I opened the trunk and pawed through the contents. Long swords, a couple of cutlasses, a rapier, a two-handed claymore. Half a dozen daggers. Most were bronze-bladed. Nothing with an obsidian blade like Hellforged, but that would be too much to hope for. Hellforged was one of a kind. “Which weapon, Mab?” I asked, grabbing a random dagger and holding it up.
Mab didn’t even look at me. Her gaze followed the white falcon as he seized and tore the Morfran. “Not a weapon, child.” Her damaged throat could scarcely emit a whisper. I had to lean in close to hear her. “A leather glove. Put it on, and quickly. That’s the falcon from the prophecies.”
I found the glove. The dead body of a crow, its breast torn open, thumped to the ground beside me. Its black eye lost its sheen and dulled into death.
The hell with Dad’s secret. I’d kept it long enough. This new development—that the white falcon could actually kill the Morfran—was important. “That falcon is also—”
The falcon landed, perching on the trunk. He stretched out his wings, folded them, and shook his feathers. Then he looked my aunt in the eye.
“Hello, Mab,” the falcon said. “Long time, no see. Welcome to Boston.”
14
“EVAN?” MAB RASPED.
My aunt is most definitely not the fainting type. But her injuries, combined with the look of utter surprise and bewilderment that crossed her face, made me reach to catch her, just in case. She huffed and pushed me away.
Kane stared, mouth open.
Dad turned his falcon’s head and cocked it, as though listening. His rainbow eyes looked into the distance. He spread his wings.
“We’ll talk later. Gotta go. Say hi to Juliet for me, Vic.”
The huge bird launched himself into the air. His wings flapped, carrying him toward the ceiling. The ceiling wavered, like ripples in water. The falcon passed through and disappeared.
Two faces turned to me.
“I guess I owe you both an explanation.” But I had no idea where to start. Instead I gestured at the female zombie who lay on the floor clutching her face and rocking from side to side. “First, though, we need to get her secured. And call Daniel. He needs to know about this.”
The look my aunt gave me made me want to crawl into the trunk and close the lid over me. I glanced at Kane for support, but the hurt in his eyes made me wish I hadn’t. My fingers tightened around the soft, thick leather of the glove I still held.
“Put that away,” Mab whispered. “And lock the trunk.” Her gaze slid sideways. The airport cops approached us, their guns drawn. That must have been what made Dad fly off. I hoped they had somewhere we could hold the female zombie while we waited for Daniel to arrive.
But it wasn’t the cops that worried Mab. Before they got two steps closer, a howling, baying sound filled the terminal. The men froze, glancing around in terror. The noise seemed to surround us, approaching from everywhere at once, until galloping hooves cut through the din. Beside me, Kane caught his breath, then groaned.
The Night Hag was coming.
Inside my shirt, the protection charm grew hot against my skin.
“Victory! The glove!” Mab got some voice into her words, but the effort must have hurt her throat.
I threw the glove into the trunk and slammed the lid. After two desperate jiggles, the key turned, locking it shut.
Two hellhounds bounded into the terminal.
The charm burned my chest. I grasped the chain and pulled it outside my shirt, where it glowed like a miniature sun.
More hounds ran in. The pack skidded to a stop not ten feet away. They crouched and snarled, snapping their teeth. But they didn’t come any closer.
I reached for Kane’s hand. “Are you all right?”
“The moon’s not full yet.” His tone was grim, and there was strain in his voice. Together we stood.
The galloping hooves slowed to a walk, then halted. For a moment, there was silence except for hellhound whimpers and growls. Then, the Night Hag burst through the outside wall. Her horse screamed; flames shot from its nostrils. And there was the hag herself, her hood thrown back to reveal her death’s head skull, an eerie light glowing in its eye sockets.
She’d obviously chosen her moment to make a dramatic entrance. The footsteps of one airport cop echoed as he raced out of the terminal. The other was already gone.
Mab struggled to stand. Kane let go of my hand as he reached down and got one arm around her. Gently, he lifted her to her feet. She leaned on him for a moment, then straightened and stood on her own. His hand found mine again. Together the three of us faced the Night Hag.
From her mount, the hag scanned the terminal. As she turned her head, flesh covered her face and her hair grew long and silky. Her dress filled out, as her shape morphed from skeleton to young woman. But there was no beauty in her youth. Her gaze locked on me, her features twisted in fury.
“Where is he?” she snarled.
“Where’s what?” Hard to sound tough when your voice comes out in a squeak. The charm glowed on my chest, its heat penetrating my shirt.
