by M. D. Massey
More orbs flashed and swooped around us, edging closer and closer by the second. I took a tentative swing at a yellow orb that came too close for comfort, but it changed course on a dime, flitting away before it disappeared. This seemed to embolden the others, and soon we were ducking orbs and swatting at them as they passed, to little effect.
One brushed against my shoulder, numbing it instantly. The orb that touched me brightened after making contact, while I felt weakened and slightly diminished. Another skimmed past Hemi’s leg, barely touching him. The Maori warrior stumbled, clutching his leg where it had struck.
“Leg’s numb. Damned things pack a wallop.”
“Can you walk?” I asked.
“Yup, but if we get swarmed we’re goners.”
Plan B time.
“Hang on, I have an idea.”
If I was right about the nature of the orbs—that they were lost souls under Ernesto’s control—then they’d have the same weaknesses as ghosts. I could use my remaining rock salt to pour a ward circle around us, but then we’d be stuck here. Obviously, that wouldn’t do us or Jesse much good.
What I need is a ward that can move with us.
An orb swooped in, catching Hemi in the upper arm.
“Gah, bloody things!” he exclaimed, grabbing his arm, which now hung a bit slacker than it had before.
Another came in low at my ankles, and I just barely moved out of the way in time to avoid it. The others began to circle us, like sharks coming in for the kill.
Or piranhas.
“Keep them away from me while I come up with something to fend them off, alright?”
“I’ll do my best!” Hemi said. “But be quick!”
I sat down cross-legged with my war club in my lap, chewing my thumbnail. Hemi stood over me, spinning and twirling his own club while chanting to activate his runes. I heard and felt the stick spinning and whirring, acting a temporary shield to protect us, but only for so long.
If only he could spin that thing in all directions at once.
I tried to relax while Fionn’s magic did its thing. The magic allowed me to see the big picture, and while I was under its spell, connecting the dots to solve a given problem came easy to me. Despite its utility, I tended to avoid using it, more out of pride than anything. But now wasn’t the time for foolish pride.
Hemi’s stick whistled past my face, just inches away as it did the work of shielding us from the orbs.
“Any time now, Colin!” he shouted. “These little shits are getting cheeky!”
Shield… spinning… bingo! You suckers are gonna love this.
I focused on the air around us, grabbing it and forcing it into a vortex that created a sort of dust devil in a vertical column that was just a foot or so wider than Hemi’s reach with that club. Once I had the air rotating fast enough to support it, I reached inside my Bag for a handful of rock salt, infusing it with just enough of my magic to make it obey my will.
Then, I tossed the salt in the air.
Immediately, the churning air currents picked it up, spreading it throughout the spinning column. Undaunted, one of the orbs attempted to fly through my “salt-devil,” with disastrous consequences. As soon as the orb made contact with the salt, it burst like a balloon in a flash of sickly green light. Then there was a loud, shrieking wail that trailed off into the distance until it was gone.
I kept the salt vortex moving, focusing my intentions and magic so it picked up speed. Another orb attempted to pass through the barrier, only to meet with a similar fate. When a third orb failed as well, the rest began winking out, one by one, until the only glowing globe left was that of my original light spell.
“Well, that was darned impressive,” the Maori remarked.
As I released the spell, the salt dropped to the ground in a neat circle around us. I scooped up as much as I could, tossing it back in the jar in my Bag.
“C’mon, they’ll be back if we hang around. Let’s go get Jesse.”
Hauling ass out of that chamber, we rounded a corner into a tunnel that led straight ahead for a good thirty yards. A glance over my shoulder told me those orb thingies weren’t coming back for another go around, so I set my eyes on what might lie ahead.
Through the opening at the end of the tunnel I saw a large, flat boulder that had been crudely carved into the shape of an altar. Necromantic runes and symbols had been painted all over it in what was most certainly fresh human blood. As I watched, the runes began to emanate a dark energy that appeared to eat the light around them, casting the chamber in reverse exposure as the magic increased in intensity. The cavern shook, causing dust and pebbles to drop from the ceiling all around, and dark, wispy shadow-creatures began to flit and fly about inside the chamber.
