“I’m not so sure about that,” I rasped.
His brow furrowed, and he glanced at Sadie. Then he took a rapid step back. “Oh. Damn.”
“Yeah.”
Sadie shuddered violently. Her breath quickened, heaving in and out in rough gasps. “Gideon,” she panted—and her eyes flashed wolf gold as she looked at me. “Run.”
CHAPTER 14
The wolf seemed to explode out of her.
I caught a brief flash of fur and fangs and claws, before Uriskel shoved me aside and threw an arm up. “À dionadth!”
Shield. I knew that one.
Sadie lunged at the exact time he spoke. She crashed into nothing, yelped and fell—but sprang right back up, fangs bared. A powerful swipe at the shield, and her claws sparked along the invisible barrier in a blue-white spray.
Okay, that didn’t happen back in our realm.
With an almost human snarl of frustration, Sadie pivoted and walked slowly to the left and dragged her claws along the shield, showering sparks. Looking for the end point. Her eyes glittered redly, her lips lifted away from her fangs in a constant low growl.
Uriskel raised a hand to cast another spell.
“Wait!” Somehow I knew that whatever he threw next, it’d be a hell of a lot more damaging than a shield. I cut in front of him and gestured at Sadie. “Beith na cohdal.”
My pendant flashed a blinding white that nearly rivaled the moon.
And I remembered that the sleep spell hadn’t worked on werewolf Sadie the last time I tried it.
But before I could panic properly, Sadie slowed almost to a complete stop. Her eyes dulled, and she took a single, staggering step. Then she slumped against the unseen shield and slid to the ground.
“Huh,” Uriskel said with something like approval. “I’d not have thought of that.”
“Yeah, well it’s one of like three spells I know,” I said, rushing around to Sadie’s still form. “And it shouldn’t have worked. It didn’t before.”
He flicked a gesture and stepped across where the shield had been. I couldn’t help noticing how calm he was for someone who’d almost been mauled by a werewolf. “Presumably, you were in the human realm when you last attempted it,” he said. “There’s far more magic here, and your stone enhances the power.”
“That wasn’t exactly intentional,” I said. “I have no idea why it did that.”
Uriskel sighed. “You know even less than I suspected. I’d not thought that possible.”
“Don’t worry. I’m a fast learner.” I crouched beside Sadie. Definitely unconscious…but still a werewolf. We couldn’t just keep putting her to sleep the whole time we were here. “How long does your full moon last?” I said.
“In human terms, roughly two weeks.”
“Great. What are we supposed to do with her?”
He shrugged. “Send her back.”
“Not happening.”
“What do you suggest, then?” he snapped. “Perhaps we should craft her a muzzle and leash, and drag her about the realm like a rabid dog.”
“You’re not helping.” I rubbed my forehead, as if I could massage an answer from nothing. “There has to be something. A spell, a fancy glamour, something to…keep the light away from her,” I finished slowly.
Something that would absorb it.
Like a stone that sucked up moonlight.
I grasped the cord around my neck, and hesitated. Not once in over a decade had I taken the pendant off. I’d promised to keep it safe, long before I knew that promises could be deadly to the Fae.
But it would be safe with Sadie. I had no doubt of that.
“What in blazes are you doing?” Uriskel said as I slipped the moonstone over my head.
“The stone absorbs moonlight to recharge.” I lifted Sadie’s heavy, furred head and eased the cord into place. “Maybe if she wears it, it’ll draw enough light to keep her from going wolf.”
He snorted. “Interesting. Perhaps you’re not as thick as I believed.”
“Gee, thanks.”
I moved back a little and held my breath. The moonstone took on a milky glow—and a faint shadow washed over Sadie like dark, spreading water. Her fur and fangs started to retract.
Holy shit. It was actually working.
Then I remembered what would happen when she finished transforming, and stood between her and Uriskel. “How about you turn away for a minute?” I said.
“What are you…oh.” A tiny smile graced his lips. “I’ve little interest in the female form,” he said. “But if you insist.”
