Power Play (Amanda Byrne Book 1)

by Kimberly Keane

  “Shall we convince him?”

  I opened my mouth to speak but closed it when I realized he’d spoken to the crow upon his shoulder. Oh, my gods. Not only had the Dagda graced us with his presence, the Morrigan had joined him. She flew from his shoulder and transformed mid-flight, landing lightly on bare feet. A hag stood before us dressed in a similar tunic. Her hair, thin and wispy, blew away from her age-ravaged face.

  “Well met, Morrigan.” I curtsied again. “I am sorry, I didn’t recognize you in your earlier form.”

  “Why do you think I travel that way?” she said and cackled.

  I inclined my head as a way of acknowledging her without opening my mouth. I’d proven I could fit one foot in it—I was afraid I might fit the other.

  “I think he may need a bit more convincing,” she said to the Dagda. Her smile showed a few missing teeth.

  I grabbed Mr. Wesley’s hand and tugged it. He looked at me and I curled my finger in a come-here gesture. He leaned down, and I whispered in his ear, “If you turn her down, do it very, very carefully.” It was all I had time to say.

  “Is this better?” Morrigan’s voice was low, sexy. It even sped my heartbeat up. I saw Mr. Wesley’s eyes widen. He straightened up and looked at the again-transformed goddess.

  The Morrigan stood taller than the Dagda, and I realized she was tall enough to look eye to nose with Mr. Wesley. She was voluptuous and practically bursting from the white dress the tunic had become. Her eyes and hair were so black, a blue hue ran through them.

  She stepped up to Mr. Wesley, tilted her head back, and looked him in the eye. “Well, lawyer of the mortal woman,” she said, “is this better?”

  “This”—he paused, stepped back, and let a small smile cross his face—“form is more physically attractive.”

  Her mouth curved upward. If sex were a smile, it would be the one she wore. She stepped forward so her body touched Mr. Wesley’s, and she laid her hand on his shoulder. “Would you like to show me how much more attractive?”

  I wondered why many of the damn death goddesses were also fertility goddesses. I suppose it was somewhat logical with the circle of life and all, but it aggravated me they felt the need to prove their prowess at every opportunity; the simple fertility goddesses weren’t typically as brazen. I was careful to keep my musings from my face. The Morrigan wouldn’t be as forgiving as the Dagda seemed to be.

  “As full of pleasure as that would be ...” Mr. Wesley paused again. The man had dramatic pauses down to a fine art. “I have no wish to be rude to either my host”—he took one small step toward me and touched my shoulder—“or the other deity that stands before us.”

  “A shame.” She stepped back and gave him another sultry smile before she transformed back into the crow and alighted again on the Dagda’s shoulder. I sighed quietly and dropped my shoulders from the tense home they had found next to my ears.

  “My dear,” the Dagda said to her, “Samhaim approaches, and I shall revel in your beauty once again.”

  The crow cawed and fluffed its feathers.

  “Dagda and Morrigan,” I said, “we thank you. That those with your power would answer my humble call was more than I could have expected.”

  The Dagda inclined his head and faded out as slowly as he had appeared.

  I breathed a sigh. We were lucky they only toyed with us a bit before allowing us to scamper back to our mouse holes. That was the last time I’d leave an open invitation for any god to answer.

  “Ready to go back?” I said.

  “Give me a moment.” Mr. Wesley walked to a pine tree, leaned over, and sniffed. He touched the needles and pulled back quickly. They were as sharp in this world as they were in ours.

  Since I knew he was trying to find out if everything was real, I touched Mr. Wesley’s arm. “Wait here.” I crawled beneath the lowest of the pine tree’s branches and touched the trunk. “May we have one of your beautiful pinecones to remember this visit?” I said to the tree. Or, more accurately, to the spirit of the tree.

  I heard Mr. Wesley grunt as I crawled back out.

  “What happened?” I said.

  “The damn thing fell on my head.” He looked at the pinecone resting in his palm.

  I laughed. “The dryads do have a sense of humor.”

  “Dryads?”

  “Spirits of the trees.”

  “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “Keep it. If you no longer wish to use it as a remembrance, I would honor the dryad’s gift and place it on my altar at home.”

  Mr. Wesley gave me a look I couldn’t read.

  “Shall we?” I held my hand out to him as he had to me. He took it, and my hand disappeared. His touch was gentle as if he were afraid he might break me. I closed my eyes and turned us back.

  Mr. Wesley looked down at the pinecone he still held.

  “It’s something solid that may help convince you it wasn’t a dream,” I said.

  He nodded. “I thought we went there only in spirit.”

  “I can’t move physical items between realms, but the gods and apparently the spirits can,” I said and looked at the pinecone. “I meant what I said. Dryads aren’t gods, but I’d still prefer to stay on their good side. They don’t take kindly to their gifts going unappreciated.”

  He nodded again and looked out the window, but his gaze wasn’t focused on anything in particular. He shook himself, stood, and tucked the pinecone into his suit pocket. “Ms. Byrne, please contact me when you’ve been served.”

