Black snowflakes creep down from the sky, advancing slowly, methodically. All the money in the world, which my father seems to have, cant keep the demons from chasing me Aishling Morrighan Delaney, a.k.a. princess of Clan Delaney. Everything is messed up. Im wearing the Happy Birthday sash across my chest that my best friend, Claire, had always insisted I wear for my special day, but this is not that day. My twentieth birthday was over a month ago, on October 31, the night of Samhain, the Celtic New Years Eve.This is December 7th, and the Ten Colds Moon is rising. My fate stalks me. Doesnt look like Im going to make it to my belated birthday party. I lean into my horse, Kheelan, as he tears across the bracken and bramble moor, and beyond through the amethyst fields of devils bit, for a moment outrunning the faeries freak show. The spiky shrubs of the moor bite my legs as we attempt to outrun the Fates and the black snow that comes like a gathering sandstorm, trailing me. This princess thing in Ireland can get a girl killed fast, or maybe its just me. I am the faerie slayer of the seventh order and the 28th generation, the prophesied Gael Siridean, the Searcher. As such, my head is crowned with a supernatural bounty, and the price is highThe thread of my life frays rapidly, as does the hem of this black velvet medieval-style dress I borrowed from my best friend, Claire. Shes throwing me a themed party this year. If I make it out of this alive tonight, shes going to kill me for ruining her dress and causing her more worry. Maybe shell grant me mercy when she takes in my drenched, haggard appearance with thistle strewn throughout my hair and dark eyeliner no doubt leaving claw marks down my cheeks. I cant tell her what really happened here tonight. I cant tell anyone.
