Page 6 of Beyond the Faerie Gate

Rhoswyn

Idive to the ground—well, really, I trip over my own feet, but that’s neither here nor there—as the wolf pounces. It soars over my head, giving me a perfect view of its pure white underbelly as it rushes for the bandits.

Is it a wolf? I thought so at first, but I’m doubting myself now. It could be a bear, given its sheer size.

I half expect it to savage me, but luck seems to be on my side because it goes for the man at the front of the group chasing me, sinking its teeth into his vulnerable, fleshy neck.

Blood sprays. The bald man who originally grabbed me collapses to his knees, and the wolf turns its face in my direction, spitting something wet and fleshy at my feet.

Oh god, oh god. That’s his throat.

“Get it!” the others yell, not sparing their fallen leader another thought.

But the wolf-bear is ahead of them, disappearing and reappearing on another’s back. Those huge jaws snap closed around his head, and there’s a sickening crunch.

His skull cracks like an egg, caving easily under those powerful teeth.

I’m dead. I’m so, so dead.

That noise—and the coppery scent of blood—jolt me out of my fear-induced stupor. I scramble back on my hands and knees until I reach the back door. It takes all of my strength to slam the heavy piece of wood shut, and the iron latch falls into place, but there’s no lock.

We’ve never needed one.

I grab the nearest piece of furniture, a bench, and shove it against the door, then I go back for the chair, but I can’t lift it.

Whatever strength possessed me before evaporates now that I’m inside the house. I stumble, grabbing the wall for support.

“It’s carnage out there,” Maeve comments, sitting on the windowsill with her head poking through the glass like she’s watching a show. “Oof! That shifter really isn’t going easy on the poor little mortals.”

“Maeve, mind your words,” Titania hisses.

“You’re really going to try to brush this under the rug?” The warrior woman’s eyebrows almost disappear into her hairline. “She’s seen too much now, and there’s so little time left. What’s the point?”

“Oh Lord, this is not happening,” I whisper, staring at the door, wishing I could block out the sounds of violence still echoing through it. “This is just a terrible dream. Or a sickness-induced hallucination.”

“You’re not going to ruin your perfect sack shot by falling into denial at the first wolf kill you see, are you?” Maeve is almost gloating. “Come on, you’re made of sterner stuff than that. I was so proud when you took on that oaf. Don’t let me down now.”

I shake my head, mute. My body starts to buzz, and I recognise the signs of a faint coming on.

“This can’t be real,” I insist, but my words sound distorted. “I’m not a fairy.”

“No,” a voice growls from beyond the door. “You’re fae.”

The buzzing feeling intensifies, and my whole body flushes with warmth.

Oh dear God, not now.

The next thing I know, I’m in my cot.

I yawn, stretching and grimacing at how much my muscles ache.

What happened?I blink several times, shivering.

I’m cold. That means I probably fainted.

I raise a hand, and my entire limb trembles. Yup. Fainted again. Damn.

At least it can’t have been for too long this time. After a few hours, someone usually calls the Reverend and I wake up with him chanting prayers over me.

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