THE CLOCH ADHAIR

Mac Gaoth was only a few steps away from the group of people, but they hadn't noticed him yet. Naturally, they are just humans, he thought contemptuously. He weighed the two boxes in his hands. Should he hand them over to the people, as the strange lady had demanded of him? Something inside him urged to please her, to obey her, but another part knew that this was the enchantment she typically cast over humans to subdue their minds. If he handed these dangerous spheres over to the humans, who could guarantee that they would only aim their rifles at the vampires? Did the lady care if some of the werewolves died? Probably not. She had laid her cards on the table. She wanted the stone for herself! Whatever she intended to do with it, that was a point Mac Gaoth wouldn't negotiate over - and didn't have to. The heart of Connemara would stay in the land, he grinned. Because that's what the stone had shown the werewolves. It was as if a magnetic force held him, making each step further away heavier. It couldn't be destroyed or taken out of the country!

Thoughtfully, he looked down at the packaged silver bullets. Why should he even do anything else that the vampire demanded of him? If she had initially succeeded in capturing him with her arts, he now saw completely clearly. Mac Gaoth had achieved what he wanted: he had deposed Áthair Faolchu and taken over the leadership of the tribe with his young comrades, and he had prevented the stone from being handed over to the Druids. Now, only a small demonstration of their strength was missing to keep the Lycans in check for the next few years. If he set the humans with their rifles on them, that would surely be a good move. That's how the lady had planned it. On the other hand, if there were rifles and silver bullets, did the werewolves even need the humans anymore? What could they do that a werewolf couldn't? Mac Gaoth made a decision.

The wind shifted to the north. The ponies raised their heads, nervously playing with their ears and snorting.

"He's back," Nellie said softly to her brother. "The horses have sensed him. Look at them. As if a hungry wolf is lurking around the herd."

Her brother just shrugged. He probably hadn't even listened to her properly. He turned away and stood next to his father, probably to emphasize that he belonged to the men, and not to miss anything. Nellie, on the other hand, slid behind her pony and grasped its mane. The warm fur under her skin eased the fear that threatened to overwhelm her.

Mac Gaoth approached the men and the woman who were coming towards him with questioning expressions. He carried two crates under his arms and said something to the waiting people that she couldn't understand. They didn't seem to like it. She saw her father gesturing vehemently. Then Mac Gaoth spoke again. Despite the disgust she felt in his presence, Nellie came closer to hear what was being said. Something wasn't going as planned, that was clear. Nellie slid next to her brother.

"I don't understand what this means," Fynn said. "We're going to rise up against the English and fight them because they've taken our land and denied us our ancient rights, but we're not a mercenary group that - just because it's armed - fires on anyone."

Mac Gaoth showed his teeth. "You'll reconsider. My friends have withdrawn to the ruins of the monastery and expect an attack at any moment. Since I brought you here, you are also enemies of the Lycans."

"Who are the Lycans?" Karen wanted to know. "I've never heard of them."

"Let's just say they're a very old family that has committed treason and is now receiving their just punishment. Of course, you can decide not to use your weapons, then just let yourselves be destroyed without resistance. I don't care."

"We have no quarrel with them," Karen insisted. "That's none of our concern! If we just move south and go into the mountains, as we originally planned, nothing can happen to us."

"Oh?" Mac Gaoth hissed. "I see it differently. I got you these weapons. You owe me something for that. You don't care about my fight, I don't care about yours. Tonight, you'll repay your debt - and I advise you to do it well! If you survive this night, then you can go to your own war with the weapons."

Nellie looked at the faces. They reflected surprise at first and then resistance. Karen was shocked and murmured something about "betrayal," while her father, on the other hand, was bursting with anger, which Mac Gaoth didn't miss. Carefully, he placed the two crates on the ground, then suddenly jumped towards Nellie so fast that she couldn't even step back. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her a bit away from the others.

"To make your decision easier, I'll take dear little Nellie with me. That should motivate you a bit."

Nellie saw her father move, and Cowan also seemed ready to free his sister from the clutches of this monster, if necessary, by force. Mac Gaoth's hand gripped her neck like an iron clamp.

"Don't try it. I could snap her neck with a single jerk before you could reach me."

Nellie believed him. She looked over at her father and brother, who were barely holding back but seemed to take the threat seriously.

