The claws retracted as suddenly as they had entered her flesh. Skye rolled onto the frozen ground, trying to escape getting captured again. When she ventured a quick look back she saw one of them a few feet away with bloody claws. Her tormentor stared up, his long, pointed beak and ears twitching as if a new, more interesting scent had captured his attention.
The wind shifted and the Unseelie fairies’ loud screeches increased. Another swarm of identical beasts appeared from the east and those nearest Skye, including the one who had sunk his claws into her, rushed upwards en masse. The two black clouds of Fae flew directly into one another and began to battle. Black feathers and drops of blood rained down upon the earth.
It went on forever. She didn’t want to leave, hoping that in their blood thirst for battle, the beast who had stolen Kheelan would drop him in its powerful need to wage war with its own kind. She huddled in the coat Kheelan left behind, searching for his body to drop from the sky.
In a series of advances and retreats, one group of sluaghs gained the advantage. They pushed back the other flock and kept pursuing. Skye listened intently to the fading noise of flapping wings.
A pause of terrifying silence descended.
Still no Kheelan.
The moon receded and a grayish light from the cloud-covered sun dawned upon the unpromising morning of Samhain.
Chapter 20
My Sweet
He was in hell.
The painful roar of wind and sky and screeching was almost as hard to bear as the incredible stink. An airborne cesspool of rot and waste. The deep lacerations on his back burned so bad, even the winter frost couldn’t numb the fire. The beast’s talons sank ever deeper into the flesh of his shoulders.
And then the grip loosened and he was falling –
—falling so hard and fast he couldn’t suck in air. Looking down, Kheelan saw only a black void rising up at a dizzying rate. His eyes watered and he shut them.
This was it then. The End.
No freedom, no Skye, nothing but pain and howling wind. All thought fled until the only sensation was free-falling downwards and the wild, caged beating of his heart. Thump, thump, thump, thump . . .
His body landed on something icy. Kheelan braced himself for more pain before the violent stillness of death.
Lilies of the valley. He gulped in air and scent and his heart slowed a few beats. Enough for his brain to kick in with questions.
What had happened? He could still feel ice on his back and legs.
It hit him then. The cold pressure, the smell of lilies . . . Annwynn.
He opened his eyes and saw her pale face, violet eyes and rainbow hair. Those deeply slanted eyes bore down on him intently, as unreadable as ever.
“How did you –?” He shook his head to clear it. The frigid hands withdrew and he was on solid ground.
“We were with ye when the sluaghs –”
“—Where’s Skye?” Kheelan searched frantically, saw nothing but Annwynn’s usual entourage of pixies glowing in the distance. No signs of buildings or people anywhere. Only deep thickets of pine in all directions.
“She is being watched. The Seelies are guarding her closely.”
“So close she almost got killed by the sluagh.” He couldn’t stop the bitterness from creeping in his voice.
“We were there. The Seelies started the fight with another sluagh faction to distract them from the two of ye. They’re strong, but not the brightest of Fae creatures.”
“Not to sound ungrateful, but a few minutes before I got clawed would have been more helpful.”
“Let me take care of that for ye.” She removed a vial of potion from a sporran at her waist. A fairy version of the fanny pack. He pulled off his shirt and turned around. The pain relief was instant. Kheelan put the shredded shirt back on, for all the protection it was in the cold. He supposed he owed her a thank-you. “I appreciate everything, Annwynn. Please take me to Skye now.”
“No. I told ye she is guarded. Ye needn’t fear her safety.”
“Yeah, well, excuse me if I can’t trust you one hundred percent.”
“Ye have turned into a bitter mortal, my sweet.”
Kheelan winced at the old endearment, it gnawed at his heart. How many times had Annwynn comforted him with those same words as a child when he cried to her about the fairy children laughing at him? Always she was there, stroking him with those cold hands and whispering soothing words. He felt like that scared, lonely child of five again. Against his will, the hurt of the past erupted from his throat. “You left me.”
The accusation trembled in the air between them.
“I had no choice in the matter, my sweet. Ye know that.”
Kheelan jerked his head from those violet eyes. “And you lied to me. My parents aren’t dead.”
A frigid finger stroked his jaw in a feather-light caress. “I did what I had to do, what I thought was best for ye. Knowing they were alive would have made it even harder for ye than it was.”
“You shouldn’t have lied,” he insisted.
Annwynn sighed softly. “I am sorry, Kheelan.”