Chapter 29

Ch. 29: Julian

"Keep moving."

Darragh shoves me between the shoulder blades. I'd stopped to listen when the sound of a distant bark tickled the edges of my hearing. It could have been Dane, or it could have been my imagination.

We've been walking for what feels like an hour, though I'm fairly certain it's only been fifteen minutes or so. We walk in single file: me in the lead, followed by Darragh, Halloran carrying Ingrid in Wolf form, and the two Fae women bringing up the rear with readied bows.

When I fail to obey Darragh's order immediately, he shoves me again. "I said, move."

I stumble and glare at him over my shoulder. If there's a chance Dane is nearby, I need to buy him some time to find us—if he can get through the Fae illusions, that is. Fortunately, while I may not be the best in a fight, or at making quick-yet-rational decisions on the fly, I'm a pro when it comes to being difficult.

I turn to face Darragh. "What if I refuse to go any further? You can't kill me if king What's-His-Name wants me alive."

Darragh's pretty face stretches in a sneer. "No. But I can hurt you. Or I could kill the Wolf girl, or my dear brother Rian, even. Perhaps we'll make it look like a Wolf attack. That will bode well for your would-be Alpha, won't it?" He gestures to Alyth and Sylv, and the two Fae women raise their bows, aiming them at Ingrid and Halloran. "You decide: keep walking, or someone dies."

I grit my teeth. Something about Darragh tells me he's not bluffing; even if he is, I won't gamble with other people's lives. "Fine. You win."

"Good. Now, move."

Flashing what I hope is a venomous glare and not just squinty eyes, I do as he says, though I walk as slow as I can without earning myself another shove.

Meanwhile, my mind races at full speed. Does Dane know something's wrong yet? How could three Wolves have failed to detect the presence of the Fae? What else does Halloran know that he hasn't told me, and how does Rhiannon play into it all? Most importantly, what does this King Oberon guy want with me—or, more specifically, with a leanan sidhe?

Another sound distracts me from my thoughts: not a bark, this time, but a soft, melodic trill, like the call of some exotic bird. It seems to come from somewhere deep within the trees, and the Fae pay it no heed.

We continue in silence for a few paces before I hear the strange call again.

"Darragh!" one of the Fae women calls in a whisper, and I turn to see that Halloran has stopped in his tracks, Ingrid still cradled in his arms.

Darragh sighs. "What about 'keep moving' do the pair of you not understand?"

"Forgive me, brother," Halloran says slowly, though he glances past Darragh and locks eyes with me. "The call of the dream herald reminded me of home. I've never heard one here before."

Darragh frowns. "If you'd stop dawdling, we'd be home soon enough. The forests of Faerie are full of them. One must have followed us through."

"Ah, yes. That must be it," Halloran agrees, though there's a strange edge to his tone. "It probably wants to go home."

The intensity of his expression makes me think he's telling me something, but I don't understand. I shake my head at him slightly to say as much.

"Although," he continues, still looking at me. "If I wanted to go home, I'd simply... follow the moon."

Without warning, he turns and shoves Ingrid's limp body into the arms of the two Fae women, knocking them down in a heap. Snatching a short blade from one, he launches himself at Darragh, who barely raises his sword in time to block and staggers beneath the force of the blow.

Darragh swears while Alyth and Sylv push Ingrid aside and struggle to their feet. Halloran's shout jolts me like an electric shock as my brain finally catches up to what's happening.

"Julian, run! You can't let them take you to my father! Go!"

A shock like a zap of electricity shoots through me, and my muscles respond before my brain makes a conscious command. I sprint blindly for the trees. Behind me, I hear Darragh swear and grunt, followed by the clash of steel and Halloran's strained shout.

My feelings for the man have done a 180—twice—in a very short amount of time. I still don't know if I ought to blame him, believe him, or both, but one thing is for certain: unless he's got some skills he hasn't revealed yet, he's not going to be able to hold off the three other Fae for long.

Part of me rebels at the thought of leaving him, and especially of leaving Ingrid. Would Darragh hurt them, or kill them even, as he'd threatened? I didn't think so. If he was as smart as he seemed, he'd keep them both alive to use as leverage—if I didn't get caught.

If he catches me, all bets are off.

