I hummed with passion. Hate. I wanted Devlin's head on a pike. I wanted to dance manically around his corpse, and give in to the dark whispers in the corners of my heart.
We begun the hunt as the dew from the dawn soaked into the understory. I had left my vampire-boy, Tomas, slumbering in the earthen tomb I had made to keep him safe. He was dead, and would not rise until the sunset. I was pleased, because it meant I could focus on the task at hand. Catching Devlin, getting the grimoire and ripping his heart out before Breandan, my life-mate, could stop me.
Irritated and grumpy I waited, hand on hip for Conall to tell us which direction to take. I plucked a few leaves from the mess of inky-black that was my hair, and felt Breandan come up behind me. His hands gently rested on my shoulders then slid down my bared back to pass over my wings. They twitched and fluttered at his touch. He continued, lazily wandering to my waist then lower, gripping my hips.
"Focus," I said, and thumped him lightly on the back of his thigh with my tail.
"I'm trying to relax you. You're too wound up and ready to break."
"I want this over with. I want him dead."
He sighed and muttered, "This is not going to end well."
I twisted round to look him in the face, unsure of what he meant. He looked at Conall and his lips pressed into a thin line. Breandan was skilled at schooling his expression, and I had to watch him closely to see if he was mad, pissed or upset. I was going for mad.
"What?" I asked, because it became apparent he'd realized something before I had. I stepped out of his arms and he let me. "What are you both not saying?"
I looked to Conall, the mighty warrior who was strong enough to massacre a small army of his kind. He glowed, brighter than any other I had seen, except when Breandan and I were suffering the effects of our bond. Conall was beautiful, a face of hard angles and smooth planes. His eyes were gold, a family trait it seemed, since mine were the same, only lighter. His muscled chest heaved with a sigh.
"The trail has gone cold."
I stared at him.
"You're lying." Even as I said the words I flushed, but kept my stare defiant. Conall could not lie. Fairies could not lie, except for me. They were bound to speak nothing but the truth by magic. A fairies word once given was law.
Conall ignored the comment, flicked his hand through the air as if brushing his hurt aside. "It is beyond me. Devlin has worked a spell. There are three different trails, each are cold and each carry his and Wasp's scent. Less than an hour ago we were half a day away and gaining. Now, it seems we are days behind and losing more time. It is a trick, a spell and I cannot see past it."
"Then we follow each trail. One each."
"No," Breandan said.
"Apart from the fact it would be most unwise to leave you alone, Rae," Conall said patiently, "what happens when one of us does find them? Or maybe we will find more false trails that we cannot navigate alone."
"Then we follow each one," I said through my teeth. "We pick the most likely, follow for a while, and if we're wrong we'll backtrack and start again until we get it right."
"And what of the time we lose whilst doing this? What if we come across more false trails? We could spend days going in the wrong direction."
I opened my mouth to tell him I was ready to spend my lifetime hunting Devlin. Then I saw the stupidity in such words and my shoulders slumped. I burrowed the toe of my boot into the needle leaf strewn around me. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes. My voice was thick when I said, "There must be another way. We can't just give up. Not just for my rev- sake. Lochlann needs the grimoire before he can start setting things right, doesn't he."
Even if Conall would not give into a selfish endeavourer, such was the nature of revenge; he was the most loyal warrior I knew. He would do anything to secure Lochlann the fairy-lordship because he believed it was the right thing to do.
I looked up and found Breandan glaring at my brother, who sent him a short look of apology.
"There is something else we may consider. It is not without its dangers."
"It is not a good idea," Breandan said.
My tears were gone. Straightening, I cocked my head and tried to look attentive and brave, not desperate to crack some skulls. "Tell me and I'll do it."
"The shifters."
My nipped intake of breath was loud in the sudden silence. "Yes," I hissed, new possibilities opening up like a carnivorous black hole before me. "A pack of were-cats could read each trail and save us time. Which is the closest?"
"Byron's pack is close and of the Alfa's he is the most civilized."
"You both forget I have already said no."
Breandan sent me a pointed look that told me he was serious. I returned it with some extra 'I'm doing this so back the hell off'. I won, of course. He would not dare deny me this.
"Lead the way, big bro."
Conall grimaced. "My title would do if you wish to call me something other than my birth name."
"Huh? What title?"
"As the oldest surviving member of our family, you may call me Elder."
"Na, big bro is fine."
Breandan laughed. It seemed the sun shone brighter, and his smile made me blink.
Conall muttered something about fools in love and took off. I followed close behind, and Breandan reached out the same moment as I did, to join hands.
A DEMON DAY will be out to download SUMMER 2011.