Chapter 39
I stumbled backward until I collided with Marcy’s armor, clutching the lotus. There were four of them, reeking and blood-soaked, not wolves but something other.
They stood at twice my height, with wolven heads and legs, but everything else was distinctly human. Their starving bodies were covered by stretched, torn flesh. They lacked the modesty of man and prowled naked in a circle around us. The darkness was a small mercy.
“Stand behind me,” Marcy urged. “Don’t let them near you and keep your backside protected. Do you see those claws?”
I did. Long, black knives jutted from every fingertip. “What are they?”
If there was any man left in the beings, they didn’t respond to the curse of my voice. They continued to snarl, pacing around us for an opening.
“I don’t know.”
I looked up at the moon and beseeched aid from the Lord of Night, but there was no sign that He heard me. Shivering, I moved to Marcy’s rear, and she retrieved a dagger from its holster, handing it to me.
One of the creatures saw me as the easier target and lunged. I ducked, and his claws struck Marcy’s plates with a loud bang, but they didn’t penetrate. She spun, baring her teeth, and brought the sword down in one smooth motion, cutting him across the chest.
He sprang back, blood leaking freely from the thick gash in his torso, but he didn’t act wounded. His teeth snapped and he rejoined the others in their circling.
Marcy backed us both up to one of the pools, one wide enough to protect us from more rear-flanks. Another wolf-man probed at our defenses, feigning a swipe and leaping back before Marcy could strike.
“They’re trying to find a weakness,” Marcy examined. “We—”
The next attack was no feint. All four of them assailed her, risking every one of their lives in the full assault.
She yelled and shoved me back with a kick, knocking me into the water.
It was surprisingly deep and impossibly thick, more slurry than pond.
By some strange mercy, not one of the monsters came for me, their focus fixed entirely on my knight.
As I fought to keep my head above water, the lotus still tight in my grasp, I caught glimpses of her battle.
She threw the smallest of them back, striking out despite the maws sinking into her shoulder, her leg, her unused arm. The blade found its mark, penetrating his neck, and the beast clawed up her sword before falling on his back, dead.
A terrible scream escaped Marcy. She swirled around, two of the wolves leaping back, but the one attached to her shoulder remained, grabbing her arm to prevent the sword’s downfall.
He grabbed her head, and I couldn’t see what happened next—I only heard her muffled anguish, a bellowing sound as she raised her leg and kicked him right between the legs.
He reacted, releasing his mouth and hold, and she brought the sword down into his neck, but it caught in the fur. The monster pulled back, Marcy’s weapon sheathed inside of him, and howled with pain.
Then, he spoke.
“Bitch,” he cursed, his voice a hollow, deep growl. “We will take from you what we have always taken…before the witch cursed us.” His attention snapped to me. “The child…in her belly…will die knowing what we did to its mother.”
“Have whatever vulgar dream you like,” Marcy spat, though exhaustion settled into her posture. She produced another dagger from a holster at her thigh, holding it up. “It will be your last.”
“There are no dreams anymore,” he said. “Only hunger.”
His hackles raised, and then he froze, ears perking at some unseen threat. Then he turned, moving aside just as a knife flung past him, the metal glinting in the moonlight before it sank into the water beside me.
Four came into the light. I’d never been more grateful to see a Banewight as I registered Taran’s menacing presence, both seekers unfolding from his flank. Three hunters, but who…?
Quinn stepped forward, a borrowed sword trembling in his hands.
“They’re cursed men,” Sahra said. “I can see the glow on them.”
“Keep them away from her,” Quinn commanded, his voice steadier than his blade.
My soul might have floated from my body.
Taran drew a tremendous blade from his back, facing off with the monster who’d spoken. There wasn’t a hint of fear in him as he searched for weaknesses.
“Sahra, you stay back,” Asli replied, two curved swords withdrawn at his sides. He flourished them. “Viscount, you take the one with the small prick.”
Quinn nodded, steadying himself, and the rest happened so quickly I could barely keep up.
The speaking beast lunged with a snarl. Taran stepped aside and brought down his blade with a practiced arc, severing the creature’s arm at the elbow.
It howled, stumbling, and Taran followed through without hesitation: pommel to snout, knee to ribs, then his blade through the monster’s heart. No wasted movement; no mercy.
“Come then, ugly!” Asli taunted, twirling his blades until they were rings of glowing moonlight. His target charged and Asli dropped to his knees, sliding beneath that leap and scoring both blades up his belly.
Asli rolled to his feet, laughing…until claws raked his shoulder. “Agh! Bastard!”
He spun and crossed his blades at the creature’s neck, severing the head with one clean motion. His arm bled freely as the wolven head tumbled into the mud, and he kicked it into a puddle.
“Fucker,” he growled.
My focus shifted to Quinn as my body tired from fighting the sludge. I made my way to land, pulling my way up with rapt attention on his fight.
The third beast circled him, sensing easy prey.
Quinn’s hands shook so badly that the sword tip wavered like candlelight.
When the monster finally pounced, he stumbled backward, swinging wildly and missing.
Jaws clamped on his forearm and he screamed, hacking with the sword at every vulnerable point he could, but it wouldn’t sink in more than an inch.
Marcy’s dagger—fuck, where was it? I looked around, finding no hint of it anywhere.
I must have dropped it into the water, and that meant I couldn’t help.
I watched worthlessly as he drove that sword again and again, struggling to find purchase as the monster tore into him, whipping his head like a hunting hound with a rabbit.
Marcy’s trembling figure stood. She roared madly, more animal than woman, and leapt onto the beast from behind. Her knife sank into his eye and he released the viscount, reaching up and swiping at her.
