Prologue

I knew they weren't human. I noticed it the moment they ambushed me coming out of the coffee house. The way they moved, circling around me and snarling, I could tell right away what this pack of men actually were. Wolves. Wolves in human skin. And I was their prey.

I had two choices really. I could calmly try to shrug them off and hope someone else would pop up on this darkened stretch of road to help me or at the very least deter them. Or...and this was the one I was leaning towards...I could run. I opted for the latter, pulling my messenger bag closer to my body and dropping my still steaming cup of coffee before taking off at a run down the street.

"Get her!" a snarl came from behind me and my heart rate shot up to double what it was before. If I could keep the adrenaline pumping maybe I could stay ahead of them. I rounded a corner and zigzagged across the street before shooting into an ally after dodging a garbage truck pulling out in front of me.

If I hadn't seen him we probably would have collided rather painfully. As it was, a tall mass of creature stood before me, looking equally dumbstruck. I skidded to a stop at his feet and nearly tumbled into him, but a white hand shot out and grabbed my arm. He began to snarl something in a strange language at me until my previous aggressors also rounded the corner and pulled to a stop.

The leader of the pack, an incredibly buff man with a ripped up plaid shirt and a buzzed haircut strode right up to the prince and grinned. "Hand her over, albino. She's our prey." The rough guffaws that emitted from the wolf pack sent chills down my spine and I struggled to free myself from the tall white creature's grasp, but his hold on my arm only tightened.

"And what will you do with her?" he asked calmly. His voice instantly soothed me, which was strange because logically I knew I was still in mortal peril. The lilt of it held the hint of some accent, something that in a human I would have placed as Irish, and yet altogether different coming from him. The tone of it was so calm, as if this pack of hungry animals didn't pose a threat to him.

Monsieurleader-of-the-pack shrugged his shoulders and tossed a grin back at his comrades. "Why, we're gonna eat 'er, of course."

I heard a pathetic whimper, something that sounded like a wounded puppy, before realizing it had come from me. The creature who held me must have heard it too, for his grip loosened slightly. "I will not allow it."

"Ha!" the wolf man shouted. "And who the hell do you think you are? You can't stop us, fruitcake."

This time I was released and I stumbled back a bit as my savior pulled a spear from his back. "I am Prince Nuada, Silverlance, and I can stop you."

Nuada...Nuada, where had I heard that name before? I kept my eyes on the very surreal battle about to take place before me as I wracked my brain for clues. Nuada, that was definitely Irish...oh yes! He was mentioned in my Sacred Myths and Legends course in university. He was a warrior, part of the Tuatha De Dannan, an obscure figure in Irish folklore. Son of King Balor of the Bethmora Clan, typically touted as an elven race.

And here he was, standing in front of me. As he swung his spear around expertly, I watched in awe as it began to lengthen, as if by magic. I nearly kicked myself, of course it was magic.

The wolfs were not without their own tricks though, they began to transform, howling to the sky as their bones cracked and the skin ripped. It was a gruesome site, and I forced myself to look away. They barely had time to assume their true forms before Nuada cut them down, hacking off heads and limbs until there was nothing but a bloody pile of hairy wolf parts.

"Amazing," I breathed out. The tall warrior elf turned to look at me then, a hard glint making his face look positively feral. Oh no...am I next?

Movement behind him caught my eye and I focused my attention there long enough to see an arm raise up out of the pile of bodies and aim a gun straight at Nuada. "Look out!" I called and just as the elf turned the shot was fired. It struck him in the chest, above his heart and near to his left shoulder. He gasped and sunk to his knees.

I didn't even think about it. One moment I was cowering in the corner, the next I had lifted the spear out of the elf's hands and stuck it through the skull of the last barely living werewolf. Looking down at the site of such gore, suddenly my stomach churned and I forced myself away, leaning against the brick wall behind me for support. My eyes slid over to the prince.

He struggled to his feet and staggered over to his weapon. With a sickening crunch, the spear came free of the wolf's skull. He wiped it against the dark fabric of his pant leg and secured it over his back again. Amazing. The guy takes a bullet and still manages to get up and look incredibly bad ass.

"Did you know them?" he asked me, voice rough and a little shaky. I shook my head.

"No, I think they were new to the area. I don't recall encountering a pack of werewolves before tonight," I told him. "Key stealing pixies on the other hand..."

Nuada gasped again and clutched at his chest. "What's happening?"

