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Footsteps and clattering weapons move closer. I’m guessing there must be at least five, maybe six. The low trickle of magic swells with a slight increase into my core. If I knew how to use it, we might be okay.
Wrong question.I hear the Druid.
Great. Helpful as always, even in my own head. What is the right question? I am the Destroyer but the thing is I’ve only felt powerful on rare occasions and never has it been at my command or desire. You would think someone with that name would be a great and terrible force of nature. Instead, all I ever hear about is decisions and how my decisions matter.
Decisions. Decide, Quinn.
Okay, decide. Am I going to die crouching here and hiding or am I going to face these jerks head-on? That’s the only choice I can see. Face them and maybe die or hide here and die. It may be no choice at all but the one thing I am not going to be is a whiny, scared, little bitch.
If I’m going out, then by God I’m going to take at least one of these assholes with me. Certainty floods my head and I smile at Rob. His eyes widen as I rise and he tries to pull me down but he’s too late. I rise out of the mist, and I imagine it must look terrifying to the hunters.
“Oi,” one of them gasps and he takes two steps back, fumbling to bring his rifle to bear.
There are five of them and each one of them jumps in turn as I stand up. The mists cling as I stand, falling away in slow motion. I smile, showing no fear.
“You trespass in the lands of the Fae,” I say, the most ominous thing I can think of. “Run. Now.”
Two of the men look at each other with wide eyes and pale faces. The other three get their bearings and bring their rifles to bear. Rob leaps to his feet and lands standing sideways to them with his pistol aimed at the middle man of the half-circle facing us.
Our backs are against a cliff of stone. Trapped between the geography of the land and these armed men. There is nowhere to go. No other choice, now that I’ve made the first one.
“Put it down,” one of the men yells at Rob.
“Ah’ll put it down after I split your skull,” Rob says, defiant.
The two men who had begun to retreat realize their mates are standing firm, find their courage, and rejoin them. They too raise their rifles. The men focus on Rob since he has the gun and I’m only an empty-handed girl, but I need their attention on me.
“You’ve been warned,” I say, pitching my voice low in a hope of making it more ominous. I take a long stride forward and get the response I hoped for. They step back and shift their focus to me. “Do not test the patience of the Fair Folk.”
One of the retreaters makes the sign of the cross and the other wards against the evil eye. They feel the fear, but not enough. Seconds drag past, each one a small eternity as I think of Duncan, being tortured and enduring God knows what. My heart aches and all I want is to save him.
I’m sorry, Duncan. I tried.
I’d hoped they’d all run. I was banking on their superstition or the dim hope that magical power would surge if I put myself in danger. Both plans have failed so I do the only thing left. I take another step forward. Their fingers tighten on the triggers and the impending impact of bullets that I already feel echoing through my body, long before they actually shoot, comes closer.
My plans failed; I’m going to die, but one last, desperate idea comes. Maybe, just maybe, I can do something.
“Rob, it’s on you. Save Duncan,” I order.
I take the next step. Gunpowder flashes bright as triggers are pulled. I brace myself then I’m jerked to the side.
ChapterEleven
“Are you completely mad?”Dugald yells as my stomach lurches. I double over in pain and retch, trying my best to not throw up and swallowing bile.
“Dugald.” I spit his name as I get myself under control and stand up straight. “Damn you, I have to get back.”
I try to pull in magic the way I did when I traveled back but there’s nothing. When I reach there’s an emptiness that feels wrong.
“Oh no,” Dugald says. “You’ll not be doing that.”
I whirl on him, narrowing my eyes.
“What have you done?”
“Me?” He stares with disbelief written clear on his face. “Quinn, you’re throwing everything away.”
“It’s my choice.”
