Burned, стр. 79

Looks like we may end up trying to hang glide after all.

“She’s coming back,” Barrons shouts. “Get the fuck away from the cliff’s edge, Highlander.”

I hear the whip cracking furiously again, and Barrons roars, a horrible, guttural sound, and I cringe to the bottom of my soul because I know without needing to see it that Barrons just got lanced. Doesn’t matter that I know he’ll be back. It’s one less person to protect the Keltar and Jada, and I despise the sound of that man dying. I have no doubt he stepped in the way to protect someone.

“Fuck.” Dageus snarls down at us. “Bloody grab the bloody cable.”

Then Drustan is beside Dageus and I hear Jada and Ryodan taunting the Hag, more gunfire and the sound of the whip cracking as they try to buy us time to get to solid ground.

I kick upward and Christian grunts with agony when my boot catches him in the stomach, but I close my fingers around the cord.

Moving quickly, Drustan and Dageus begin to pull us up.

We’re nearly there when Jada and Ryodan start shouting again, then suddenly something explodes out of the front of Dageus’s chest and he goes rigid, yanks upright and makes a soft grunt of shock and pain.

It takes my brain a second to process what just happened.

The Hag just lanced Dageus from behind.

Christian howls with such animalistic, inhuman fury that it chills my blood. It occurs to me how ironic it is that four of us on this mountain possess immense power but can’t use it. Barrons and Ryodan won’t turn into the beast in front of strangers. My inner Book has gone dead silent. Christian is too weak to use his Unseelie magic.

His wings begin that awful scrabbling again but it only slams me hard into the side of the mountain. I squeeze with all my might, struggling to merely maintain my grip on the cable with one hand and Christian with the other, but Dageus is no longer holding our weight and we begin to slip slowly, inexorably, downward.

“Pull them the fuck up,” Dageus growls at Drustan, blood gushing from his mouth. Then he’s airborne, impaled on the Hag’s leg. She shoots out over the canyon as Drustan, joined by Ryodan and Jada, yank us to the top.

Christian collapses, rolls, and stares into the night sky over the gorge. Painted crimson and silver by eerie moonlight, the Hag hangs above the gorge, Dageus clutched in her gruesome, bloody embrace.

“Fucking bitch!” Christian pushes to his feet, but Drustan tackles him and prevents him from leaping off the edge to attempt to fly, something we both know he can’t do right now.

“You will not make my brother’s sacrifice for naught, lad!”

The Hag shoots across the chasm, smashes Dageus into the far cliff once, twice, three times before violently shaking her leg to dislodge the unmoving Highlander.

Dageus plunges silently down, a dark speck, vanishing into the shadows as we all watch in horrified silence.

The Hag whirls midair and rockets back across the chasm, straight for us, head down, unfinished gut-gown streaming out behind her.

Then Jada is shoving Drustan away from Christian. “Get down and stay down,” she hisses at him. She drags Christian to his feet and steps in front of him and commands, “Mac. Spear. Now.”

There’s no time to argue. Barrons is down and Dageus just gave his life to save us. I want vengeance. Nothing else matters. I move to her side, place my hand against hers and make sure she feels the cold metal of the blade between us. “I’ll let go at the last minute so she doesn’t see it. Don’t you dare fucking miss or I’ll kill you myself.”

She doesn’t dignify my threat with a response.

Christian tries to push Jada out of the way, snarling that no one else is dying for him on this cliff. Jada shoves back, pushing him behind us.

The Hag dives headfirst, slicing through the night, mouth twisted with rage, black holes where her eyes should be narrowed in fury.

Jada freeze-frames us and suddenly we’re standing twenty feet away. My spear is no longer in my hand. While I was discombobulated from being freeze-framed, which she knows makes me feel sick, she took it from my grasp.

“What are you doing?” I explode.

“Not letting you die, Mac.” She shoves me so hard and unexpectedly that I go sprawling face-first to the ground.

Christian howls and I don’t need to look to know he just got lanced. When I peel myself from the rocks, wipe snow from my face, and look back over my shoulder, I see the Hag has impaled him and is preparing to fold her knitting-needle legs together around him and soar off into the sky.

Ryodan and Jada exchange a glance and she tosses him her whip.

He cracks it in the air behind the Hag, impeding her flight, and goads, “Come and get me, bitch. I don’t die either.” He moves closer, snapping the whip so fast I can’t even see it, keeping her penned into a small space of air. Unlike Jada, he seems to have no problem anticipating her airborne lunges.

The Hag levels her free leg at his head. He dances around, ducking and dodging like a boxer on meth, cracking the whip repeatedly. “But you know that. You killed me once before.” He’s become a blur, and I wonder if he’s actually going to be able to get close enough to kill her however it is the Nine do.

Then Jada materializes between the Hag and Ryodan with the abruptness of a Fae sifting in and I realize that was never his plan.

With that one shared glance, he and Jada made another one.

Ryodan was the distraction.

Jada closes her hands around the leg upon which Christian is impaled and with the grace of a circus acrobat swings herself up, spear tucked into the waistband of her camo pants.

The Hag rears back, violently shaking her leg, trying to dislodge her, but Jada doesn’t let go. When she reaches the writhing, bloody mess of a gown, she uses the guts as ropes to vault herself up, grabs the Hag by the hair, yanks back her head and slits her throat from ear to ear.

Blood sprays everywhere and the Hag’s head lolls back. Jada shoves the spear deep into the bone and gristle of her corset, expression fierce, savage.

The three of them crash to the ground in a heap.

The Crimson Hag is dead.

37

Ours is a somber group that descends the cliff, battered, weary, and bleak.

I now understand the meaning of the phrase “hollow victory.”

In the past, each time we did battle with the enemy, although there were losses, none cut so deeply, so close to the heart.

I realize belatedly that for some time now I’ve counted the Keltar as one of us: indomitable soldiers, battling tirelessly against evil, fighting the good fight, always surviving to wage war another day. I counted on it.

One of the good guys died tonight.

A man with family.

A legend of a Highlander.

There’s no hope Dageus survived the brutal gutting, the crushing blows against the cliff, and the subsequent twelve-hundred-foot fall.

Like the Hag, Dageus MacKeltar is dead.

Drustan doesn’t speak a word, supports Christian on one side, with Jada on the other, and they half carry, half drag the now unconscious prince down the mountainside.

When we reach the bottom and load him carefully into the Hummer, Drustan murmurs, “Och, Christ, how am I to tell Chloe? They fought so hard to remain together. Now she’s lost him for good.” He whispers something over Christian in Gaelic then turns to leave.

Ryodan steps into his path, blocking it. “Where do you think you’re going, Keltar.”

“Unlike you, I’ll no’ be leaving without retrieving what remains of my brother’s body for burial.”

He’s referring to Ryodan hastening us from the mountaintop without pausing to collect Barrons, which I know he did so Drustan and Jada wouldn’t see him vanish but no doubt appeared callous to the others.