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Derrick’s words blanketed the circle, heavy and undeniable. My mind flew to all those tiny runes, to the power behind them. The ritual to create Constable runes was the most heavily guarded secret in the CEB. It made Constables some of the most feared creatures in Fairy. They could match power with any Bright creature, could mimic strength and stamina and mental prowess in a matter of seconds. They were, in a word, versatile. And in the hands of this sluaghna, those tattoos would be devastating.
Montgomery would be able charm any warlock into following him straight to their doom.
“Derrick, you can’t…” I started but he raised his voice again, ignoring my protest.
“I will surrender myself to you, but Nora and my mother walk away unharmed,” he said.
“He’s going to come after us once you’re dead!”
“No, he won’t. He knows my team is out there and the plan is already botched,” Derrick said, nodding over at where Brock was looking more and more conscious, and more and more furious. “They meant to take on Brock and Delilah, overthrow Maureen and lead the Leslie clan. They probably would shut down the warlock trafficking for a year or two, let the heat die down, but then resume operations. It’s far too good a setup to simply leave it behind. Am I right?”
“How clever you are,” Delilah said.
“But now you’re going to have to run. The CEB know you’re here, and they know you’re not werewolves.” Derrick took a step forward and lowered his hands. “So what do you say? You think my tattoos are worth it now?”
Montgomery took a remarkably small amount of time to decide. No sooner were the words out of Derrick’s mouth, than the vines were lowering Brock and shoving the dazed, angry, and still mostly bound man toward Janice and myself. Brock’s feet were freed, but his hands remained tethered behind his back and the gag at his mouth stretched tight where he bit down into it. He staggered toward me, and I rose, trusting Janice to her chair for the moment it took to catch Brock’s larger frame.
He was heavy and I had to steady myself before we both pitched over. His eyes flickered between deep brown and feral gold, and I knew he was trying to access his inner wolf, but whatever they’d done to him was preventing the man from changing.
Defeat lodged in my chest.
“Yes,” Montgomery said to Derrick. “I do believe you are worth it.”
Derrick stepped forward, heading for that awful altar of vines and I moved too, not even sure what I meant to do, just knowing I couldn’t let him go. Brock teetered on his feet, and I had to hold his shoulder to keep him upright, pain flaring through my finger as I did so.
But that was minor pain.
That was pain I would survive.
“Derrick!”
He turned so that I could see his profile, his gaze lingering on the ground. “Get them out of here, Nora.” And then he looked at me, and all the resignation in his face drowned out the fears and the doubts and the turmoil that had been so prevalent before. “Please.”
He gave a ghost of a smile before turning back to the sluaghna.
Chapter Thirty-One
Delilah led us down the narrow path with its steep hillside and the ravine far below, but she did it from the rear. Janice moved like a zombie, all stilted, jerky steps on fragile bones, but at least I did not have to carry her. Brock wasn’t much better. He led the way, brown eyes blazing every time he glanced back at where Delilah – not Delilah, just Delilah’s face – prodded us toward the tunnel opening.
It was full night with a cloudless sky, the stars piercing bright through the veil. The smell of rotted, moldering things was left behind at the clearing and instead the air was crisp with the scent of crushed autumn leaves. A cold breeze pricked at my skin, raising the hair on my neck and arms.
Every step away from the clearing was painful. I wanted to turn, to abandon Janice and Brock and race back to Derrick. There were any number of things I could do; I could set the place on fire, I could reach into the aether and erase one of the runes, I could claw Montgomery's eyes out.
Of course, most of that required the cuffs to be removed.
Frantic for something, anything, I urged Janice in front of me, placing myself between the older woman and Delilah. Janice made a noise of protest and Brock glanced back at us, brow furrowed. He gave the barest shake of his head, as though he could read my mind, which was insane because even I wasn’t sure what I meant to do. His hands were still bound behind his back, making him less than useless in any attempt to fight, and I could see some of the runes on his cuffs flickering as he strained against them.
“Keep moving,” Delilah said, giving me a harsh poke in the small of my back.
I shuffled forward, quelling the impulse to slam my cuffs into her face. They were the only solid item on me, and I imagined they could crack a tooth or two. But we needed to be a little further from the clearing first or Montgomery would hear and come to the rescue.
“They’ll catch you. It doesn’t matter what you try or how far you run, they have your scent now and they won’t rest until they put an end to you.” Bold words, I knew, but I had to say something.
“Do you think so?” Delilah said, clearly mocking. She prodded me in the back again, her nail biting hard enough she might have drawn blood. “Maybe I should kill you all now? Since I have such a short life span anyway.”
A shadow detached from the craggy cliffs at my right and there was the whisper of drawing steel. Delilah stiffened, half turning, and then she froze entirely. I took a half step forward and whirled, seeing first the shine of moonlight as it glinted off the sword at Delilah’s throat, and then the sure, steady hand at its hilt. Eucilla stood still, her sword angled precisely upon Delilah’s jugular, her expression as placid and unreadable as ever.
They’d come! The Constables found us, thank the Maker.