I knew bad portents when I saw them, and this was an eleven on the ten-scale of “pretty fucked up.” But worst of all, a limp, unconscious form lay on top of the altar.
Jesse!
The Dark Druid stood behind her, chanting incantations and waving his arms around with an exultant look on his face. As he wove his spell, tendrils of dark magic wrapped around and enveloped Jess, lifting her off the table like an audience volunteer in a Vaudeville magic act. Then, a black and green mist began to flow out of Jesse’s body, coalescing in a tight whirlwind pattern that the necromancer sucked into himself.
It looked as if he were breathing in her life force. And for all I knew, he was.
“Damn it, he’s already started the ritual!” I said, taking off at a sprint with Dyrnwyn in hand.
“Right behind you, bro,” Hemi said, his much heavier footfalls first echoing mine step for step, and then falling back as I poured on the speed.
In my human form, I could run a hundred yards in under eleven seconds—not fast enough for a spot on the Olympic team, but still enough to beat most humans on foot. But in my stealth-shifted form, I was easily the equal of any normal ’thrope or baby vamp in speed, strength, and reflexes. Ten seconds in the 100 meters might be the benchmark for an Olympic-level sprinter, but for a supe? Try six seconds, which is about the time it takes for a cheetah to run the same distance.
So, when I hit the magical barrier, I was doing close to fifty miles per hour with no intention of slowing down. It was a rookie mistake. The Fear Doirich wasn’t just any magic-user. He was among the world’s preeminent practitioners of the craft, having studied and perfected the druidic and dark arts for millennia. And to say he had a nasty mean streak, well—that would be an understatement.
The instant my body made contact with the Dark Druid’s enchantment, three things happened. First, the barrier lit me up with about 100,000 volts of electricity via a full-fledged lightning strike delivered straight to my chest. Second, the electrical discharge superheated the air around me, resulting in a flash burn over the entire front half of my body. And third, the barrier exerted a concussive counterforce that was many times greater than the impact my body made when I triggered the trap, crunching my bones like peanut brittle.
Thankfully, Hemi was about a dozen yards behind me at the time, otherwise I’d have had nothing to break my fall when I went flying backward at highway speeds. I bowled him over, earning a few more broken bones in the process as I came into contact with his wards, and we landed in a heap twenty yards or so from the barrier. The entire episode had left me semi-conscious, but I had the wherewithal to attempt rolling over so I could see how Jesse fared.
An agonizing shriek filled the tunnel, and at first I thought it might be Jess, screaming out in pain at what the Dark Druid was doing to her. Then I realized it was me, a reaction to having my shattered radius and ulna forced through the skin and flesh of my forearm. It shouldn’t have been such a shock, but it hadn’t occurred to me how badly I might be injured, at least not until I tried to make my body respond to simple commands.
Hemi gingerly attempted to extricate himself from under me, but every move he made caused my broken bones to grind together in multiple places. My reaction was more screaming a
nd cursing. Between the agony of my Fomorian healing factor attempting to realign and put me back together, the burns to my chest, torso, and face, and Hemi jostling me around, I was not having a very good day.
“Sorry, bro!” Hemi exclaimed.
“Just… help… Jesse,” I wheezed, realizing at that moment that I had a rib sticking out of my chest on the left side of my rib cage.
“But, Colin—”
“Go!” I said, rolling myself off him with a primal scream of rage and pain, accompanied by the sound of multiple broken and splintered bones grinding and rubbing together. I passed out for a moment, only to come back to my senses when my Fomorian blood decided it was time for my Hyde-side to come out.
An extended, unintelligible groan was the only sound I could get out of my mouth as dozens of shattered bones realigned all at once, knitting together as they simultaneously lengthened, thickened, and healed. I’d thought that shifting rapidly was a nearly unbearable agony when I’d started the process whole and well, but no—this was an entirely new level of suffering. Despite my Hyde-side being in the driver’s seat, I nearly blacked out again.
