Pursuit (Through Time 1)

And then they heard a roaring growl and turned sideways to see Royce a few hundred feet away, standing very still.

Coming at her was a beast from hell. With his Death Sword up, Chance tried shifting but got nothing. With a full-throttled war cry he met the monster’s sound of fury as he charged towards her, full force, only to suddenly pull up short.

He knew he would never get there in time. She was going to be trampled by the beast—why dinna she move out of the way? What was she doing?

There was only one thing he could do. He had to get the big ugly’s attention. He jumped up and down and swung his sword like a madman. He screamed and hollered curses at the beast and attempted to divert its attention.

Would he catch its glance? Would he get its attention? Damn and bloody hell, how many eyes did it have? His taunting went on, with Trevor joining in as loudly and as conspicuously as they knew how.

“Come on … ye big stupid … come for me … I’m bigger … more for you to eat … two of us … here!” He waved his hands towards Trevor, who pulled a face at him.

The beast stopped in mid-lunge and for a moment looked confused before it turned back towards its original goal. Royce.

“Noooooo,” Chance yelled and started towards her once more.

* * *

Royce felt him before she saw them.

It was as though a light lit in her brain and a soft whisper traveled through her body and said his name. Chance.

She didn’t question it; she just turned her head, and there he was, with Trevor just off to his left.

This was not what she wanted.

She didn’t want him rushing in to save her and getting killed. He wouldn’t even know he was mortal in this prison realm. He would take more chances than he should.

She could tell when he realized he wouldn’t reach her in time. He started shouting and jumping and raging for the beast to notice him.

Royce felt a wave of emotion.

Chancemont LeBlanc was so very brave. And then her body, still trembling with fear in spite of what she planned to do, went into overdrive as all concern for herself shifted and became centered on him.

Somehow she had to keep the beast focused on her. She tried linking into its stupid brain and hoped her silent command, Come and get me, would get through.

A few long, hard strides brought her closer to one huge (ugh!), hairy dead rat. A spike that had missed its mark lay at the dead rat’s claws.

She picked it up. She might be mortal, she told herself, but she still had Fae strength. She tucked the Peckering, which she had unsheathed from its sling, into her jeans and examined the spike. It was about twelve inches long and an inch thick. It was also heavy. She could see poison still dripping (confirming her earlier suspicion) from its pointed end and kept that away from her skin—just in case.

Taking aim, she hurled it at the beast, but the damn thing fell short. She grimaced to herself, but it had managed to catch the beast’s attention. He clawed at the dry, cracked earth and began his charge for her once more.

She held her breath and made herself stand her ground.

She had to wait for the last moment.

The very last moment.

The beast was once again fully concentrating on her as it thundered towards her, Chance and Trevor momentarily forgotten.

That’s right, she told it, I’m the appetizer … me first.

It was nearly on her. In another second it would chomp down on her if she wasn’t precise. At the very last moment she pulled out the Peckering and said, “Peckering—now!”

The Peckering jumped shifted Royce onto the beast’s wide, horned, many-eyed head. She straddled its huge leathery neck, held tight to one of its horns, and shouted once more, this time to herself, “Now or never …” With that she plunged the Peckering Dagger of Dark and Light into one of the eyes on its forehead. And then she jump shifted well out of its way!

Roaring and clawing the air, the beast went backwards, off balance, and fell lumbering onto its side.

The Peckering had told Royce which eye would bring about the creature’s death. Royce had not questioned how the Peckering knew this—it was, after all, a Seelie Hallow with many talents. She simply aimed and followed through.