Black hair covered his body. Claws sprang from his fingers. And as he seemed to spill over onto the ground, he threw back his head. He howled.
Slowly, carefully, Sorcha set Teagan down again behind her. “He can’t hurt you.” She prayed it was true, that the magick she’d imbued into the copper sign would hold even against this form.
For surely he’d bartered his soul for this dark art.
The wolf bared its teeth, and sprang.
She pushed back—thrusting out her hands, drawing up her strength so that pure white light shot from her palms. When it struck the wolf it screamed, almost like a man. But it came again, and again, leaping, snapping, its eyes feral and horribly human.
The claws lashed out, caught Sorcha’s skirts, tore them. Then it was Teagan’s scream that sliced the air.
“Go away, go away!” She pelted the wolf with rocks, rocks that turned to balls of fire as they struck, so the fog smelled of burning flesh and fur.
The wolf lunged again, howling still. Teagan tumbled back as Sorcha slashed down at it. The little girl’s cloak fell open. From the copper sign she wore burst a blue flame, straight and sharp as an arrow. It struck the wolf’s flank, scored a mark shaped like a pentagram.
On an agonized cry, the wolf flew back. As it pawed and snapped at the air, Sorcha gathered all she had, hurled her light, her hope, her power.
The world went white, blinding her. Desperate, she groped for Teagan’s hand as she fell to her knees.
The fog vanished. All that remained of the wolf was scorched earth in its shape.
Weeping, Teagan clutched at her mother, burrowed into her—just a child now, frightened of monsters all too real.
“There now, it’s gone. You’re safe. We need to go home. We need to be home, my baby.”
But she lacked the strength even to stand. She could have wept herself to be brought so low. Once she could have summoned the power to fly through the woods with her child in her arms. Now her limbs trembled, her breath burned, and her heart beat so fast and hard it pounded her temples.
If Cabhan gathered himself, came back...
“Run home. You know the way. Run home. I’ll follow.”
“I stay with you.”
“Teagan, do as I say.”
“No. No.” Knuckling her eyes, Teagan stubbornly shook her head. “You come. You come.”
Gritting her teeth, Sorcha managed to get to her feet. But after two steps, she simply sank to her knees again. “I can’t do it, my baby. My legs won’t carry me.”
“Alastar can. I’ll call him, and he’ll carry us home.”
“Can you call him, from all this way?”
“He’ll come very fast.”
Teagan rose on her sturdy legs, lifted her arms.
“Alastar, Alastar, brave and free, heed my call and come to me. Run swift, run true to find the one who needs you.”
Teagan bit her lip, turned to her mother. “Brannaugh helped me with the words. Are they good?”
“They’re very good.” Young, Sorcha thought. Simple and pure. “Say it twice more. Three is strong magick.”
Teagan obeyed, then came back to stroke her mother’s hair. “You’ll be well again when we’re home. Brannaugh will make you tea.”
“Aye, that’s what she’ll do. I’ll be fine again when I’m home.” She thought it was the first time she’d lied to her child. “Find me a good, strong stick. I think I could lean on it and walk a ways.”
“Alastar will come.”
