Page 71 of The Fulbourn: Pitch & Sickle

‘Macha,’ she snapped. ‘Enough. Send them on, now. The others will be here before long and will expect them ready to be sealed away.’

The sorceress raised her hand, lifting the Dullahan’s red-eyed head. ‘Cease.’

The rider heeded her at once and reined his horse in, the roan sinking back on its haunches as it danced backwards.

Silas slumped, arse to heels, toppling forward, his forehead hanging just shy of the floorboards as the chains held him from total collapse. His breathing was a ragged, choppy hacksaw. His groans made as much of a mess of Pitch’s insides as the wildness which bayed for blood.

He will heal. He will heal,Pitch told himself.He cannot die from this.

But he could not stop the unbidden voice whispering in return,But he can suffer. Silas can certainly suffer.

Pitch dug his fingertips into the cuts he’d already made. He needed…wanted…to be hurting too.

‘There, it is done,’ the Alp said. Onoskolis stroked the sorceress’s arm, long soothing strokes, as though Macha were as volatile as any prince.

He took careful note. For the maleficent woman may be powerful, but he saw in the Alp’s treatment of her what he’d seen himself many times in White Mountain. The cautious way those around him moved, as though he were liable to come undone before their eyes if they so much as blinked the wrong way.

Beneath Silas’s groans hung the drip of liquid. His blood marked a steady beat as it dropped to the wood.

‘Silas?’ Pitch fought to keep his face clear of any distress. His insides, though, did not fare so well. ‘Can you hear me?’

A muffled grunt came from the ankou. A twitch of his head that might have been a nod.

‘Did we break your favourite toy, my sweet one?’ Onoskolis called out.

Pitch despised himself for flinching at the name she gave him. The flame grabbed at his ribs, took hold of his innards, and demanded its freedom. He swallowed his reply for fear the words would turn to fire and obliterate them all.

‘He hides it well,’ the Alp told her mistress. ‘But I’ve seen beneath his pretty, vapid mask. I’ve felt the hard truth he thought he could conceal. That glorified corpse is under his skin. I assure you, my dear, you are punishing the daemon well with this.’

Macha cocked her head as though she’d spent far too much time with the raven. The taut hold of her body slackened, her manic fervour subsiding. ‘Yes, but I was hoping to see better sign of it, Oni.’ She pouted. ‘He doesn’t seem fit to be called a Berserker Prince’s soldier at all. It’s quite disappointing.’

‘Well, maybe Palatyne’s Sanctuary will change that. Best we put them where the others expect them to be, wouldn’t you say?’ She played with a feather on Macha’s mask. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m relishing the look on Nemain’s face when she sees what you’ve achieved here.’ She leaned closer and whispered. Pitch barely caught it. Something along the lines ofcloser to our king.

Macha brightened like a child catching sight of a pile of presents. ‘Oh gracious, yes.’ She brandished the head. ‘And she’ll adore this idea, don’t you think? Giving the Dullahan his name.’

Onoskolis crooked her finger and rubbed at Macha’s cheek. The connection between the two eluded Pitch: at times sensual, though Macha professed to hold no such desires; at others akin to mother and child, or older sister to younger. Whichever it was, it was as twisted as the two creatures themselves.

‘Absolutely,’ Onoskolis said. ‘Now, shall we see that done? And then we can send these two away.’

Silas groaned, trying to sit up.

‘Stay still, you fool.’ Pitch’s concern made him sharp.

‘Are you…all right?’ Silas coughed and his lips were bloodied.

Fucking stupid, ludicrous man. Did he ever think solely of himself?

‘Of course.’ Pitch eyed the Dullahan atop his mount. Still too close, his bone whip smeared with crimson evidence of the blows it had dealt. ‘Save your strength.’

And heal, curse him. Silashadto heal.

‘I’m…fine…’

‘Fucking liar,’ Pitch hissed.

The wildness moved like spears against his gut, trying to prick its way free. His fury was making him desperately unstable, but how could he be anything else but furious here?

‘Oh, isn’t that just so sweet?’ Onoskolis had a small smile upon her vile lips. He had never despised another so greatly as he did the Alp. ‘Half the skin torn from his back and he’s hoping you will believe everything is fine. You two are truly adorable.’