Slaghtaverty Dolmen, Co. Donegal, April 30th, 1999 A.D.
Jimmy Maguire took another fitful drag on his cigarette, as though trying to drain the last tiny spark of warmth from the burning tobacco. He kept one hand cupped over the faint ember, shielding it from the light drizzle. His other hand pulled up the collar of the black leather jacket that was his prized possession.
Jimmy looked down into the muddy pit that lay in the broad shadow of an ancient Hawthorn tree. Two sets of beady eyes looked up at him, they belonged to a pair of ginger-haired toughs in dirty brown overcoats who could easily have passed for twins. Each held a sturdy shovel in hand.
"What, Podge?" Jimmy drawled.
"How come we're doing all the work while yer just standing there like a dozy fecker?" Podge snarled.
"Yeah!" His brother Rodge added for emphasis.
Jimmy rolled his eyes, the siblings had been digging since sunset several hours ago before Podge had noticed this point. And Podge was the smart twin.
"I'm supervising, ya thick plonkers!" Jimmy barked back. "Besides, for what that foreign nob is paying us, you two can afford doing a semi-honest night's work for once."
"Well, yer quaer fella better pay up is all I'll say!" Podge moaned before sinking his shovel back into the earth.
"Yeah!" Rodge added sulkily.
The two bothers had only been shoveling a few minutes more before Podge's voice rose again from the pit. "Oi, Jimmy! Take a gander at this."
Jimmy sighed, hopping down into the pit. "What's it n..."
At the foot of the pit, between the furtive twins, lay an ancient moldering skeleton. The bones were vaguely dwarfish. Short stunted legs contrasted with long ape-like arms. The body lay on its stomach, as though buried face down.
"Oi, Podge! It's yer great great granny! Hehehe!" Rodge guffaw.
"That would make her it yer great granny too, ya thick gobsheen!" Podge sniped back.
"Oh... yeah," Rodge mused. "What's that in its back?"
An age-weathered sword had been driven between the skeletal ribs back and deed into the earth beneath, as though pinning the dead thing in its grave.
Jimmy's fingers wrapped around the centuries-old sword-hilt before wrenching the whole thing loose. As he did so, the weapon crumbled into mulch in his hands. "Jayzus..."
"Wood?!" Podge blathered. "What kinda fecking eejet makes a sword outta wood?"
"Yeah!" Rodge chorused.
"Gimme a sec." Jimmy climbed out of the dirt pit. Fishing a cellphone from his jacket pocket and quickly dialing a number into the sickly green glowing pad.
"Yes?" a voice like a knife being sharpened answered through the static.
"Klove, my man," Jimmy drawled. "Tell Mr. de Ville I got his-"
Jimmy words were abruptly drowned out by a piercing shriek. He spun around, phone slipping from his hand. His mind went numb as it tried to process what his eyes were telling it.
Rodge was flailing madly about the mud pit while his brother desperately tried to scramble up the slippery slope. Wrapped around Rodge's shoulders was the dirt-encrusted skeleton dwarf.
It tore away the soiled brown fabric covering Rodge's shoulder with talon-like finger bones, before sinking its stained needle-like teeth into the ruddy flesh below. Blood spurted down the creature's non-existant gullet, coating its ancient ribs with deep crimson.
The ghoulish sight sent both Jimmy and Podge into a panicked dash for the treeline, screaming incoherently.
They ran blindly through the forest for almost half an hour before collapsing to their knees. Jimmy's lungs burned as he began hacking up phlegm.
"Ya bastard!" Podge roared grabbing Jimmy by the collar of his black leather jacket. "Ya left Rodge to die! He was my brother! I loved him!"
"I didn't see you volunteering the stay and fight!" Jimmy snarled back.
"I didn't love him that much," Podge chirped in reply.
A pair of ape-like limbs suddenly lunged down, wrapping their bony talons about Podge's throat. He let out a choked gurgling rasp as he was lifted bodily into the branches above.
