Authors: Sarah Remy
Summer (23 page)
And that’s exactly what would have happened if the
sluagh
Prince hadn’t chosen that moment to rear out of the darkness in a flutter of feathers and fury. The Prince was screaming in incomprehensible, mangled Gaelic when it fell upon the first of the Horn-wielding
sluagh
and tore the poor monster limb from limb. Ichor fountained when the murdered
sluagh
fell. The Prince roared again. It wheeled on the remaining ghoul and that
sluagh
dropped Finvarra’s Horn as it scuttled sideways down the tunnel.
The
sluagh
Prince paused. It was obviously caught between the pull of the Horn and a desire to finish the mayhem it had started.
I’m small and I’m quick. Quick-witted with quick reflexes and an extraordinarily quick grasp of any situation. I lunged, and ducked, and rolled, and sprang up with the coveted Horn in both hands. As easy at that, the prize was mine.
Needless to say, that’s when all hell broke loose.
Also by Sarah Remy
Madison Place Press
The House on the Creek
Winter
, The Manhattan Exiles, Volume One
HarperVoyager
Stonehill Downs
Across the Long Sea