by CJ Lyons
For a long moment the hall was quiet. The pounding in her head and the wasps fell silent as well. The only noise was the thundering of her heart and the rush of air as she sucked in a breath and slowly pivoted, turning to look past the nurses' station.
At the far end of the hallway, the Beast's door stood open.
"Treasure?" Alex asked. "Was it gold? How did it save her people?"
Jimmy smiled at the youngster's enthusiasm, it helped him to put aside his fears for Grace. Alone in the Darkness.
Alex yanked on his arm. "Tell me more."
"Maeve moved her people to the coast, hoping the sea would provide sustenance. But the endless night had killed off most of the fish as well. And soon others came, fighting them for what little they had. Maeve knew she couldn't keep her people safe for much longer, not as the bitter cold of the true winter approached. Their second winter of darkness."
"The treasure, how'd she find the treasure?"
Jimmy gave Alex a stern look at his interruption and the boy clamped his hand over his mouth. Jimmy chuckled and continued. "Despite her own desperate need, Maeve offered shelter to a traveling druid. He entertained her people with his ballads and poems and in return for her hospitality, told Maeve about weird lights seen on the forbidden isles off the coast to the south. Islands that legend held were the home to the Selkies, the ancient sea people. He described strange wreckage of unfamiliar ships, larger than any currach or boat Maeve's people used. Ships that could sail to the end of the world and back.
"Maeve was intrigued, stirred by the hope that these strangers--whether they were Selkies or some other clan chased by the strange weather from their own lands--might be able to save her own people. She took a few of her most trusted men with her, left the rest to protect her people and they set out for the forbidden isles."
As he told the story, Jimmy wondered if that druid had been named Leo--or some variation. The bugger sure did get around, hadn't been lying when he said he'd been planning, preparing the seeds for eons.
He caught his breath, wishing for a pipe to punctuate with as his da had used when Jimmy bounced on his knee. No need with Alex, though. The boy's eyes were fixed on Jimmy's mouth, eagerly waiting for him to continue.
"It was a rough crossing, as if the seas themselves were aligned against Maeve and her quest to save her people. And the islands--" He frowned and shook his head in wonder. "Barren crags of rock jutting from the ocean as if the sea had chewed them up and spit them out again. The sea spun around the rocks aiming to smash Maeve's currach to bits, trying its best to swallow Maeve and her crew whole. The small boat was swamped, almost smashed to bits on the rocky cliffs. Maeve was tossed into the ocean, felt the water crush her in its angry fist as it pulled her under, hoping only that by taking her, it would spare her comrades."
"What happened?" Alex asked, his fingers squeezing Jimmy's wrist.
"She woke up to find herself in a strange house, with even stranger people. Dark haired, dark skinned, they spoke a strange musical language as they nursed her back to health. Over time, Maeve learned enough of their language and they learned some of hers and were able to eventually communicate. They came from a far away island called Kalliste, had traveled across several seas in the ship that had become their shelter. Maeve realized that this shelter, large enough to house two dozen families was actually the body of their boat, hauled out of the water and turned upside down.
"She'd never dreamed of a boat that size, or of the other wonders the Kallista revealed. Intricate pulleys and winches that allowed one man to do the work of three, a machine that charted the sea and kept them from getting lost, ways to work metal so that it was lighter, stronger than any she'd ever seen, and most important--their sacred treasure."
"They were from Atlantis! What was the treasure? How did it save Maeve's people?" The words tumbled from Alex in a rush. Then he frowned. "Hey, this happened like thousands of years ago. How did the treasure help Grace? How did Grace save the world with Maeve's treasure?"
Aye, now. That was the question, now wasn't it? How much of what had happened five years ago had been because of Grace--and how much was Brother Leo's meddling?
Jimmy thought back to the months before they were married. The year hadn't begun so well. Grace was still living in her East Liberty apartment and every time he visited her his car would be vandalized or he'd have a run in with one of the street thugs who seemed to think he owned Grace's block.
What a strange courtship it had been: he working all hours, pouring over images of ancient documents, getting up in the middle of the night to conference with scholars around the world. And Grace, finishing her residency, working in the ER, flying in helicopters, rescuing strangers, rescuing him. In more ways than one.
He remembered the night she finally agreed to marry him. It was past midnight and he was still in his office at the university, working in darkness except for the glow of his computer screen as he pieced together translations of ancient Minoan texts that recorded a strange tale from an island in the North. He hunched over the computer, flashing back and forth from one garbled bit of text to another, a headache wrapping his skull in an anaconda's grip and one eyelid fluttering from fatigue. But he knew he was close, so close, and kept working, fearful that he would lose this thinnest tendrils of an idea if he quit.
Just as he found the thread that unified the snippets of ancient history, a pair of strong arms wrapped around his neck, and Grace leaned her head down to join his as she read the words on the screen.
"Yuck. Poor Maeve, almost drowned, then only to return home and find her brother has turned everyone into cannibals."
"Not everyone," Jimmy said, twisting in his chair to tug her onto his lap. "Some of them they ate. To see them through the endless night."
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it before. Atlantis go bang, dust clouds in the sky, no summer or sun for two years, chaos, savagery, calamity."
He pulled back to look at her closely. This was so unlike her, she was as fascinated with Maeve and her story as he was. Her shoulders were slumped, she still wore her surgical scrubs, which meant she'd left the ER as soon as her shift was over, not even bothering to change into street clothes like she usually did.
She shifted her weight, her fingers running through his hair, and the light of the computer screen illuminated several tiny specks of what could only be dried blood just in front of her left ear, where her surgical mask wouldn't protect her.
