DUNGUAIRE CASTLE

The pain hit her so unexpectedly that she groaned. For a moment, she thought she was injured before realizing that it was his agony reaching her mind. Áine clutched her chest with both hands. Her heart felt like it might shatter. She staggered and fell to her knees. He called out to her. She could hear his voice within her, even though he was far away. Their connection was so strong, yet now it threatened to tear apart forever. Desperately, Áine searched for a way out, even though her mind already understood there was none. Despite the pain, she struggled to her feet, ran towards the gate, and pushed it open. And if she had to run halfway around the world, she would seek him out and stand by his side. The brightening sky meant nothing to her.

The agony subsided as suddenly as it had come. For a moment, Áine felt relieved, but then despair gripped her heart as she realized. She listened within herself. Nothing. Just dark emptiness. The vampire ran.

"Áine? Stop! Where are you going?" 

She saw the image of an old woman with two wolves by her side darting past, but she didn't care. Her strength and thoughts were solely focused on reaching Peregrine.

"Geal, Ciallmhar, stop her," said the druid, gripping her staff tighter and hurrying after the vampire. On foot, she had no chance of catching up to a vampire, but her magic could help slow Áine down a bit - and the daylight, which flowed brilliantly bright over the horizon. By the first barns of the village, Tara caught up to her. The two wolves had bitten into her cloak, and she tried with frantic movements to free herself.

"Away, you beasts," she screamed. The druid had never seen a vampire lose their composure like this. She murmured a few words in the ancient language and laid her hand on Áine's arm.

"Áine, what has happened that you are running blindly into your doom? The sun shows no mercy."

"Peregrine!" she sobbed. "Something must have happened to him."

"At the moment, there's nothing you can do for him," Tara felt that Áine's mind was no longer accessible to reason. The sun rose blood-red over the hills on the other side of Lough Corrib, bathing the vast expanse of water in gold. The wolves dragged Áine into the shadow of the barn. Her skin began to steam. The vampire staggered. Tara pushed open the barn door and led Áine into the darkness. Her eyes were already closing. The old druid half-carried her into a corner where the board walls seemed to have no cracks or knots. Gently, she let Áine sink to the ground, who had already fallen into her death-like trance. Tara stacked a few empty crates around her and piled up a heap of hay so that she couldn't be seen from the gate. That was all she could do, except hope that she remained undisturbed until evening. For a moment, she considered leaving one of the wolves behind for Áine's protection, but she dismissed the thought. If any of the farmers noticed the wolf, all hell would break loose, and the whole village would come together to hunt down the thief. No, it could rather endanger Áine. So Tara left her alone and carefully closed the gate behind her. The sun was now a hand's breadth above the horizon, reflecting in millions of dew drops on every blade of grass. Some sense of regret flashed through her mind that the Lycana could never marvel at this wonder. Then she set out to find the werewolf Peregrine.

When it got dark and the vampires could go back on deck, it was Alisa and Franz Leopold who first stepped up to the railing to see how far they had come. While Alisa rushed up with her tunic gathered, Franz Leopold followed with his head held high and measured steps.

"Can you see anything?" she asked.

"The coast to the south with some offshore islands. Seems to be a bay."

"I see that too," Alisa called impatiently. "But which one? Where are we?"

Franz Leopold shrugged. "You don't need to ask me that. The more important question is where our pursuers have been during the day. Shall we go and check?"

Alisa followed him aft. They scanned the horizon with their bare eyes but couldn't see anything. Ivy joined them with a spyglass in hand, but even through the marvel of optics, no other sailing ship could be seen.

"I think we've lost them," Alisa said after also looking through the spyglass. She returned it to Murrough, who took over the helm again.

"That's good," he said. "We've made better progress during the day than I thought. And we're still on course, even though I had to stay in my coffin. I wouldn't have dared hope for that. But apparently, there are still things that can surprise me."

