Wolfsbane: 3 (Rebel Angels) (39 page)

The journey was a blur for a long time, partly because Seth’s head still throbbed distractingly and partly because he didn’t want to speculate on what came next. They drove for a
long time in mutually hostile silence, Seth fidgeting and tapping his fingernails against his palms to keep the blood circulating, and half-singing along under his breath to annoy the driver.

When he thought they’d driven far enough, he squinted sideways at the Wolf.

‘I need to go.’

The Wolf rolled his eyes and swore.

‘Well, I do.’ Seth moved his shoulders in an approximation of a shrug.

Swerving the Audi abruptly into a layby and stepping hard on the brakes, the Wolf turned and glared at him as a huge articulated lorry blared its horn. He’d only overtaken it thirty
seconds before, after a long frustrating time staring at its tailgate. ‘No tricks.’

‘I mean, would I.’ Seth gave him a sweet smile. ‘I like to breathe.’

‘Good. You’re getting the message.’ The Wolf unplugged the seatbelt and leaned across to swing the door open, then looked at him expectantly.

Seth rattled the handcuffs. ‘Um. What am I supposed to do here?’

With an exaggerated sigh the Wolf grabbed his hair and yanked him forward. Seth felt the key click and the handcuffs give, and he stretched his arms. His muscles and joints protested at the
sudden release, a combination of agony and sheer relief.

‘Make the most of it.’ The Wolf gave him a dark look. ‘They’re going back on. And by the way, I’ll be right behind you. If you try anything I’ll take out your
kidneys, one at a time.’ He returned Seth’s innocent smile. ‘That’ll solve the problem, won’t it?’

‘Okay. Nice.’ Seth flexed his aching arms again and got out of the car, then turned to the verge as the Wolf opened the driver’s door. Where were those giant lorries, Seth
wondered, when you really needed one to knock someone flying? He heard a footstep behind him, then the sibilant hiss of a knife coming out of its sheath.

‘I believe you, okay?’ he said over his shoulder.

‘Just making sure.’ There was a smile in the voice. ‘You’re a bundle of nerves, Murlainn.’

Seth shut his eyes.
If you only knew
, he thought dryly, the fingers of his right hand tugging surreptitiously at his carved belt buckle. He hoped fervently that he had enough in his
bladder to keep him going. His muscles were clumsy, his fingers slippery with sweat, but at last he managed to get his thumb and fingernail round the slightly hooked tip of the bronze
merlin’s pinion feather.

‘Come on.’ The Wolf’s voice was a threatening growl.

‘Give us a chance. Haven’t been for ages.’ Frantically he jerked his fingertips and the pinion feather slipped loose, a needle of bronze alloy about two inches long. Suddenly
he regretted his penchant for t-shirts; he could have used a sleeve right now.

‘Now.’ The point of a knife jabbed the small of his back as the Wolf’s patience ran out.

‘Okay, okay.’ Seth pressed the pin between his third and fourth fingers, then zipped himself up and put his hands helpfully behind his back. They still weren’t functioning too
well and he could only pray desperately that he wouldn’t drop the pin. He doubted the Wolf needed him alive so much that he’d forgive any skulduggery. Besides, the pin was probably his
only chance. Not that he had a clue what to do with it, but it was two sharp inches of feverish hope.

The handcuffs clicked on, and the Wolf pushed him back into his seat. Seth let himself feel a brief shudder of despair, then let it go. As the Wolf slammed the passenger door he leaned forward,
just enough to relieve the pressure on his hands and slide the pin into a tiny gap in the stitching of his belt. By the time the Wolf was in the driving seat, Seth was leaning back again.
Smiling.

His arm muscles protested at being restrained again, and they punished him for it, but inwardly he was happier than he’d been in hours. He was used to lost causes. And a small rebellion
always made him feel a hundred times better.

‘Wake up.’ The hand that gripped my shoulder was like steel.

For a dragging moment I dreamed it was Finn leaning over me, and I was swamped with relief. It had
all
been a dream. Everything was fine, Finn was waking me because my father wanted
me… but there was something wrong, and I realised with embarrassed panic that there was a girl in my arms. My
cousin.

I felt a sharp ache in my wrist, and I clutched the green stone on the silver bangle. Icy coldness cleared my brain, letting in a deadening knowledge that made my stomach turn over: the yellow
eyes weren’t Finn’s. Suil was staring down at me with urgency and more than a little fear.

Hannah’s palm tensed on my chest, and reflexively my arm tightened round her. My stone had been nagging me painfully for a while, only I’d been too fast asleep, too exhausted and
content to feel it. Fear lifted the hairs on my scalp.

‘Suil?’

‘Get up. Go.’

I went cold. I couldn’t bear the thought of moving on, leaving warmth and safety for the gods knew what. ‘Suil, if we could just stay till morning,
please,
just till
morning, I promise I…’

‘Laochan, shut up. Listen.’ Suil touched his thumb to my forehead. ‘I know I can’t talk to you properly, I know you can’t let me in, but I’m telling you the
truth. You have to go,
now.’

I sat up, so abruptly I felt a lurch of nausea. ‘What, is…’

‘The Wolf is coming, Laochan. You haven’t long.’

I dragged my grubby t-shirt over my head. Hannah was already sitting on the edge of the bed, wriggling into her jeans, her eyes sharp and scared. Suil took a couple of paces to the window,
pulling the curtain open a slit and peering out.

‘I don’t understand,’ I said.

‘The man’s a tracker. Always was.’

‘But my block’s up. Hannah–’

‘The horse.’ Suil jerked a thumb at the window. ‘He’s tracking the horse.’

I shut my eyes and swore. How could a kelpie control its mind, after all? Why would it bother?