Behind me, a muffled grunt and a cry of pain followed by a rush of footsteps tell me Halloran has been overcome and Darragh is in pursuit. Needles of fear prickle every nerve as memory mingles with living a nightmare.

Run, rabbit, run.

For a moment, the past eclipses the present, and the howls of wolves and monsters fill my mind: death pursuing me beneath a cruel moon. Hot terror takes hold, blinding and choking me like black smoke, and I stumble in the dark. I imagine a swish of air as Darragh reaches for me, fingers clawing at my back, and then a grunt of frustration as I narrowly evade his grasp.

Regaining my stride, I dart into the deep shadows beneath the taller trees, and will myself Unseen. Some ways behind me, Darragh swears. Hoping this means that he's lost sight of me, I duck behind a tree and freeze.

All is quiet—all except the pounding of my heart and the rush of adrenaline-fueled blood surging through my veins—and I hardly dare to breathe for fear that Darragh will hear me. I may be just as Fae as he is, but he's had a lot more practice at it. For all I know, he can see right past my disguise.

As he comes into view, however, and his eyes sweep over me without pause, I understand that he can't.

I hold my breath, nonetheless, as he stops and turns in a slow circle, scanning the trees at eye height. Realizing that the inhuman glow of my eyes may indeed be what he's looking for, I shut them tight and wait.

Sweat breaks out across my brow and trickles down my back, and it takes everything I have to hold absolutely still, suppressing the trembling in my limbs and the shivers threatening to turn me into a shaking glob of jelly. My heart beats furiously, pounding the walls of my chest, and I'm half-convinced the sound of it will give me away. Fortunately, even Fae hearing isn't that good.

"I know you're here," Darragh says in a low voice, almost as if he's speaking to himself. "I'll give you one last chance. Show yourself and surrender, or I'll kill them both."

It's a trap, and I know it. A play on my emotions. If I give myself up, Darragh might kill Ingrid or Halloran to punish me, but if I don't, he'll keep them alive to use against me.

For now, it's a battle of wills as we each see who will hold out the longest. He knows (or at least senses) that I'm here, and I know (or at least hope) that he's on a tight schedule and will give up if I can just outlast him.

Finally, he mutters another curse, and the soft crunch of twigs and leaves beneath his feet signals his retreat.

I release my breath and draw another in a deep gasp as I sag against the tree at my back, shivering with adrenaline. Instinctive fear still urges me to remain hidden, but I have to find Dane. Forcing myself into action, the illusion concealing me falls away as I slip through the shadows beneath the trees, ears and eyes straining for any sign of Dane or Freya.

I don't dare call out to them for fear that Darragh is still close by, but as the soft whistle of the strange bird comes again, I recall how the sound triggered Halloran's desperate actions, and his advice to 'follow the moon.'

Lifting my eyes, I search for the silver orb, but the sky is strangely dark. I realize I must still be inside the 'pocket,' or whatever Darragh had called the reality-bending illusion of the Fae, and swear softly to myself. Everything looks the same in the forest, and I have no sense of direction at all.

The call of the dream herald comes again, closer this time, and a little farther to my left. It obviously meant something to Halloran—maybe more than he could convey. Maybe it's a sign of hope.

With this in mind, I move towards the sound, and when it comes again, I do my best to echo it.

It seems a little further away, this time, and an irrational terror seizes me with the thought that it will leave me behind, trapping me here and dooming me to wander in darkness forever. I break into a run that becomes a headlong sprint through the trees, dashing blindly through bracken and brush until, with an impact that knocks the breath from me, I crash into something solid. A pair of massive arms seizes me, and a cry of sheer panic escapes me in the second before I recognize Dane.

"Julian!" He sets me on my feet and releases me. "Are you hurt?"

I shake my head, speechless with exertion, and glance past him to see Freya, also in human form. A third figure hangs back a few paces, face pale and purple eyes agleam.

"You..." I choke on a breath and cough, and Dane steadies me.

"She's on our side," he says. "She led us out of the Confusion."

"The what?" I rasp.

"The Fae illusion. Where's Ingrid? And Halloran?"

I glance up and see the moon riding high overhead, exactly where it should be, and realize what it means.

Dane shakes me lightly. "Julian! Are they with you?"

Gulping air, I shake my head.

"No. They're gone."