Page 86 of Teeth To Rip & Tear

The words weren’t English, but I understood them nonetheless.

“Lugh?” I echoed. Lugh, the God? My grandmother had prayed to the old gods. Never Lugh, but Brigit and Arionrhod. Buteveryoneknew of Lugh the Craftsman.

“Lugh?” Mitchell’s head snapped toward me. “Who said anything about Lugh?”

“That was a poem about Lugh.” I pressed the figurine into Mitchell’s hands. “And Mother Spider. I should get a pen.”

“I didn’t hear anything like that.” Wyatt piped in; his eyes narrowed as he studied me. I didn’t know why Wyatt needed to argue with me whenever I spoke.

“Are you sure you heard Lugh?” Dean’s gaze was unerring.

I shifted from one foot to the other. “You’re all scaring me,” I said truthfully.

Kaleb stood up, unfolding from his meditative position. He stretched, flicking his silver hair over his shoulder. “It explains a lot, you know.” Kaleb yawned. “Lugh is one of the Tuatha Dé Danann. He’s a god and a powerful one at that.”

“What didyouhear?” Mitchell asked as he passed back the figurine.

I eyed it like a viper, repeating the poem as if it left a bad taste in my mouth.

Dean sat back. “Lugh’s debt.” He said, echoing the words of the curse. “Éabha stole from him, but he is still in debt? What did he do to her?”

“Is everyone just going to skip over the incest?” Wyatt’s eyes rounded. “Child of his seed. Lugh knocked up Mother Spider and married her own daughter?”

“Ew.” My nose wrinkled. My poor grandmother. “She was pregnant when she left him. The Huntsman.” My voice was dull. “With the Beast-King’s child.”

Wyatt eyed me suspiciously. “How do you know that?”

Though Dean, Mitchell, and Kaleb all knew my heritage, it seemed that they hadn’t filled Wyatt in.

Kaleb spoke up, interrupting the silence. “The god of sun and light. Weavers and creation.” He announced. “He is known for his Hounds. I should have put it together.”

“Why wouldLughbe here?” I kept my voice low, conscious of our location. “Why isn’t he in the Tuatha Dé Danann?”

“Something was taken.” Mitchell gestured to the figurine. “Éabha took something.”

“If Lugh is the god of creation and Weavers, why would he need a Weaver?” Dean interjected. “Did Éabha take his power?”

My lips pressed together. “I don’t know,” I admitted, and I hated the truth in those words.

Kaleb piped in. “Éabha was given to the Huntsman by the Black Widows. The Black Widows once ruled the Forest, they called their courtThe Court of Teeth.”

Dean shook his head. “I haven’t been alive long enough to know anything about that. The Wild Fae and the Sídhe are so far removed I can’t imagine us ruling anything in the Aos Sí. To the Sídhe, we are beasts, servants, and wild things without grace and beauty.”

“What happens when the Huntsman wakes up and realizes the curse is missing?” Panic lit a fire in my chest. “Can we run? Can we find the Gate in the forest and leave?”

“The moment we return to the Human Realities, we will lose our memories of Samhain,” Dean said gravely. “Such is the magic of the Wild Hunt.”

“So, we have two days to figure out how to break the curse before we return to the Human Realities?” My arms flailed with exasperation. “If the Huntsman even lets me leave!”

“I’d be more worried about how much he remembers when he wakes up.” Mitchell brushed his shaggy black hair away from his face. “You knocked the bastard clean out.”

Dean’s back shot ramrod straight. “Maybe you should both start from the beginning...” He lifted a single brow, eying Mitchell and me like errant children.

The sun had set, and there was no call to action. No chiming bell announcing another hunt.

A fissure of unease spread through the kennels as the wolves all speculated about the Huntsman’s absence.

Our meeting in the common room had led nowhere. Save for the knowledge that my grandmother might have stolen something from Lugh himself—of the Tuatha Dé Danann.

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