Hounded

their teeth from an epic case of fiery (yet somehow cold) heartburn, forgetting about me, for the most part. The flying ones hadn’t been affected by the Cold Fire, so the giant mosquito found me again and began to suck me dry. Unlike normal mosquitoes, it didn’t inject a local anesthetic to deaden the pain when it stabbed me. But I bet its saliva would leave a much nastier mark afterward—if I lived to deal with it.
    The demons I’d hit expired in several ways from the Cold Fire: Some of them melted into a puddle of goo, some of them exploded, and some of them flamed up briefly before scattering as ashes. The one who had eaten my ear ended that way—I’d never hear from him again, nor would I ever be able to appreciate Iron Maiden properly.
    » What’s happening? « Aenghus asked rhetorically, then answered it like the insufferable ass he was. » Oh, I see. Cold Fire. But that means he must be weak as a kitten. Where is the sword, Radomila? « Buried under demon goo a few yards away from me. Why would she know anything about that? And what was it he had commanded her to do earlier? And hey, Aenghus, are you going to do anything about the rest of the demons that didn’t get hit with Cold Fire, like the flying one on my chest and the ones that came out of the pit after I used the spell but before you closed it? He’d probably let them all go, and they’d wind up blending in with the population of Apache Junction.
    The werewolves were tearing into anything that came near Hal or Oberon—good. But they would need my help to break those silver chains, and I couldn’t even help myself right now.
    Radomila sounded apoplectic: » I can’t find it. I know it’s here, but I can’t pinpoint it! «
    » Then explain what good you are to me! « Aenghus spat. » The one thing you guaranteed me is that you would be able to find the sword and bring it to me even if he removed the cloak you put on it. Now you tell me you cannot? «
    Ha-ha. I didn’t remove the cloak. Laksha did, and when she removed it, she must have dispelled whatever tracer Radomila was trying to find. Laksha hadn’t tried to hide Fragarach’s natural magical signature, though, so that was why Radomila knew when I’d drawn it—she just couldn’t get a fix on its location. Speaking of Laksha, shouldn’t she have made some progress by now?
    Radomila was about to offer Aenghus a snarky retort when her eyes flew wide open and lost their focus. Ah, yes, here we go. That look meant that Radomila sensed someone had a target lock on her ass. But this was one tail she couldn’t shake: It was her own blood, after all.
    » Answer me, witch! « For a god of love, Aenghus was remarkably blind to nonverbal cues. Radomila wasn’t worried about him or any promises she had made right then. She was feverishly trying to figure out a way to ward off whatever was coming for her.
    Too late. Her skull caved in from four directions, as if four railroad workers had swung their hammers perfectly in sync from the cardinal directions. Bits of brain and blood splattered the inside of the cage and even sullied the pristine armor of Aenghus Óg.
    Now that is why I am paranoid about witches getting hold of my blood. Druid’s Log, October 11: » Never make Laksha mad. «
    The giant sucker popped his proboscis out abruptly and took off—he wasn’t full, so I assumed that something bigger and badder was coming to take a bite out of me.
    It wasn’t bigger, but it was definitely badder. As the talons sank into my chest, I recognized the battle crow, the Morrigan as a Chooser of the Slain. Her eyes were red. Not a good sign.
    Aenghus Óg recognized her too, and he finally spied me lying there amongst all the ruins of his demon army as he whirled around, trying to figure out how his pet witch had gotten smooshed. He looked uncertainly at Death, who had passively watched all the proceedings, but the hooded figure shook its head at him and then pointed in my general direction. He was pointing at Laksha in the woods behind me, of course, not at me, but Aenghus made the logical conclusion given his lack of information.
    » Ah! Did you do that, Druid? Didn’t know you had it in you. Well, it won’t help you at all. There’s the battle crow on you now, just like old Cúchulainn, and she will be supping on your eyeballs soon. I bet you can’t move a muscle right now. «
    I entertained the possibility that he was right and that the Morrigan would betray me after all, but the