Seymour barked. It sounded angry. Ivy laid her hand on the nape of his neck. Immediately, he quieted down, yawning extensively instead and curling up at her feet.

"Is he not feeling well?" Alisa asked worriedly. "I've never seen him like this before."

"Perhaps a wolf can get seasick," Luciano said, joining them. "How much longer until we arrive? I could use an excursion to a sheep herd."

Franz Leopold rolled his eyes, but since he also wanted to know when their journey on the ship would end, he remained silent.

"Maybe two, three hours. Then we'll land at Kinvara. We're already in Galway Bay. That there to the south is Black Head. Further east, you can see the tower castle of Gleninagh. Until a few years ago, it was inhabited by humans, but now it stands empty."

"Will we spend the day there?" Luciano wanted to know.

The seaman shook his head. "No, we have to continue eastward to the end of the bay. The tower is not bad, but there's something better near Kinvara!"

Murrough called out a few brief orders to his men and turned the helm until the bow pointed directly east. The ship leaned slightly to starboard. The young vampires watched excitedly as the shore drew closer, rocks and bushes emerging from the shadows, along with houses and gnarled trees. It wasn't even midnight yet, and a few lights could be seen, illuminated windows or swaying lanterns, and occasional people.

The ship now glided into a bay that narrowed like a funnel, curving southward at its end and transitioning into a valley. There, where the small river flowed into it, a cluster of houses and huts could be made out. Fishing boats rocked in the water in front of the pier. But the helmsman didn't head towards the town; instead, he let the helm veer left, where a box-shaped shadow reached up into the night sky. As they approached, the young vampires saw that the castle stood on a small island, still separated from the mainland by a water-filled moat with a drawbridge. The main building was rectangular and, as often seen here, tower-like in construction, with its recessed gable roof being the highest point. However, there was another tower, attached to the outer wall, guarding the gate.

Catriona stepped up to them. "We'll dock there at the pier soon. Please disembark quickly and go directly through the gate into the courtyard. No explorations or other experiments!"

The four of them looked at her with innocent eyes. "But of course, no," Ivy said for all of them.

Catriona snorted. "Murrough, you'll hide the ship in the rocky cove and come with Tierney and Beagán."

The seaman nodded. "Are we expected?"

A small bat fluttered around the main mast. Catriona reached out her hand. The animal fluttered to her, circled her once, then settled on her hand.

"Oh yes, we're expected," she seemed to whisper something to the bat's large, pointed ears, then she raised her arm, and the bat flew back to the castle.

As Catriona had predicted, they were received in the castle courtyard. An ancient vampire, who surely belonged to the Ancients, and two young vampires, who might have been her servants, came to meet them. While the old one only nodded her head, the young men bowed deeply to Donnchadh, with Catriona standing by his side as usual.

"May your stay at Dunguaire Castle bring you a good night," the old one snarled. "Come inside. We have procured blood for the heirs, as you requested."

Alisa saw from the corner of her eye how Luciano beamed, and she too felt relief at being able to satisfy the already burning thirst for blood. Ivy, as usual, couldn't be read whether she even knew these torments. Seymour, on the other hand, seemed a little unkempt tonight and yawned heartily again.

Now Donnchadh lowered his head. "We thank you, Ulicia, for granting us your hospitality."

"Alright, alright, even I am a Lycana and know what is owed to the clan. I just hope you don't plan on staying here for long. I need my peace! I didn't leave Dunluce to have a dozen overbearing heirs around me now."

She fell silent. Her gaze had swept over the visitors, but then suddenly she froze. Her eyes widened. Alisa turned around, wanting to find out whom she was staring at. It was Malcolm with his younger cousin Raymond and cousins Ireen and Rowena.

"These are not Vyrad, are they? Did you drag cursed Englishmen onto the castle?" She spat on the ground.

"Ulicia, calm yourself," Donnchadh said, still quietly but with a cutting voice. "Even the Vyrad have signed the pact, so it is not for us to exclude them from the year in our care."

