That particular memory had been an early one, from not long past Gràinne's initial capture, but it had given me a little clue …
“Your mistress,” I panted, climbing back to my feet and narrowly avoiding another nightmare creature. A small part of my brain told me they didn't have very accurate vision so if I kept calm, I should be able to avoid their attacks for the most part. It was why they kept their captives bound so tightly.
“Who is she?” I demanded, but got nothing back except maniacal laughter.
This battle needed to end; I couldn't allow it to continue any longer for fear of losing any more fae. None of my Hunt were dead—yet—but I could sense several of them were injured badly and around a dozen fae had been slaughtered here before we arrived.
My men fought in the narrow corridors between above ground burial sites, so I couldn't see them, but I could sense them. More than that, I could sense my spear.
Now that my hand had come in contact with it, it was bound to me and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I could not let these bastards hand it over to their mistress, whoever the fuck she was.
Ducking and weaving between shadow creatures, I made my way back to where I had last seen the ancient artifact and sucked in a gasp when I found it.
“Drop that spear immediately,” I bellowed at the harpy who had it clutched in her claws and was using it to stab Reece repeatedly in the gut.
My Autumn Lord was pinned to the ground between two crumbling tombs with a harpy on each arm while the third was perforating his torso with the Spear of Lug. Blood was everywhere, but I could still sense his light. It wasn't as bright as it had been but it was still there.
Distracted as I was by the sight before me, I wasn't paying attention to the shadows which had followed me, and I cried out when five deep gashes opened down the length of my back, slicing through my fragile wings. When had I shifted them back on? It hadn't been a conscious choice. No, the shadows had spurred me to it with those memories, those nightmares.
It didn't matter though. This was an immortal body and would heal in time, and with enough power from the souls of sinners. Their attacks no longer meant anything to me, all I needed was to retrieve my spear, and save my Lords.
Sucking a deep breath into my lungs, I gathered magic into my core, then sent it snapping out of me in a pulse which threw the shadows a good distance away from me and would hopefully leave them stunned for long enough.
The harpies paused when my magic pulse washed over them, and looked up at me in terror. It had only been designed to take out the shadows, so hadn't thrown the winged bitches in the same way but it was enough to give them pause.
“I said, drop that damn spear,” I ordered them, my voice booming through the cemetery and shaking some bricks loose. To my satisfaction, they seemed afraid.
Chittering something in their own language, the two holding Reece down took to the sky and quickly disappeared, leaving the one clutching my spear to face me alone.
She froze under my glare, holding her twisted claws in the air and releasing the spear, which dropped to the ground with a metallic sounding clang. She chittered something that was probably along the lines of “please don't hurt me” but this bitch had been stabbing my Lord of Autumn and that did not go unpunished.
Letting my wings flap painfully, I closed the distance between us in the blink of an eye and seized her ugly face between my palms.
“You have been found guilty of the most heinous crimes against Fae. The attempted murder of the Keeper's Knight is a crime punishable by death and consumption. May your soul never find peace.” My voice was that of the Keeper. Ancient and powerful.
Placing my lips close to her bloodied fangs, I ignored her frantic thrashing and screaming as I sucked her soul straight from her body without first killing her physical form. This was the worst pain a fae could ever endure, and a skill I alone possessed.
Within moments, her thrashing ceased, and her body fell limp in my grip as I consumed every last scrap of her rotten soul and let it fuel my own healing. Once finished, I tossed her empty husk aside and watched it crumble to dust against Jean Baptiste Arlington's burial plot.
“Ciarah,” Reece gasped, blood bubbling from his lips and I crouched over him.
“Shhh, love,” I whispered, not allowing myself the tears that I cried on the inside, “I will help you soon. First we must end this fight.”
I could feel waves of terror flooding the cemetery and knew the shadows had recovered from my magical pulse. But I had a feeling I also knew what would beat them.
Wrapping my bloody fingers around the Spear of Lug, I stood and turned to face them as they approached, rushing down the narrow corridor of crypts.
Maintaining my calm, despite my almost overwhelming fear for Reece, I hefted the spear in my hand and let my magic trickle down its length. My eyes narrowed, and I took aim at the shadow closest to me … then threw.
The Spear of Lug, shimmering with the magic of the Keeper, flew true and impaled the nightmare creature, pinning it to a concrete wall.
It did not matter that they were made of mist and shadow, of fear and death. The Spear of Lug transcended the laws of physics and when combined with my own ancient magic … the shadows stood no chance.
The empty looking black robe howled and thrashed against the tomb wall where it was pinned, the sound of its death grating against my ears like nails down a chalkboard until eventually … it died.
“Not possible,” one of the other creatures hissed, but every one of them had frozen to watch their companion expire.
“And yet …” another whispered.
I raised an eyebrow at the remaining creatures, daring them to try me again, but as one, they faded to smoke and disappeared completely from the cemetery, taking their oppressive fear magic with them.
A long, loud howl rose up from somewhere nearby, followed by several more. The wolves were here, and in perfect timing to help us dispose of the harpies.
The shadows may have left, but we still had several dozen of those vicious winged bitches tearing into my men and they required sentencing. Fae law was brutal, but necessary. Each and every one of them had broken that law when they sought to harm The Wild Hunt, and each and every one of them would pay the price in blood.
Not one would leave the sacred burial grounds alive.
“Were you looking for backup by chance?” Rafe asked, kneeling on the top of a nearby crypt. My gaze flicked to him and I frowned slightly. I wasn't going to forget what happened in the swamp anytime soon. Even if he had heard my call, that didn't give him the excuse to watch me. Papa Cocodril and Rosinée hadn't come running. If he'd had needs to take care of, he could've taken care of them without watching me.
“I'm not in the mood to see or talk with you right now,” I said, turning back to the open space in the center of the tombs, this grassy area that gave us a battleground amongst the dead. Bitching at Raphael LeRoux sounded like a good time, but I had more important things to worry about.