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“Oh, gods,” said Hava.
“What is it?” I shouted impatiently.
“Meer-wolves, Sire. They’re attacking!”
“How many?” I called up.
“Three!” she yelled. “No,four.”
“What in all the fucking hells?” growled Soryn.
“Hava!” Keffa shouted up to her. “Fly to the top of that tree and stay there!” He’d pointed to the tallest tree outside the encampment.
“But, Una,” whimpered Hava.
“Go!” I ordered. “Now!”
She would be one less to worry about. Keffa, Soryn, and I circled Una. Then suddenly, Meck and Ferryn were there, swords out.
“Why in all the gods’ names would the beast fae send their hounds to attack us?” asked Keffa. “After they helped us only yesterday.”
“I don’t know,” was all I managed to say, the growls and snarls drawing closer as the beasts made their way through camp.
One of the wolves howled with an eerie yip at the end, speaking to his fellow beasts. Una gasped behind me.
“Don’t worry, my mizrah,” I told her. “I’ll turn them to dust before they get too close.” I hoped that I could.
My gift of zephilim was a living kind of magick. I could wield it with infinite delicacy or like a pounding hammer. However, it was difficult to use against fast-moving targets, especially when mixed in with those I didn’t want to harm. Hence, the reason we were armed and ready.
I’d hoped the beasts would round the corner of the tents one at a time. That way I could destroy them each as they attacked. Of course, my wish wouldn’t be granted. And they didn’t simply stalk forward. Three came barreling around the corner of the tents, one of them with a severed arm dangling from his snarling mouth. My gut clenched.
“Etheline!” I shouted, palm-out, sending a stream of fire from my body directly into the wolf at the forefront, a dark gray beast with black eyes.
The fire hit him and engulfed him from head to tail, but he kept coming, running wildly toward us, still snapping the air with his yellowed fangs. Now he was a weapon of fire barreling closer, a moving inferno coming straight for us.
“Get Una out of here!” I shouted back to the Culled.
I heard her make a sound of distress as one of my warriors carried her away.
“I think you just pissed it off,” cried Keffa to my left.
“Something’s wrong with them,” I bellowed as I raised my sword.
Normal Meer-wolves didn’t attack fae encampments. And they would’ve run in fear at the first sign of feyfire. These weren’t, and one of them was literally burning to death as he galloped closer.
Then the beasts were upon us. I slashed through the air at the burning beast who wasn’t even writhing in pain as he should be. Keffa and Soryn took the second, and Pullo and Meck went at the third.
I dove and swiveled out of reach as the burning hound twisted and snapped again and again, seeming to grow angrier. Why wasn’t this creature dying?
Spinning, I sprinted out of the cluster of the fighting, leading it away and needing to the get the beast alone. As I expected, itchased after me, swiping it’s clawed hand at my back, coming so close I felt the heat singe my neck.
“Etheline,” I whispered to my sword as I continued to run toward the open plain, the wolf fast on my heels.
Flames burst up the black steel of my blade. With a sudden sharp turn, I thrust forward straight between the beast’s eyes, the hound impaling himself on my flaming sword. I fell onto my back, the beast gurgling as he toppled onto me, his burning head upon my chest.
Through the dying flames, his glazed, yellow eyes were streaked with black striations. Like he was infected or cursed by something.
“Nihilim,” I called, extinguishing the flames.