Jimmy scrambled backward on all fours, backing into the trunk of an ancient oak. His legs had been reduced to jelly, blood surged through his ears.
Something dropped from the tree, a shadow with twin blazing pinpricks in place of eyes. It let out a low rasping cackle as it crawled forward on all fours.
A cold wind pushed aside the branches above, allowing the pale moonlight to fall upon the thing's face. Tendrils of gangrene flesh were slowly creeping across its yellow skull. A few wisps of dark hair clung wetly to its scalp. Newly formed lips peeled back into a manic grin, revealing dozens of needle-like teeth, dripping with scarlet.
Jimmy didn't even have time to scream before it pounced.
[-]
He stripped the corpse, admiring the black leather before slipping it over his dwarvish frame. He was pleased to see his undead flesh had almost completely regrown.
It was perhaps unwise to waste three lives in a single feeding but after what seemed like an eternity in the throes of the Red Thirst, he could not have restrained himself even if he wanted to. Even draining the fools dry hadn't been enough to fully quench the Thirst.
It was never enough.
"Welcome back to the world of the living... King Abhartach."
The words were strange to the dwarf, but their coldly imperious tone was unmistakable. He spun around, only to be confronted by three shadowless figures standing in the moonlight.
Their leader was tall and gaunt, his clothing was strange and entirely black. On his right, stood a pale raven-haired woman clad in a crimson gown. On his left, a second man in sorcerer's robes of blue and golden silk.
The dwarf nostrils flared as he took in their scents, before hissing something in his native tongue.
"Ah, I see..." the gaunt man spoke softly. "Po, would you be so kind?"
The silk-clad raised his hands, chanting softly as a glowing green mist swirled about them for a moment before dissipating.
"Did it work?" the woman in scarlet asked.
"If the purpose of that spell was to let me comprehend your barbarous tongue, woman..." the dwarf drawled. "Then yes."
"Your majesty, I am Prince Vlad III of Wallachia," the tall man inclined his head "And these are my companions, Countess Elizabeth Bathory de Ecsed and Quong Po, court sorcerer to the Jade Emperor."
"I suppose I have you three to thank for my freedom? Well, you have my gratitude," The dwarf gave a mockingly exaggerated bow. "Now get off my island!"
"I beg your pardon?" the tall man whispered icily, eyes flickering like Hellish coals.
"These are my hunting grounds, and I'm afraid I don't like to share!" the dwarf rasped. "Least of all with... outlanders."
"Insolent troll!" the woman in red hissed. "Do you have any idea who you're speaking to?"
"Elizabeth," the tall man silenced her with a word before returning his attention to the dwarf. "I beg you to reconsider, your majesty. I do not offer my friendship lightly."
"To be perfectly frank, I couldn't give two tosses about your 'friendship'," the dwarf snapped back. "At least not until I've settled my business with the self-righteous wretch who imprisoned me!"
"You've been in your grave for almost sixteen centuries," the silk-clad sorcerer spoke. "The mortal responsible has surely long since turned to dust?"
Abhartach's lips peeled back in a rictus grin. "Oh... you don't know him like I do."
[-]
Belfast Docks, Northern Ireland, October 31st, 1999 A.D.
"This is Kate Reed of Dalriada Broadcasting, reporting from the Ulster Museum in Belfast," the dark-skinned young woman on the dim screen spoke, the museum's bone white walls looming in the background. "Scene of a daring daylight robbery by two masked raiders."
"Witnesses described the raiders as a gun-wielding woman wearing a prosthetic arm and a giant of a man almost seven feet tall. Despite the wealth of priceless treasures on display, the thieves took nothing save for a preserved fifth-century crane-skin satchel," the reporter elaborated.
"As of now, the Royal Ulster Constabulary are investigating possible ties to Republican dissident groups who-" The screen shattered as something very like the sound of a gunshot rang throughout the dimly lit warehouse.
