Page 41 of Fae Divided
“See to it.” The commander accepted the Anwyll at his word and turned to James. “Let’s retrieve what’s left of Adam’s body and head home.”
Home.James couldn’t wait.
Chapter 17
Daimhín sprinted inan uneven gait through the sparse stretch of woods, his typically smooth strides hampered by limbs that felt filled with lead. The gaping knife wound in his thigh pulsed in erratic rhythm with his heart, the stressed organ pumping hard to cleanse the dark sorcery from his veins. If not the creator of that sinister magic, he’d already been dead instead of merely close to it.
His breath sawed in and out painfully, lungs struggling to take in enough oxygen to keep running as his body fought the powerful hex attacking his cells and preventing him from healing. Black, oily sweat trickled into his eyes and ran in rivulets down his back, his damaged system pushing the toxins out through his skin.
He stumbled, knees slamming into the detritus of the forest floor, long hair falling over his face. The stained platinum strands stuck to his cheeks. Swearing, Daimhín rammed the point of the cursed blade he still carried into the damp soil; the fossilized bone handle shivered like a tuning fork with the force of his rage.
The humiliating defeat at the hands of Samuel Walker by a magical dagger of his own making was a hard pill to swallow. His worthless progeny had lost the one-of-a-kind weapon to his enemies the prior month. A mistake Daimhín’s offspring had not lived long enough to regret—he had made sure of it.
“Karma’s a bitch.”
The sibilant voice floated above Daimhín’s head, his normal laser-sharp senses failing to catch the unknown adversary’s arrival.
“Show yourself,” Daimhín shouted, voice made hoarse by the swollen, bloody tissues of his throat.
He sat back on his calves and thrust his hand inside his pocket, fingers closing around the egg-sized rock he’d spent innumerable hours instilling with his essence. The travel spell was strong enough to transport Daimhín to safety—or kill him in his present state.
The arrogant prince and his Fae Touched rabble had placed him at a wholly repugnant disadvantage with their impertinence. Their inevitable contrition would be sweet, the punishment brutal. Daimhín wouldn’t be merciful.
A lowthrummingsound accompanied by a sudden wave of heated air saturated with wood smoke drifted on the wind and brushed against his aching flesh. The points of Daimhín’s ears stiffened, and the small hairs on his nape lifted as a shadowy figure stepped from behind the trees.
The stranger’s outline was hazy, his hulking frame encased in a cloudy mist that obscured his face. His hair wafted around his head like a lizard’s frill while a pair of indistinct shapes shimmered in and out of focus above his broad shoulders.
Daimhín hadn’t felt fear in over a thousand years and didn’t appreciate its unpleasant return.
He shoved to his feet and raised a subpar protective shield, his once nimble body and mind sluggish. Along with his crippled magic, the agonizing strain of expelling the curse through his pores had slowed his inhuman reflexes.
“Lord Daimhín,” the male said, eyes twin flames of flickering light. “We finally meet.”
“Why are you here?”
“I’m your executioner.”
Gathering his power, Daimhín threw everything he had left into his shield. He needed to stall; allow more of the dark poison to exit his body. At the opposite ends of the magical spectrum, the travel stone’s pureness would adversely react with the corrupted foundation of the dagger, and he could be dead on arrival. “I have no quarrel with you.”
“Your kind cannot be allowed to rule Earth’s realm again.”
“I have not lived this long because I am easy to kill. Others have made the attempt and failed.”
“But I will not, Sídhe.” His chest expanded, rib cage swelling beyond the mortal bindings of his humanoid form.
Daimhín ripped the ruby-red jewel from his pocket as a spray of bright orange magma hit the surface of his frail shell. He screamed the words to trigger the stone while blistering heat seeped through the failing ward and charred his skin. The travel spell pounded at his weakened body, breaking bones and collapsing a lung.
Determined to survive, Daimhín screamed again in defiance, refusing to yield as the blood magic tore at what remained of his tattered soul. Centuries of waiting for a Fae halfblood to be born with the ability to manipulate the Rip wouldn’t be in vain. All his meticulous scheming and endless machinations achieved while hiding among humanity when he should have ruled over them would not go to waste.
Daimhín had vowed to return to Faery—to go home—and no power on Earth was going to stop him from fulfilling that promise.
Epilogue
“Don’t go.” Jamespulled Sarah toward him with the belt loops of her jeans, tugging until their thighs and stomachs were flush. He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled her spiced cocoa aroma. “Stay a little longer.”
He licked the sensitive skin behind her ear, and goosebumps appeared along the side of her neck.
“Stop that,” she said, slapping him playfully on the chest. “I have to get back to work.”