"You won't harm my daughter, or I will find you and kill you!" her father threatened, which didn't seem to impress Mac Gaoth. However, Cowan slowly approached them, his hands raised in a soothing gesture.

"I'll come with you! What can you have against it? Two hostages are better than one!" He stood next to Mac Gaoth, who pondered for a moment and then nodded.

"Alright. I hope you know that any attempt to escape will end fatally for both of you. Don't make the mistake of underestimating me."

Cowan nodded solemnly, but it seemed to Nellie that he briefly winked at her. Myles groaned, but Nellie could see from her father's expression that he was proud of his son.

"I'll bring her back safely, Father," he said, feeling very grown-up and manly. Wasn't he afraid? Nellie glanced sideways. If he was, he knew how to hide it well.

Mac Gaoth instructed Cowan to carry the two crates while he released two of the linen packages from one of the ponies and tucked them under his arm. No man could carry both bundles of rifles, yet Mac Gaoth seemed not to even feel the weight. "This is my share. And now come with me to the monastery, while the rest of you should already position yourselves tactically," he advised Myles. Then he left the grove and hurried across the meadow towards the looming monastery ruins. Cowan and Nellie struggled to keep up with him, even though he carried the heavy rifles. They ran silently beside him. They dared not flee. Nellie still vividly remembered the image of the torn throats.

He felt as if he were in a trance or as if a powerful vampire controlled his mind and sent him wherever he pleased, now in this direction, now in that. His moods changed rapidly. Feelings he hardly knew flooded over him. Self-doubt and deep sadness, emptiness and despair. He almost welcomed the hatred and thoughts of revenge that emerged between them. The night rushed past him, but it felt as if he were just a spectator and not really involved. He saw Ivy gesturing and giving instructions, and he could also hear her words, as well as Alisa's and Luciano's and the conversations of others, but it didn't touch him. Franz Leopold held a sword in his hand and walked beside his cousin Karl Philipp, but his mind darted back into the past, images flashed and brought bitter-sweet pain: how he had rescued her from the well in Rome, how she had touched his cheek and whispered his name, the night at Dunluce when they had looked out over the sea together, the cave of Aillwee, the unauthorized flight through the moors to the Twelve Bens, and the kiss. Again and again, the kiss in the graveyard of Aughnanure. But as if to torture him, every time after the memory of this incredibly beautiful feeling came the betrayal. Ivy the Unpure and Seymour the Monster. She had lied to him and deceived him!

He's just her jealous brother, another voice reminded him. Yes, but she had still lied to him. That might weigh even worse than her impure blood. Why hadn't she told him the truth and instead thrown a lie around his neck? Sneaked her way into his trust and feelings?

She knew your attitude towards impure vampires!

Especially then she should have played with open cards! Anger boiled up in him again.

And then? Would you still have held her in your arms and kissed her?

His mind remained silent. He had no answer to that. Franz Leopold looked up. The fishing boat was approaching the shore. Sand scraped under the keel. Willows rose on both sides of the small bay, their branches bathing in the water, and Ivy stood on the narrow strip of sand. For a moment, their eyes met. He flinched as if struck and directed his attention to the shadows that were now emerging between the trees. He recognized Donnchadh and Catriona, his shadow Matthias, who looked visibly relieved, and some other impure companions of the heirs. And the druidess, who now stood next to Ivy and exchanged a few words with the fisherman who had ferried her across. He still seemed remarkably calm, considering he was in the company of several dozen vampires. Perhaps he was just too stupid to be afraid. Anyway, luck was on his side tonight. Hardly had the heirs left his ship, he set sail again undisturbed and headed back. None of the Lycans had even attempted to touch him. They were indeed a strange clan! The vampires settled down in the shelter of the willows. All of them, the Lycans, the servants, and the heirs, with whose arrival they seemed to have come to terms.

"They should be grateful to us," thought Franz Leopold grumpily as he sat between Karl Philipp and his two cousins.

"We have just under three hours until sunrise," began Donnchadh. "So, we should quickly agree on a plan, because if we lose the race against time, we'll be in a truly bad position. What if we have to retreat for the day and the werewolves find our tracks? If they track us down while we're in our stasis? Then we'd be at their mercy. And considering how things have unfolded, I wouldn't bet on there being an awakening for us!"