He turned and walked a few steps away, and I thought of Cobalt saying what am I supposed to tell Trystan? The way Uriskel’s voice broke when he said I’ll tell him myself.
So Trystan was more than a relative. And I’d taken Uriskel away from him.
Just when I thought I couldn’t feel like any more of an asshole.
Uriskel shrugged his pack off, opened it and removed a rolled blanket. He handed it back without looking. “For the moment,” he said. “Once you wake her, we’ll decide what to do about clothing her.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Listen, I’m sor—”
“Don’t apologize to me. I’ll not tolerate grousing.”
For some reason, his gruff tone didn’t make me as angry as it should’ve.
I shook the blanket loose and covered Sadie, then knelt next to her. “Diúsaegh.”
Her eyes opened. She gasped and clutched involuntarily at the blanket. “Oh, God,” she whispered. “Did I…hurt anyone?”
“No. We’re all fine.”
“That moon. I’ve never felt anything like—” She jerked upright and stared in horror at the sky. “It’s still up! Get away from me,” she said, trying to scramble back. “I can’t control it. Please…I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Whoa. You’re okay.” I smiled and pointed at the pendant. “Something to keep the wolf at bay.”
She glanced down. “Your moonstone,” she said hoarsely, touching the glowing gem with trembling fingers. “Gideon, I can’t…are you sure?”
I nodded. “As long as we’re here, it’s yours.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I promise I’ll keep it safe.”
“I know you will.”
Uriskel cleared his throat. “If you’re through mooning at one another, perhaps you’d consider moving. We cannot stay in the open for long,” he said. “Just dress in whatever you have. We’re leagues from our destination yet, and we risk discovery the longer we remain still.”
I managed not to snap at him—because unfortunately, he was probably right.
CHAPTER 15
I had to admit, Uriskel had a point about the clothes. Dressed in a normal human outfit, Sadie stood out in this place like a phone booth in ancient Greece.
At least her backpack hadn’t been destroyed by the unexpected transformation, but both straps had broken. She’d tied them together and slung the bag across a shoulder without comment.
Despite the fast pace Uriskel set as we moved across the marshlands, I couldn’t help gawking at everything. The moonlight should’ve washed out most colors, especially since it was so bright—but the landscape was starkly vibrant. At first the impossibility, the wrongness of the dark light made my head ache, but I got used to it gradually.
The terrain consisted of tufts, patches and long banks of grass in variegated greens, purples and reds, interspersed with sweeping curves and swells of black water that glinted blue with the moon. The occasional sketch of a lone, skeletal tree dotted the landscape, and an abrupt line of thick forest smudged the distant horizon. And some kind of shrub grew in thickets from stagnant pools of water—gnarled and twisting branches, glossy midnight-blue leaves shapes like teardrops, and dime-sized emerald green berries.
Ahead and to the right was a massive cluster of blue shrubs. A dark, shifting cloud of something hung over it. As we got closer, a low buzzing sound filled the air, like a swarm of bees—and I noticed small shapes detaching from t
he cloud and darting into the shrubs.
Uriskel sent an uneasy glance at the thicket and changed direction, heading sharply to the left.
Sadie and I rushed to catch up. “What is that?” I said.
“Sprites,” he replied without looking back. “Feeding on thimbleberries.”
“And sprites are…bad.”
“Aye. You’ll not want to go near them,” he said. “A clutch of sprites can be deadly if they swarm.”
Well, that sounded fun. “So they’re insects?”
“More or less.”
Just then, a small, dark shape zoomed past my face in the direction of the bushes. It moved too fast to make out, but I had the impression of an oversized wasp—plump, ungainly and menacing.
Sadie recoiled and swatted at the air in front of her. “What the hell…?”
Another shape zipped by the side of my head, drilling my ear with a whining buzz. Something heavy enough to be horrifying bumped into my arm—three quick, vibrating nudges, like a bee trying to fly through a closed window.
Then it darted up, circled twice and hovered less than a foot from my face.