Across from the ruins of the tv, sitting on a worn and soiled couch, glowered a steel-eyed woman clad in a black tank top and combat fatigues. Her dirty blonde hair was tied back in a simple ponytail and a black patch covered where her left eye should have been.
Her most striking feature was the ornate silver prosthetic that served in place of her right arm. It resembled a piece of ancient armor more than a modern cybernetic limb, etched with swirling vaguely Celtic patterns, save for the smoking barrel where her hand should have been.
The silver barrel seemed to shimmer with purple eldritch light, reverting to an armored silver fist. "Bloody vulture," she spat.
She took a moment to admire the mystical talisman that now served as her right hand, the Silver Arm of Nuada. According to her 'Enlightened' benefactors, it had been severed from an ancient Irish war god millennia before the time of Christ; with the power to reshape itself into almost any weapon she could imagine.
And Bridget Malone could imagine many MANY weapons.
She'd spent her entire life waging war against Imperialism, and she'd continue waging war 'til the day she died.
"That's the third magic scrying box this month," a low deep voice rumbled from somewhere behind her.
Malone arced her neck back to be greeted by the sight of an almost seven-foot, silver-haired giant of a man clad in attire not unlike her own with a high-tech recurve bow slung over his shoulder.
She watched in bemusement as he lowered a bundle of arrows long as his massive arms into a crane-skin bag barely bigger than a typical ladies handbag. The interior of the sack glowed faintly as the long deadly projectiles seemingly vanished.
At the giant's feet lay two Gargoyle Beasts. One was an emerald green female, long gold horns like an oryx that swept back over her head. Her brother was dark purple with an oddly jagged gold-colored horn jutting out of his forehead. Bran and Sceolan the giant called them.
Despite him being human, the twin gargoyle beasts treated the giant like family and him likewise. They sat between him and Malone, eyeing the blonde warily. After all these months, they had come to tolerate her… but trust was another matter.
"It's not magic, Finn. It's a telly. There's at least a million of them in this city alone," Malone opined.
For all Malone's affected nonchalance, it still awed her to think she was speaking to the Fionn mac Cumhaill; Leader of the Fianna, Slayer of the Goblin of Tara, and greatest hero of Irish legend awakened from centuries of enchanted sleep beneath the Hills of Tara.
It was almost enough to make Malone believe in God... until she remembered what had become of Ireland during Finn's millennia-spanning slumber. She rubbed her shoulder tenderly, where cold silver chafed against mortal flesh.
Malone raised herself from the couch, walking up to a wooden bench; upon which was a long iron strongbox. She bit her lip, grunting as she gingerly pulled the Silver Arm of Nuada from her shoulder. Small sparks of mystic energy arced across the talisman as she locked it in the strongbox.
"Keep an eye on that," she shot at Fionn.
"Aye," he rumbled, as Malone withdrew into the recesses of the warehouse.
Neither of them noticed the crimson rodent-like eyes watching them from the shadowed rafters.
[-]
Malone poured half a cup of TCP into the old tin sink before adding a kettle of near boiling water. She paused for a moment, before adding another half-cup of TCP. In a building as dilapidated as this, it didn't pay to take chances.
She let her towel soak in the hot anti-septic liquid before slowly, carefully wiping the scarred tissue that ran down her right shoulder joint; where an arm of flesh and blood had once clung.
Her own reflection stared coldly back from the corroded mirror hanging over the sink, one-eyed and one-armed. Just two of the sacrifices she'd made for the Cause over the years. She doubted they'd be the last.
Her revery was suddenly shattered by the piercing sound of a warbling Gaelic war-cry echoing throughout the warehouse.
[-]
Malone kicked open the door as she drew her Rudger Security-Six from the holster that hung at her hip. It took only a split second for her remaining eye to sweep the room, taking in a sight that would have stunned another woman.