Some of the heirs looked uncomfortable, and even their servants seemed visibly concerned. What had they gotten themselves into?

"Nevertheless, I am in favor of attempting to peacefully persuade them to adhere to the pact and hand over the stone first," said Tara. "I will go to the monastery with Seymour."

A murmur arose, which Donnchadh silenced after a few moments. He exchanged a few quick words with Catriona, then gave the druidess an hour for her negotiations. She called Seymour to her side and walked away with him. Meanwhile, Donnchadh continued with his plan.

"We'll form a ring around the monastery. I'll divide the groups. We'll prevent them from taking away the stone. That's the easier task." Donnchadh took a deep breath. "The more difficult one falls to those who can enter the monastery." He outlined their task with a few words.

"First, we need some heirs capable of accompanying Ivy. We can assist you in your transformation, yet only those who have no trouble with at least the wolf form should take the risk."

Naturally, Alisa was the first to volunteer and joined Ivy. Luciano also wanted to join them, but she shook her head. To his disappointment, Tammo was also rejected. Instead, Joanne and Fernand would assist Ivy, and Rowena, who had already taken on the form of a bat. Franz Leopold felt Catriona's gaze on him. He couldn't escape it, feeling relentlessly pulled into the bright light and scrutinized to the depths of his soul.

"Franz Leopold, don't you want to join this group as well? You have learned quickly and shouldn't have any difficulty with the transformation. Yes, I would even suggest that you fly with Ivy as a falcon."

Ivy protested stutteringly, but Franz Leopold rose. He tried to maintain the aloof, mask-like expression he mastered so well and stood by Ivy's side. Of course, he would offer his abilities to the Lycans. He was a Dracas, and they could consider themselves fortunate to have his support in the fight!

"Thank you," murmured Ivy without looking at him. Perhaps she was glad to be able to summon the mist and conceal herself in the feathered cloak of the falcon. Catriona helped Franz Leopold with his transformation. He immediately noticed that there was a significant difference between a bat and a bird of prey, but with Catriona's support, he managed to don the gray-spotted plumage of a kestrel, while Ivy sported the brown plumage of a falcon. Together, they took to the air. The bats, led by Alisa, followed at some distance. The remaining heirs approached the monastery walls unseen from two sides under the guidance of the servants from Rome.

"Why didn't we choose the form of an eagle?" thought Franz Leopold. "We may be fast, but our beaks and talons are far too weak to carry anything."

"Something like the cloch adhair?" Ivy interjected. He suppressed the urge to snap at her. She no longer had the right to invade his mind!

"Yes, the cloch adhair. The whole farce revolves around possessing that stone."

Ivy landed on a pinnacle of the church tower that rose above the crossing and peered down. "We're only supposed to watch how Tara and Seymour's negotiations go and find out where the stone is."

Franz Leopold kept his distance from Ivy and alighted on another pinnacle. From now on, he would clothe himself in regal silence. If the Lycans were so foolish as not to want his advice. Please!

But that wasn't so easy. Thoughts couldn't be completely suppressed.

Well, from here, we have the best view of them failing and the werewolves laughing themselves to death over the Lycans' futile efforts. That's much more important than securing the stone!

He rose and flew down to one of the two cloisters. He landed on the collapsed roof and then set about surveying the werewolves present. How many opponents would they have to deal with? From what he had seen so far, the enemy was outnumbered. But where were Tara and Seymour? He circled the church and peered through the large pointed arch windows. Franz Leopold spotted something greenish on a large, cuboid stone pedestal. Was that the stone the Lycans coveted? Had the werewolves placed it there, right in the middle of the altar?

Yes, they had. They weren't stupid. They knew that the church's powers of the altar provided the stone with the best protection against the Lycans - at least against most of them!

"They obviously don't account for our powers," Franz Leopold thought contemptuously. They flew back up to the church roof. They dared not settle in the tracery of the church windows. It was unusual enough for two falcons to be flying through the night. If they appeared in the windows now, the werewolves would know they were being spied on - and who else but the shape-shifting Lycans would be capable of that? Then they would also realize that the aura of the monastery walls couldn't keep all vampires at bay. It was better to consider themselves safe for a while longer.

