Darkest Mercy

Chapter 25

Gabriel alone pursued Bananach. His pack fell away, unable to keep up with him. On some level he knew that he should fall back, wait for them to catch up. Once, he would’ve gone to his king for orders; once, he would’ve lost himself in comforts that were the domain of the Dark Court or taken solace with his family. Now, his king was unwell; his last king was dead. The Dark Court was a mess, and two of his children were locked away in Faerie—and a third was dead.

All because of Bananach.

The Hunt served vengeance. It was who they were. They would pursue, and they would mete out justice. He was the Hunt.

She has earned my justice.

Something outside logic compelled him.

I can’t kill her. Irial, Niall, and Devlin had explained that. Bananach killed my king. Killed my daughter. Killed Evan. If they didn’t stop her, she would keep killing. Till none of us are left alive.

She was just out of reach, ahead of him, but not so far that he lost sight of her completely.

It’s a trap.

Gabriel knew better than to stand against her when she was this strong. He had held his own, but only barely, when they’d fought. In his children’s home only a few days ago, he’d felt Bananach’s talons dig into his skin.

And watched her kill Irial.

The black feathers were in front of him, a blur as she turned another corner. Her mutinous faeries were gone. He dismounted and followed on foot. It was just the two of them now. As he entered the litter-strewn parking lot, he knew that he was making a mistake.

No help on either side.

Gabriel slid off his steed.

“Your child did not shriek overmuch when I gutted her,” Bananach said. “For a mortal, it was strange.”

The words were worse than a fist to Gabriel.

“Tish wasn’t mortal,” he forced out.

“No matter.” Bananach circled him, and as she did so, Gabriel turned so he could keep her in his line of sight.

“I would rather not kill you,” she added. “You fight well.”

“I want to kill you,” Gabriel assured her.

As Bananach laughed, her avian features repulsed him. Laughter from the raven’s beak seemed worse than when it was through her lips. She narrowed her gaze. “I want to kill you, too, but you could serve my purposes alive.”

“I serve the Dark King,” Gabriel growled.

“And if I were queen?”

“You won’t be.” He swung, relished the feel of his fist connecting with her face.

She retaliated. Her answering punch fractured ribs, caused him to muffle a gasp as the broken bones pierced something inside him.

“Where are your minions?” he asked.

“Elsewhere.” She dodged his next punch.

Fear filled him at the thought of the raven-faery’s troops going to the Dark King’s home while the Hunt was out.

Go back to the house, he told the Hunt. Protect the Dark King.

He’d never found her easy to fight, but never had her punches and kicks caused him to stagger as they did now. He’d understood that she was growing increasingly powerful, but as she struck him now, he realized that War had become even stronger than she had been when she’d stabbed Irial mere days ago.

I’m sorry, Che. He sent his message through the Hunt. Privacy wasn’t a big concern among them. Protect the Winter Queen. Protect Niall.

Then, he focused all of his attention on the fight he was not winning. He deflected as many blows as connected, but Bananach’s punches were fierce. More bones shattered inside his body.

His own strikes against her were less sure, in part because he still carried bruises from their last encounter, while she seemed untouched by that fight.

He thought they might reach an impasse as they had so many times before—but then Bananach’s talons drove into his chest and ravaged the flesh there. The wet of the injury soaked his shirt. In some distant part of his mind, it occurred to him that this was the sort of injury that could result in bad things.

He stumbled backward.

“The Hunt must be led by a strong Hound,” Bananach crooned.

“I lead.” He forced the words out without allowing a growl of pain to escape as well.

Bananach gouged his stomach, tore it open so that he instinctively covered the wound with one hand. “You did lead, Gabriel-no-more.”

“Che . . . next . . .”

“Fine,” Bananach said. “I’ll kill her next.”

“Not what . . .” Gabriel shook his head to clear away the darkness that threatened. “Not mean . . . that. Chela leads Hunt if I fall.”

Bananach watched as he dropped to his knees. He didn’t collapse completely to the ground. With one hand, he drew a knife from his boot. The other hand covered his bleeding stomach.

He slashed the knife toward her, but she stayed out of reach.

“You used to be a worthy opponent.” She turned her back and walked away, leaving him on the ground, not bothering to give him the dignity of a killing blow. Instead, she turned her back as if he were already dead.

Still on his knees, Gabriel moved toward her, pursuing her as best he could. She didn’t pause.

Hate doing this.

Gabriel let himself slip into that other form, becoming an animal as he so rarely did, sacrificing the part of himself that thought. His body shifted into something that resembled the monstrous offspring of a saber-toothed tiger and an oversized dire wolf. As he did so, he could no longer remember who the bird was, why she mattered, but as he moved he felt his wounds and knew she had made them.

The Gabriel launched himself at her, tasted feather-hair-flesh in his mouth. His claws sank into her shoulder and shredded one of her wings.

The raven-faery screamed.

And the Gabriel pushed her body to the ground. She rolled so that she could strike at him with both beak and talons.

With one paw, he slammed her face to the side, but the necks of bird-things didn’t snap easily that way.

She slashed blindly at his throat with her talons and at the same time drove her other hand into his chest.

The Hound’s eyes closed as he roared, and they did not open again.