Fionn was duel-wielding steel hunting knives, moving with a speed and nimbleness that belied his massive bulk, parrying each of his attacker's strikes with contemptuous ease. "Is this all the sport you have to offer, Hound!"
"I didn' come here to fight, Finn!" his attacker bellowed. A young warrior clad in the armor of an ancient Gaelic warrior, wielding a golden shield and a spear that seemed to be made of solidified sunlight.
Around the two combatants, Bran and Sceolan circled warily, joined by a third gargoyle beast with coal-black skin and eyes that burned with a red hellish light.
"Cú Chulainn," Malone hissed, raising her sidearm.
Before she could pull the trigger, her hand erupted in blinding pain causing the weapon to clatter across the floor undischarged. Malone's head turned just in time to catch sight of a night-black crow swooping back down on her, a gold band wrapped tightly about its beak and blood on its talons.
Within the space of a split-second, the black crow was enveloped by pale blue faery light as it morphed into a shaggy grey she-wolf wearing a golden muzzle. A she-wolf that instantly pounced upon Malone, pinning her to the cold concrete.
"Atta girl, Molly!" Cú crowed with approval, before Fionn took the legs out from under him with a sweeping kick, sending Gáe Bolga flying out of reach. Cú tried to leap back to his feet, only to be held in place by the hunting knife suddenly at his throat.
Barghest's lips peeled back in a savage snarl, eyes blazing red as she prepared to pounce.
"Peace, noble beast," Finn rumbled, looming over the prone Cú. "I've no desire to slay your master... unless my hand is forced."
Barghest snarl petered off into a slow rumble but did not budge back an inch.
Satisfied, Fionn turned his attention to the shaggy grey she-wolf. "Release my companion, woman of the Sidhe."
The she-wolf's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Gut the traitor, Finn!" Malone barked. "Justice is more important than my life, than any life!"
"That's not bloody helping!" Cú snapped. "Look, Finn, I was hoping we could sit down and talk this out, one Irish legend to another?"
"Your precious Pendragon tried something similar not long ago," Finn spat. "I give you the same answer I gave him."
"I don't know what this nutter's been telling you but-" Cú inclined his head towards Malone.
"She told me enough," Finn snarled. "How the Britons have held Éire in chains for over eight centuries while you kowtow to Pendragon like the whipped cur that you are!"
"Oh really?" Cú sneered. "Did she mention how she and her 'brave soldier boys' blow innocent women and children to smithereens?"
"Enough lies!" Finn barked, pressing the blade to Cú's jugular as he leaned closer. "Even in my time, you were already a legend. My mothers used to sing your tales to me as I drifted to sleep. Ever since I was a boy, I wanted to be half the hero you were. But now, looking into your eyes... all I want to do is retch."
Barghest's eyes burned scarlet.
Finn's knuckles tightened around the knife hilt.
"HehehehehHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" a cold voice cackled from the darkness above. "Oh, my little huntsman, almost fifteen centuries and you haven't changed a bit."
"It can't be..." Finn's eyes widened as he leaped to his feet, now heedless of Cú. "Abhartach! Show yourself, you overgrown leech!"
Cú shot Molly a quizzical glance, but the she-wolf only tilted her head in confusion.
Malone had no idea what was going on, but that didn't stop her delivering a vicious left-hook to the distracted she-wolf's jaw.
She made a mad dash for the strongbox holding the Silver Hand of Nuada, only to find her path by a new figure who dropped from the shadows above with an almost feline grace.
The figure was pale and gaunt, clad in little save a pair of black leather pants and a shredded halter top. Their head was bald save for a bright purple knot top, their face concealed behind a Halloween mask in the image of a comically grinning skull.
Malone didn't even slow down as she hurled another fist at the ghoul's mask, only for her assailant to grab it in midair. Malone winced as her attacker began slowly crushing her fist with a strength that belied their cold, almost skeletally thin fingers.