I slowly approached him. "Well, you were shot. That tends to be traumatizing." He abandoned his pained expression long enough to glance wryly in my direction. The words that spilled out of my mouth next shocked the both of us I think. "I could take a look at it..."

"What?" he barked. "What could you do for me?" Again, he tried to stand and as his feet slipped out from under him I rushed forward and cradled his head before it hit the ground.

"My brother went to school for nursing," I said soothingly as I lifted up the front of his armor and slipped his shirt down a bit to get a look at the wound. "Such an enthusiast sibling, he could never wait to show me some of the gruesome things he learned about. Especially after he started working in the ER."

Oh that wasn't good at all. A normal bullet wound featured a hole and a lot of blood. This was different. I noticed right away that his blood wasn't red, but a deep golden color. His skin was completely white, which made it much easier to see the damage, remarkably. Black and putrid looking tendrils were shooting out from around the entry wound and as I ran my finger over one, he cried out and arched his back. What would do this...?

"Say," I asked softly. "Is it true that iron is poisonous to your kind?" I looked up to find his eyes fixed on me, widened. "Guess so. You'll need to get that removed right away if you want to live."

"Fool," he grunted and sat up, wincing. "I know this."

I sat back on my heels and watched him. Now that the adrenaline had worn off I was starting to feel fatigued. And nauseated. I needed to sleep so badly, but I was afraid to leave him here and head home. He didn't seem like he was going to be moving real fast and as we were still sitting near a pile of half-human half-wolf corpses we were bound to draw attention.

Surprising myself with my boldness yet again, I grabbed his arm and slung it over my shoulder, then started to stand. He seemed to resist at first and as pain got the better of him, let me hold him up. "Where are we going, human?"

I hadn't really thought it out very clearly and since I didn't want to admit this to him, I told him we were heading for the abandoned train station on the other side of the alley. It was a nice little jaunt and I wasn't sure if he would hold up, but to my amazement we made it into the station before his legs gave out and he nearly took me down with him.

There was a reason behind my going here, truth be told. I used to play in this place as a child, it's where I ran away when my family was going through problems, and finally I used it as a quiet place of contemplation. It was a safe haven for me, a place where I could think clearly and feel like myself. And for a job such as removing an iron bullet from a magical being, I could think of no other place I'd rather do it in.

Well, maybe a hospital, but that just didn't seem feasible.

"We're running out of time, human," Nuada said weakly from the floor, jolting me from my introspection.

"Quite right," I muttered and set about searching the station for things that might be useful for an impromptu surgery. I checked the office first, finding some old dusting rags and shook them violently to get all the residue off. There was a half empty bottle of scotch under the desk and I grabbed that too, probably belonged to some bum who was kicked out of the place. Well I had an anesthetic and sterilizing agent, rags to stop blood flow, and no tool for which to actually do the removal. I didn't have an tweezers on me and even if I did they wouldn't have worked for this. I needed...pliers.

Aha! Don't you just love those little light-bulb moments? Before the station was closed, they began remodeling. The upper wing was still under construction when the place closed down, so I ran back over to Nuada, told him to hang on just a few moments longer, and dashed upstairs as quickly as possible.

It was dark, creaky, and spooky as all hell up there. I didn't have a flashlight, just the light of my cellphone. So it took me longer than I would have liked to find something suitable. What I discovered under a couple of pieces of rubble was a long forgotten pair of needle nose pliers. They would work nicely.

By the time I got back down to Nuada, he was pretty incoherent. "I don't want to die," he muttered, reaching for my arm as I sat down next to him and began to fuss with his armor. I needed to get it off.

"You're not going to die," I told him gently. "Can you help me get this off?" Pulling himself together long enough to focus we managed to remove the armor but he passed out again before I could figure out how to get his shirt over his head. That probably wouldn't have been a good idea anyways, so I settled for ripping it wide open.

The acidic looking black veins curling out from the wound had spread across his chest and looked swollen. Fear gripped me; I knew I needed to work fast. I poured some of the scotch over the pliers and grabbed a rag before uttering a quick apology to the sleeping elf. I stuck the ends of the pliers into the wound.

I saw stars after that. I know my head hit the concrete floor pretty hard, but I wasn't sure what happened. I didn't fall...so I can only suspect that he had lashed out unconsciously and knocked me over. I pulled myself up after the haze in front of my eyes cleared and tried to figure out a different way to go about this.

In the end, I had to straddle his waist with my knees pressing down on his arms to keep them from moving. It was a very intimate position and if he'd opened his eyes I would have been completely mortified. But he was out pretty cold now and I set to work again.

