring bastard."
"Intriguing. There's more life left in you than I expected. You might have been fun to play with in my dungeons. Malthus slipped the rod into his pouch, placed his palm on Caimbeul's chest, and stabbed his dark energies into Caimbeul's heart savagely.
Caimbeul felt Malthus Readers gift swirl through his body, and knew the asshole was enjoying the taste of his suffering, dining on it.
"Relax and it will soon be over. Malthus spoke in a venomously soothing tone. Fight me and the pain will be worse."
"Go to hell, Caimbeul mouthed the words. Knowing the longer it took him to die the more time he bought Pandeena to escape; Caimbeul reached into his fading gifts and wrapped what little strength remained to him around his heart.
"I've killed fireborn before. I can make it slow and agonizing or I can make it swift. It depends on how hard you fight me."
"Damn you."
Malthus lips drew back into a sneer. He sent a black wave of death into all the organs of Caimbeul's body.
Caimbeul experienced a final flicker of consciousness, realizing the terrible power of the Serpent, wondering if he might be more than a match for a yuwenghau. Tala, Master of Wolves, to thee I commend my spirit. Find me worthy to stand in your presence.
Malthus hit him again, harder still. Caimbeul's body jerked, gave a convulsive shudder, and stilled. His lips parted and his eyes stared unseeing. An intense erotic pleasure rippled through Malthus in the instant t
hat Caimbeul died. It whetted his necromantic hunger and he wanted more.
The Butchering Serpent stood up, laughing softly, took his cock out, and urinated on the lawgiver's corpse. He went to Nesswen, put two fingers to the side of his neck as if feeling for a pulse, and Read him necromantically. While the wound had been serious, it had not necessarily been fatal, and a healer might have been able to save Nesswen. However, the overdose was doing its jobNesswen's heart was slowing to a stop. Malthus gave the organ a small squeeze with his powers and stilled it. Although Nesswen's death tasted good, it had been too peaceful to sate Malthus appetite.
The others gathered into the sitting room.
"She's not here. Shalto adjusted his cat mask.
"What about Nesswen? Oswyl knelt by his friend.
Malthus glanced at Oswyl, then the others, saying with a sad edge to his voice, He's dead."
It hit them all at the same time, and they stood in silence staring at Nesswen's corpse.
"There's nothing to be done about it. Malthus kept his voice calm. The priest and the lawgiver forced us to it. We would have all ended up like Nesswen, except the priest would have had us tortured first."
"Malthus is right. Preece's tranquil voice stilled the room. Brace up, we need to see this through."
Shalto's brow furrowed. Next time we ride to the hunt ... we can hold a howl for Nesswen's spirit where no one hears us."
"Let's get us some vengeance on the priest, snarled Torquil. This is her fault for interfering."
Malthus gestured at Yren. See that no one's coming. We need to get rid of the bodies."
Yren bounced to the door, opened it a crack, and peered out. All clear."
"Torquil, fetch two blankets."
They wrapped Nesswen and Caimbeul's bodies so that no one could tell what they had. Torquil carried the corpses out, threw them across a horse, and lashed them down. Then they rode back to the camp. They drew rein at the door to Pandeena's apartment and saw that the lamps were lit.
Torquil laughed. It's time my stick tasted a priestly flesh-hole."
"We'll take turns until there's nothing left of her, Shalto promised his friends.
Oswyl hung back, shaking so hard he had to clasp his hands together. The corner of his eyes caught a small movement in the bushes. He flinched, startled, and saw a black and orange, tiger-striped tomcat watching them. Oswyl lashed out with his foot to kick the cat, but the cat was too quick. It ducked away from him and disappeared into the night. Damn cats."
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