CHAPTER FORTY

The sluagh dives toward Taylor, its blood-red eyes focused on her, its equally red beak pointed like a spear. A single bird seems like nothing, but a soul stealer is never a single bird—it's a flock, whose number grows with each victim, trapping them in the horrible not-death of being the evil fae's unwilling puppets.

I've been such a fool. The thought of completing my quest led my hasty footsteps too far from Taylor. Even going in front to ensure the way was free of foe clearly failed. The vile soul sucker hid from me.

The red beak jabs into her arm, and Taylor cries out in pain and slaps at the sluagh, getting another bite on her hand.

Anger boils in my chest. How dare it hurt her? How dare I have allowed it?

I roar.

The sluagh lifts from her, wings flapping furiously to gain height.

My sword rings from the sheath with the pure sound of moon steel, flashing through the air like lightning given solid form.

Only inches above her head, it slices through the black body.

The pieces of bird plummet toward her, and she falls back, eyes wide. Her hands raise, and the crystal necklace glows as a pulse of power blasts from her. The bird parts fly upward, disappearing as they go, losing solid form in true death.

A chorus of raucous calls comes from the trees all around as the rest of the flock takes flight.

"Don't let the sluagh peck you again," I shout. "The more they do, the more of your soul they steal."

"Oh, god! You mean the name's for real instead of a metaphor?"

"Very real." I slice at another of the vile birds.

She won't feel much effect from only a few pecks since this is her first encounter with the sluagh.

I'll not fare as well. In the battle to save my village, the soul stealers attacked me many times. Even though I'm fully recovered, I'm also now more susceptible to their predations.

"The blood of the wounds is incidental," I say. "What they're really doing is stealing pieces of your soul. The more they take, the weaker you get until you can't fight them off. Then the whole flock feeds, and you become yet another bird to swell the numbers of the flock."

"Shit, that's some serious nightmare fuel right there." She scrambles up to standing.

I yank the leather bag from my pocket and lob it to her. "Capture one of the birds. Don't kill it. It's the only way to stop a sluagh." We only learned of this defense a few weeks ago, when Ashley used her flying power to pluck an attacking bird out of the sky.

Then there's no more time for words. The flock dives. Sharp red beaks open, viscous red talons extend. They become a tornado of menace and hatred whirling around us, their evil red eyes glaring and hungry.

Pain flares across my back as their vicious beaks stab me.

My sword slices again and again.

Bird bodies tumble through the air, only to disappear before they strike the ground.

Yet it doesn't keep the cowardly creature from striking from behind. A first weakening trembles through my muscles, as more of my soul slips from my body.

No! I will not fail my bride!

Taylor waves the bag around but catches nothing. Even though they look like birds, the sluagh is still a fae with full sentience. It heard my instructions and avoids her front, attacking only from the back.

"Shit! This isn't working!" she yells.

"Come stand back to back, so I can protect you."

My bride does so, but she's so tiny the birds can still attack my shoulders and neck from behind.

And having her at my back means I can no longer whirl to keep them at bay. The metallic smell of blood fills the air, and my movements slow yet again.

The sluagh sends up a raucous cry, wings flapping furiously—it senses victory.

"This isn't working!" Taylor calls out. "We need to fall down!"

"What?"

"Trust me!"

And I do.

Sword held out to one side, I spin, clutch her back to my chest, and fall backward as the sluagh flock descends.