“Uh. Uriskel.” I froze, unable to take my eyes off the creature. Apparently a sprite was what happened when Tinkerbell and a four-inch hornet had a baby. The thing had a tiny, humanoid face with black oildrop eyes, a button nose, and a mouth full of bone-colored needles. Four arms with hands, two legs with feet. Two pairs of shimmering dragonfly wings. And a bulging thorax ending in a wickedly curved stinger.
It looked hungry.
From what seemed like a great distance away, I heard Uriskel say, “Kill it.”
“But it’s a…person. Sort of.” I wasn’t sure I could bring myself to murder a tiny, flying human-ish whatever. It was actually kind of cute, if you ignored the insectile ass end. And the teeth.
“It’s an insect,” he snarled. “Kill it, now.”
“Jesus. All right. How?”
“Crush the damned thing! Quickly, before it—”
A high-pitched wail that sounded like Hell’s teakettle burst from the sprite. It dove at me, and sunk its teeth-needles into my throat.
I gagged on a shout and stumbled back, brushing frantically at the thing. It refused to dislodge. Its thorax started to swell, and faintly glowing red liquid pulsed and swirled just beneath the leathery surface of the skin, stretching it like a balloon.
I grabbed the thing, shivering at the repulsive heat of it, and tried to yank it off me. Its teeth held fast.
Okay, it wasn’t even kind of cute anymore. Screw it. I’d just swat it dead and pry the damned thing loose. I raised a hand, and registered Uriskel’s shouted warning just as I brought it down hard and fast.
The sprite’s distended thorax burst, spattering my throat with the glowing red liquid.
Which promptly started to sizzle and burn into my skin.
Suddenly Uriskel was there, forcing my head back while he poured water from a leather canteen down my neck. The sizzling stopped, and the screaming burn settled to a throb. He pried the remains of the world’s freakiest bug out, dropping the tiny corpse indifferently to the ground, and then leaned in to inspect the damage. “You’ll live,” he pronounced gruffly.
“Oh, good.” The rasping groan I managed to produce suggested that living would hurt for a while. “You okay, Sadie?”
“I hate bugs.” She stood several feet away, her arms crossed in front of her like a shield. “I mean, I really hate bugs. What the hell kind of bug was that?”
“The kind that drinks your blood and turns it to acid, which it then injects you with,” Uriskel said. “Unless you crush the blasted thing before it bites you.”
I shuddered. “That stuff was my blood?”
“Aye. And if you’d like to keep it inside your body, you’ll learn to kill sprites quickly.”
“I think I got it.”
“Good. Keep moving, then.”
I decided I should probably listen to him from now on.
CHAPTER 16
We’d been walking for what felt like hours, but the scenery stayed the same. Colossal fiery moon, colorful grass and black water, blue bushes, clouds of sprites. None as big as the first one we’d passed, but as far as I was concerned, any number of those bloodsucking little bastards was too many.
The trees on the horizon looked no closer than they had when we started out.
Uriskel had the lead. Sadie was just behind him, and I brought up the rear of the column. We’d tried wandering along in the same general direction as him, but after drenching our feet with a half-dozen plunges into chilled water we hadn’t seen, we both stayed in line with the guy who had dry boots.
Unfortunately, the damage had already been done. If we didn’t get to this Ankou place soon, or at least stop for a break, our feet were going to pay dearly. Sadie was already hobbling a little—she’d lost her boots in the change, and had to replace them with a pair of canvas sneakers.
“So how many…leagues do we have to go?” I said.
“Many.” Uriskel didn’t break stride or look back.
“What’s your idea of many? Five, ten? Five hundred?”
“As many as it takes to get there.”
Sadie stopped so shortly, I almost ran into her. “That’s it,” she said. “I’m done walking.”
Uriskel slowed to a halt. He turned to face her, his expression dark. “Perhaps you’d like to return to the human realm, then,” he said. “Because there is much more walking to go.”