"Boo," the ghoul whispered with a smokey feminine voice, before tossing Malone across the warehouse with a gesture.
"Bridget!" Finn roared, dashing to his fallen comrade's side.
Cú leaped to his feet, snatching up Gáe Bolga as he, Molly and the three gargoyle beast formed a circle about Finn and Malone; their conflict momentarily forgotten.
A dozen pale figures shambled silently out of the shadows, each wearing a cartoonish Halloween mask that would have been comical if not for the air of utter wrongness that hung about them. Thirteen in all counting the skull-masked ghoul
The central figure was a lumbering rotund bulk, a solid iron chain wrapped around his ashy-grey forearm and a 'Frankenstein's Monster' mask covering his face.
Stapped to the pale bulk's back rode the most bizarre figure of all. Like a child being carried piggy-back, he was a dwarfish figure with long simian arms and clad in nothing but a rotted loincloth and a black leather coat that was far too long for him. He peeled back gangrenous lips to reveal a smile filled with yellowed teeth like crooked needles.
"Abhartach," Finn spoke the name like slur as he slung Malone's remaining arm over his shoulders.
"Friend of yours?" Cú shot back, shimmering spear raised above the golden shield.
"King Abhartach of the Neamh-Mairbh, at your service, me lad!" The ghoulish dwarf shot up to his full height before taking an exaggerated bow. "'Fraid I didn't catch your name, stranger?"
"Cú Chulainn," the young warrior intoned.
"Well as I live and breath... figuratively speaking!" Abhartach cackled as he slapped the pale bulk's shoulders. "A fellow Ulsterman! And not just any Ulsterman! The Hound of Culann himself!"
"Bloody hell, yer not going ta ask for me autograph are ye?" Cú snarked.
"HA! I like you, boy!" Abhartach barked. "What say I let you and yer beasties walk out o' here alive before I let me wee ones flay the flesh from mac Cumhaill's bones?"
"Ya... no," Cú sniped. "I don't always see eye to eye with Finn... and I can't stand Malone but I'm gonna leave them alone with a buncha nutters!"
"Pity..." the dwarf drawled, before snapping his fingers. "A compromise then, how about we give ye ten minutes headstart before we come hunt ye all down and gut ye like fish? That seems fair."
"How about a ram Gáe Bolga down yer-" Cú was cut off by a heavy hand falling upon his shoulder.
"Hound," Finn rumbled. "They have us cornered. 'Twould be better to continue this battle on of field of our own choosing."
Cú bristled at the suggestion. The fur on Molly's back stood up on end, while thirteen pairs of red gleaming eyes watched their every move with cold inhuman hunger.
The Hero of Ulster nodded with reluctance as he, Finn, Molly, Malone and the three beasts began slowly backing towards the fire exit; never taking their eyes off the unholy horde for an instant.
A moment later, the entire party was racing across the roof of the warehouse. A dim half moon hung in the black sky above sickly yellow lights of the city.
[-]
Abhartach drummed his yellowed talons on the pale bulk's shoulders with mounting irritation. "How long has it been?" he snapped.
The skull masked ghoul checked her watch... again. "Four minutes."
An articulate snarl escaped the dwarf's rotted lips. "I suppose it wouldn't be fair to go back on me word," His lips now peeled back in a rictus grin. "But since when does the wolf play fair with the deer?"
[-]
"What were those things?" Cú asked. Barghest and a wolf-formed Molly at his heels as they leaped from on warehouse rooftop to another.
"Neamh-Mairbh," Finn hissed, shimmying down a rickety fire-escape at the building's side, Bran and Sceolan guarding his flank.
"Neem-what?!" Malone demanded as she followed, never taking her eye off the she-wolf.
"The Dead that Walk," Cú translated as he landed in the shadowed alley. "Wait... Yer all 'bout 'Ireland for the Irish' and ye can't speak Gaelic?"
Malone shot him a silent death-glare.