‘Lose the horse,’ he said. ‘But go. He’ll still track you, but he won’t find it half so quick or easy.’

My heart was thrashing as we crept through the main room, past the little box bed where the woman who had been Teallach followed us with blank eyes.

‘What about you?’

‘We’ll be fine. Can you get rid of the horse now?’

‘I don’t know.’ I honestly didn’t know, because the last thing I wanted to do was get rid of the horse; that was why I’d left its bridle on. I wondered if it would
feel my reluctance. It seemed to have an unusual sense of personal loyalty, for a kelpie.

‘You need to go where the horse can’t. Come with me.’

The night was cold and the sky was pale, without a star to be seen. Suil closed the door very quietly behind us and drew in a breath of night, then set off in a crouching run towards the
watergate.

‘I can’t go back through,’ I whispered as loudly as I dared as I stumbled after him. Hannah was at my heels and behind her I could see the kelpie like a shape of proper night,
pitch black against the scoured grey stone of the mountain. Its gigantic hooves resounded horribly loudly, ringing like a warning bell.

Suil didn’t answer me, but he didn’t stop at the watergate either. Its surface was still and steely in the half-light, undisturbed, and he barely gave it a glance. Beyond it, the
stony slope fell away precipitously. At my back I heard Hannah draw in a frightened breath.

Suil stopped and looked past me at the horse. ‘He can’t come. Tell him.’

Now that the moment had come to leave it behind, I felt sick with fear and loneliness. I clambered a little way back up the stones and reached for its bridle.

‘
Eachuisge
,’ I said.

The horse gave me a doubtful look. Its eye swivelled, showing the white, as I unbuckled the throatlash, and its throat rumbled quizzically.

‘I need to hide,
eachuisge
,’ I told it, putting my arms round its muscular neck and pressing my face to its skin. It felt so solid and safe, so warm and full of life and
fire.

Before I could think any harder, I tugged the bridle over its ears; putting its muzzle to my palm, it let the silver bit fall from its mouth. Clumsily, because my hands were shaking, I tugged
off the bridle altogether and stepped back. The horse nuzzled my neck, and I hugged its head. ‘Come back when I call you.
Please.
’

It tossed its head free of my hold and took a haughty step back, hooves scrabbling loudly on scree. One last long look at Hannah, and it turned swiftly and sprang into a gallop. We watched till
it vanished around the shoulder of the hill, and the drumming of its hooves had finally died away into the clear air.

I felt Hannah’s hesitation when I took her hand, but Suil was already halfway down the rocky slope, leaping from slab to slab, and we couldn’t afford to wait. I tugged her on, and
she had no choice but to follow, but her whole body shuddered with relief when the ground levelled out no more than eight or ten metres down.

The cliff at Suil’s back was in shadow, and the shadow was blacker than it should have been on such a light summer night. Resting his hand on the rock, he pointed, and I saw the slit in
the face of the hill.

‘There are watergates even the NicNiven doesn’t know,’ he said, low voice echoing. ‘Inside the hill; watch your feet. You’ll come on it very suddenly.’

‘Suil,’ I said, ‘I can’t go back. I mean it.’

‘You have to, briefly. The tunnel in the hill is in the same position on the other side. There are two gates. When you come out through the first, take the left hand opening of three. Two
hundred yards, and there’s the second watergate. Come back to this side through that one. It’ll take you out far away, but you’ll be far from the Wolf too. For a while. Now
go.’

Hannah grabbed his hand. ‘Will you come?’

Suil and I both looked at her. It was impossible to tell if she was desperate for his protection, or if she was trying to save him.

‘Teallach,’ he said simply, a hint of a smile on the slash of his lips.

He drew his sword and saluted us briefly. Its silver blade glowed, the edge so sharp in the pale half-light it seemed to quiver with its own life. He kept it in his hand as he climbed back up
the cliff faster than a spider, and vanished over the lip.

There was a faint whimpering at my side and it took me a moment to lock onto the source. ‘Hannah?’ I whispered.

‘I can’t see. I can’t see.’

‘Yes, you can. Open your eyes, there’s light. Honestly.’

‘No. I can’t see and I can’t do this.’

‘Hannah, if there wasn’t any light, how would I know you’ve got your hands over your eyes?’ Taking her hands in mine, I drew them down, then stroked her cheekbones.
‘Please. It’s not completely dark, I wouldn’t lie. Try.’

She blinked furiously, rapidly, and at last managed to keep her eyes open. She was still shaking, though.

‘Is it the dark?’ I whispered. ‘Or the tunnel?’

‘Both. No, the tunnel. The tunnel. Oh, God.’

‘Hannah, you’re half-Sithe. You can’t be scared of being underground!’

Even in the near darkness, I caught the filthy look she gave me. ‘Well I
am.’

I sighed and nodded at the blackness: the left-hand opening of three. Behind us the last ripples we’d made lapped feebly at the edges of the watergate pool, and as we listened it calmed
into utter stillness again. ‘Come
on.
Unless you want to go back and explain yourself to the Wolf.’

Her fingers found mine. I squeezed them, and pulled so hard she had no choice. She stumbled after me into the tunnel.

Inside it, the faint phosphorescence of the cave was lost. Here it truly was black, and I hoped vindictively that Hannah recognised the difference. I’d never felt so frantic and afraid
about being on my own side of the Veil, and I did not want to be here for long. The beat of my own pulse in my eardrums was so loud, I almost missed the soft hiss in the darkness.

I halted, frozen.

And now we really were dead.

The glimmer of eyelight, tinged with sickly yellow. The slither of feet, the rattle of a muted laugh. Hannah, behind me, doubling over to retch up smoked trout and toast, the
sound of it shattering the silence.