A Battle Tune (Reincarnation of the Morrigan Book 5) by Renée Jaggér & Michael Anderle

Author:Renée Jaggér & Michael Anderle [Jaggér, Renée]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2021-11-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

I'd tell of that great queen

Who stood amid a silence by the thorn

Until two lovers came out of the air

With bodies made out of soft fire. The one,

About whose face birds wagged their fiery wings,

They had vanished,

But our of the dark air over her head there came

A murmur of soft words and meeting lips.

From the poem The Old Age of Queen Maeve by William Butler Yeats

To my great surprise, I was able to get a decent amount of sleep after the charity event and woke the next morning refreshed and prepared to tackle whatever the day would bring me.

Be careful what you wish for, I reminded myself as I dressed and headed downstairs.

Despite not feeling exhausted, a cup of coffee or two or three sounded like a terrific idea. I helped myself to what had been made in the kitchen and headed to the war room, where Douglas would no doubt already be working. The sound of a vehicle crunching over the drive reached my ears, and I went to the front doors instead.

The guards opened them, and I stepped out. A blacked-out van had pulled to a stop- and it would have appeared foreboding and ominous if I hadn’t known who they were. The leader of the Sluagh, who had taken over since Bulls died in Africa, stepped out of the driver’s side. He was at least two heads taller than me, with ash white skin and tiny, ice-blue eyes. Every time I saw him, I wondered where the dead body he had inhabited had come from. He looked like he came straight out of Viking lore.

“Mornin’, Angelica,” he greeted. He gave a curt nod and then whistled at the van. A sliding door opened and more of the Sluagh stepped out, except their hands weren’t empty like their leader’s. My eyes widened at the sight of a tub full of murky gray ice water with a screen over the top.

They set the tub down just outside the van. The men handling it were strong, but the tub seemed heavy to them. Some of the water sloshed over the side, and my nose wrinkled. Whatever was in there, it didn’t smell good.

Another of the soldiers handed me a bundle of what looked like withered dog feet. “What the hell?” I gagged in disgust and threw it to the ground.

A laugh rumbled at the back of my mind, and Meiran spoke. The Sluagh, for better or worse, can be a bit like cats bringing in their kills and catches for a scratch behind the ears. Just tell them they did a good job and give them something to eat.

Thanks, Meiran, but I’m a little more concerned about how the hell they got that, I responded.

Caroline spoke next. The shriveled limbs come from barghest. They’re something like a mix between a goblin and a dog, except much worse than either. Think of those phouka you battled and your wolf as one and then with sharper teeth and claws.

Oh, wonderful, I replied, trying not to groan out loud.

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