Aodh dropped the head before quickly checking to make sure that she had not been harmed.
“Wow... you’re a little scary,” she observed with a half-smile.
He grinned and nodded in response, his white eye flashing in the fire light and adding to the menacing quality of his appearance.
“There!” Ciaran called over the thunder of the Ashers’ artillery and pointed to a Hummer that was still intact.
Skye nodded in understanding, getting a good grip on Miko before racing toward it.
Aiyana reached the driver’s side door and pulled it open. She cried out when she found two dead members of her crew still in their seats within the vehicle. She could only watch with sad eyes as Ciaran and Aodh pulled their bodies from the seats.
It took serious control not to toss the bodies aside, given the danger of their current situation. But seeing how these were friends of Aiyana – and possibly Skye, as well – they tried to be gentle.
“Where are the others?” Skye asked sternly. “The children? Schrader and the scientists? All the ones that can’t defend themselves?”
“They’re probably beyond the wall by now, at the ‘ruins at the cliff’,” Aiyana answered. “We ran into Drostan and he told us what was happening. Me and a few others stayed behind while the rest bolted with the kids. Hopefully we can help at the castle, about twenty bases of our men survived.”
“What do you mean? What’s going on at the castle?” Skye asked as she eased Miko into the passenger seat. He muffled a groan and she eyed him sympathetically. It would be another day or more before the faol ability to heal would speed the process along.
“Ummm... well,” Ciaran began guiltily. “Did I forget to mention tha?” He asked and cleared his throat when she shot him an impatient look. “Well what’s happening at the castle is... war.”
“What?!” Skye cried. “And you were going to mention this when?”
“I’m sorry! But first I found ya all broken like tha, then we thought Miko was a goner for sure, and it sorta slipped me mind!” He insisted indignantly.
“Where’s Taran? Tell me he’s not still back there!” She pleaded.
“He’s Guardian, a stóirín... he hadn’t a say in the matter,” Ciaran offered sorrowfully. “So, I promised I’d come get ya and take ya back to him. And now tha we’re on the subject, let’s move this along, yeah?”
He motioned for three faoil who were holding back the fògaraich to come over to him. He advised them quietly that Miko was coming into his own, that he was Skye’s pup, and told them to protect Aiyana and Miko as if they were Skye herself. They nodded adamantly that they would do exactly that. As the men climbed into the back of the Hummer, Ciaran leaned on the driver’s side door and spoke to Aiyana.
“Don’t ya look back now. Get as far away as ya can and get him to a hospital. Do nah let your guard down even for a second – d’ya understand tha?” He asked sternly and Aiyana nodded.
“Miko?” Skye said softly and waited for those pain-filled eyes to look up at her. “Hang in there for me. Help is on its way,” she said with a smile as she pointed to the bite on his shoulder.
He gave her a weak nod in response.
Her stomach tensed that they were leaving, that this was where their paths would part and she would not be able to help them. That sentiment was cut short by Aiyana’s gasp. She looked up in confusion to find Aiyana staring out the windshield with terror plain in her features. Following her gaze, Skye arched a brow at their bad luck.
The entire swarm of the fògaraich had now sensed the presence of Skye.
The world slowed in her perception. Her eyes passed over the crowd... no way out in sight... the only way past was directly through the swarm. Miko was gripping her hand frantically as a wave of pain hit. He hadn’t seen the roadblock yet, was seeking comfort from her... assurance that he would live... She looked up at Aiyana... beautiful, brave Aiyana who had yet to speak her love for Miko... who had offered friendship and loyalty so freely to a strange girl who’d lost her way... Both dear to her, both about to die or be turned by these soulless vermin just as her family had been...
Not this time.
Her eyes locked with Aodh’s.
His expression became stricken when she told him what she needed him to do. He shook his head adamantly at first, taking a step closer to her and giving her a pleading look.
Still, she pressed into his mind what he must do – what only he could do now.
Grudgingly, he nodded his agreement, hugging her gently before opening the door of the vehicle.
