Page 50 of Honour Bound
It felt lighter than before, almost as if it were sentient and was aware that, after years of disuse, it was going to be played again ? even by fingers as clumsy as mine. I picked my way back along the path, taking care not to trip as I cradled it against my chest.
With the harp in front of me, my vision was slightly obscured and it didn’t help that my thoughts were on what had happened back in the main hall. I was almost past the competitors’ village before I realised that there were three figures up ahead waiting for me and deliberately blocking my path.
‘Well, well, well, look who we have here,’ the larger of the three called. ‘It’s the murderer’s offspring.’
I peered round the harp and eyed their tartans: Clans Riddell, Kincaid and Blair. The Clans were working together to bully me. How sweet.
‘Is your hair white because your darling papa shocked you so much when he slaughtered a thousand Sidhe in front of you?’
‘He didn’t kill anyone,’ I replied in a calm, clear voice.
‘No wonder she’s friendly with the MacQuarries,’ the Blair Sidhe sneered. ‘She’s as crazy as they are.’
‘You don’t belong here,’ his Riddell buddy broke in. ‘You’re not going to win the Games and you’re not welcome. You should fuck off back to your own kind.’
The Kincaid idiot got in on the action. ‘Yeah. You should be with the dirty Clan-less. The Cruaich is for those of us who belong.’
Did they believe that they were so intimidating that I’d run off into the sunset with my tail between my legs?
‘Careful, Pike,’ the Riddell Sidhe said in a mock falsetto. ‘Piss her off and she might nick your wallet.’
Pike smirked and reached into his pocket and took out his wallet. He flipped it open, took out a penny and threw it at me. Rather than sidestep, I let it hit my cheek. The three men fell about laughing.
‘There you go, bitch. That should be enough for you.’ Pike looked like he’d just found the meaning of life.
I sighed, laid the harp carefully on the ground and watched them all.
‘She’s not done yet,’ said the Blair bully. ‘Give her another penny. See what she does then.’
‘I’ve got a better idea.’ Pike raised his eyebrows and leered. ‘She’s quite pretty. I bet we could show her a good time before she goes.’
The Riddell guy looked repulsively excited. He licked his lips. ‘What a great idea.’
There weren’t many times when I regretted my pacifist stance but now was one of them. I even considered pulling out Bob’s letter opener and waking him up to ask for that wish but I didn’t want to give those idiots that kind of compliment. If I couldn’t deal with them on my own, I really didn’t deserve to be here.
Pike, apparently the ringleader, advanced. I leapt out of his path and performed a perfect landing onto the soft snow next to the path. He smirked as if he were already enjoying the chase. He wasn’t particularly canny, though. I’d landed feet away from the fire-cleared path; Pike chose to step across it, not realising that the pyrokinesis which had created the handy walkway had also melted the edges around the path. As the water re-froze it changed from snow to deadly ice. The second his foot landed he slipped, his legs flying out from under him. He landed flat on his back with a heavy thump and a loud groan.
‘Bitch,’ he muttered, like it was my fault he’d lost his footing.
His friends scuttled over to help him but he pushed them away. This time all three of them advanced on me.
It was handy that there were so many trees around. I leapt upwards and caught hold of a sturdy branch, swung out above their heads and landed behind them. I should have tried out for the Scottish gymnastics team; I would have given those bendy Russian girls a run for their money.
The three boys below me – because they were boys – howled in frustration. I dusted snow off my thighs. ‘Give up yet?’
The Blair idiot screwed up his face. The air crackled and I realised with a sinking feeling that he was using his Gift – whatever it was. When a dark cloud appeared between us, twisting and turning before taking the form of a hooded creature holding a scythe, I rolled my eyes. Virtuosity – or Illusion as it was also known – held all manner of possibilities but creating a three-dimensional version of the Grim Reaper smacked of someone who wasn’t really trying.
Unfortunately for me, Blair was rather talented and this wasn’t an insubstantial vision. Death swung at me and although I scooted away just in time, his scythe caught the edge of my hair, causing several strands to float down. The boys laughed. Pricks.
‘I expend a lot of energy avoiding split ends,’ I growled, as Death took yet another swipe. ‘I don’t appreciate a damned Illusion undoing all that work.’
‘Tell you what,’ Pike said, ‘stop fighting us and we might leave your pretty hair alone.’
‘Aw,’ the Riddell Clanling protested, ‘but I like it when they fight.’
Something inside me tightened. I tilted back my head and concentrated on the snow-laden branches above the Grim Reaper’s head. It took very little effort to shake them and a heavy pile of snow dropped off, landing on his dark cloak. Like a roadrunner cartoon, his form collapsed into a puddle on the ground while his arm hung on for an extra few seconds, gripping the scythe until it too vanished. That was easier than I expected.
‘Get her!’ Pike roared.