"Oh, and then you'll probably send Ivy and Mervyn to London to Lord Milton too?"

"Yes, if fate determines that the academy will take place at the Vyrad's house for a year, then Mervyn, Ivy, and Seymour will also travel there."

"Seymour," the Ancient said, almost with as much disgust in her voice as before. "I see he still hasn't left Ivy's side. And Tierney has brought his beast along too." She looked over to the helmsman of the Réalta, whose wolf sat upright beside him, staring fixedly at the Ancient.

"I won't leave Seymour behind," protested Ivy, glaring defiantly at Ulicia.

Ulicia glared back, but suddenly countless wrinkles creased her face, and she revealed a gap-toothed grin. A creaking sound escaped her mouth, and it took Alisa several moments to realize that she was laughing.

"You have a strong will and the power of the mind, like everyone in your unusual family. Of course, one could also simply call it an ironclad stubbornness that you know how to use. Very well, before you stay out here in protest, take the beast inside." 

Ivy inclined her head stiffly and said, "I thank you, Ulicia. That is a wise decision."

"Whether my decisions are wise or not, time will tell," murmured the Ancient. "Well then, we've stood around here long enough. Come inside already." Brusquely, Ulicia added, "Clotworthy, close the gate and then climb the tower. Let me know if anything unusual happens outside. And you, Tadleigh, come with me to the hall and attend to our guests. I will retire to my chamber."

The hall was tall and spacious. The smooth floor and the still bright ceiling beams indicated that this could not be the original hall of the castle, which was built in the 16th century on the remains of an old fortress. In the corner stood a modern tiled stove, which was obviously no longer in use. Over the centuries, the castle must have been inhabited by people who had repeatedly rebuilt it and adapted it to their growing needs. Alisa looked around with interest. Luciano focused his attention more on Tadleigh and the jugs he was now bringing in.

She waited until the heirs were engulfed in the mild intoxication that the animal blood bestowed upon them. The Lycana and the foreign servants would later go to the village, where there was enough prey for them to satisfy their hunger. Their wards had to stay in the castle. Not unguarded, as she suspected. At the moment, anyway, the newcomers were more focused on exploring the castle rooms than on the young vampires. Perhaps this was the best opportunity, perhaps the only one that presented itself before sunrise! Luckily, she had been so foresighted as to take the vial out of her coffin in the evening and hide it in the pocket of her garment. Her fingers traced over the rounded edges. Once more, she let her gaze wander through the hall under her lowered lashes, but no one seemed to notice her. She resisted the urge to pull the hood over her head and hide her face. This would probably have had exactly the opposite effect in this situation. Instead, she discreetly made her way towards the door. She stopped repeatedly, examining a suit of armor from the late Middle Ages here, two crossed swords on the wall there. Next, she headed for a flag hanging next to the open entrance door on the wall. Appearing to focus on the old scrap of fabric, she waited for the moment when she could slip out of the hall unnoticed. She glanced back at her cousin one more time. No, he wasn't paying attention to her and had turned his back to her. With a quick movement, she darted through the doorway and pressed herself against the wall on the other side. With a look in all directions, she made sure that no one was in sight. As quickly as she could, she turned into the short corridor leading to the low annex attached to the main tower. At the end of the corridor was the entrance to the watchtower, from which one could see the large entrance gate from the outside and, of course, take aim at any intruder. To her left, a heavy, iron-clad door led out into the courtyard. The bolt was not pushed forward. Good, she could open the door silently and slip out through the gap.

The vampire stood in the corner between the outer wall and the annex and looked out at the courtyard in front of her. She wasn't surprised that the large gate was locked and secured with a thick beam, but she didn't need to leave the castle to accomplish her task. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the vial. Stepping a few paces away from the wall, she carefully removed the lid and then held the lower part away from her with her arm extended. A restless fluttering could be heard, then a bright chirping as the tiny bat unfolded its wings and rose into the night sky. It circled the solitary figure in the courtyard a few more times, then soared over the castle wall and disappeared. The vampire didn't move and continued to gaze at the spot where the bat had vanished from her sight when a voice behind her made her start.