Then a small gray-brown bat fluttered down to them. "Yes, you're too conspicuous," it was Alisa, who landed beside them. "But a small bat can hide in a niche and listen in a bit." Before the others could react, she was already airborne again, flapping through one of the windows into the church nave. Most of the double transept offered no hiding places, but there were plenty of dark niches under the tower in the crossing. Alisa chose one that gave her a good view of the altar with the unique stone and of the druidess in the circle of werewolves. Seymour, like the other werewolves, had assumed his human form. It was still difficult for Alisa to recognize the wolf in the lean young man who always accompanied Ivy. Besides him, there were five other men who seemed surprisingly young.

Alisa pricked her fine bat ears. She could clearly hear what was being said, but unfortunately, she didn't understand the meaning of the Gaelic words. Seymour's voice grew louder. His words thundered like thunder. He pointed to the stone and then to the druidess, who appeared to be the only one in control. They didn't agree, Alisa grasped, even without understanding Gaelic. The wind carried the bright tone of a bell. Alisa listened. Five chimes. The deadline had passed. Seymour seemed to have heard the bell too and laid his hand on Tara's arm, presumably to urge her to leave, but then there was movement among the young men of the tribe. Two grabbed Seymour. A strong guy, next to whom Tara looked small and fragile, held the druidess firmly. Seymour roared and tore himself away, but now two more werewolves leaped in. Together, they managed to wrestle Seymour down. Tara directed some sharp words at the new tribe leaders. She freed her arm and followed Seymour and his guards into another part of the monastery. Alisa flew up to Ivy and Franz Leopold.

"I had feared something like this," Ivy thought sadly. "Come, let's see where they take them."

"The stone is now unguarded!" Franz Leopold retorted. "Let's fly down and get it."

"And how do you plan to carry it away from here?" demanded Alisa. "It's much too large for a falcon to carry."

"Then we'll change back. We'll grab it, climb out the window, and run away. We'll be out of reach before they even realize what's happening. Can you imagine how easy the negotiations with the werewolves will be once we have the stone in our possession!"

Ivy and Alisa were about to reply when the silence of the fading night was ripped apart by a gunshot. Two more followed. The three birds took flight in alarm. Three more bats rose on the other side of the tower. From the air, they saw that the Lycans were approaching the monastery from all sides. They recognized the two groups of heirs led by Francesco and Pietro. Everything was as Donnchadh had said, but the gunshots were not part of it! From a grove, they saw gunpowder smoke rising, and as they flew closer, they spotted a handful of dark figures with guns in their hands - and the warm aura of humans! Shots rang out again. The Lycans closest to the shooters transformed and crouched back. Some rose as birds into the air to investigate the source of the shots. They were surely more surprised than concerned. Ordinary bullets couldn't kill a vampire. They could injure and weaken one, gradually making them more like a human, yes, but not permanently destroy them.

Alisa flew close to Fernand, Joanne, and Rowena. What should they do now? Go to Donnchadh and Catriona and tell them that Tara and Seymour had been captured? They could probably figure that out. No, it was more important to tell the advancing heirs where the stone was!

They flew a loop and approached the group led by Francesco advancing on the monastery, while Ivy and Leo turned and flew towards the second group. Alisa descended lower. She recognized her brother Tammo and Sören, and further back, Luciano. They skillfully used every bush to remain undetected for as long as possible. A fieldstone wall enclosing a pasture with geese provided their next cover. The animals stretched out their long necks and honked. But then the vampires had to cross the meadow to the next wall without protection. Francesco started to run, the others followed him. Shots rang out again. But this time not from the grove behind them. The shots came from the monastery! Alisa saw the fire flash in the muzzles. Francesco flinched, whirled around, and fell to the ground. Alisa would have screamed if she could. She heard more shots and saw the young vampires throw themselves to the ground. She couldn't tell if they were hit. Had something happened to her brother or Malcolm? What about Francesco? She dove down in a steep glide. The others followed her.

"Can you shoot?" Mac Gaoth asked Nellie and Cowan as they entered the ruins of the monastery. Some young men, who looked as gaunt and neglected as he did, greeted him. They, too, were surrounded by the sharp predator scent like an aura. Two gray wolves crossed the courtyard of a cloister and disappeared into a dark chamber. Cowan froze and rubbed his eyes, but Nellie was not surprised. She had accepted the inconceivable.

