Chapter 93

Ardal

My wolf revels in her freedom, breaking free from her human prison for the first time in so long. Every sensation is amplified - the crunch of fallen leaves underfoot, the scent of pine needles and damp earth, the creaking of tree branches as they sway in the wind. I eagerly take in all the smells and sounds that only come alive in furred form.

Jack urges me forward with a lighthearted nudge. And then we're off, racing through the forest. As the terrain grows steeper and more treacherous, leading me further and further away from Kadeem and the quints, I push myself harder until my lungs feel ready to burst.

At last, we emerge into a clearing at the foot of a mountain range that looms high above us like a majestic goddess. Her snow-capped peaks reach for the sky, casting long shadows across the rugged landscape. I sense danger lurking, but I'm also drawn to here, as if some part of me has always belonged.

Panting, we shift back into our human forms and I stare ahead, my eyes fixed in wonder.

My heart is pounding and a breeze floats through. I get my first real breath of the mountain air I've been longing for. My eyes scan across the rocky walls of the peaks, reflecting the fading afternoon light. I feel alive, and any doubts or fears I had about leaving alone with Jack have fallen away.

"Beautiful, isn't it," Jacks says, still panting.

It's more than beautiful. There is a raw power in this place I feel on a visceral level. It stirs other feelings deep within me that I cannot name, cannot contain in words.

He nudges me again, shattering my reverie. "Ardal," he rasps.

"Sorry, yeah," I wheeze, snapping my head towards him.

"It's okay," he says, breaking into a laugh.

On an endorphin high, I think, I find myself giggling in response. This only makes him laugh more, and then I burst out laughing even harder. We stand together, in a silly, breathless cackling, my stomach muscles aching from it, the sound echoing through the clearing.

He manages to get a deep breath and his expression turns more somber.

He nods at me. "I've got to get you ready."

I tilt my head quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"I'm going to give you a protective mark," he says. "Nothing's bulletproof in the supernatural world, but it will help."

"Magic? Is that what you've found for Erbao?"

He shakes his head ruefully. "No, unfortunately not. I've spent many years experimenting with different herbs, incantations, runes, stones - you name it, but I'm not particularly skilled in any of it, except one thing, and it's the mark I'm going to give you now."

He takes my hand and our faces flush as we realize the awkward intimacy between us. Though it's not in the same ballpark as the magnetic pull I feel with Kadeem, there's a comforting warmth in his touch.

If things were different... or if I could only pretend, I might be able to eventually lose myself in him.

"This might sting for a moment," he warns me, his expression apologetic.

I smile nervously. "You sound like a doctor."

He raises his eyebrows in a 'duh.' I swallow and try to brace myself.

He takes a small breath to steady himself. A gentle smile comes across his face before he shuts his eyes, holding my palm pressed to his.

My hand shakes slightly in anticipation. With his free hand, he carefully traces my skin with his index finger, and a searing, burning pain erupts from it.

With the index finger of his other hand, he etches my skin and a searing, burning pain erupts from it.

Instinctively, I try to yank away, but he has hold of my wrist and is gripping it, bracing it to him.

As soon opens his eyes, done with his work, I jerk away, gasping at the intense sensation that's still shooting up my arm.

"Aaah! Jesus!" I shake my hand in an attempt to ease the pain.

"I'm sorry," he grimaces.

"It feels like I'm on fire! Is this normal?" With shaking fingers, I cradle my scalded flesh.

His expression is anxious and regretful. He nods, wincing. "That'll pass," he says, pushing his glasses up against his nose.

"Oooh," I hiss in pain and examine the mark. It's mercifully small - but it's definitely going to be a permanent scar on my hand. The shape is simple - one long line with two shorter lines jutting out from it on the right side, kind of like a coat rack. It's red and raised now, as though he branded me with a red-hot iron.

"What does this symbol mean," I ask.

"In the books - the modern ones at least - it's associated with... um," he trails off, suddenly looking nervous. "Cows."

He gives a light chuckle and I nearly come unglued.

"COWS?" I scream at him, utterly incredulous.

His face immediately turns serious and he quickly removes his glasses.

He clears his throat, fumbling with the glasses nervously as he cleans the lens with his shirt. "So, the Celtic name is Fehir," he says, putting the glasses back on. He looks at me warily before continuing, "And cattle were once associated with wealth."

Timidly, he reaches out his hand. "These are the horns," he says. He cautiously touches the two smaller lines, sending a jolt of electric pain that radiates up my arm again.

"I'm sorry," he says immediately as I wince, pulling his hand away from me. "I know it's tender." He takes a deep breath. "But for magic, it has different meanings. There are lesser known associations with power and blood. In astrology, Fehir or Fehu, is signified by Aries, the Ram. Aries is ruled by Mars, the God of War."

He pauses, searching me for any sign of understanding in my eyes.

"You're trying to tell me this is a badass tattoo," I joke.

"Yes," he grins. "It gives you strength and power, especially," he sighs, like he's nearly breathless with anxiety, and drops his eyes.

"Especially," he says, reluctantly meeting my gaze again, "Over a creature for whom blood is particularly important."

I raise my eyebrows. Uh-uh. No.

He frowns, nodding hesitantly.

"Vampires," I say, flatly. "You brought me to see... vampires?"

He nods again, stiffening as though he's bracing himself for my assault.

I scowl. "What does that have to do -"

It hits me and I lose my shit. I try to storm off but he catches me.

"Just wait, Ardal, please!"

"You want me to feed my baby to vampires? To become a VAMPIRE?"

Rage surges through me like molten lava as I try to fight him off and he fights to hang on.

Jack clamps down on me. Then he squeezes his eyes shut for a second, as though trying to summon some inner source of strength. "Yes," he says, peeking them open at me.

"You're out of your fucking mind!" In a fury, I try viciously to wrench my arms away. "Get off of me," I scream.

"Wait, wait, please," he pleads, clutching at my arms desperately. "It sounds horrid. It really does. You don't have to go along with it but-"

"There's no way, I'm going along with it, Jack! There's exactly zero chance-"

"Just meet her first-"

I go still, dropping my flailing arms. "Meet her?"

As if on cue, a small, pale face emerges from shadows ahead of us.

My stomach plummets. "Your sister," I croak.

His voice comes out in a tremble. "Her name is Mingan."