"What are you doing out here?"

She whirled around. Could he read her face or even her thoughts? It was the servant Clotworthy, whom the Ancient had tasked with watching the gate from the tower. Had he seen what she had done? She tried to banish the thought from her mind. She put on the most innocent expression she could muster and shrugged.

"Nothing special. I just wanted to take another look at the castle and enjoy the night air before we're locked back in our coffins."

He merely grunted and instructed her to return to the hall. She smiled at him, turned away, and hurried back. Her task for today was accomplished.

Before entering the hall, she stopped once more, took a deep breath, and then slipped inside. Where was her cousin? Had he noticed her absence? Quickly, her gaze swept through the hall - and caught his eyes, which were fixed on her. Although he stood at the other end next to Alisa, she could read the question in his eyes: Where have you been?

Quickly, she dove among the other young vampires. She would avoid him for a while, hopefully allowing him to forget his question by the time she got close to him again.

Danilo paced restlessly. When he reached the bow, he lifted his gaze and looked towards the shore, which stood out faintly against the dark sea and the cloudy night sky, then he turned around and paced back again. He didn't say a word, but he exuded such anger that Tonka refrained from addressing him. She knew how dangerous her brother was in this mood. Not that she was afraid of him like, for example, the four sailors who huddled closely together on the planks next to the helm, without moving or making a sound. Their fear didn't surprise Tonka, but even the bear-like vampire, who introduced himself as Piero, although that was probably not his real name, lowered his head as if trying to make himself invisible. He probably would have done so if he possessed such abilities.

Tonka scrutinized the vampire from head to toe, curling her lip contemptuously. Despite his physical strength, he was a weakling, and she despised weaklings! Why were they still burdening themselves with his company? They could make much faster progress if they were on their own. Did they owe him something? Because he had sought them out and revealed the secret to them? Tonka was still curious about how he knew - and why he sought to ally himself with them. Perhaps she would try to find out before disposing of him. She was just waiting for the right moment - when she was sure he was no longer hiding any secrets from them that could be useful.

A slight buzzing in the air distracted her. Tonka turned around. She felt excitement welling up within her. Had she heard correctly, or was she so eager for this sound that her senses were playing tricks on her? Her sharp gaze cut through the blackness of the night. Yes! There was something, approaching with hurried wingbeats. Tonka reached out her hand, and the small bat landed in her palm. She closed her fingers gently, so that the creature couldn't escape but also wouldn't be crushed. With a light step, she approached her brother, who continued his unrelenting walk across the deck.

"Danilo?"

He paused and turned with a movement as if to pounce on prey and bring it down. Tonka suppressed the urge to step back.

"What is it?" He glared at her dangerously.

Tonka extended her arm towards him and then carefully opened her hand.

When Danilo's gaze fell on the bat, a grim smile twisted his lips. "Finally!"

He turned to the sailors. "Get up and do the work for which we hired you!"

"Do you know where we're going now?" the captain asked, his voice trembling.

Tonka felt the effort it took him to address Danilo. The vampire gestured to the bat. "Our messenger will show us where the prey has hidden. Quickly! Don't dawdle. Do you want to feel my wrath?"

There was no need for the threat. The four men hastened to hoist the sails again and set them in the wind. The helmsman swung the large wooden wheel, and then the ship set sail to the east, into the funnel of Galway Bay.

The druid took almost the entire day to track down the werewolf. She passed through the villages of Killarone and Oughterard, then searched the mine site. She asked a few emaciated women working on the heap if anything unusual had happened in the early morning hours, but they just shook their heads in silent exhaustion.

