I ran. There was the forest, the gasp of my breath, and the pound of my mate's heartbeat as he raced beside me. Nothing more. The forest, teeming with life hushed reverently as we blazed past, in awe of us, in fear.
Devlin was less than a day ahead, and his trail was erratic. Appearing suddenly then becoming deceptively faint, or weaving in odd directions. It was clear he was trying to throw us of course, using magics and distractions to slow us down so he could escape. Each time I was sure he had changed course or had gone another way, Conall had disagreed and pointed out the way. At times we had to stop so he could read the trails, listen to the wind and press his ear to the earth.
I hummed with passion. Hate. I wanted Devlin's head on a pike. I wanted to dance manically around his corpse, and give in to the dark whispers in the corners of my heart.
We begun the hunt as the dew from the dawn soaked into the understory. I had left my vampire-boy, Tomas, slumbering in the earthen tomb I had made to keep him safe. He was dead, and would not rise until the sunset. I was pleased, because it meant I could focus on the task at hand. Catching Devlin, getting the grimoire and ripping his heart out before Breandan, my life-mate, could stop me.
Irritated and grumpy I waited, hand on hip for Conall to tell us which direction to take. I plucked a few leaves from the mess of inky-black that was my hair, and felt Breandan come up behind me. His hands gently rested on my shoulders then slid down my bared back to pass over my wings. They twitched and fluttered at his touch. He continued, lazily wandering to my waist then lower, gripping my hips.
"Focus," I said, and thumped him lightly on the back of his thigh with my tail.
"I'm trying to relax you. You're too wound up and ready to break."
"I want this over with. I want him dead."
He sighed and muttered, "This is not going to end well."
I twisted round to look him in the face, unsure of what he meant. He looked at Conall and his lips pressed into a thin line. Breandan was skilled at schooling his expression, and I had to watch him closely to see if he was mad, pissed or upset. I was going for mad.
"What?" I asked, because it became apparent he'd realized something before I had. I stepped out of his arms and he let me. "What are you both not saying?"
I looked to Conall, the mighty warrior who was strong enough to massacre a small army of his kind. He glowed, brighter than any other I had seen, except when Breandan and I were suffering the effects of our bond. Conall was beautiful, a face of hard angles and smooth planes. His eyes were gold, a family trait it seemed, since mine were the same, only lighter. His muscled chest heaved with a sigh.
"The trail has gone cold."
I stared at him.
"You're lying." Even as I said the words I flushed, but kept my stare defiant. Conall could not lie. Fairies could not lie, except for me. They were bound to speak nothing but the truth by magic. A fairies word once given was law.
Conall ignored the comment, flicked his hand through the air as if brushing his hurt aside. "It is beyond me. Devlin has worked a spell. There are three different trails, each are cold and each carry his and Wasp's scent. Less than an hour ago we were half a day away and gaining. Now, it seems we are days behind and losing more time. It is a trick, a spell and I cannot see past it."
"Then we follow each trail. One each."
"No," Breandan said.
"Apart from the fact it would be most unwise to leave you alone, Rae," Conall said patiently, "what happens when one of us does find them? Or maybe we will find more false trails that we cannot navigate alone."
"Then we follow each one," I said through my teeth. "We pick the most likely, follow for a while, and if we're wrong we'll backtrack and start again until we get it right."
"And what of the time we lose whilst doing this? What if we come across more false trails? We could spend days going in the wrong direction."