“What’s he doing?” Aiyana asked in surprise as Aodh climbed into the backseat behind her.
Ciaran sighed in understanding. The ones that he had told to care for Aiyana and Miko were only half the age and strength of Aodh.
“Protecting Skye’s pup and friend while she can nah, tha’s what he’s doing,” Ciaran offered and reached into the backseat, gripping Aodh’s hand for a moment. “Guard them well. Be safe, brother.”
Skye’s breathing quickened as she embraced the wolf inside of her, allowing it to see what she could see, feel what she could feel. Her vision changed as the fògaraich crept closer. The wolf was sharing her vision and emotion with her host.
With her eyes yellow and crazed, she looked back at Aiyana and fought to form words.
“Lock the doors. Close the windows. Run over anything that gets in your way once we clear a path.”
Aiyana stared at her in shock and managed a weak ‘okay’ before Skye slammed the door and turned away.
Skye threw her head back, unleashing a bloodcurdling scream intermingled with a howl as her Nasgadh began.
Ciaran grinned, knowing things were about to get good as he lent his voice to her call.
In the distance, they could hear their brothers, each howling to make their presence and allegiance known.
“Ya ready for this?” Ciaran asked with a smile as it ended.
“I was born for this,” Skye answered determinedly.
The fògaraich hissed and shrieked defiantly as she launched forward into the swarm.
She had never let loose a level of violence so exquisite before. The fògaraich surrounded her as she lashed out with claws and teeth, her human form intact as the beast inside changed only what was needed. The creatures pressed in on her, desperate to put her down, but unable to touch her as she combined her own fighting style with the abilities of the wolf. Each slash and kick allowed her to delve a little deeper into her new strength, every flip was higher from the ground than humanly possible. She was able to run up the sides of the wrecked vehicles in the road, to spring off of them effortlessly and change the course of her descent midair. She recalled the words ‘physical strength, maneuverability, reflexes, and speeds superior to those of vampires’ and smiled as she snarled.
Ciaran seemed weightless as he fought, able to bend the laws of gravity to his will. He was as brutal as he was swift, going for the kill, putting down each fògarach that he came upon within the first few strikes. All business now, he was in it for the win – and he made it look effortless. He tore through the ranks mercilessly at her side. She realized his earlier claim that he could offer her more protection than 30 of the younger faoil was the absolute truth.
One of the bloodsuckers managed to leap onto her back and sink its fangs into her shoulder. She reached up and snatched it by its head, yanking down on it with such force that she flipped it over her completely and slammed it to the ground. Instantly, she was atop the creature, tearing out its throat. Gripping its hair, she severed its head from its shoulders with a slash of her claws.
Without hesitation as it fell to ash, she sprung back into the swarm. She drew them to her, using to her advantage their frantic need to put her down before the Nasgadh had completed. All of them had forgotten about the mortals behind them on the road. She let out a sigh of relief when she heard the tires screech. Stealing a glance over her shoulder, she watched the vehicle speeding away from them to
safety.
The instant Aiyana and the others were clear, Ciaran snagged Skye’s hand and broke into a dead run.
Every faol that they passed immediately withdrew from battle upon seeing her safe. The fògaraich followed along like vultures, but were unable to catch them.
Sooner than she would have thought possible, the wall to the castle was in view. The smoke that filled the air and sounds of a battle sent her heart to her throat. The sky was orange in the distance, flames lighting up the night.
All burning... all falling down...
With a growl, she vaulted up the wall, scaling it effortlessly and climbing atop it. She stared down at the scene before her in astonishment as Ciaran landed beside her.
No part of the vast lawn or drive could be seen for the war that was raging. Thousands upon thousands of the fògaraich and faoil were fighting fang and claw, their screams and snarls rocking the world around her as she watched in disbelief. The scent of blood was so thick that she could taste it. It was the blood of her brethren, of her clansmen.
This is it. The beginning of the final war, she thought, the beginning of MY war.
