Wolfsbane: 3 (Rebel Angels) (30 page)

‘I don’t like this,’ said Sionnach quietly.

Seth saw Laszlo’s shoulders tighten, saw his head come up a fraction.

‘The last time I liked something as little as I like this, Murlainn,’ said Sionnach, ‘your brother didn’t live till nightfall.’

Seth shook his head. There was nothing to say. Laszlo turned, very slowly, and those warm beautiful burnt-sugar eyes met his.

‘Murlainn.’ Laszlo’s sword whispered out of its scabbard.

Seth bit gently on the inside of his lip, but left his sword on his back. Conal had taken Laszlo’s bait. Conal had let himself be provoked. Conal was dead.

Laszlo laughed. ‘You out of your hole, you rat? Where have you been all my life?’

‘Look who’s talking,’ murmured Seth, raising an eyebrow at Sionnach. The blue roan was almost insanely desperate to be at Laszlo, but he kept his hand on its wither and his
pressure in its mind. The roan was remembering the bite of a crossbow bolt, but then so was Seth, and he’d had double what the horse got. Lightly he reminded it, and it snorted with
disgust.

A breeze moved through the summer-green branches above them. ‘Come out, little faeries,’ called Laszlo. ‘Come and get flesh, Murlainn.’

Beside him, Sionnach shuddered with a memory.

Laszlo gestured his soldiers into a right flanking movement. Sionnach’s hand went to his hilt, but Seth still didn’t move. When Laszlo signalled more urgently, he cocked his head and
stared at Laszlo’s patrol. They moved now, but not in response to their captain’s increasingly angry gestures. They pulled back into a semicircle around him, exposing him to Seth,
effectively blocking any retreat. He saw the moment of dawning realisation on Laszlo’s face as the scarlet-haired woman withdrew from him, her smile sharp and white as a cat’s.

‘Gealach?’ Laszlo said, and his voice was beyond disbelief.

She just watched him, her smile contented. No moral conflict for Gealach, thought Seth with a kind of dreadful admiration.

Laszlo met the stares of each one of his patrol. ‘Is this to do with Turlach? Because as God is my witness, that was not my doing.’

‘Supposing your God gets hold of Turlach’s loyal soul, then may he preserve it,’ murmured Gealach. ‘But this has nothing to do with him.’

Laszlo took a breath. He had to take another, deep and shaking, before he could cough out a laugh. ‘All this time and I still don’t understand your twisted Sithe minds. But come to
me, Murlainn. First you, then the others. I’m protected by the strongest of you.’ He turned on his own patrol. ‘Would you go against her?’ he yelled. ‘Would you
dare?’

Gealach chuckled, and Laszlo touched his trembling fingers to his temple. His eyes widened and he swore violently. ‘Kate! What’s your game, bitch-queen?’

The silence was heavier than before. Breaching it, Laszlo’s laughter was a little crazier. ‘Faeries! God’s sake! I should have known better, but this is not how I die,
understand? That’s beyond even Kate. You Sithe can’t harm me, none of you.’ Laszlo yanked a dagger out of a sheath on his belt and gripped it in his left hand, then darted a look
at Seth, who shook his head slightly.

Laszlo’s face was distorted with contempt. His chest rose and fell swiftly with his rage, there was a glint of sweat on his skin, and Seth found it in him to pity the man, just a little.
Only a very little, though, and nothing compared to the savage glee that was born in his genes and thrilled into his blood as he watched. He couldn’t take his hungry eyes off Laszlo’s
face.

And then, what he’d waited for: what they all had. Laszlo’s expression froze as Jed walked calmly out of the trees, a dirk in his left hand and his honed sword in his right.

Jed didn’t speak or break stride, only saluted casually with his sword as he walked on. Laszlo’s face was so hideous with shock that he barely parried Jed’s first brutal slash,
and the Sithe semicircle feinted back to give him space. But the line did not break.

Laszlo barely held off Jed’s first relentless attack, and when Jed paused with his blade sliding contemplatively against Laszlo’s, he had not even broken a sweat.

‘Cù Chaorach showed some courtesy, wolf-whelp,’ hissed Laszlo.

Jed gave a small laugh. ‘Cù Chaorach’s dead.’

‘And I should have killed you when I had the chance.’

‘Yeah, you bottled it. Too bad.’ Jed lifted one shoulder idly and contemplated the edge of Laszlo’s blade as it scraped against his. When Laszlo pulled back and lunged he met
it easily. Laszlo stepped back. Around him there was calm silence.

