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Gasping for breath, I turned to gauge what he was doing. “We have to get out of here. He senses the horn.”
The light in the creature’s eyes was all too hungry, and he flopped forward some more, using those great, long, muscled arms to pull himself toward us. Delilah grabbed my hand and we ran, scurrying down the narrow strip of land back to the trail through which we’d first emerged on the bogs. I glanced back over my shoulder.
“Oh crap! He’s transforming—his tail just became legs. Run!” I broke free from her and plunged through the overgrowth.
The merman/Fae/whatever-he-was had transformed to two-legged and was chasing behind us. And he knew how to run.
Delilah let out a garbled cry and once again passed me, grabbing my hand on the way and dragging me with her. We broke through the short path into the glen. I gasped, my lungs working overtime.
“We’re going to have to fight. He’s fresh and we can’t keep running all the way back to the portal.” I hopelessly turned to keep an eye on the entrance to the glen. “He’ll be here any minute. Iron did affect him.”
“Then iron it is. What about the horn?”
“I . . . I . . .” Truth was, I was afraid to use it, but then I yanked it out of my pocket. He was a water spirit; therefore, fire should work on him. I breathed deep, putting more distance between me and the entrance to the clearing. Sending my thoughts back into the horn, I whispered, “Mistress of Flames. Attend me.”
As the energy of the horn began to well up, the creature appeared through the foliage and headed straight for me. I brought the horn up and aimed it straight at him, even as Delilah stabbed him in the side as he loped by her. He screamed, the iron blade of her dagger smoking as it met his flesh, but simply reached out to knock her off her feet and kept coming.
“Stop—stop or I’ll be forced to kill you!” I wavered, hating to go up against such an ancient creature. Chances were he’d been around before the Great Divide. But his hunger, his thirst for the horn’s power was glimmering in his eyes and he let out a guttural laugh.
“Mistress of Flames . . . take him!” A blast of pure fire burst forth from the horn and washed over him. He spent a moment staring at me, then leaned his head back, and I thought he was going to utter a long scream, but he just laughed.
Holy hell! The flames hadn’t affected him. He began to move toward me again, this time each step deliberate. I stuffed the horn back in my pocket and held up the iron flail. This time, he did flinch. I noticed that his side was festering where Delilah had stabbed him.
Delilah was on her feet again, looking shaky. She raced forward, dagger at the ready, dodging as he reached back to ward her off. His gaze never left my face.
I sought the emotion behind his eyes. Greed. Desire. Covetousness. He wanted what I had. He wanted the horn. And he’d do whatever he could to possess it. Eriskel had been right.
I bit my lip. Flame had not worked. Perhaps . . . earth? And so I pulled out the horn again, and whispered, “Lady of the Land, please please help me.”
The energy began to rise within the horn, running through my hand to circle through my body. I caught a whiff of sweetgrass and lavender, of oak moss and heavy soil . . . and then—as Delilah ducked his fist and swung low with the dagger, again slicing his side with a hissing gash—I whispered, “Let the hands of the earth rise up.”
At that moment, the earth beneath our feet began to quake. It vibrated, shaking wildly as both Delilah and I went down. Out of the ground, reaching up through cracks forming on the hardened soil and frost, came dark hands formed of tree roots and old bones. They writhed, long fingers trembling, reaching, stretching to clasp hold of the creature’s legs.
He let out a howl, trying to shake them off, but they held him tight and began to slowly pull him down, began to draw him into the earth, inch by inch. Delilah scrambled up and ran to my side, helping me back to my feet.
I wasn’t sure if the roots could hold him long—he was an Elder Fae, and they had some dominion over the world—so I gave one last look as more hands reached up to help drag him into the abyss.
“Come on,” I said in a hoarse voice. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. We have to leave.” We turned and ran, but the creature’s howls lingered long, until we neared the portal. I hurriedly whispered the password, twisting it at just the right point, and the aperture opened. We leaped out, back into the snow and ice of Seattle.
Aeval was there, much to my surprise. As we sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath, she knelt beside me.
“Best to put your weapon away,” she whispered. “I would not touch it for the world, but there are many who would slice your throat to possess the Horn of the Black Beast.”
I jerked my gaze up to hers. She knew, of course, that I had it, but I’d taken care to keep it out of the Triple Threat’s presence. Out of sight, out of mind, out of potential disaster’s way. Quickly stuffing it back in my pocket, I accepted the hand of her guard as he helped me up. Another gave a hand to Delilah. We dusted the snow off, but it clung to the mud and stickers we’d picked up on our journey.
Aeval gave me a soft smile, both magnetic and dangerous. “I am not the one you have to fear with your treasures, my girl. Now, did you find your friend?”
I bit my lip. The realization that we might actually have lost Chase for good was beginning to set in. I shook my head. “No. Well, yes, we found his trail. But we could not follow. Something took him through a faerie ring—toadstools—and we could not chance it. I don’t think it was the Bog Eater. But there were other creatures . . . whatever came after us at the end there . . .”
Delilah and I described the creature to Aeval, and her eyes lit up, though not with fond thoughts, that much was obvious.
“You managed to cross Yannie Fin Diver. Best be cautious around all bodies of water now, girls.” She swallowed hard and shook her head. “He’s a bad enemy to make, and an even worse one to avoid.”
“Is he Elder Fae? Does he stay within that realm?” I was sincerely hoping for a yes to my second question, but it seemed the universe was all about playing Fuck You.
“Yes and no. He can cross through the element of Water. He’s Elder Fae, yes, but he might as well be a god to the mermen. And you know what the Finfolk are like.” Aeval shuddered. Apparently she thought as much of the Meré as we did.
I nodded. “The Finfolk are terribly cruel, back home in Otherworld as well as here. They have long, long memories and will do whatever they can to avenge themselves.”