Her yellow eyes passed over the grounds and out to the castle in the distance. A sob escaped her when she saw the flames that were consuming it. The shriek that erupted from her caused every face – faoil and fògaraich alike – to spin toward her.
At the sight of her, relief was plain in the faces of her clansmen. Fear was plain in the eyes of her enemies.
She glared down at them.
The trespassers’ wild eyes glared back defiantly in response.
The sight of them bringing war to this place set her blood ablaze. Their blasphemy was beyond any reprieve.
“Kill them! KILL THEM ALL!” She commanded.
The howls of every faol for miles in all directions rose in unison to voice their submission to her will. Her head fell back, her own howl joining with those of her brothers, sealing the fate of the race that had been tolerated for entirely too long.
46: Passion of Grief
The world detonated into murderous intent. Tens of thousands of beasts were suddenly filled with one goal – the complete eradication of the fògaraich.
Skye launched down onto the lawn, narrowly dodging her enemies. Faoil leapt onto their backs, tearing them limb from limb when they tried to reach her. She could sense dozens of her brothers falling in behind her, abandoning the battle to protect her.
Ciaran leapt in front of her. Though he was now in faol form, she recognized their bond without a shadow of a doubt. He became a wall of fangs and fury clearing a path for her. He was magnificent, an unstoppable force with the sole concern of keeping her safe from harm. Despite the battle raging around them, she could have walked casually down the road and still been safe as long as he was near. The only thought on her mind in that moment, however, was Taran.
He was in the castle, she knew it somehow.
“A Sgitheanach,” a man sobbed behind her.
She froze in place before spinning toward him. The procession of fur and fury that surrounded her came to an abrupt halt. Her brows furrowed at the use of her Gaelic name. Aside from Taran, she had never heard another man speak it in such a way.
“Ailean?” She called in confusion as she tried to focus on him.
His hair was black now. She realized by his lack of bleach-blonde locks and piercings that he had undergone at least one transformation since they had last seen one another. He was nude – but as exquisite a sight as that was to behold for the first time, it was the look on his face that stunned her.
The men encircling her parted to allow him through. They each held their breaths when they saw his expression.
He approached slowly, looking as if it was taking all of his strength to simply stay standing. When the flames of the castle shown on his soot-covered face, they reflected in the tears that were raining down his cheeks.
“Ailean! Are you all right? What’s wrong?” She asked as she held her hands out to him.
He shuffled toward her, his entire body wracking with silent sobs as he moved. He shook his head and took her hands in his before crumpling to his knees in front of her.
“I am so sorry. Great Mother, please forgive me,” he wept as he pressed his face against her stomach and clutched handfuls of the back of her shirt. “Please forgive me, Skye. Please, I am so sorry!”
Skye’s face twisted in bewilderment at his actions and state. She looked around at the other men for a translation of his Gaelic words.
“He says he’s sorry for something. He’s asking for your forgiveness,” Elijah offered as he cut to the front of the group. He had been so thankful to see Skye safe, but now he was getting a sense that something was terribly wrong. He gave her a fearful look as he knelt behind his Maker, placing a hand on his back and speaking softly to him in Gaelic. “Ailean, what has happened? Why do you grieve so?” He asked as the ancient clung to Skye.
She ran her hands through Ailean’s hair soothingly and held him to her. Even as she comforted him, she could not mask her growing alarm or the crippling sense of dread that she was experiencing.
“I tried to reach him, I swear it. I gave all the strength that I had,” Ailean sobbed. “Ciaran, brother, please – you have to believe that I did all I could!”
Ciaran took a startled step backward.
His wide eyes instantly filled with tears as he shook his head. His expression became one of fear and devastation.
Skye’s eyes narrowed on him. His reaction told her heart what was happening here, but her mind refused to accept it as a possibility.
“Who?” Ciaran tried in a cracking voice. “Who did you try to reach?”
“Taran! Oh please, I am so sorry, I am so sorry!” Ailean wailed.