Laszlo raised his sword. ‘Where’s my renegade? Is he with you? Iolaire! Are you watching? You’ll get no replacement brats out of this lover, Iolaire!’

Up among the trees Seth glanced sideways at Iolaire. He was expressionless, but his skin was stretched taut across his prominent cheekbones.

‘Only, you could wait till he’s dead, couldn’t you, Iolaire? You could still breed, if you’re capable! You’ve plenty time to change your
proclivities
again.’ Laszlo’s grin was suicidally vicious. ‘He’ll die young, your full-mortal faggot! Temporary aberration, is he?’

Iolaire did not move at all, not a muscle of his face, but Seth slipped his mind swiftly inside Iolaire’s anyway. A twist of pain writhed up through his ribcage and he clenched his teeth
against it. Iolaire gave him a look of gratitude.

Jed leaned on his sword. He did not turn to Iolaire or to Seth, but he met Gealach’s cold eyes, then looked back at Laszlo. ‘You talk a lot,’ he said.

‘It’s the odds that are giving me pause, you see.’

Jed sighed and turned his back on Laszlo to walk ten paces back towards Seth. ‘If I don’t kill him,’ he yelled, ‘nobody does.’

Seth hesitated before nodding.

‘Stay out of his mind. You all know fine to stay out of mine.’ Jed turned back. ‘Happy?’

‘And the wolf ?’

Jed rolled his eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘Seth?’

Seth clicked his fingers. Branndair’s muzzle curled back from his sharp teeth, but he lay down and lowered his head to his forepaws, growling softly.

Laszlo’s morale was visibly restored. ‘Now. Where were we, Cuilean? Any last words?’

‘Um. Please shut up?’ Jed hacked his blade hard at Laszlo’s neck, and the man dodged and parried, flinging Jed’s blade away. Jed staggered slightly, recovered his
footing, and edged round Laszlo. When they came together the noise was explosive, steel against steel.

Their struggle seemed interminable. Each was as nimble as the other; each knew tricks they hadn’t been born with. Even Seth grew dizzy watching them dodge, duck and lash out, feet flying
when swords and dirks didn’t, bodies turning catlike in the air. Seth thought Laszlo had Jed’s head off at one point, till Jed doubled backwards, his body arching impossibly, and sprang
back to lash out with his own blade.

Seth shut his eyes, breathing again. The deep scar on his left palm ached but he could ignore that. Better to hurt there, when Jed’s life was in the balance, than to feel the pain in his
heart and lungs.

There was a time he’d have spat in contempt if anyone had told him he’d be blood brother to any full-mortal, let alone one who used to hate him with his whole being. Love was a funny
old thing, especially such an improbable and unexpected love. That brought his thoughts back to Finn, and he felt a fleeting terror for her, but shook it off. She was riding to safety right now,
and Rory with her. Seth focused on Jed once more. The sharp ache in his hand felt blunter and he looked sideways at Iolaire, who grinned, his left hand curling with pain. Returning the favour, Seth
realised.

Even two fighters so expert had to draw breath some time. When they locked against each other, breathing hard, Jed’s left hand twisted, forcing Laszlo’s blade up and away with his
dirk, but Laszlo parried his thrust and sprang back. They stared coolly at each other.

When did Jed get so damn good, Seth wondered, and so capably pitiless? He’d been good enough when Seth was training him, but he was infinitely better now.
What did I miss and when did
I miss it?
It was too easy to pay less attention when you trusted someone completely. It was too easy to leave them on their own to get on with life and death, because the love and the trust
were absolute. It was too easy to focus on the eddies and currents on the surface, not dive down to see what lay beneath.

I’ll talk to him
, Seth promised himself.
Back at the dun. Soon. Tonight.

W
hy did I leave it so late?

I should have listened to Rory.

With an abrupt yell, Laszlo spun, leaped and crashed down on Jed, who rolled nimbly and slapped the man’s blade away with his own. Scrambling to his feet, he lunged again.

Seth leaned forward, gripping the roan’s neck. Laszlo was older, but he hadn’t lost his touch. If anything he was wilier, and Seth wouldn’t have liked to place a bet. Realising
his teeth were clenched hard, he forced his jaw to relax.

J
e
d, Jed. Don’t die.

And then Seth thought he had, because Jed had closed too tightly to dodge away, dropping his dirk to clutch Laszlo’s sword hand, keeping him anchored to the earth. As Laszlo struggled to
get control of his sword back his dirk hacked down at Jed’s neck, but it caught only the side of his skull as Jed dropped to his knees right at Laszlo’s feet and thrust his sword up
hard through his navel and into his ribcage.

