Luvic twisted his head, shaking it back and forth. It seemed as if he were fighting an internal battle. Man warring against animal instinct.
“Did you say Luvic?” Darin asked, staring at the jackaltooth.
Celia stepped forward again, and Luvic snarled. He swiped at Celia, and she jumped back. Behind her, Ragnor groaned and tried to push himself upright.
“He’s lost himself,” he said, his mournful voice scraping. “Lia. He’s lost. Can’t you tell? It’s better to end him now, before he hurts someone. It would be a mercy. He would want that.”
Celia swung on her brother, her face a mixture of relief that he was sitting upright and fury that he’d suggested killing Luvic. “He would not!”
Behind us, a dozen Smiths began to circle, creeping close with weapons drawn.
Luvic snarled threateningly.
“He would,” Ragnor said with steady conviction.
I ignored them both and untwining my hand from Finn’s, inched forward. “Luvic,” I whispered. “Luvic. Listen to me. You are a man.”
He glanced at me and lifted the edge of his lip. An eerie, pained jackaltooth rumble ripped from his throat. It was a warning.
Finn swore as the Smiths advanced. “Stay back,” he commanded. Then, turning to Luvic, he held out his hand. Was he going to conjure? I didn’t think so, but Luvic must have.
He launched at Finn, his jaws snapping.
Finn ducked, and Luvic soared over him.
He slammed to the ground twenty feet away and raced past the Smiths. One tried to stop him, and he knocked him aside with a violent roar. In less than three seconds, he was gone. A vicious, eerie howl echoed through the streets.
Celia stared after him, her face pale.
“Oh, Luvic,” she whispered, and in those words, I heard the acknowledgment of what her brother had said.
“He’s gone,” Ragnor said.
She nodded and then dropped her head, hiding her expression.
I couldn’t believe it. I wouldn’t. I’d seen Luvic as a jackaltooth before. He’d always come back. At least, he had if I’d helped him.
I frowned. Something in the bent of Celia’s downturned face told me it wouldn’t be so easy this time.
“He’ll be okay,” I said, urging myself to believe it.
Celia clenched her fist. “What do you care? What do you know?”
Darin stepped forward and smiled at me. It was his big-brother, humor-filled, happy-to-see-you smile. He glanced between Finn and me, and his smile grew.
“Hey, Mari. Nice to see you. Sorry I tried to kill you. Twice.” He scratched his chin. “Three times. No. Four. Hmm.” He shrugged. “Do you think we could be friends again?”
He laughed at the look on my face.
“When was the fourth time?” I asked.
He blinked and then looked away innocently, as if I hadn’t asked the question.
“Darin,” I said.
Finn bent down and held out a hand to help Ragnor up. He steadied him and murmured, “You’re all right?”
When Ragnor nodded, Darin said, “You two will join us. Obviously. We saw you fighting the Bard. You’ll give your loyalty to the Smith.”
