Page 47 of The Falconer

‘Both. Definitely both.’

He laughs and his eyes meet mine. For a moment, he looks so much like the boy from my childhood that I fancied myself in love with. Then I see past the smile and realise he’s not that boy, not any more. There is a sorrow that hasn’t left his gaze since the moment I walked through the door. We’ll never be the same, he and I. We’ve seen too much ever to be the people we once were. We can’t go back. I’m beginning to wish we could.

‘I missed you,’ he says suddenly.

‘I missed you, too. You never visited.’

‘Fewer fae in England.’ He rubs his eyes. ‘The visions are worse the closer I am to Scotland. I visited Mother in York over a year ago and didn’t sleep at all. I doubt I’ll be here long.’

‘Then why did you come?’

‘To see Catherine properly matched. Mother convinced me to stay through the Hogmanay festivities, but I intend to leave after the New Year.’

I reach forward to grasp his hand. ‘When you return to Oxford, write to me this time,’ I tell him. ‘Or I’ll worry—’

A shrill howl pierces the air. As one, Gavin and I turn to the window. The howl wasn’t normal, too high pitched to be an animal.

‘What was that?’ I whisper, moving to look through the window.

‘I’d rather not find out,’ Gavin replies. ‘We should—’

The second howl is closer, louder than the first. The taste of smoke and dust settles quickly in my mouth. Dryness enters my lungs and I heave in air. I bend and cough until my throat aches.

‘Aileana?’ Gavin grips my shoulder.

‘Get away from the window,’ I try to say, but the words come out strangled, barely understandable.

Desperately, I shove him. He stumbles back and hits the tea table.

Then something smashes through the window and glass shatters around me.

Chapter 17

Amassive creature with a gleaming black mane crashes into me. I grasp soft fur as my back hits the carpet and burns as I’m dragged along. Fallen shards of glass slice my flesh. I slam into Gavin’s wooden desk and I bite my tongue so I don’t scream.

A hound is on top of me, larger than any I’ve ever seen. If I were on my feet, it would have been as tall as my chest – standing on all four legs. Dark fur ripples and shimmers in the dim firelight, alternating hues of violet, green and red. Its eyes glow crimson.

Acù sìth. The seal has broken further and now the hounds have slipped through, just as Derrick said would happen.

I remain still as the hound carefully sniffs me, as if to make sure that I’m the very person it’s looking for. The person it’s been sent to kill.

‘Aileana!’ Gavin sounds so far away, as if he isn’t in the room any more.

I grip its fur, digging my fingers in. I know it’ll kill me as soon as it confirms who I am and I have to get itoff. But the hound is too heavy, a good seventeen stone of solid weight on top of me. My corset, even loosely laced, is already restricting my breathing and the faery’s heavy body makes it worse. My heartbeat fills my ears, the rhythmic thump growing ever louder, louder.

Thecù sìthdraws in one more breath, then opens its eyes and snarls. Now it knows who I am.WhatI am. Its teeth are pointed, sharp as blades at the tips. I hitch a breath, unable to move even if I wanted.

The hound’s irises blaze a bright, burning red. Saliva drips onto my skin, those teeth scant inches from my flesh. My restraining hands digging into its neck are all that’s preventing it from tearing into me, and only barely at that. I channel all the strength I have, drawing on the gift Kiaran’s told me is my birthright as a Falconer. I close my fists in a harder grip. The heavy fur is tough, thick as armour.

Something slams into the hound and knocks it off me.

‘Gavin!’ I gasp.

Thecù sìthshakes Gavin off its back, hard enough to throw him against the bookcase. It sways and volumes fall to the ground. Gavin slumps to the floor and tries to push himself up, but his shoes skid on glass from the broken window.

‘Go to the door,’ Gavin says. ‘We can trap it—’

‘And run?’ I laugh, a low, throaty sound. Familiar anger burns through my veins now. I think of Kiaran’s bloody nose, of the strength he says I possess. ‘Not yet.’

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