“My falcon. The one you stole from me.” She pointed an accusing finger, and one of the hounds barked. The others leapt to their feet and joined in, straining forward. I glanced at Kane. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, as though that would block out light and sound both.
“Silence!” roared the hag.
The hounds yelped and dropped to a shivering crouch. Kane flinched, but he opened his eyes. He regarded the hag with a steady gray gaze that must have cost him every ounce of strength and will he could muster.
But the hag fixed her own gaze on me. Her face had changed, sagging into middle-age. Bags pouched under her eyes; her jawline drooped into jowls. The fury remained, however.
I cleared my throat to steady my voice. “The falcon escaped. Don’t blame me if you couldn’t hold on to him.”
“Liar!” The word exploded through the room, and the hounds cried out in pain. Beside me, Kane gasped, then pressed his lips in a tight line. I squeezed his hand, trying to offer reassurance neither of us felt.
The hag now wore the face of a cruel old woman, the kind who stalks through fairy tales and children’s nightmares. “I’ve been tracking that bird. He comes to you. I demand you remove whatever spell you’ve enchanted him with and return him to me.”
“There is no spell. The falcon is free. I handed him over to you as per our bargain. What happened after that isn’t my problem.”
“She’s right, Mallt-y-Nos.” Mab’s voice rang out clear and strong. I looked at her in surprise. Five minutes ago, she’d been crumpled on the floor, barely able to whisper. Now she stood tall and straight, like a warrior queen rallying her troops. “My niece is no witch.” Her brows came together in a frown. “She can’t even boil water with a seething spell. Surely you don’t believe she’s capable of weaving the kind of spell required to bind the white falcon of Hellsmoor.”
Um, thanks, Mab. It was true, I sucked at spellcraft. But as desiccated skin flaked off the hag’s face, revealing the creepy skull beneath it once more, focusing on my weaknesses didn’t seem like the best way to make her leave.
“You.” Mallt-y-Nos turned her hideous face to Mab. “I should set my hounds on you this moment. It would please Lord Arawn no end if you were driven back into his realm.”
“But you won’t, and we both know why.” Mab’s calm voice thrummed with a deep resonance that echoed off the terminal’s walls. “It is not yet my time.”
“Your time!” shrieked the hag. “It was your time centuries ago!”
“Perhaps. But that time came and went, and here I stand.”
“You cannot cheat Arawn forever,” intoned the bare skull. “You are not immune to harm.”
“Again, perhaps. But that harm will not come from you.”
Moments passed, and the Night Hag’s face returned to youth. She looked like a sulking teenager. Then she threw back her head and let out a scream of rage. Windows shattered. Flames burst from the mouths and ears of her yowling hounds, and Kane staggered backward. My arm met Mab’s as we moved to support him. But Kane stayed on his feet.
“Felt that, didn’t you, hound?” the hag sneered, her beautiful young eyes glinting cruelly.
“The moon isn’t full yet,” he said again, pushing out each syllable through gritted teeth. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “I’m not your hound.”
“So you say. But your body tells you otherwise.” Her silvery laugh rang with menace. “It knows your Mistress. Shall I make you kneel before me, here and now?”
She pointed, and Kane’s whole body went rigid. He clenched his jaw and grunted, trembling with effort.
“On your knees, hound!”
With a gasp, he bent at the waist, as though taking a terrible blow. His knees began to buckle.
“Stop it!” I shouted. I stepped in front of him, hoping to shield him with my protection charm. “Leave him alone!”
The hag made a sweeping motion with her hand, as though batting away a mosquito. There was a loud crack, and the charm blew to pieces.
Behind me, Kane groaned. The sound held bottomless depths of pain.
The Night Hag’s aging face grinned a terrible grin.
Anger flared, and my demon mark glowed crimson.
“Mallt-y-Nos, you abuse your power.” The words came from Mab, but the growing haze of anger around me distorted her voice. It sounded deeper, her Welsh accent stronger, and it echoed through the hall. “Desist, or face the consequences.”
I almost laughed. No matter how impressive Mab’s voice, what made her think the Night Hag would listen to her? There was only one way to deal with this damned spirit.
A tongue of flame leapt up from my demon mark.
I had no intention of waiting around for the Night Hag to agree to play nice. I was going to kill her for what she was doing to Kane. It was so simple. Destroy this horrible creature, and she’d never bother us again. That was the answer. That was always the answer. If something gets in your way—kill it.