Skye’s entire body went rigid when she heard her mate’s name.
She instantly recoiled from Ailean’s touch, taking several steps away from him as her chest tightened. She shook her head in denial as Ailean collapsed to the ground and wept openly at her feet.
It felt as if all the air had just been sucked out of the night around her. The world was strangely silent to her ears as her mind desperately fought off what it was hearing.
“What’s happening?” She asked in a small, dazed tone. “Someone... ask him to explain it, please.”
Ciaran reached for her, but she pulled away from him quickly.
“No. Someone make him explain. Now. Please,” she urged.
Her eyes were out of focus. The world was slipping away again... but if he could just explain it, then maybe it wouldn’t be what she was thinking.
For the longest moment of her life, she watched blindly as the men held Ailean up. He sobbed and answered their questions, all of it was spoken in that strange language.
Taran had talked like that to her... just hours earlier, he had sung along to Ciaran’s guitar and whispered sweet things to her in those pretty words as she fell asleep in his arms.
The world was slowing now as it had only once before in her life. The insistent spinning was coming to a halt again beneath her feet. Everything seemed distant, surreal, unimportant.
The men were all chattering away over there and all she wanted to do was find Taran. She wanted to curl up with him and go back to sleep. She wanted to feel his arms around her, his kisses on her brow. She wanted to hear his voice as she drifted into dreams, just like before.
“Where’s Taran?” She finally asked over the frantic, foreign words of the men.
At her question, and the strange tone of her voice, the men exchanged wounded expressions. She was shutting down, going into shock, and they all knew that she was not going to take this well.
“I want to go back to bed now. I’m tired. Is he upstairs already?” She asked as she started toward the burning castle.
Ciaran caught her shoulders, stilling her as she stared up at him in perplexity. Tears were flowing over his cheeks and his entire body was trembling with grief. He reached out a shaking hand to
tuck her hair behind her ear.
“A stóirín, we need to talk,” he choked out.
“We can talk in bed. I want to go to sleep,” she insisted and tried to walk toward the castle once more.
“Darling, please... !” Ciaran began impatiently as his voice broke. His jaw flexed as he held the reins on his own grief. “Taran has... Taran was...” he tried, but each time he attempted to finish the sentence, the words would not come out. “He’s gone, love,” he finally whispered and drew her into his arms.
“Gone where?” Skye asked numbly as her eyes wandered over the flames that engulfed the front of the castle. “Where did he go? We can go find him, right?” She asked with her cheek resting on his shoulder.
“No... no, darling. We can’t go find him,” Ciaran sobbed and squeezed his eyes closed. Knowing how she would react, he held onto her tightly as he whispered, “He’s... dead, a stóirín. He’s gone.”
She shook her head adamantly as her eyes welled up.
“No he’s not!” She scoffed with a laugh and leaned back to look him in the eyes. “I just left him up in bed a little while ago. He’s fine. He’s upstairs. We’ll go find him.”
She tried to push off of Ciaran’s chest gently at first, but with each failed attempt she made to get free, her efforts became more frantic.
“He’s fine, Ciaran. Don’t you understand? It’s a mistake. We’ll go. Come on,” she pleaded.
But he would not let her go.
“Ciaran, he’s up there! We have to find him! Let go of me! What’s wrong with you?!”
“Lassie, shh... it’s going to be all right,” Eògan soothed past tears and got a firm grip on her shoulders, helping Ciaran to hold her in place.
“No! Let me go! He’s in there! I can feel him in there. Taran!” She called as she fought wildly against their grips. “Taran, please! Answer me! Taran!”
Ailean stepped forward, bawling as he helped to steady her for the fast-approaching onset of grief. Elijah was next. One by one, the men all moved to brace her.
She kicked and punched at them as she screamed, but they would not let her free. Her shrieks echoed out into the night, louder still than the sounds of battle as she lost all control. The harder she fought, the more crazed she became, the more difficult it was for them to hold back their own tears.
Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel Page 64