Golden blood spilled all over the floor but I finally got the bullet out, a small piece of iron no bigger than the tip of my pinky. "Such a little thing can do so much damage..." I mused aloud. I tossed the bullet aside and placed the leftover rag over the wound. I didn't have anything with which to sew the wound up, not with me anyways. I'd have to leave and come back with supplies. Supplies that would be much better suited for an elf.

"Your highness," I said softly in his ear. "I need you to stay in this spot and not move until I get back. The wound is still open and I need to pick up a sewing kit so I can fix that. Will you be alright until I return?"

I started to draw back as his golden eyes opened. "Do not move." I warned him firmly, but calmly. "I'll be back as soon as is humanly possible." His lips parted and I noticed how dry and cracked they were. I'd add drinking water to my list then.

"I heard you, human," he croaked. "I'll wait here."

I nodded and started to stand when a hand grasped my arm. I turned back in surprise. "What?"

"You will return?"

"Of course," I said. "You saved my life. What kind of monster would I be if I didn't save yours in return?"

He was still where I'd left him when I returned. I sat down and quickly pulled out my supplies. I had the thickest thread I owned, a sewing needle, rubbing alcohol, and a blanket. I also tossed in a bottle of water for good measure.

The trickiest task now was sewing up the wound. After what happened last time I started digging around under his skin, I wanted him to be fully awake and in control of his limbs. I tossed the blanket on his body and started threading my needle.

When I was ready to go, I straddled him once again. Surprise, surprise, this was the best angle for which to complete the task. Now I just had to wake him up once more. I leaned over and studied his face. Resting like this, he didn't look so scary. In fact, he looked...almost boyish. Handsome. I pushed that thought to the very back of my mind and spoke to him.

"Elf, you need to wake up now." He didn't stir and so I poked him in the cheek. Nothing. Panicking, I felt his neck for a pulse and visibly relaxed when I felt the gentle thrumming against my fingers. "Please wake up, I don't want a repeat of the last time I had to stick a piece of metal in you."

"And what happened then?" he asked, keeping his eyes closed.

I huffed. Jerk, he was probably awake the whole time. "You gave me a concussion," I said somewhat bitterly. I'd noticed after returning home and stopping in the bathroom to find the rubbing alcohol that a long line of blood had dried along my neck and I'd followed it up into my hair where a nice large gash had finally scabbed over. It seemed to hurt a lot more now that I was aware of it.

His eyes opened and he too followed the blood up into my curly auburn hair. "My apologies."

"Heh," I sighed. "I'm going to sew you up now and you need to remain absolutely still for this. Can you do that?"

"Don't patronize me, human," he glared. I leaned closer to his chest and stuck the needle into one side of the hole. I heard a quick intake of breath and grinned.

"I'm not patronizing you, elf," I said. "I'm merely looking out for my own safety. Besides, I'm a woman so technically I can't patronize anyone." I continued to sew and to my utter amazement he didn't even twitch.

"Technically?" his eyebrow raised up in question.

"Yes. The correct term here would be 'matronizing', as only a man can patronize. It all comes down to word stems really. Much like paternal refers to the father and maternal refers to motherly behaviors." I continued talking about one of the things I held the most knowledge for as I finished sewing him up. His eyes had closed again but I knew he wasn't asleep. He was merely listening. If it took his mind off the fast that he was receiving stitches without any true anesthetic then I was more than happy to keep yapping away about the English language and it's quirks.

When I finished up, I cleaned the area with a bit more alcohol and slipped off him. "That's about all I can do for now."

"You've done more than expected, human." He pulled himself into a sitting position and although he grunted in pain I didn't stop him. He was more or less on his own now.

"I have a name," I informed him. "It's Alice."

He looked up at me and smiled. My heart nearly stopped. "You may go, Alice. You're not needed here now." And then it shattered. Well, whatever. I'd just be on my merry way then.

I picked up my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and paused before exiting the station. He was still sitting there, just staring at me. "Have a nice life, Prince Nuada."

"Wait," I heard him call from inside but I didn't stop. I kept walking and began trying to put the whole thing out of my mind.

I though that was the last time I'd ever see him. Even more so after the trees and the little fairies that liked to hide my keys began whispering about the Golden Army and his evil plans to destroy the human race with it. And then finally...that Prince Nuada was dead.

I was sad to hear that he had parted from his world. Little did I know, it was just the beginning...