"Can you shoot with a rifle?" Mac Gaoth repeated, dropping the two bundles onto a blackened stone pedestal. The funnel-shaped chimney above indicated that it was an old fireplace. The front with the low stone dome could have been an oven. Presumably, this was the former kitchen of the monastery.

"Yes, we can shoot," Cowan replied, placing the two boxes next to the rifles. "Father taught Nellie and me early on. We not only learned how to load and fire a rifle, but we can also hit our targets!" There was pride in his voice, which Nellie found extremely inappropriate in this situation.

Mac Gaoth grinned broadly. "Very good. Then each of you will take a rifle and teach my men who haven't learned yet how to shoot."

Perhaps Cowan smiled too contentedly for a moment because the werewolf changed his mind. "Or no, Cowan, you will explain to my people what they need to know while Nellie stays by my side. Remember, Cowan, a jerk, and it's all over." To reinforce his words, he placed his hand on Nellie's neck again. Cowan had no choice but to obey. Mac Gaoth called some men and two middle-aged women, who had the same wild appearance as Mac Gaoth, over. Some just chose a weapon and took ammunition, while others had apparently never fired a rifle before and let Cowan explain it to them. He opened one of the ammunition packets to let them take some practice shots.

"What is this?" he wondered.

Mac Gaoth grinned broadly. "Silver bullets that can kill magical beings. A well-aimed silver bullet can destroy a werewolf and even a vampire. Didn't you know that?"

In any other situation, Cowan would have laughed, but now he just swallowed dryly. "I'll remember that," he said tonelessly.

"For practice, take regular ammunition," Mac Gaoth instructed. Then he led Nellie through the cloister. "You will not leave my side, no matter what happens," he impressed upon her. "I'll tell you only once. I don't care whether you survive tonight or end up as food for my brothers! Is that clear?"

Nellie nodded and moved a little closer to him, although his smell made her nauseous. Mac Gaoth hurried to a small stone chamber. Nellie slipped through the low door behind him. It took her a while for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. An old man, similarly gaunt to Mac Gaoth, stood upright against the wall. His feet were bound to an iron ring. Next to him, she recognized a younger man with silver-white hair. He pulled angrily at his chain and cursed Mac Gaoth as a traitor and oath-breaker who had risen against the leader of the clan. Beside him stood a small, elderly woman who looked anything but helpless and fragile. She held a staff in her hand. Two wolves lay at her feet.

"Seymour, conserve your strength," she said soothingly to the silver-haired man. Two men of similar stature to Mac Gaoth stood before the old woman, the iron tips of two lances pointed at her chest.

"Why didn't you tie them up?" Mac Gaoth snapped at the two guards.

"She wouldn't allow it."

"She wouldn't allow it? Did I say to ask for her wishes? She's an old woman!"

"She's a Druid!" the other one objected. "The most powerful one I know."

For a moment, Nellie thought Mac Gaoth would take matters into his own hands, but then he stepped back towards the door.

"Well, then, don't tie her up, but be careful she doesn't escape. And if Seymour continues to cause trouble, shoot him in the heart. We have some nice silver bullets out there!" He grinned evilly, the old man groaned.

"Mac Gaoth, think about it. It's not too late. We can sit down and renew the contract."

Mac Gaoth was at his side in three big steps, his powerful hands clutching the skinny neck. "Áthair Faolchu, your time is up because you haven't managed to bring order in ninety-nine years. You allowed Seymour to leave us and live among the Lycans - like a servant! Or should I say, like a pet?" The man with the silver hair growled. "It's your fault that the Ring, which belongs to the werewolves, was taken from the clan!"

Nellie looked from one to the other. She didn't understand a word but refrained from asking a question to avoid drawing attention to herself. She felt the gaze of the old woman resting on her.

Outside, shots rang out. At first, Nellie thought Cowan had started his instruction, but the excited voices and frantic movement in the cloister made everyone listen.

"That's coming from outside!" one of the guards called out.

Mac Gaoth nodded and grinned broadly. "Yes, it has begun. Nellie, by my side!" he commanded and ran out. He grabbed a rifle and shouted instructions to the others on where to spread out. As he passed by, she saw Cowan, still holding his rifle, following two other werewolves.

"Stay ready," he whispered to his sister. Then he was gone. Nellie saw gun smoke rising from a grove of trees at the lakeshore. Then the gunfire responded, emanating from the windows and slits in the walls of the monastery.