a god, so swift and dashing—almost radiant. When I looked at you … it was like fingers running through my soul. But something in you changed after you went off to the Sidh. Something had awakened, something grand and terrible and far too great for little Julie Teller. And when your father died … well, I knew I’d lost you forever.”
Max began to speak, but Julie squeezed his hand.
“I won’t be that girl in the story,” she insisted. “Thomas is not a hero, Max, but he’s smart and kind and constant. I’m the most important thing in his life and always know just where I stand. I’ve come to learn that there’s real value in that—a value greater than any infatuation.”
“Thomas is a very lucky guy,” said Max. “I suspect he knows it.”
“He does,” she said, fumbling for a handkerchief. “He knows I’m here with you. He encouraged it, told me I should say my piece and put things to rest. I guess I’ve done that.”
“I guess you have,” said Max, hugging her. “I wish you both all the joy and happiness in the world.”
She thanked him, staring up into his face and wiping away her tears. “Did you ever love me?” she wondered.
“I think I did,” said Max. “At the very least, I wanted to.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “I was never sure. I was always afraid that you’d fallen in love in the Sidh. With the girl who gave you this.”
With her finger, she traced the thin white line that ran from Max’s cheek to his chin.
“Why do you say that?”
Standing on her tiptoes, Julie kissed his cheek and held him close. “Because young lovers are foolish,” she whispered. “They always go for the ones who hurt them.”
Releasing him, she placed the lantern back in his hand and backed away. For a second or two, she gazed at him, as though trying to fix the moment in her mind. And then, with a farewell wave, Julie Teller turned and strode briskly up the path. Moments later she was gone.
Max returned to his command tent, setting the lantern upon the desk and sitting at his chair. He was flooded with conflicting thoughts and emotions: regrets, grief, and a sincere hope that Julie would find happiness. He reflected on what she had to say, her thoughts on love and her intuition regarding Scathach.
Max wondered if she realized the irony of her tale. While Max might have been Julie’s Aurora, Scathach was his. The warrior maiden lived in the Sidh and Max lived here: in this tent, this time, this world.
When he’d left Lugh’s castle at Rodruban, Scathach had given Max an ivory brooch and a reminder to remember that he was the son of a king. Unclasping it from his cloak, Max studied the object, tracing his finger over the image of a Celtic sun and the curving arcs of its rays.
An hour passed, maybe two with Max sitting quietly and musing on his life. His thoughts were not only of Julie and Scathach, but also of his parents and Nick, the many people whose lives had intersected his and were no more. His mind had drifted far away when something abruptly brought it back.
The tent flap had rippled open. Max caught the movement from the corner of his eye, a slight but undeniable disturbance as though a breeze had brushed the canvas apart. Normally, he’d have paid this little mind, but tonight the wind was in the west. Casually, he set the brooch down upon the desk. A second later, his worst suspicions were confirmed.
Max’s ring was scalding hot.
~ 14 ~
A Shadow From the Sidth
As the ring blistered his finger, Max focused on the strewn cushions. Even now, one of them moved, as though brushed aside by something circling the tent’s perimeter. Reaching slowly for the
Had the clones survived?
There was no time to wonder. With a snarl, the invisible intruder attacked. But even as Max drew his sword, he sensed another presence behind him. He ducked, twisting away just as a sharp blade sheared across his throat. At the same instant, something slammed into his shoulder, knocking him over the desk. He fell heavily to the ground, losing his grip on his sword just as the entire tent went black. A heavy boot kicked him squarely on the chin. Dazed, he fell back, only dimly aware that a wild animal was atop him. It felt like a vye, huge and matted, its claws scratching his limbs as it growled and scrambled for position.
There was a shout as someone else rushed into the tent. The animal rolled off of Max, snarling like a rabid dog as the clash of steel rang in Max’s ears. Blood was gushing from his wound and he sensed a powerful poison already at work. Disoriented, he gazed helplessly about, unable to see anything until an arc of brilliant light suddenly tore through the darkness. Sparks flew as it struck something metallic. There was a gasp, staggering footsteps, and Max heard the growling animal rush past him. A furious din ensued of snapping teeth and tearing fabric until at last Max heard the grisly sound of hard metal striking soft flesh. A sharp yelp gave way to a whimper. A voice spoke in the blackness.
“Ignis!”
The unnatural darkness vanished as the tent burst into flames. A great surge of heat washed over Max, scorching his eyes as the tent’s walls curled and collapsed inward like the petals of a dying flower. Through the billows of smoke, he finally glimpsed his attacker.
William Cooper stood ten feet away. He was breathing hard, standing astride a mound of dark, twitching fur. He held a long knife in each hand, but one had been broken, its blade sheared cleanly in half. Firelight danced upon his grim, pale features as he scanned about for his target. When his eyes settled on Max, the man raised the unbroken blade and spoke in a hoarse, alien voice.
“Atropos
Max could not even raise a hand to defend himself. The poison had numbed his limbs and he was rapidly losing consciousness.
But even as Cooper went to finish his victim, something stepped between them.
It resembled a lithe and living shadow. When Cooper sprang, it rushed to meet the attack. There was a blinding flash and a sharp crack as of lightning splitting a tree. A howl erupted, so hideous and resonant it could not have been human. From outside there came screams and a stampede of boots as though onlookers were fleeing.
Max felt someone take a firm hold of his arm. He was dragged outside, away from the flames and smoke and into the welcome cold. The stinging in his eyes subsided and Max found himself gazing dazedly up at the stars. They seemed to be descending, growing ever larger until they were radiant jewels, every facet polished to an astounding, unearthly gleam. Max was weakly aware of a pressure at his neck. At first, the sensation was comforting and warm. But then it intensified. He moaned, but the person only held him tighter, sucking and worrying at his throat like a vampire.
The agony became horrific. Every nerve and blood vessel seemed to be fraying, splitting down the middle. He writhed, but the vampire refused to let go. The pain was unbearable. It invaded Max’s being, rousing the Old Magic so that its vast, dreadful power came roaring forth in answer. Instead of pain, Max was soon transfixed and horrified by the forces amplifying within him. He was becoming a bomb, a mass of energy that might suddenly ignite and incinerate everything for miles. His hands shook uncontrollably. Surely his body must burst, shed its mortal coil and explode.…
And then the pressure stopped.
The Old Magic retreated, surging away like a riptide. With a sputtering gasp, Max exhaled and felt his sensibilities return. He heard frightened voices nearby and tried to glimpse those around him, but everything was hazy. A coarse blanket was draped over him, smelling faintly of lanolin and tobacco. Once again the stars were their proper size, sharp and scintillating against the wintry sky.
A larger crowd had gathered by the time Max could sit up. A score of the Trench Rats were in a perimeter about him to keep curious onlookers at bay. Reaching tentatively for his throat, Max felt nothing but smooth, unblemished skin. The cut Cooper made had disappeared. Pushing the blanket off, he rose unsteadily to his
