Hunting this Beast was no different than hunting the rabbit. He was simply a larger target to hit.
She tightened her knees as she urged her mount to another burst of speed with a kick of her heels. Quickly, she nocked another arrow into her bow. She was one with the animal she rode, feeling his movements beneath her as if he were an extension of her own body. One with the arrow in her bow. One with the target in her sight.
Lifting her arms, she pulled back, loosing the arrow. Following its trajectory to its target.
Success!
The arrow buried itself high in Torquil’s leg, eliciting a scream of surprised pain.
“Yer pain has just begun, you filthy bastard,” she murmured, lifting her bow again.
If she were to have any chance at the man, she needed him off his horse.
Two shots in rapid succession, one to his arm and one to split the reins in his hand. Another scream, this one a long, unearthly sound, such as she’d heard only once before. The night of the horrible storm when she’d first realized that Hall would not stay with her.
Torquil’s mount, given his head by the loose reins, reared in fear of the approaching cliff, throwing his rider to the ground before racing away.
Brie slowed her approach, giving her prey time to realize he had nowhere to go but to face her. She tied the bow into the sheath on her back and drew the sword as she slid off her horse to confront her enemy.
The sword’s song sang in her ears, giving her courage, urging her forward. Killing a man was no different than hunting her dinner.
Except that some small voice in the back of her head kept trying to convince her that it was different. She’d done it before, but that truly had been different. She’d done that to save Hall from an evil villain who’d closed in on him when he was defenseless.
Just as she closed in on Torquil now.
Didn’t that make her the evil villain in this scenario?
This was no time to doubt herself. No time for her conscience to kick in. Not when her revenge was so near at hand.
Her only option was to drown out the voice in her head.
“Remember me, Torquil MacDowylt?” she called out as she approached the laird, sword held aloft in front of her. “Or perhaps you remember my father, Hamud MacCulloch. You hanged him for the crime of following yer brother, Malcolm, when he escorted Malcolm’s wife to Tordenet.”
That was it. That was her reason for her being here. Her justification for what she was about to do.
Torquil rolled from his back to his stomach and pushed up to his knees, managing to get unsteadily to his feet.
“Why would I waste my thoughts on remembering such an insignificant creature?” he returned, laughing in a booming, unearthly voice as he broke off the arrow that stuck out from his leg and threw it behind him. “Is that your best effort, girl? If it is, then you’re lost, because your best is not good enough. Not by far.”
Brie lifted the sword, gripping it with both hands as he charged toward her. Any doubt she had about her ability to strike a man down fled when his eyes began to glow eerie red.
It might look like Torquil MacDowylt she faced, but it wasn’t. It was the Beast who charged toward her.
With all her strength, she swung the sword at his neck, connecting with his shoulder as he attempted to dodge her blow.
Another scream from her attacker, this one a thousand times louder than before. The screech echoed so loudly, she dropped the sword to cover her ears. The long, loud, rattling howl of a creature unknown to the Mortal world filled her mind and buffeted her senses as she stumbled back from the slumped shell of the man.
A cloud of black smoke wisped out of the gaping wound in Torquil’s shoulder and swirled up into the air above him. A sickening, putrid smell reminiscent of rotted meat filled the air as the smoke gathered into a tightly swirling mass. It throbbed and pulsed before it stretched out, plummeting straight toward her.
Frozen to her spot, Brie could do nothing but watch in horror as the black mist engulfed her, cutting off her air, dragging her to her knees.
HALL KICKED HIShorse, demanding every ounce of speed the animal could give him.
“No!”
The cry of denial was torn from his lips as he watched Fenrir’s essence drain from Torquil’s body, gather its strength, and plunge down over Bridget. It encased her in its black mist and tightened around her, driving her to her knees before it suddenly puffed away.
The jewel’s protection had held, but its effect wouldn’t last for long. One single jewel was no match for the Beast.