"Aye..." Finn added, scenting the night-wind. "They maintain their unnatural existence by feeding on the blood of the living."
"Vampires?" Cú raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Like Dracula?"
"Droch-fhuil? Yes, well put." Finn mused.
Cú shot Malone a smug smirk. "That means 'bad blood' by the way."
"We should hurry," spoke Finn. "If I know Abhartach, his restraint won't last long."
The party had barely taken another step when Cú's back erupted in a bout of blinding hot agony.
"Cú!" Finn called, kneeling at the young hero's side, followed quickly by Molly and Barghest who simpered in concern. Blood ran down the Ulsterman's back in thick crimson rivulets from clawlike gashes.
"Hold still, lad," Finn spoke softly, binding the wound with Cú's own cloak.
Something chuckled darkly from the shadows above.
Cú looked up to see eleven gaunt masked shapes hanging from the fire escapes to either side of the alley like hungry bats.
"Kingy said you two had high-quality Red but I never dreamed it would taste this good " the skull-masked vamp purred, licking the scarlet from her talons. "You should run."
The party took off at a dash, racing through the maze of alleys that ran through the docks. While up above, inhuman shadows leapt from rooftop to rooftop, cackling maniacally along the way.
"We need to find some running water," Finn yelled as he ran. "A river... a stream... anything?"
"There's a canal just to the East of here!" Malone shouted back, taking off in that direction.
"The Devil you know," Cú sneered, following.
The narrow alleys soon gave way to an empty road leading to a bridge over the river. Human, Gargoyle Beast and Sidhe wolf all felt their limbs begin to ache as their salvation came within sight.
Cú peered over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of a pack of masked undead ghouls loping on all fours in hot pursuit. The skull-masked ghoul came within a few meters and pounced... only to collapse to the ground, writhing in agony.
Without realizing it, the party and their pursuers had reached the canal-bridge.
Cú watched in morbid fascination as the skull-masked vamp scrambled back to the banks. She and her pack paced back and forth at the edge of the bridge, hissing venom before taking off down the banks.
The party took a moment to catch their collective breaths, Molly even shifting back into human form.
"It won't take them long to find a way across and pick up our scents," Finn mused. "If we could find some way to confuse their sense, somewhere to lay an ambush?"
"I might know a place," Cú thought out loud. "But it's a bit far to hoof it unless we-" His train of thought was cut off by the sound of an engine revving, turning his head.
While Cú and Finn had been talking, Molly had apparently taken the opportunity to jack open the door of an unattended mini-van before hotwiring it and now sat expectantly in the driver's seat.
"Works for me," Malone shrugged.
Cú glared at Molly. "We are giving that straight back when this is over!"
[-]
Belfast Zoo
"You sure they're in there?" the skull-masked vampire whispered as she crouched in the dim alley, watching the zoo gates warily.
The vampire at her side, a lanky shaggy male clad in a werewolf mask, merely grunted his confirmation as he sniffed the air.
Behind the skull mask, she chewed her lips anxiously. Her rational mind told her this was a trap, but the beast that had been awakened when she turned didn't care. All It knew was lust and hunger, It constantly gnawed at the back of her mind, especially now that sweet if temporary relief from the Thirst was sooo close.
She scratched absently at her pale arms which had been covered with needle-marks only a few weeks ago, before Abhartach had found her aimlessly wandering the streets of Belfast.
"Screw it," she finally hissed, before the pack moved in. They scampered over the wall in an almost lizard-like fashion, landing silently in a shadow-haunted courtyard.
The skull-masked pack leader stumbled dizzily as her nostrils were invaded by at least a dozen different conflicting musks, thick and heady. "Any lead."
the werewolf shook his shaggy head, like a dog trying to cast off a tick.
Before they could take another step, the courtyard was flooded by blinding white light; quickly followed by the panicked screeches, cackles, and whooping of fruit bats, hyenas and howler monkeys coming from every direction.