Groggily, I started coming to my senses when I heard a thunderous hammering nearby.
Boom. Boom. BOOM!
If a hill giant had decided to bang out a rhythm on a giant hollowed out oak tree, it might have sounded like that. Chanting and growls accompanied the noise, in a language and voice I recognized.
It’s Hemi—he’s trying to break through the barrier.
Tuning it all out, I concentrated only on speeding up the healing process so I could be ready to help Jesse and deal with the Fear Doirich when his wards fell.
16
Finally, I was whole enough to move. Thankfully, pain tolerance wasn’t really a thing for Fomorians—they thrived on it. Pushing myself up on one massive, overly-muscular arm, I snapped the other arm out with a whipping motion, forcing the still broken bones in my forearm to realign all at once so they could mend completely.
Why’s it so quiet all of a sudden?
I sat up and rolled up to one knee in a single, somewhat smooth motion. My right leg hadn’t completely healed yet, and as I stood bones and connective tissues were still being knit back in place. Despite that, I rose to my feet, turning to see what had become of Hemi and Jess.
My Maori friend stood framed by the tunnel exit, back turned to me, his war club dangling from one hand. I was much larger than him in this form, yet I still couldn’t see past him as his bulk blocked my view of the cavern beyond.
“Hemi, what happened?” I demanded, stumbling toward him with increasingly confident strides. “Where’s Jesse?”
He looked back at me. “She’s there, Colin, but—”
I shoved him out of the way, squeezing past so I could get to Jess. She was there, alright, right where the Dark Druid had left her after he was done with her. Her hair had turned completely grey, her skin had wrinkled and turned translucent, and her plum-red lips had gone ashen and gray.
In an instant I was next to her, lifting her limp body off the makeshift altar and cradling her in my arms. Her head lolled to the side, eyes dead and fixed and her mouth slack. She looked as though she’d aged eighty years, sucked dry of every last bit of life she’d possessed.
I looked over my shoulder at a very stunned and traumatized Hemi. His wide eyes welled up with tears, voice quivering as he spoke.
“Colin, mate—I couldn’t break through in time.”
“What happened? Tell me what you saw.”
He staggered to the nearest wall, reaching out to shore himself up. “I saw you were healing, and figured I’d better break that barrier. Give you a clear shot once you came ’round, aye? I beat on it and beat on it, and felt it weakening. But the Dark Druid—he was well into that spell, you know?”
Hemi heaved a shuddering sigh as he choked up.
“I watched her, the whole time. He just—sucked the life right out of her, magic and all. It was awful. I’m so sorry, bro.”
My head and shoulders drooped, eyes hot and wet with huge tears that plopped like raindrops all over Jesse’s face and chest.
Hell of a thing, this. Never knew Fomorians could cry.
I slumped down and sat against the rock, crying and rocking her back and forth. Apparently, the Fomorian physiology was incompatible with grief, and soon my body began the transformation back to my human self. Hemi came and sat next to me on the rock, clapping a hand on my shoulder as he muttered apologies and words of comfort and support.
At some point Fallyn arrived, maybe minutes or hours after Jesse’s passing. It was hard to say how long it took for her to find us, as the only light in the cave came from torches that were close to burning out by the time she showed up. Hearing her familiar footfalls echo down the tunnel, I wiped my eyes and looked up to greet her when she walked in.
“She’s gone, Fallyn. I failed her, again.”
A large, strong hand squeezed my shoulder. “Now there, mate—don’t blame yourself. It was that evil bastard what did this, not you.”
“What happened?” Fallyn said. “I went to hunt, and when I got back all I found was Hemi’s note.”
As I brought her up to speed, Fallyn’s eyes grew hard, her mouth went taut, and her hands balled up at her sides. As I finished the story, she slammed a fist against the wall of the cave, sending bits of stone flying in all directions. Then, she exhaled slowly before walking over to gently brush a stray lock of hair from Jesse’s face.
