Recent content by Fingal

For a heartbeat, Fingal’s world was nothing but pressure. It felt as though something vast and unseen had sunk claws into his spirit, dragging him between two worlds. His magic convulsed, raw and unbound, tearing through him in jagged waves. The words she spoke found him through that storm...

For a long, terrible moment there was nothing. Only the whisper of her voice, the hammering of her heart, and the shallow stillness of his chest. Then Fingal gasped. It was not a clean sound but a ragged, tearing drag of breath, wet and painful. His back arched as if pulled by invisible...

Fingal staggered, his breath caught in his throat as the iron poker twisted in the demon’s coil of black flesh. Pain flared, sharp and white-hot. The world narrowed to the sound of his own ragged inhale, the metallic tang of his blood, and the distant hum of the creature’s unnatural voice...

Fingal lunged without thought, every muscle coiled and trembling. The creature’s keening shriek rattled his bones, but instinct took over before fear could root him to the spot. Its claws forced him back, but another weighty chunk of rusted iron struck it hard. It gave him an opening. The...

Fingal could almost feel every muscle vibrate beneath his skin. He could have run. He could have changed form and fled and tested his speed against the demon. Except he might not have been chased. The creature would probably stop to kill Anais or drag her away for whatever the demons were...

Fingal stood in the centre of the forge, as far from any iron as he could be. It rang through his mind like a bell. Metal upon metal. It took a great deal to bring him so close to so much iron. It was in the air as well. He could taste it. Fingal's hand trembled as he reached for the poker...

Fingal didn't say anything. They couldn't stop and hold court. His mind raced through a hundred things to say, because he had always been a talker. He wished he wasn't. He would give up every story, negotiating tactic and his skill as a lover. All to be a fierce fae warrior. A black Shuck or a...

Fingal winced at the thought of a blacksmith. All that iron. On the walls and on the ground and in the air. Selfishly, he hadn't been thinking about the occupants of the town. He glanced around. They could have hidden the children in a basement, the signs of their fate a display of gore...

Fingal's sense of smell was far more acute. He had to force himself not to heave and gag. As she stepped back, he forcefully grasped the outside of her arms and held her firm. He gently turned her to continue down the corridor. He went straight past the next door at the scent of flesh that had...

Even though he was back in human shape, all his hairs stood on end. He had seen so many different things, but every sense cried out for how wrong the creature was. Fingal was afraid. It wasn't fear that something could happen or that he would be hurt. It was a gut wrenching fear at the...

Fingal lowered his nose to the floor. There was a trail to be followed. Senses were different in this form. There was no way to explain how it would work to a human. His sense of smell and his hearing both gave him far better directional cues. He simply knew which way to go. He padded two...

"Death," he finally said. He padded past several empty houses. His pointed ears swivelled back and forth. Fingal kept his nose close to the ground. They could have turned around and walked away. In fact, they probably should have. Fingal liked this town. He travelled far and wide and it was...

"We do not have to," Fingal replied. "They are strange things. Even we do not know who left them behind." The fae had existed for thousands of years. But even their eldest, even their earliest stories provided no hints on where they had come from. "Hmm..." In one step the the next he...

He had taken her from her people. He didn't feel particularly bad about that. They had stuck him as the worst kind of small minded mortals. Still, he respected the fact that it had been a complete change in her life. Her people had been damaged. They had turned on Fingal and they had turned on...

"You will be made to regret that," he promised under his breath as he padded past her. He intended to come good on that promise in very short order. They approached the camp to a quiet thumping sound. Oliver was knelt beside her caravan. He turned and stood to face them, wiping sweat from his...