The shaggy wolf-masked vampire yelped in pain, covering his eyes until he was permanently silenced by a wooden shaft piercing his heart.
His skull-masked leader looking on in horror as he collapsed into a rapidly decomposing mass. "SCATTER!" she shrieked before two more shafts took out another pair of vamps behind her.
The skull-masked fiend ducked into the reptile house, back into the comforting cold darkness. She'd almost regained command of herself before a pair of scarlet glowing eyes emerged from the darkness ahead of her, followed by a low deep growl.
The vampire began slowly backing away, only to be cut off by two new pairs of od glowing eyes; one scarlet, the other pure white.
[-]
Another vampire disintegrated, it's unbeating heart impaled upon Gáe Bolga's shinning shaft as Cú shook the now truly-dead carcass loose. He repressed a shudder of shame, as though he had somehow stained the divine weapon.
Cú crept past the primate habitat when something rustled in the trees above his head. Instinctively, he raised the Spear of light above his head.
The next moment, Finn dropped from the branches above, hunting knife slick with tar-like black blood and a batch of fanged skulls hanging from his belt like grisly trophies.
"Jeez, Finn," Cú hissed. "I coulda skewered you!"
"Of course you could," Finn drawled, a wolfish smirk playing across his features. "How many did you slay?"
"Two, you?"
"Three!" Finn announced, proudly brandishing his trophies.
"Show off," Cú muttered.
Molly stalked silently out of the reptile house, followed by Malone and the three beasts.
"You lot?" Cú asked.
Molly held up six fingers by way of answer.
"Two, three and six," Finn mused. "That just leaves-"
Cú was cut off by the what sounded like a meteorite striking the courtyard, shattering cobblestones and sending the band flying in all directions. The deafening crash was swiftly followed by the echo of a demoniacal cackle.
The towering Frankenstein-masked bulk shambled out of the swirling dust, Abhartach giggling with malign glee as he rode upon the voiceless beast's back.
Ghostly blue light enveloped Molly as she pounced, shifting into wolf-form. The silent bulk's reaction was cobra swift, defying its own mass as it swung its heavy iron chain; ensnaring the she-wolf like a whip and sending her flying into the underbrush.
"MOLLY!?" Cú screamed.
"That's it, my beauty! Kill them! KILL THEM ALL!" the dwarf shrieked ecstatically.
"Barghest, protect Molly!" Cú bellowed as he raised his spear. The beast yelped in acknowledgment before bounding off.
Malone drew her weapon, 'liberated' from the zoo's armory, unloading an entire clip into the lumbering mass of unliving flesh to no apparent effect. The bulk responded by tearing a slab on concrete from the ground and hurling it directly at its attacker.
Next thing Malone knew, Cú was tackling her to the ground as the slab went sailing overhead.
"You... you saved me?" Malone blurted in disbelief.
"Yeah... that's probably gonna come back an' bite me in the arse one o' these days," Cú sighed before diving back into the fray.
The vampiric bulk swung its sledgehammer-like fists again and again at Finn, only for the silver-maned giant to dodge each blow with the speed and grace of a sparrow.
"STAND STILL AND DIE, YOU PREENING JAKONAPE!" Abhatach screeched, his attention so focused on Finn that he did not even notice Cú leaping to the attack, spear held high.
"You first!" Cú roared, hurling Gáe Bolga with all his might. The Spear of Light soared through the night air, burning through the shadows as it closed on its target.
The vampiric, Frankenstein-masked bulk barely had time to turn in the direction of Cú's cry before the shimmering spear pierced its unbeating heart. Gáe Bolga returned to Cú's hand before the monster had even had a chance to hit the ground, undead flesh already crumbling to ash.
Abhartach himself was sent hurtling across the zoo courtyard, landing upon a cold steel grate. The ancient vampire rolled over, only to be confronted by the image of Finn, pouncing through mid-air with hunting knives shining like silver in the moonlight.