Fallyn craned her neck, arching her back as she pointed her face to the ceiling to let out a long, high, keening howl that seemed to go on forever. It struck a chord deep within me when she did it, nascent Pack bonds exerting whatever meager effect they could on a misfit Pack member like me. Her howl was like a note plucked on a guitar string inside my chest, vibrating in tune to my own pain, letting me know I was not alone.
Then, something curious happened. At a distance far removed from where I mourned my recent loss, a stronger, deeper voice joined in, harmonizing with Fallyn’s howl. It wasn’t anything I could hear normally, but instead it resonated inside me in a tone that was clear as a bell to my inner beast. Soon, dozens of other voices joined in, crying a soulful, longing chorus that sang of loss and love, of family and pain, of mates lost and children gone, and of bonds that even death could not break or erase.
Hemi couldn’t hear it, but based on the astonished look on his face, I knew that he felt the mourning song of the Pack wash over him as well. The bond between us was deep enough for him to sense the Pack’s presence, not because of a bond of blood, but one of brotherly love. I was glad to have him by my side at such a dark and terrible time.
Finally, the beast within me answered the call of the Pack in the only way it could. Fomorians were never creatures of family, hearth, or home. Neither were they prone to sentiment, mercy, or frailty. Cú Chulainn’s curse, a remnant of interbreeding between Tuath Dé, Fomori, and humans, made that side of me incapable of experiencing such emotions. So, the beast inside me could not cry with what my human side felt—the deep, remorseful pain of love and loss and death.
No, that part of me—my other, darker half—could only cry out for one thing.
Blood.
I answered the Pack with a battle cry, a roar of primal rage that echoed off the cave walls, down the tunnels, and out into the basin below. It reverberated through the Pack bonds, bridging the distance between us in a heartbeat. And their answer was clear. Despite our differences, the Pack would back my play.
Because I was going to war with the Dark Druid.
We buried Jesse inside the Grove, in a small meadow that appeared of its own accord when I showed up with Jesse’s corpse. Hemi and Fallyn were there, but that was the extent of the funeral party, as I couldn’t safely return to the junkyard or even Éire Imports to fetch Maureen and Finnegas.
At the moment, the last thing I wanted was for Mendoza and his goons to show up in the park. Still, I thought they might be of use t
o me yet, so I dug the tracker out of Jesse’s arm before we buried her. The damned thing had gone deep, so it was messy and felt like a desecration, and the experience was way too reminiscent of when my Hyde-side had killed her. When I finished, I tucked the tracker in my Bag for safekeeping and tried not to think about what I’d just done.
Each of us said a few words, then we laid her to rest. The Grove gently swallowed her up at my command, but first it sent me a series of images in response. A seed planted in the ground, a sprout poking up through moist earth, and flowers spreading out over rich, dark soil in all directions.
Sure, some flowers would be nice. I think she’d like that.
The Grove sent me an image of a rock, but I didn’t know what to make of that. Maybe it wanted to leave a grave marker or something. It seemed an unnecessary gesture, so I decided to leave it to its own devices.
Fallyn wrapped her arm in mine, leaning close as we silently stood over the grave.
“You think Samson will let Finn and Maureen know?” I asked.
“Probably, although with the whole Pack heading here, he might want to keep things on the down-low until this Dark Druid issue is resolved.” She squeezed my arm a little tighter. “You do have a plan for that, right? The Pack is behind you, one-hundred percent—we owe you that much after what you did during the whole Sonny thing. But these people have families, Colin. I don’t want to lead them into a death trap.”
“I have a plan, and when it comes to it I’ll be facing him down alone,” I replied, grim determination in my voice. “He killed my dad, he nearly killed Bells, and now Jesse...” My voice cracked, and I struggled to keep my emotions in check.
Deep breath, Colin.
“Fallyn, thousands of people died in Austin because of him. And why? Because of a vendetta between his family and ours that goes back thousands of years. It has to stop.”