Then he stopped. Quinn’s sword penetrated his lower jaw and stuck out from his skull. The monster collapsed forward, landing right on top of Quinn.
He shouted, dragging himself out from under the combined weight of Marcy and the beast, and held his arm as his eyes searched frantically for me.
I pushed up from the mud, forsaking the lotus at my feet as I stumbled toward him. The Banewights cleaned off, examining the corpses, and I reached Quinn just before his legs gave out, catching him in my arms.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
I shook my head, glancing down at his arm as it dripped blood. It looked broken.
“Good.”
He threw up. I struggled to hold him, moving to the side and lowering him to the ground. His face was damp with cold sweat, his breaths shallow and raspy. I took his hand and he squeezed so hard my joints popped. Then I held him abreast, running my fingers through his hair as he shivered in quiet.
Sahra came over and crouched behind him, eyes flitting from his arm to me. “Interesting.”
My brow raised and she stood, moving over to where Marcy lifelessly sprawled. After some investigating, she turned my way again.
“I’ve seen this sort of curse before. Its aura festers on them, but it’s black; on those beasts, it was red.
It will not affect them as it did the wolf-men, so they’re not likely to transform.
” She crossed her arms. “But it is killing them. You’re going to need wolfsbane.
There’s a wise woman in the village who likely has some in her simples.
Get it on them tonight, before the sun rises. ”
“We need to find the witch who cursed them,” Taran announced. “Sahra, with me. Asli, you’ll assist the queen with getting the others back to Thornmarsh.”
Asli started forward in protest. “But I—”
“You cannot see the curse.” Sahra put up her hand. “A woman did this. You’ll be more useful here, saving lives.”
Asli growled under his breath, then looked at Marcy. “But she’s a damned boulder. How am I supposed to carry her?”
“I can walk,” Marcy hissed. “Just need…a shoulder.”
The sound of her voice was a great relief. Gods, she deserved the world. No stipend could cover her heroics tonight.
Quinn’s grip on my hand eased. I took the opportunity to clap for Sahra’s attention, then signed. “The beast spoke. He said they would take what they’d always taken, before the witch cursed them.”
Sahra lowered her gaze. “Rapists.”
Taran’s eyes narrowed. “They likely victimized the witch, and she mutilated them in turn. We must find her, nonetheless.”
“Taran—” Sahra started, one step forward before she hesitated. “It sounds like these men deserved their fate.”
“Are you taking up for a witch?” Asli barked out.
“I—”
“Enough,” Taran said, ending the argument before it could begin. “Sahra, come.”
Sahra frowned, but bowed her head and followed right along. They disappeared into the swamp, that dense fog receding with them.
I gave Quinn a gentle pat, moving away and approaching Marcy. Her face was a nightmare, scratched to oblivion, and her right ear dangled by threads.
She had the gall to grin at me as I squatted in front of her. “You need a bath, Your Majesty.”
I narrowed an eye, smiling back, then turned my attention down to the wolf-man. The dagger was sheathed in his eye socket, easy enough to remove. His tongue hung limply from his mouth; I reached into that maw, gripping one of the larger canines, and with the help of the knife, I pried it loose.
Cleaning the tooth in one of the pools, I took a ribbon from my hair and fashioned a necklace around it, then returned to Quinn. He was less dazed now, propped up on his good elbow, but he was obviously rather shaken.
I kneeled in front of him and offered my creation forward.
“Alana…what in the hells is that?” He winced, sneering at my hands. He reclined further as I placed it around his neck, tying it off.
“It’s a token of bravery,” I answered. “For the bravest man I’ve ever known.”
Quinn’s lip quivered. “You haven’t known many men.”
“The rest will likely disappoint me.”
He laughed, then groaned in agony. I frowned, too dirty to fashion a sling for him with my current clothing. Then I approached a cattail, ripping it from just above the water, and tested its flexibility.
I returned to Quinn, wrapping the plant around his wrist and tying it off at his shoulder. He hissed, but didn’t protest. In front of us, Asli assisted Marcy to her feet.
“Are you ready?” I asked Quinn, and he nodded. But first, I needed to grab that wicker basket and the lotus. I went away, rounding both up, then came back and pulled him up, wrapping his good arm over my shoulder.
That slight contact was embraced by shadows, black flames licking up Quinn’s form. Asli’s back was to us, but I wondered if he’d see those tendrils if he turned around. Quinn didn’t seem to notice.
“Lana,” he muttered, knocking the side of his head to mine. I shook my head fervently, my eyes fixed on the Lord of Night’s shroud. “I don’t want to die yet… So, I won’t. We’ll get back, find a healer. I’m going to live for a long time.”
My heart fluttered with dread for the very real possibility that he might be deluding himself, that the healer might not save him or Marcy.
“There are a lot of things I need to do. That I want to do. When I was fighting that thing…all I could think about was how I never got to tell you how beautiful you are.”
Heat bloomed in my cheeks. So long as I held him, he’d spill his heart…but I couldn’t let go.
“I’ll live to see tomorrow. To tell you more, little by little.
” He smiled, thumb tracing the back of my hand.
“I’m sorry I was cold to you. I didn’t know how to conduct myself around you anymore, not after what transpired in the maze.
But I’ve decided I can feel the way I do and let myself be tortured because I think you’re worth it.
Not because you’re beautiful—though you are, maddeningly so—but because I know you. I know exactly what you are.”
Those shadows surged around him, wrapping about his neck like a serpent, but he kept on walking, a satisfied look settled on his face.
It wasn’t a terrible secret. There was nothing he’d regret, come morning.
And he would see morning.