“Why are we doing this, anyway?” she burst out. “Going to find some fairy who might be in some trees somewhere, who maybe knew a DeathSpeaker once, who could be able to help you figure out your abilities, possibly? This is insane! No offense, Gideon, but don’t you think finding Taeral and Daoin is a little more important than unlocking the next DeathSpeaker level, or whatever the hell we’re trying to do?”
Okay, that kind of hurt. It wasn’t like I had much choice. “You know I do. But—”
“If we attempted to save them now, we’d all die,” Uriskel said. “That is why we’re doing this. And even at full strength, the three of us combined stand a slim chance against the Unseelie Guard, at best.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “What he said.”
I probably would’ve tried to put a little less all-is-lost in my explanation, though.
“But we don’t even know what they’re doing to them.” Sadie’s features worked desperately. “We have no idea why they took them. They could be dead already.”
“They’ve not killed them,” Uriskel said.
“How do you know that?” she practically screeched. “How could you possibly know the Unseelie Court’s plans for someone you don’t know anything about?”
“Because I know the Courts!” His lip curled in a sneer, and he made a visible effort to calm himself. “Gods save us from hysterical females,” he murmured.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.” He gave her a challenging stare. “Perhaps we may all benefit from a brief rest,” he said. “But if you cannot calm yourself enough to carry on, I will send you back. You’re of no use to your Taeral in this state.”
I was half convinced she’d yank the pendant off and go wolf on him. But she stared back at him for a minute, and then her rigid posture relaxed. “Fine. Where are we supposed to rest?”
He looked slowly around the flat, damp, endless marshlands. “Must be one around here somewhere,” he said under his breath. “Nochtaan.”
Reveal. I was startled at how quickly I understood the word. I’d heard it before, even used it once or twice, but usually it took me a lot longer to remember or translate Fae.
Unfortunately, nothing seemed to be revealed.
“There.” Uriskel headed to the right, toward what looked like just another patch of grass. But when we got closer, I realized it was more like moss—an oddly straight stretch about five feet wide that angled up like a ramp.
The moss covered part of a stone structure
that looked like half a bridge, extending to the center of a winding black water stream, where it abruptly cut off. The stream was the biggest continuous body of water I’d seen out here, maybe ten feet from bank to bank. And the bridge itself looked ancient—bleached stone, pylons blackened with moisture, thick ropes of moss hanging from the edges like green cobwebs.
Uriskel led us onto the unfinished bridge and sat cross-legged on the cobbled stone surface, near the end of it. “We cannot stay long,” he said. “This structure’s not meant for the likes of us.”
Sadie and I took seats with identical groans of relief. At least we’d be off our feet and semi-dry for a few minutes. “What is this?” I said.
“It’s a daugha. A Brownie dock,” he said.
That had my attention. “Dock, as in boats?” A relaxing boat ride sounded better than trudging through the swamps right about now.
“Aye, but you’d not get far with a Brownie boat.” Uriskel smirked, as if he’d read my mind, and held his hands out three feet apart. “That’s about the size of them,” he said. “Brownies aren’t much bigger than sprites.”
“Oh,” I said. “Do they have…teeth?”
He almost laughed. “They don’t bite. They also don’t like to be seen—but they’ll make themselves known soon enough, if we linger here crowding their space.”
“How will they do that?”
“Most likely, by shifting the dock and dumping us in the stream.”
Great. Weren’t there any nice creatures in fairy land?
Sadie peeled off a sopping shoe and wrung it over the side of the bridge, then did the same with the sock beneath. Her foot was wrinkled and pale, like she’d soaked in a tub for too long. She sighed and started rubbing it with both hands. “Wish I could just go wolf from the ankles down,” she said. “Paws are a lot tougher than feet.”
“Do you not have better shoes than those?” Uriskel said.
She glared at him. “No, I don’t. I had no idea what to pack for Arcadia, all right?”
“Hopeless. The lot of you.” He reached down and pulled his own boots off, then tossed them toward her. He didn’t have socks under them. “Wear those,” he said. “Much longer in yours, and you’ll end up bleeding. I’ll not carry you the rest of the way.”
Realm of Mirrors (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 3) Page 8