  I nodded and watched Mr. Wesley’s feet falter as he left.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The room was cold, and I pulled the rough blankets up over my chest. The hospital food was better than expected, but I’d still kill for a decent cup of coffee.

  I flipped through the available channels on the TV for the fifth time, and was about to make a trip to the gift shop to see if they had any decent reading material when Linda Colt stepped into the room. Her eyes were the same piercing amber, and the strength of her power pushed at me in a way it hadn’t at our first meeting. Even the colors of her emotions were sharp. I tried to make myself appear presentable again, and I failed. Again.

  “We performed the ceremony without you,” Linda said.

  “I was otherwise occupied.”

  “Yes. Randy told me of your disappearance. We’d hoped the spirits would give us your location in addition to the information on lifting the curse, but they were less than forthcoming.”

  “How is Randy?”

  “He is good. He will stop by later this afternoon. I asked to see you first.”

  “Why?”

  “I am to provide you with information the spirits wish you to have.”

  “What—”

  She straightened suddenly and hastened to my bed. She leaned in close to my face, and I could smell the lotion she wore, a light rose scent. I hated the smell of roses. I pulled back. This again? She tilted her head first one way and then the other. Then she got even closer and looked into my right eye with her left. I raised my hands to push her away, but before I could touch her, she stepped back.

  “You no longer carry the curse,” she said. “You are ridden instead.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You carry another spirit inside you.”

  “Yes. Urd, meet Linda. Linda, this is Urd.”

  “How do you come to carry a spirit?”

  “A bargain.” I kept it short. I wanted to tell her it was none of her damned business, but this information-that-the-spirits-wanted-me-to-have situation felt as if the Fates had a hand in it.

  “Ah.” She nodded as if she knew exactly what I meant. I wondered why her habits shredded my nerves. Sure, she was brusque, but I’d worked with people who were socially challenged before.

  Her personal power is formidable, Urd said.

  I was aware of that.

  She is also comfortable in the darkness.

  I’m sorry?

  She is comforta
ble with certain aspects of power that you are not.

  Just like that, Urd nailed the source of my discomfort. Linda’s social skills were abhorrent, but it was the fact she worked comfortably with black magic that scared me.

  Darkness is not always black.

  What?

  Darkness is not black, it is lack. It may be destruction, which always carries the seed of creation, as creation always carries the seed of destruction. The universe is made of cycles. Creation and destruction, attraction and repulsion. They work in opposition. Sometimes one is stronger, sometimes the other.

  You’re telling me there is no evil? No right and no wrong?

  There is good and there is evil, like there is destruction and there is creation. But they are separate. Sometimes destruction is good, and creation is evil.

  I shook my head and tried to make sense of it. Linda sat down and watched me, her gaze as intense as I remembered. I met her eyes. I dealt with gods, dammit. I wasn’t going to be intimidated by a mortal woman.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I was distracted.”

  “You were communing with your resident spirit,” she said.

  “Yes. What is the message from your spirits?”

  “The curse can be passed to others, and it can experience death, but it cannot be demolished like a spell.”

  “It will die with the host to which it is bound.” I was careful not to incriminate myself.

  Linda nodded and continued. “The curse is a child. One who was conceived and birthed to exact retribution. Its mother didn’t realize she not only wished the destruction of the one who caused her pain, but she wished the destruction of all that is. She doesn’t have the power or strength to destroy everything, which is why the curse is so powerful. It would continue host after host. It was made to take lives and leave more grief in its wake. The curse is dangerous but not as dangerous as its mother may come to be. The mother’s sorrow continues, and that has put her in danger.”

  “The spirits want me to find the curse’s mother?”

  “Yes. You need to take away her anguish. Her emotions are a portal to her soul. The portal is open, and something will enter unless it is closed. You must close it.”

  This was too close to my earlier conversation with the Fates. I so didn’t need another impossible task. “How the helheim am I supposed to do that?”

  “Your emotional abilities.”

  “I’ve never taken anyone’s emotions from them.”

  “No, but you experience them.”

  “What’s that supposed to do?”

  “Share in her loss. She is alone in an ocean of pain. Reach out to her and show her the way out.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can. Someone showed you how a long time ago. They went to your pain and experienced it with you. They showed you the way back.”

  I gaped at her. “How did you know?”

  “The spirits speak with me,” she said.

  “But . . .” Tears welled in my eyes and I covered my face with my hands. Once, a very long time ago, I almost died in an ocean of pain. I pulled my hands away from my face and covered my abdomen. Once upon a time I had a daughter. Sarah. I was so young. I loved her from the moment I discovered I was pregnant. Much to the disappointment of all the adults in my life, I decided to keep her and raise her. If only she had survived her birth. They never discovered why she hadn’t. As I did every time I remembered my daughter, I fractured inside. Tears leaked from my eyes and I wiped them away quickly. I didn’t want to cry in front of Linda.

  “You survived,” Linda said.

  “Barely.” My voice was a hoarse whisper.

  “You can help someone else through the pain.”

  I gritted my teeth and nodded at her. I couldn’t, but I wasn’t going to argue with her. The spirits or Fates and I could discuss it later.