Tara continued on. Her two wolves led her to the remote hut, which was now deserted, but the tracks of boots and large dogs were still alarmingly fresh. Tara stooped down to a small puddle of blood. A feeling of sorrow washed over her as she followed her wolves up the slope. She found more and more blood on the marshy ground, on leaves, and on broken branches. From dogs or from wolves? The two gray animals at her side whimpered softly. Tara pushed aside the prickly branches of the undergrowth with her staff, which blocked her path. She didn't need to bend them forcefully. As soon as the staff touched them, the branches retreated and allowed her and her wolves to pass. Tara noticed the animals' ears twitching nervously.

"I can hear them too," the druid said softly, wondering what it meant. Then the bushes suddenly stopped, revealing a rocky hollow that ended at a wall not shaped by nature. Had the people here also searched for the ores that were so valuable to them? The sight gave the druid a slight pang. It was like a wound inflicted on the mountain, slowly healing.

The wounds inflicted on Peregrine, on the other hand, would never heal! She had suspected it, yet her heart grew heavy as she discovered him.

But first, her gaze fell upon the four tall, emaciated figures bent over the body lying on the ground. Even before they turned around, she could tell by their build and the matted, long hair that they were werewolves. Now, as they turned towards her, she recognized them as members of Áthair Faolchu's pack. He himself was not among them, but the untamed Mac Gaoth and Ivarr, one of his admirers, were present. Mac Gaoth stared grimly at the druid and bared his teeth.

"Tamara Clíodhna, what do you want here? This is not your affair."

"He is one of yours, I know," Tara replied kindly. "May his soul pass unharmed into the Otherworld and, when the time is ripe, return in a new body."

The young werewolf growled. "Save your words. He doesn't deserve them. He was a traitor." He lifted up a silk cloth, which certainly hadn't belonged to Peregrine originally, and drew it over his swollen nostrils. "Do you know what I smell? Vampires!"

"That has nothing to do with his death," Tara countered.

"No?" exclaimed another, whose name she couldn't remember. "Then you haven't grasped the situation correctly, Druid Tara. How surprising. Let me tell you, he died exactly for that reason!" He snatched the cloth from Mac Gaoth's hand and stuffed it into his pocket with an expression of disdain.

"Now, follow your path and let us follow ours. And if you want a well-meant advice: Stay away from the Connemara marshes for a while. Those who meddle in matters that don't concern them might come to harm. Do you understand?"

The druid nodded sorrowfully. "Yes, your threat was clear. I just want to ensure that you don't make a mistake."

He cut her off. "We neither need your explanations nor your advice. Go!"

The four werewolves lifted the body, which had been hidden from Tara's view until now. If she hadn't known it had to be Peregrine, it would have been difficult for her to recognize him. He was still in his wolf form, which had been torn to shreds. Death had returned his human face, but it was bloody, torn apart, and distorted in agony beyond recognition. Tara wanted to go to him, to touch him and speak a blessing, but the four grim faces held her back. So she turned away and murmured the old Celtic words to herself.

The druid withdrew with her companions into the bushes until the werewolves had left with their dead. Then she returned to the spot where Peregrine's body had lain. Motionless, she stood there and examined the traces that told her confusing stories. The old druid shook her head. She couldn't see clearly what had happened here. Had the humans with their dogs cornered and killed him? Or had it been the werewolves of his pack who followed him, watched him, and punished his love for a vampire with death? Or perhaps the Lycana were responsible for his death? Tara didn't know. She would seek out Áthair Faolchu and speak with him. She needed to know how the situation was developing. Under no circumstances could the old enmity between werewolves and vampires flare up again, which had brought both sides to the brink of destruction two hundred years ago. Now that they had sacrificed their hatred for peace, this affair must not destroy everything again.

Tara retraced her steps, cut a holly branch with her sickle, and brought it back to where Peregrine's dried blood still spoke of his suffering and death. She laid the branch on the ground. Holly was the symbol of eternal life, of death and rebirth, for the Celts. Its evergreen, resilient form represented the tenacious resilience of a warrior, his will to survive, but also his brave passing when faced with his end. What more fitting symbol could she lay down here in remembrance of Peregrine?