Page 34 of Crown of Tides and Fury

A Sucker For Temptation

No matter how cleverly we tried, we couldn’t get anything else out of the beast. After a nod from Wickham, Kitch plunged his blade into its neck, then stood back to wait for that void to come claim the body. By then, it was dark, and Wickham didn’t want anything coming at us unawares.

Reluctantly, we all agreed to go home, though we knew, out there somewhere, a few stragglers would be hiding. I just prayed they stayed hidden until Orion’s minions gave up and went away.

I couldn’t bear to think about the twins that had been taken away. All ages, probably. It was weak consolation to hear they would be held for ransom. No matter what the conditions were in a place monsters called home, it had to be better than being slaughtered for being the wrong caliber of witch.

At least that’s what I told myself.

Rescuing them was obviously impossible. Getting an escort from one of the creatures was about as likely as finding a DeNoy.

Meral and Reem were put in charge of the estate. Becca and Daniel, and Deb and Ranald Young were sent back to the Edinburgh house, along with Jez, her bird, and the survivors from Muirsglen. When asked, they all preferred to remain in Scotland, even if they wouldn’t be leaving the property much. None of them had to be warned about the dangers of being caught out on their own. They were promised safety, food, and shelter, and Wickham vowed to help them get settled wherever they wanted once the danger passed.

Wickham’s sisters were also returned to the Edinburgh house, to help deal with any trouble that might arise. Obviously, this helped Wickham relax a little, since he wouldn’t have to watch the pair tempt Fate by living so close to the Bridge of Sighs, where they knew they would die.

The Muirsglen group were instantly attached to each other—maybe because they were all from the same town and survived the same horror. The childless couple from the first rescue, Emily and Jackson, turned out to be brother and sister. She’d lost her husband when he’d run back to their house, hoping to save his father. Together, they took on the responsibility of the brother and sister from the closet, along with Davey, the teenager.

The old woman knew the neighbor girl from the fire and said they were good as family now, while Jez and Fingal, the bird, took on Mickelson’s laddie and his thumb. The other couple had their hands full with their twins, which might be the only Muir witches left from Muirsglen.

As they prepared to leave Hope House for Edinburgh, via Wickham, Davey declared he wanted to stay and fight with the rest of us. Jackson insisted he recover first, then Urban put the boy off further by saying he would need to be trained—but promised he had friends who would gladly arrange that training. I realized he must be talking about his fellow-former-ghosts from the 18thcentury.

Davey wasn’t thrilled, but after a headshake from Wickham, he accepted his host’s final judgment.

We resumed our search for the Naming Powers during the day. Wickham spent a lot of time on his own, making notes and trying to remember everything the former Grandfather had said during a years’ worth of training. He was certain there were hints among his memories, but we couldn’t afford to waste a lot of time on the off chance those memories might be helpful. In the end, he gave himself ten days to try.

We put the same time limit on our night project—hunting.

The original six of us went back to checking along the Meridian cities at night. Flann, Brian, and Alwyn joined now and then. We dressed all in black, armed with silver blades. Our inner fires were fueled with revenge for all those Uncasts lost and those witches held captive in Moire’sMuireach.

Persi wore a miniature crossbow on her forearm. Urban usually wore his kilt, and Everly looked perfect as ever, no matter what the hour. As a unit, we were so over the top that when we were stopped by police, no matter what country, we laughed and claimed to be cosplayers. No one ever asked us to hand over our “costume” weapons.

We didn’t have much luck in the hunting department. If there were thousands of creatures, Orion wasn’t sparing many, which didn’t make sense. If the pursuit of the Naming Powers was really his first priority, he would have thrown all his resources into finding them, wouldn’t he?

I put the question to Wickham the morning of the fourth day.

“We cannae ken,” he said. “So we’ll assume the creature was lying about their numbers. And if he’s not, we’ll deal with his hordes when we must, and not before. We cannae be sidetracked by preparing to fight an army that may not exist.”

Flann grinned. “Sure but we might find a DeNoy. Maybe they can tell us how many witches wait in Moire’sMuireach.”

“Did you find out what amuireachis?”

“A loving embrace.Moire’s…loving embrace.”

* * *

We finally caughttwo of Orion’s dogs on the seventh night. Though I was eager for my next kill, Urban and Persi dispatched them before I could call dibs. I didn’t complain, though, since toying with our prey was frowned upon when it might endanger lives unnecessarily. Besides, the more blue-black bodies that piled up—no matter who killed them—the more they blocked out the memory of all those other bodies…

We slept in the early hours of morning, napped in the early evening, then set out again. Those who remained at the house kept our engines fed with food and research and suggestions for the next place to look.

Time ticked away so quickly, I couldn’t believe it was already Day 9 of our Revenge Tour. I prayed all day that we’d find monsters that night, but we didn’t, possibly due to the fact that we’d hunted in Sweden, along the 18thMeridian East. We’d arrived early, just before two in the morning. However, the days were so long there, in the summer, that we’d had less than two hours to hunt before the sky began to lighten.

The next night, our last night, we arrived even earlier, armed with the names and address of a pair of Muir witches, thanks to Kitch’s connections. Sadly, we were more than a day too late. The blood splashed throughout the apartment was already dried. Bits of bodies had already begun to rot.

I hadn’t realized Orion’s dogs were so…thorough.

“I don’t understand,” I said, through the bandana pressed against my face. “Why didn’t they take them as hostages like the twins from Muirsglen?”

“I don’t know,” Wickham said, and urged us all close, so we could escape the smell. “Maybe Orion was with them and realized they didn’t have what he wanted. Or maybe that fact was tortured out of them.”

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