  Linda turned and left. For once, I was glad she didn’t want to have a socially awkward chat.

  This is what it feels like to lose someone you love? Urd said.

  This isn’t the half of it. This is what it feels like twenty-seven years later.

  You told Linda you barely survived.

  I nodded.

  How?

  There was a woman in the hospital. Cynthia. She talked to me after I tried to— I swallowed and looked down at the thin scars on my wrists.

  What did she say?

  Sometimes too much. I laughed through the tears that started again. She told me what she went through when she lost her children. She went through it again with me. She didn’t let me face it alone.

  I covered my face and stopped fighting the sadness and pain. I curled up into a ball and cried.

  “I can’t do it again,” I said aloud.

  Aren’t you doing it right now?

  Just leave me alone.

  Do you wish to break our bargain?

  Don’t ask me that right now. I just need to believe I’m alone.

  You wish me to be silent.

  Yes.

  For how long?

  For the sake of the gods—I rubbed my face—I can’t answer any more questions right now.

  Urd, gods bless her, fell silent, and I escaped into sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “We’re back on,” I said to Harry. “Get me what you can on anyone Mr. Bradley pissed off.” When I couldn’t hear any feedback on the line, I thought his phone dropped the call. “Harry, did you hear me?”

  “Yeah, darlin’, I did. You want anyone not happy with him? That could get pretty expensive.”

  “Only women. One who has a significant amount of personal power. Someone who is grieving. She probably . . . she probably lost a child because of him. If you come across anyone who can help me with the pending court case, all the better. Two birds.”

  “What exactly are we lookin’ for?”

  “The woman who created the curse.”

  “Do we really want to do that? If this thing is as nasty as you’ve said, I wouldn’t want to get up close and personal with her.”

  “I have to.”

  “Who’s sayin’ that?”

  “Let’s just say payback’s a bitch.”

  “Darlin’, you must have activated a danger-seekin’ gene. I am goin’ to have you followed.”

  “No, you’re not. No piece of ass is worth that. Even if it is mine.” I could hear the smile in my voice.

  “I don’t know about that. Your backside is insurable.”

  “Yours ain’t so bad either,” I said.

  “Shall I make an appointment? We can each appraise the assets in person.”

  Randy peered through the doorway to my room and called my name.

  “I’ve got to go, I’ve got company,” I said to Harry and then called out to Randy, “Come on in.”

  “Is your visitor on my list of competitors?” Harry asked.

  “You have a list of competitors?”

  “I have to know who I’m up against if I’m to get to the top of your list.”

  “I don’t have a list.”

  “Excellent. Make one and put me at the top.”

  “No dice.”

  “I’m more than the world’s best PI.”

  “Are you claiming to be Don Juan?”

  “Oh no, he learned from me.”

  I laughed. “Call me when you’ve got something.”

  “Oh, I’ve got somethin’.”

  “On the case, Harry.”

  “You got it.” He hung up.

  Cal followed Randy into the room, carrying Amelia. I slid out of bed to hug Randy and Cal, then crawled back into the bed and motioned for Amelia. Peach contentment swirled around her. I sat her in the bed in front of me and smoothed her red hair. She picked up the rattle in her lap, shook it, and began to chew on it. I kissed the top of her head.

  “How are you feeling?” Cal said. His blond hair was pulled back into a band at the base of his neck, which brought out his masculine features. Cal was one of those people who was so at
tractive, it was sometimes difficult to focus on the conversation.

  “Pretty good. I think I’m just about back to normal. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your Ostara celebration. Randy said it was great.”

  “It was!” Cal said. “You should have let us pay you for the original ceremony. It’s what you do for a living.”

  “No. I was glad I could help,” I said. “It was lucky you found someone to carry the baby near Easter. It’s when Ostara is most powerful.”

  “I was worried one of us might have to sleep with her,” Cal said. “Sometimes the rules of nature still apply.”

  “Ostara told me that didn’t need to happen.” I turned to Randy. “Couldn’t you see what she did in the alternate realm? She must have taken something from each of you to impregnate . . . what was her name?”

  “Sandra,” Randy said. “I wasn’t in the alternate realm. I was a bit preoccupied.”

  “I suppose you were.” I grinned at him. “I was glad I could help you both out. It’s good to see you two together. It gives me some hope that love can conquer all. And that children only add to the equation.”

  They smiled at each other and laughed.

  “What?”

  “You’re such a helpless romantic,” Randy said.

  “I am not.”

  “You are,” Cal said.

  I harrumphed at them.

  “Anyway, we have our fights,” Randy said.

  I raised an eyebrow at them.

  “We do,” Cal said.

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “Be careful what you ask for,” Randy said.

  Amelia reached out for him, opening and closing her hands. Randy smiled, picked up his daughter, and hoisted her into the air a few times. She giggled, and Randy settled her against his chest.

  “Tell me about the celebration.”

  “We had a huge outdoor feast planned, but the weather turned. We were packed into our place like sardines when Ostara appeared,” Randy said and looked at Cal to continue the story.