Rituals (Cainsville 5)

The dead melltithiwyd fell to the floor with a wet thwack, and when the remaining ones heard that, they stopped in mid-peck and looked down at the corpse on the floor.

They swooped as one body, and all I could see was a red-black blur. But I heard more. I heard ripping and snapping and gulping, and when they finally stopped, there was nothing on the floor but a black stain of blood. The lingering melltithiwyd flew upward, bits of their dead brethren still hanging from their beaks as they flew to join the others.

I grabbed the edge of the hole. "Gabriel?"

"I'm fine," he said. "They only knocked us in. Which was not a pleasant reoccurrence, but we're unharmed. It was simply a message--telling us that we are not escaping until the sluagh allows it." He squinted up, holding his cell phone for light. "Is that blood?"

My hand clapped to the spot the melltithiwyd had attacked, and I felt a tiny divot of missing flesh. "I'm fine. Ricky..." I turned quickly. "Are you okay? Your back..." I moved behind him.

"A leather jacket is both symbolic and functional," he said as I saw the peck marks on the leather. "I'm good."

I reached to the rear of his neck, where blood dripped from his scalp.

"Yeah, I should have been wearing the helmet, too," he said. "But it's just pecks. Like oversized mosquitoes."

I wiped the blood and checked a couple of the spots, which really did look like bug bites, bloodied pocks like the one on my cheek.

"You do an excellent job of feigning concern," the sluagh said, her voice sliding around us. "Overreact to his injuries in hopes he won't notice you asked after Gwynn first."

"Shut the fuck up," Ricky said.

"Scraps of attention," she whispered. "Her dutiful hound--"

"No, really, shut the fuck up. You told Patrick his ploy was poor? Yours is poorer. I just crushed a fucking hell-bird. Obviously, I was fine, and obviously she's going to check the guy who fell through the damned floor again."

Ricky caught my shoulder as I crawled past and whispered, "Stop worrying. That's what she's really doing--trying to make you feel like you're neglecting me." When I didn't respond, he squeezed my shoulder and nodded toward my ankle tattoo. "You said you aren't getting rid of that, so I know where I stand. Stop fretting. We stick together, the three of us. That's how it works, right? The only way it works."

"Thank you," I murmured, and kissed his cheek.

"Hey, Gabriel?" Ricky called. "Liv just gave me a kiss on the cheek. I'm letting you know before this sluagh-bitch tries to make it sound like we're two seconds from screwing on the floor here."

Gabriel's snort of a laugh wafted up from the hole.

"You all think you're such clever children," the sluagh said.

"Just go," Gabriel called. "Both of you. We'll find a way out."

"He's right," Patrick added. "If you stay, that only means four of us need to escape this place. We're fine. We'll figure this out."

"So there's that option," the sluagh said. "It presumes we'll let anyone leave, which we won't, but you can certainly try. For amusement's sake, though you might not find it quite so entertaining."

"What do you want?" I asked.

"It's already told us that," Patrick called up. "The sluagh would like to throw their hat in the ring, as a suitor for your affections."

Ricky snorted a choking laugh. "Seriously?"

"He means with the fae and the Hunt," Gabriel said. "A third competitor."

"Still, doesn't that mean they need a champion?" Ricky said. "I definitely want to see their champion. I think you're in for some stiff competition there, Gabriel."

"We do not have a champion," the sluagh said. "We do not need one. Ours is not a campaign of subtle wooing and flowery promises. We convince. And we are doing exactly that, demonstrating that we can find you, anywhere, anytime, and threaten those you love. Kill those you love. Or do you require a more overt lesson in that?"

"Threats won't--" I began.

"--work. Oh, yes, I believe threats work much better than flattery and gifts and promises. The trick is to be very, very clear that those threats are not empty. So let's do that now. The cost of leaving is a life. Choose one, Olivia."

My gut chilled. "Don't you--"