Andrea realized a slight disadvantage as they fought on, however. Ronan wouldn’t go for the kill. In spite of his massive size and strength, Ronan was a kindhearted male who didn’t like to hurt anyone. Frighten them, yes, give them a good thumping, any day. Kill, no. That was why he’d jumped in front of bullets but hadn’t dragged the human shooters out of the car to break their necks.
The Felines caught on and attacked with renewed viciousness. They had no problem with going for the kill.
Ronan was happy to rough them up plenty, though. His arms moved like sledgehammers, paws throwing bodies left and right. His ears were flat against his skull, his teeth bared for all to see, and his roars filled the clearing. Andrea leapt and snarled and snapped beside him.
The Felines were bleeding, breathing hard, Collars sparking, though the look in their white blue eyes told Andrea they weren’t finished by a long shot. But they were slowing a little. Ronan’s growls sounded more like laughter now as he fell to all fours and charged, scattering the cats like fallen leaves.
But just when Andrea thought the Felines would abandon their attack and run back to the main fight, light rent the air, and she smelled the sharp scent of Faerie.
Fionn? She wasn’t ready for him to bring her back the sword, not until the risk that Callum’s Felines could snatch it was gone.
She noticed that the Felines didn’t look too worried, and then she saw that the tear happened not in the grove where she usually spoke to Fionn, but farther along the ley line, closer to the end of the block.
She remembered what Fionn had said about his enemies and Callum, and her blood froze. “Dylan!” she screamed.
One of Callum’s Felines stood by the opening, and he pulled through five Fae warriors. They were tall and nastylooking, armed with bows, and silver swords glittered on their backs.
A Fae spotted Andrea where she stood gaping, raised his bow, and fired. Andrea threw herself flat on the ground, but it was Ronan leaping in front of her who took the arrow. It drove deep, but Ronan was up again in an instant, his bear hide thick, and he ran for the Fae.
When Ronan faltered after he’d taken only a few strides, Andrea realized that the arrow must have been poisoned. Elf-shot, Shifters called it—spelled poison that paralyzed a Fae’s enemies until the Fae could make the kill. They didn’t always make the kill right away, she’d heard. Fae liked to play with their victims.
The faces of the tall Fae were ghost white, eyes burning black, mouths set with hatred and determination. But as fearsome as they were, the Fae couldn’t come far into this world without weakening, which gave Andrea a spark of hope. Iron sapped their strength and would send them fleeing back to Faerie. That didn’t help this instant, while the Shifters fought in animal form, without weapons, no iron in sight. But Andrea could change that.
Andrea forced herself into her human form. Her wolf wanted to stay wolf and fight, and she had to battle her own instincts to complete the shift.
“Back to the house!” she shouted at Ronan soon as she could form words. “There’s iron and steel there. We’ll hold them off.”
Ronan roared at her and didn’t obey. Andrea couldn’t speak Ursine, but she understood the gist—good-natured Ronan had finally found beings he wanted to kill.
“You’ve been elf-shot,” Andrea called. “We’ve got to get rid of them so I can help you.”
Ronan’s dark eyes lit with fire. He knew he’d been poisoned, but he was determined to take the Fae out with him as he went. He completely ignored Andrea and charged the Fae warriors.
Andrea said foul words while she forced herself back to wolf. It took too long—by the time Andrea made it to fur and fangs, Ronan had engaged the Fae.
The Fae warriors ran out of arrows and attacked with swords. Andrea darted around Ronan and sank her teeth into the sword arm of the tallest Fae. The Fae shook her off but dropped his sword, bleeding from her bite.
Ronan staggered and fell. The Fae moved in, horrible joy in their eyes.
Andrea shoved one aside, grabbed the back of another’s mail coat, and started dragging him toward the grove of trees behind Glory’s house. The warrior fought but couldn’t reach around to jab her with his sword. When he drew a silver knife, Andrea let him go and bounded into the grove. She didn’t have time to shift and scream for her father, but she could throw her head back and howl.
It was a full wolf howl, one made to echo from hilltop to hilltop across wide plains. It filled the clearing and bounced up and down the human-made houses, proclaiming that for all their domestication, Lupines were still wild, still powerful, still deadly.
Andrea heard a tearing sound and then felt the chill wind of Faerie. Fionn was there, reaching out.
“Touch me, Andrea. Quickly!”
Andrea ran at him. Fionn put one hand on the fur on her neck and stepped from Faerie into Shiftertown.
At almost the next instant, Fionn had a bow knocked, raised, aimed. Arrows flew—one, two, three. Three of the Fae warriors who had been sprinting for them dropped in rapid succession. The remaining two had the sense to flee back into the trees.
Fionn grabbed Andrea and nearly threw her through the gate to Faerie. Ronan, staggering badly, but not down yet, ran in after her, followed by another Feline who hit the ground, rolled, and came to his feet in the form of Dylan Morrissey.
Dylan had his hands on Andrea’s arms, dragging her up even as she shifted. He shook her, hard, eyes blazing with alpha rage. “What the holy hell did you do?” he shouted. “You’ve given the Sword of the Guardian to a gobshite Fae!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Along-fingered grip wrenched Dylan from Andrea. “Take your hands off my daughter.”
Dylan’s voice was hot with fury. “I don’t care what tales you told her, I still don’t believe you’re her father. She’s my son’s mate, and I’m not letting any Fae have power over her.”
“But having her in your power is better?” Fionn asked. “A Feline Shifter who hates her Fae blood?”
“She is my son’s choice. That means I protect her.”
“But who protects her from you, Shifter? How do I know your son is worthy of my girl?”
Andrea growled, her wolf fury unchecked as she stepped between them. “Could you two stop playing ‘Who’s the Better Dad’ for two seconds? Ronan needs help.”
Ronan lay on the ground like a big bear rug, his eyes closed, his sides rising and falling with labored breathing. Andrea knelt beside him and stroked his broad head and his muscle-filled ruff. Ronan acknowledged her with a little sigh but didn’t open his eyes.