Kellen frowned, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Maybe. What’s wrong, Eire?’
Stars and moon, it felt good to hear him say my name. It was better than a sigh. But I had to be very careful not to fall prey to these emotions. Not now. All these feelings could be part of the spell.
“Outside, quickly!” I said.
Only one faery was strong enough to craft a spell like this. Faelan. He may be still across the Muir éireann but, with his blood magic and his human servants, perhaps he could do more than I had imagined. All this time, I thought he was threatening my children.
Now I realized it was probably Isleen he was after.
She was the blood sacrifice that would hurt us the most.
It would slice through Kellen swifter than any blade. I couldn’t bear to see either of them hurt, not the child or the father.
I threw the door open and ran outside. By now, my wolf cubs had woken up and they immediately sensed the danger. The three of us charged out the door, one right after another. Kellen was a step behind us, his bow and arrows ready.
The snow blinded us, it stung and turned our faces to ice. It didn’t stop my wolves though. Both of them snarled, teeth bared, hackles up. They braced the wind and stared into it with glowing eyes, a low rumbling growl in their throats.
“Isleen!” Kellen yelled.
“Find her, boys!” I told my pups and they charged off. Kellen and I had to scramble to keep up with them. We left the cottage door open, yellow light spilling out onto a blue-white horizon. Through the trees and over a bridge we ran, over a path of slippery stones and up a steep hill. All the while, we raced and called out her name.
For a moment, we were lost and none of us knew which way to turn. All around us, the snow fell even harder and I couldn’t see my own feet beneath me.
“This way,” Kellen said after a heartbeat, for he knew this land better than we did. “The devil’s-bit root patch is over there.”
What would happen if Faelan hurt Isleen, I worried as we ran. Would Kellen turn against me, like Greagoir had?
With one well-placed blade, Faelan could destroy the future I hadn’t even realized I wanted until now.
I wanted to stay here, on this small farm, near Kellen and Isleen. I wanted to protect them. I wanted to set my boys free from their magic spell.
I wanted to live the life of a human woman, to choose a man for love, instead of duty.
“Follow the drops of blood,” I said, pointing at the snow. A large full moon peeked out from behind low clouds, just long enough for us to see a path of tiny red droplets. They were few and hard to see, but Ambros and Benen could smell them.
‘Twas blood from Greagoir’s heart, still in the pocket of the cloak Isleen was wearing. Still beating, it was calling to its owner.
“‘Tis me you want, Greagoir!” I cried out. “Let the girl go. Take me instead. You know Faelan won’t be happy until you’ve killed me.”
“Here,” he called back to me, from somewhere just over the nearest ridge.
“Ambros and Benen, come to me!” I cried. They didn’t want to obey, for they were both hunting and eager to find the strange bit of flesh that teased them. “Come here!”
The banshee voice of mine caught them and pulled them back, though they whined all the way.
“I release you from this enchantment. Be free,” I said. “You may be wolves whenever you wish, from this moment forward. But your true shape will always be that of the Tuatha de Danann.”
Stars glistened around the pair of them, a whirlwind of snow and frost enveloped and hid them; when it faded, their white fur melted and they turned back into little boys, one fair-haired, the other dark. They shivered, for they were now naked.
Kellen was not startled at the sight of them. He must have known what they were all along. He merely paused long enough to remove his shirt and hood, and gave his clothing to my lads.
Then we all set off for the top of the ridge and the monster who held sweet Isleen.
Fifteen
My feet slid, my skirts tangled between my legs, my long hair blew in my eyes, and yet, I was always able to keep the sword—Greagoir’s sword made from this strange new silver metal—in battle position. I was ready to strike. Every muscle in my body sang, my blood ran hot, and the magic in my soul began to spill out.
I began to sing.
Snow and frost, capture Greagoir, hold him fast, make him freeze, make his hands tremble, make him set the child free—
And with my song came courage, enough for all of us. We sorely needed it.
We had to win this battle, one way or another. If I did not take Greagoir’s head, then he would take mine. Either way, I would win. Isleen would be set free and Kellen would take care of my boys. He had already vowed it when we were riding through the forest to get here.
He was a man of his word.
We all crested the last ridge at the same moment, then we paused to get our bearings. Down below us, in the hollow, surrounded by a grove of oak trees, there stood Greagoir, looking as frightening as Caorthannach herself—the mother of all demons. One arrow was still plunged through his chest, another through his left thigh, and one more through his right eye. His right hand had been ripped down the center and now hung in two ragged pieces. Two of the arrows had broken off and looked like wooden knives, but the arrow that pierced his eye was intact and fierce. Yet, not one drop of blood fell from any of his wounds.
His chest was ripped open, my claw marks on his flesh, a gaping wound where his heart should have been.
He was a walking nightmare.
And he clutched Isleen around the throat with his left hand. She trembled, her feet barely touching the ground, her hands grasping at air.
Isleen.
Kellen raised his bow and aimed it at the Leanan Sidhe beast.
“Shoot me again and your precious daughter dies, hunter,” Greagoir said. “Or better yet, she joins me for all of eternity, a companion in my darkness.”
He leaned nearer, jaws opening, teeth poised to bite her shoulder.
I did not hesitate. I raced down the hill toward him, singing one last song to the snow and the frost, commanding them to obey me. My attention remained fixed upon Greagoir’s teeth.
I must stop his bite. Nothing else mattered.
“Drop her, you foul creature, or your death will linger for thousands of years,” I told him as I continued to bridge the gap between us. “I’ll chain you to rocks in the Muir éireann and you’ll drown three times every day as the tides come in, three slow deaths every day. For all of eternity.”
He laughed. “Death doesn’t frighten me. But disobeying Faelan? Now, that is something to be terrified of.”