The undead dwarf let out a high-pitched screech before shifting into a squirming slimy black mass, hundreds of wriggling leeches that slipped their way through the grates before Finn's blade could connect.
Finn stared down at the empty grate before unleashing a frustrated howl to the dark sky above.
Cú raced to Molly's side, quickly tearing aside the iron chains and allowing her to reassume human form in a flash of faery light.
"You all right?" Cú asked.
O-K, Molly signed, before her eyes went wide at the sight of something over Cú's shoulders.
Cú spun about in the blink of an eye, Gáe Bolga's glowing spear-tip hovering over Finn's heart as the edge of silver-maned giant's hunting knife pressed against Cú's throat.
Molly instantly shifted back into her wolf form as Malone raised her gun. The three beasts eyes blazed white and crimson as they leapt to their respective masters' sides.
"Seriously?" Cú drawled. "We're actually doing this again?"
Finn's glare bore into Cú's own eye for an agonizing moment... before slowly withdrawing his blade. "No."
"I beg your pardon?" Malone snapped.
"Dawn approaches, our wounds need tending and our beasts need somewhere safe to roost for the day," Finn spoke, sheathing his weapons. "Besides... we need to go pick up your arm."
"Fine," Malone hissed through gritted teeth as her Finn offered her boost over the zoo wall. She was followed in turn by Bran, Sceolan and finally, Finn himself. The silver-haired giant paused for a moment atop the wall.
"You fought well this night, Hound," Finn smirked. "I hope you bring some of that fire the next time we cross blades."
And with that, the Leader of the Fianna was gone.
"I think I'm starting to win him over," Cú mused before striking his shimmering spear against the ground and reverting to the form of Rory Dugan.
"Ow-ow-ow!" Rory winced, touching his still tender back as he staggered.
You alright? Molly signed, shifting back into human form.
"Yeah, I'm fine," the lad sighed. "Everything just hurts slightly more when I'm Rory."
What about a-b-h-a-r-t-a-c-h?
"I'm sure we'll be running into him again, sooner or later," Rory sighed. "Mad bugger's probably already sworn eternal vengeance on us and all that."
Barghest whined softly, sitting at Rory's feet.
"But that's future us' problem," Rory bent down to scratch behind the beast's ear. "Right now, I know a quiet little churchyard where we can all catch some rest."
[-]
Undisclosed Location, November 5th
Abhartach's eyes flickered open, finding himself at the bottom of a deep black pit. High above him, the light of a jaundiced moon filtered through the branches of an ancient Hawthorn tree.
"What the bloody... AAAARRRGH!" the undead king howled as he attempted to sit upright, chains of burning white silver binding each of his limbs.
His screams were cut off by a clump of loose earth landing in his mouth. On the rim of the grave, stood a haggard grey-haired mortal mechanically shoveling dirt over Abhartach.
"I used to be close to someone much like Your Majesty," spoke a voice like an icy wind flowing through a tomb.
Abhartach craned his neck to see the Outlander Prince standing over him, the lady in red and the silk-clad sorcerer to either side of him.
"She too hungered after vengeance like a starved wolf, never realizing that vengeance must be savored... slowly... sweetly... like a fine wine. I would have gladly given you Fionn mac Cumhaill's broken carcass if you had but been patient," the Prince whispered, cold clay trickling through his pale talons. "Well, perhaps a century or two to rethink your choices will help."
Abhartach gurgled something obscene through a throatful of clay. shovel after shovel fell upon him, eventually leaving only a single eye bulging in terror.
"That is why I have survived while most of our kind have been hunted to extinction. That is why most of my enemies are food for the worms, while those few remaining will join them within a decade. Because unlike your majesty..." The edge of the Prince's ruddy lip curled upward to reveal a sharp pearl-like canine.
Shovel after shovelful of grave earth fell upon Abhartach, eventually leaving only a single eye bulging in terror.
"I know how to wait."
Never The End...