Demon Day by Penelope Fletcher Page B

positively doted on and I
accepted it with a smile. I took a testing sip. Just water. I
glugged it deeply and eyed Conall. “The trail?”
    He rubbed the heels of his palms in
his eyes and when he shook his head, his ponytail swished behind
him. “It is beyond me. Devlin has worked magics. Three different
trails can be seen here, each is cold, and each carries his and
Wasp’s scent. Less than an hour ago, we were half a day away and
gaining. Now, it seems we are days behind and losing more time. It
is a trick, a spell, and I cannot see past it.”
    I took in a deep breath and handed him
back the hip flask, wiped my hand over my mouth. Some sleep,
something to eat and drink, and I did feel a little better.
Sharper. “Then we follow each trail. One each.”
    “ No,” Breandan said with
forced evenness.
    “ Apart from the fact it
would be most unwise to leave you alone, Rae,” Conall said
patiently, “what happens when one of us does find them? Or maybe we
will find more false trails that we cannot navigate
alone.”
    The were-panther – still seated
comfortably on his hunches, and tail swinging from side to side –
leisurely turned his head each time one of us spoke. His emerald
eyes were bright and aware and I knew he was taking in every word.
His handsome feline face looked focused.
    “ Then we follow each one,”
I grated through my teeth. “We pick the most likely, follow for a
while, and if we’re wrong we’ll backtrack and start again until we
get it right.”
    “ And what of the time we
lose whilst doing this? What if we come across more trails that are
false? We could spend days going in the wrong
direction.”
    I opened my mouth to tell him I was
ready to spend my lifetime hunting Devlin. Then I saw the stupidity
in such words and my shoulders slumped. I burrowed the toe of my
boot into the needle leaf strewn around me.
    My voice was thick when I said, “There
must be another way. We cannot just give up, and not just for the
sake of my revenge. Lochlann needs the grimoire before he can start
setting things right, doesn’t he?”
    Even if Conall would not give into a
selfish endeavour – such was the nature of revenge – he was the
most loyal warrior I knew. He would do anything to secure Lochlann
the fairy-lordship because he believed it was the right thing to
do.
    I looked up and found Breandan glaring
at my brother, who sent him a short look of apology.
    “ Perhaps, there is
something else we may consider. It is not without its
dangers.”
    “ It is not a good idea,”
Breandan said firmly.
    Straightening, I cocked my head and
tried to look attentive and brave, not desperate to crack some
skulls. “Tell me and I’ll do it.”
    Conall pointed a thick finger to the
panther who had gotten bored sitting and was purring rubbing
himself into my legs. “The shifters.”
    My nipped intake of breath was loud in
the sudden silence. I gripped the fur at the base of the panthers
and squeezed it. “Yes,” I hissed, new possibilities opening up like
a carnivorous black hole before me. “A Pack of were-cats could read
each trail and save us time.” I dropped to my knees in front of
him. “Could you or your kind help us?” My head snapped up to
Conall. “Which is the closest?”
    “ Byron’s Pack is close and
of the Alpha’s he is the most civilized. This panther must be of
his Pride.”
    “ You both forget I have
already said no.”
    Breandan sent me a pointed look that
told me he was serious. I returned it with some extra ‘I’m doing
this so back the hell off’. I won, of course. He would not dare
deny me this.
    “ Alright,” he said
flatly.
    His eyes were trained on the panther
that looked rather smug to be weaving between my legs. I stumbled
when he lay down. He rolled so he was pressed into my shins belly
up begging for a tummy stroke.
    I shuffled my feet from under him and
accidentally stepped on his tail. He let out a strangled screech
and jumped up.
    Breandan laughed – his deeper