“Hush!” I warned him. “Hide, quickly both of you. But stay close enough that you will hear me if I call.”
They scampered off, following one another through the tall pine trees until both my wolf cubs disappeared in shadow. The last I saw of them was their long white tails wagging and their noses to the ground as they loped away.
I held my breath, wishing I had a sword.
“You cannot hide from me, Eire,” a man said somewhere behind me.
His voice brought tremors to my flesh.
I turned around swiftly but saw no one. He must still be hidden in the forests. I recognized his voice, but how could it be? I’d heard Faelan kill him back in the cave, centuries ago.
Yet, here Greagoir was, striding into the clearing, his skin darker than the last time I’d seen him, his muscles glistening, his expression fierce. Sure enough, it was my once-trusted manservant. ‘Twas his hand that had given the enchanted wine to my lads and me.
He flashed a sinister grin, revealing teeth as long and sharp as my own wolf canines.
“Surprised to see me?” he asked.
If he’d had a bow and arrow, I might have escaped with my life. Instead, he carried a broadsword, the color of metal unfamiliar to me. It was dark silver, instead of bronze. I’d never seen anything like it.
It would take only one well-placed swing to separate my head from my body. No Tuatha de Danann could survive such a blow.
“How are you still alive?” I asked. I kept my head low to the ground, sizing him up, wishing he would walk close enough for me to leap and seize his throat in my wolf jaws. “I heard Faelan kill you, a thousand years ago.”
He shook his head, obviously enjoying my confusion. “He was merely keeping his promise to give me immortal life. I’m just like you now.”
“Not like me,” I continued to circle him, making sure his sword could not reach me. “You’re a servant to the Leanan Sidhe—a blood drinker. You have no soul.”
“Neither do you.”
I raised my head and howled, singing a sweet banshee song crafted just for him. He would fall to the ground in a heartbeat—dead forever.
Except he didn’t fall. He didn’t even stumble.
I stared at him, wondering if this was the same magic the Milesians had used.
“She’s here, men! Come and catch her wolf cubs. Faelan wants all three of them dead by nightfall.”
I heard a rustle in the nearby wood, branches breaking, men talking to one another as they ran, and I howled again, setting my banshee voice free. I had to kill all of these prowling half-human/half-monsters and quickly. I left an octave or two out of my song, just enough to protect my own boys. Meanwhile, all around me, the sweet woodland creatures began to die. Wrens and blackbirds fell from the skies, squirrels dropped out of trees, white foxes slumped over in the midst of running.
Each one of them broke my heart. I’d never wanted their sacrifice.
Only Greagoir’s.
My nemesis swung his sword and the blade nicked me, blood spilling onto my white fur and down onto the snow.
“Your song can’t hurt us, you cursed banshee witch.” He touched one hand to his ear. “Just like the sailers of old blocked out sirens, we’ve filled our ears with wax. Your song is nothing more than the desperate howl of a she-wolf.”
Then an arrow sailed through the clearing, just missing his shoulder.
“Watch it, you fools!” Greagoir cried out as he glanced behind himself. “You almost struck me! Aim for the banshee.”
Another arrow flew and then another, all of them aimed right at him. I didn’t know what sort of treachery was afoot, whether Greagoir’s own men were turning on him or if one of my beloved Guardians was nearby. I didn’t care. I only knew that my enemy was temporarily distracted.
I had to strike now.
I leaped through the air, speaking another enchantment at the same time, my fur changing from white to brown. In less than a second, I got bigger and stronger, while Greagoir’s eyes widened in fear. He let out a horrifying scream, like that of a lost soul.
I descended upon him.
My shape had changed from that of a white wolf to a massive brown bear. With an angry swipe, I ripped open his chest. His scream turned to a gurgle as his heart was exposed.
Then he swung his blade at me, slicing my left shoulder.
A long, deep bleeding gash exposed muscle beneath my thick brown fur. I roared, the pain thudding through me like fire.
I circled him three times, until I no longer feared his sword. At that moment, I lunged again, grabbing his heart in my teeth and ripping it from his chest.
I expected him to collapse, his knees to buckle, and his body to slam to the ground.
Instead, he glared at me, defiant, demonic.
It didn’t make sense. How could he stand without a heart? What sort of magic had Faelan used to create this monster?
Sensing my hesitation and confusion, Greagoir lifted his sword, ready to swing and chop off my head—it was the very move I’d been dreading, but I wasn’t prepared for it. He began the death blow, pulling his sword back to his shoulder, then swinging forward in a swift arc—
A barrage of arrows flew from the woods, a single archer firing one barbed missile after another.
One arrow flew through Greagoir’s empty chest, another shot pierced his left thigh, a third arrow sliced his right hand in half—
My enemy dropped his weapon.
Greagoir spun around, wild and angry, a warrior’s cry in his throat.
A fourth arrow plunged through his right eye.
He should have died, but he didn’t. He stumbled, lost his footing, blinked his good eye and then screamed. It was an unholy, horrible screech, so raw and powerful that the ground shook. For one brief instant, I thought I saw Faelan standing there in the clearing, a dark look on his face, his golden eyes glaring.
He was so terrifying that I took a step backward.
And then, Greagoir righted himself and he loped away, his joints loose and his balance unnatural. It was as if he was being propelled by Faelan himself, until Greagoir managed to disappear into the shelter of the forest.
Ten
Faelan’s image faded, but he left behind a patch of scorched and burning grass where he’d been standing. I shuddered, glad that the black-furred, Leanan Sidhe master wasn’t really here. I wasn’t even sure if he’d been able to see me or, if he had, whether he recognized me since I still wore the skin of a bear.
My left shoulder hung crooked and bleeding, Greagoir’s heart clutched in my right paw.
Unable to stop the pain from my injury, I roared again, loud and wild.
Then a hunter strode into the clearing, passing right through the spot where Faelan had stood. I knew it must have been the archer who had fired a storm of arrows at Greagoir. But when the stranger’s gaze fell upon me, he saw a bear with a dangerous taste for human flesh.
His next arrow flew through woodland mists and it struck me in my wounded shoulder. I growled and faltered, then growled again.
Another arrow nocked and ready to fire, the archer halted, several paces away from me, a stricken expression on his face.