O
h
, thought Seth.
I see
.

Jed stood up, his bloody hand lodged under Laszlo’s breastbone, his other supporting the man in a kind of embrace, and jerked the hilt of his sword once more. Dropping both his weapons
Laszlo gave him a wavering smile, a gout of blood choking from his mouth.

And Laszlo’s lips moved. And Jed’s eyes widened at the whispered words.

‘Cuilean,’ said Iolaire, snapping the bewitched stillness. ‘
Cuilean
. Come back now.’

Where had he come from? Jed did not remember Iolaire running to him. He stood with his eyes locked on Laszlo’s, their noses almost touching.

Still, the sound of his name brought him back from what seemed a long distance. Laszlo was close enough for Jed to feel his breath, his last breath as it rattled out, and the weight of him
dragging on the sword was an awful thing.

Jed did not move. The grin of triumph wouldn’t form on his rigid face. He would have kicked the body, except that his legs trembled and he didn’t trust himself not to stumble. All
there was in his throat was bile and pity and disgust, for the man impaled on his sword. For the man gripping its hilt. Intertwined, interchangeable. For a fraction of a second his brain spun, and
he didn’t know which he was.

Then, wrenching his sword out, he stepped back. Laszlo thudded forward, face hitting the earth, the last dead breath thumped out of his lungs.

‘I thought–’ His tongue dried.

‘I know,’ said Iolaire gently, and Jed thought he probably did.

He touched Laszlo’s shoulder with the tip of his sword. The man did not stir.

‘The guilt wasn’t yours, Jed. You can’t undo what you didn’t do.’ Iolaire shrugged. ‘Conal’s not sulking in his tent, waiting for your apology.
He’s dead.’

‘So’s Laszlo.’ He was all desolation. ‘So what?’

Iolaire stepped closer and put a hand to Jed’s bloody face, turning it so that he could look at his eyes. ‘You don’t need to worry about what the Lammyr said. You really
don’t.’

‘He was me, Iolaire.’ Jed looked straight through his lover. ‘And I’ll be him.’

A voice cut across them. ‘Iolaire!’

Gritting his teeth at the ill-timed interruption, Iolaire looked up at Gealach.

‘See you, Iolaire. We won’t fight today.’ She nodded to Jed. ‘Thank you, Cuilean.’

None of the patrol even looked at Laszlo’s lifeless body as they turned, and Gealach didn’t look at Iolaire again, just urged her horse into a canter. It was Cluaran, bringing up the
rear on Laszlo’s horse, who hesitated. He didn’t look at Iolaire or Jed. He turned to Seth.

‘I’m sorry, Murlainn,’ he said, then hauled the horse around and spurred it to a gallop.

Seth stared after him for only a moment. Then he swore obscenely, spun the blue roan and rode hard in the opposite direction, Branndair at his heels and Sionnach only a length behind him.

I felt sick as I rode at Finn’s back, and it was nothing to do with the speed of the black horse as it raced across the bleak miles of moor. I’d meant every word I
told my father, or I had at the time, but now there was a knot of horrible shame in my stomach, as if they were words I’d regret but never have a chance to take back. Wrapped up in remorse, I
almost didn’t notice when the black horse broke stride and Finn stared off to the side. Then she reined to an abrupt halt.

‘Stella?’ she said.

I blinked. ‘Finn? What?’

Finn was staring up at the rough heathery slope, doubt and confused hope in her face.

‘My mother.’ Her voice died, then she rubbed her forehead uncertainly. She yelled up at the empty slope. ‘
Eili?’

I wanted to shake her. Instead I gestured ahead. ‘Eili is
t
here
. With Hannah.’

‘No, she’s…’ Finn’s voice trailed off, and all she could do was stare at the hillside.

For a moment I wondered if Finn’s mind had broken unexpectedly loose. The light was dull, heavy clouds massing at the horizon, but the sky above was clear and blue and hot. Still she gazed
transfixed at that deserted slope, and I had the shivering sense that she did see someone on the rise of heathery ground. But hard as I peered, I could see no-one.

‘But I saw them,’ Finn whispered.

‘Finn,’ I told her urgently. ‘Your mother is dead.
Ride
.’

‘Oh. God.’

‘What?’

‘God. No,’ Finn said. ‘
No
. Not again!’

Snapping out of it, she kicked her heels against the black’s flanks, and he snorted and put on speed. ‘Eili!’ she yelled as she raced after the grey horse.

‘Finn? What is it?’ I pressed my ear against her back. Her heartbeat was very light and fast.