In that moment I also realized it didn't matter what Breandan wanted or what Devlin wanted, but what I wanted. My moral compass was crooked at best, but I would never choose to be evil. But nor was I so saint like, that I wanted to be part of a fairy revolution. I cared deeply for Breandan, maybe it was impossible for me not too, and so I stepped closer to him. If he let his nature rule him, Devlin could over power him easily. He needed to keep a level head, for what I had planned. I placed a hand on his shoulder and looked up into his face, my eyes pleading for him to calm down.
"Know you have forced my hand, cousin." Devlin's voice twanged with power and I turned in time to see his glamour drop.
His hair ignited, blazing with white light. His ears were elongated and had the point of fairy I found fascinating, but his face was so sharp, pristine in its formation my eyes found it hard to settle on one feature. His eyes were aflame, cold green flames. His hands and feet were clawed, wickedly spiky. I saw clearly now the difference between him and Breandan in their true forms. Devlin was a leader, powerful in his righteous hate for the rebels who threatened his authority. Breandan had his own power, but it was not born of dominance.
I caught the glint at Devlin's chest as he shifted to set his feet apart, and my suspicion was confirmed. The colour and shape of it was too distinctive to be anything else other than an amulet piece.
Blinded by the urge to take it from him, I lurched forward. Breandan, confused by my behavior, pulled me back and tucked me under his arm.
Emerging from the shadows behind Devlin, fairies unsheathed their weapons. His eyes narrowed and skipped around the trees.
"Tron and Loki are dead," said the willowy male to his immediate left. Lanky, his grey hair flowed on and on until it hit his knees. With pinched eyes and scraggly grey beard, his wrinkled face reminded me of the crushed velvet I had once seen decorating a Temple Priests robes. Clutched in his hand was a halberd. He jabbed it toward Breandan. "He caught their scent."
That explained why Breandan had been delayed in racing me. I felt a surge of pride.
"No matter," Devlin grated, a trace of irritation flickering across his expression. "Lochlann was always the better fighter. Four against two is more than enough. Wasp, my love?"
The wraithlike fairy-girls face blazed adoration and lunacy as she turned to him. Her long hair was a tangle of claret dreadlocks that seemed alive, like snakes writhing around her face. Wide eyes glassy, her pouty green lips parted, waiting.
"Would you do the honor of taking Rae? Be careful not to break her, she can be quite temperamental."
Mouth curling sadistically, she licked the edge of her blade. A flash of memory showed Ana pulling up her top to expose the scars carved into her flesh by this very demon. My stomach heaved and my lungs sucked air in heaving gulps.
Another male fairy slid closer, eager. An acre of green chest bared his copper Mohawk stood high from his head in stiff spikes. His almond eyes focused on Breandan, and his pierced tongue flicked out in anticipation.
