Wade gape-grinned in a way that showed all his teeth, but Patrick had seen Wade passed out on the couch in a snack coma too many times before to ever think he was a threat in either form.
Patrick ducked under Wade’s jaw, shoving his dagger into its sheath as he approached Órlaith. She stood on the rocky ground, head bent back to soak up the winter rain even as green moss spread around her feet like a blanket of summer. Patrick shrugged out of his leather jacket and offered it to her.
“Here,” he said. “You must be cold.”
Órlaith lowered her head and opened her eyes, the power in her gaze that of a goddess unleashed. “Your gift is appreciated.”
She took his leather jacket and pulled it on. Now that she was no longer bound, Órlaith was healing. The bruises on her face were starting to fade, even if her rage still burned just as hot in her eyes.
“Ferdiad is mine,” Órlaith said.
Wade parted his wings, offering her a way out of his protection. Patrick didn’t get in her way as the Summer Lady walked away, moss and flowers cascading away from every step she took. The sudden change in atmospheric pressure made Patrick’s headache worse. He stayed next to Wade, watching as Órlaith raised both arms to the sky andscreamed.
Patrick clamped both hands over his ears, but that did nothing to block out the sound. He heard it deep in his skull, a resonance that made it difficult to think and slammed into him as if it were a physical blow. Órlaith never stopped screaming, the sound echoing over Skellig Michael with a concussive force strong enough to push aside the winter rain lashing the island. Patrick looked up as the clouds broke apart above them, spinning wider until he could see the clear night sky.
“Órlaith!”
Gerard’s shout pierced her scream the way nothing else could. Órlaith snapped her mouth shut, her scream fading to echoes. Patrick carefully uncovered his ears, looking around as witchlights flickered into existence above where they stood, revealing all the green that had burst through the rocky crevices to cover every stone and patch of dirt as far as he could see in the dim light.
The one bright spot was Gerard’s spear as the other man vaulted over the rocky wall and ran toward them. Jono wasn’t far behind, with Sage hot on his heels, both of them clawing their way over the walls in their werecreature forms.
“Cú Chulainn,” Órlaith said in a relieved voice.
She spread her arms wide and Gerard ran right into her, lifting Órlaith off her feet in a fierce hug as he clutched at her. Órlaith held on just as tightly, kissing him fiercely. The desperation in Gerard’s face tempered into a relief so deep Patrick thought he’d start crying.
Jono skidded to a stop beside Patrick, headbutting him in concern. Patrick sank his hands into Jono’s thick fur. “I’m fine.”
More figures headed their way from down the hill. Patrick conjured up a mageglobe out of caution, but he recognized Keith when the other man got within sight. The Hellraisers and Nadine regrouped with his pack and the immortals on the rocky incline overlooking the monastery. Some of the soldiers needed assistance, but all of them were alive and not critically injured. That was all Patrick cared about.
Gerard finally set Órlaith on her feet and kissed her deeply, holding his spear at an angle away from her body so as not to harm her with it. When they finally separated, Gerard looked down at her and brushed some of her long, wet hair off her pale cheek.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Bruised, but nothing worse than that.”
“They didn’t try to remove your godhead?”
Órlaith shook her head. “No. I was to be part of a trade.”
“They wanted Brigid,” Patrick said grimly.
“Yes. They said her godhead was preferable to mine for what it carried and what she is known for as a goddess.”
Gerard tucked wet strands of hair behind her ear. “They can’t have either of you.”
“An admirable dedication, but I would prefer you promise me something else.”
“And that would be?”
“I want your brother’s head,” Órlaith replied, her voice carrying with it the fury of a summer storm.
Gerard raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Then it will be yours.”
“Speaking of that asshole, what happened to him?” Patrick asked.
“They retreated through the veil. The Sluagh went with them. Fucking cowards,” Keith said, spitting on the ground.
“We need to do the same. I don’t think Medb is expecting us to keep our side of the bargain, and I wouldn’t put it past her to weasel out of the terms.”