"Rough night?" he asked. "Want to talk?"
In answer she began to unbutton his shirt. She buried his mouth beneath hers, drowning him in her need and hunger.
Of course not, he thought. She never wanted to talk about the bad things. The things that went wrong, that she was helpless to prevent. The times she failed to outsmart Death.
Their kiss deepened as he wrapped his arms around her, allowing her to draw on his strength. Her entire body was knotted with tension but slowly she began to relax. She had his shirt open, was playing with the sparse hairs on his chest, drawing her fingers lower and lower as she squirmed on his lap.
Sex--primal, pure, passionate celebration of life--that was Grace's answer to death, to chaos. It was an ancient ritual, one that Jimmy understood on an intellectual level and enjoyed immensely on a physical one. Her hand slid beneath his waistband, and his breath caught.
"Have a care, woman," he gasped as her fingers tightened around his growing erection. "You might need that again someday. I know I will."
Her laughter filled the room as she tilted the chair back to a dangerous angle and straddled him.
Afterwards, he had taken her home to her apartment in East Liberty. "Won't you marry me, Grace?" he asked yet again. Sooner or later he would wear her down, he was certain. "At least move out of this dump and into my place."
She merely shook her head and they continued trudging up the steps to her third story apartment. Jimmy forced himself not to sigh. He hadn't expected her to acquiesce, but still he always hoped. For all her qui
et upbringing with the monks and nuns, she often seemed like a wild animal--skittish, afraid to stray too close to capture.
For Grace, though, it wasn't only fear of losing her independence. It was a deeper, greater fear that Jimmy worried no amount of love would conquer. A fear of being abandoned.
Anger rose, as always when he thought of the careless disregard of the so-called mother who had left her, discarded her like trash instead of cherishing her for the treasure she was. A treasure he'd hunted for his entire life and refused to lose now.
He grabbed her arm, spun her so her back was to the wall, and kissed her hard, allowing his frustration to speak for itself.
"What was that for?" she asked when they finally separated.
"Just letting you know what you're missing by not moving in with me."
She narrowed her eyes at him and gave him a twisted smile. "You're never home anyway. Always with your other woman, Queen Maeve. I'd be left alone with only the dog for company."
She continued up the stairs and he followed. "I don't have a dog."
Fitting her key in her door, she turned and nodded. "See, that's what you're missing. It's not me you need."
"Yes, yes it is," he insisted, reaching for her arm once more, ready to prove it yet again.
She darted away, pushing her door open and rushing into the dark apartment. Before Jimmy could step inside, there was a crash followed by the sickening thud of a body falling.
"Grace!" He raced over the threshold but was immediately bowled over by an unseen assailant. The clamor of pounding footsteps echoed down the hall. Jimmy bolted to his feet and fumbled for the light switch.
Grace was slowly regaining her feet from her spot on the other side of the couch. "He grabbed me, threw me across the room," she said, her eyes wide, darting around the room, searching the shadows for hidden danger. "Are you all right? Did you see him? Where did he go?"
Jimmy was frozen, stunned by what had happened, torn between the need to go to her and the desire to catch the intruder and beat him to a bloody pulp. His fingernails dug into the skin of his palms and he raised his clenched fists, staring at them in wonder.
Never once in his entire forty-two years had he ever wanted to do violence to any man. Never once--until tonight.
The thought made him feel more than a little sick. The sight of Grace, her face red with a bruise that was already forming on her cheekbone, made him ready to vomit. He spun to the door, took one step before realizing the futility of giving chase, and instead reached for the phone on the hall table. As he dialed 911, he walked around the couch to where Grace stood, looking around the small apartment as if she were lost.
"How—why--" she broke off as he pulled her close to him, buried her face in his chest. She didn't cry, didn't break down, merely stood there shivering as the fear overtook her. He didn't care--she was safe and in his arms and she was going home with him. For good.
The next morning Jimmy had brought an assorted collection of grad students and friends and they had moved Grace into his house.
He remembered that Sunday morning. Brother Leo had joined them, bringing an assortment of muffins baked by the Sisters of Mercy. The day had begun crystal clear, bright sunshine. But by the time they had packed the cars and trucks and driven off, they'd been cloaked in a fog so dense that no one could ever follow them.
Jimmy realized now that the fog which hid Grace's escape must have been Leo's doing. Just as he now knew that the person responsible for harassing him on his visits to Grace and the burglar in her apartment were one and the same: Lukas Redding.
But at the time, he and Grace attributed everything to the bad neighborhood. Indeed, things were peaceful once they were settled into Jimmy's Squirrel Hill house.
So peaceful that Jimmy was able to procure enough grant money to allow him another trip to Ireland that summer. After he'd proven, with Grace's suggestion that he use mitochondrial DNA from the bones she'd inadvertently taken from Maeve's hand, that it was in fact the ancient warrior queen herself buried at the base of the cairn.
Grace, finished with her residency, took time off to accompany him before beginning her search for a "real" job.
Jimmy tried to remember if Leo had a hand in that as well, but couldn't. But he did remember the awful day of the explosion. The day when everything had changed--for his research, for the world.
Brothers in Blood
Knocknarea, Eire
1651, BC
The days should have been getting longer, but a constant grey mist shrouded everything in Maeve's land when finally she returned from her quest to find salvation for her people. Gone were her fertile green fields and woods, replaced by brown bracken and withered trees with few buds brave enough to show themselves.
Maeve rushed up the last hillside separating her from her people, a pang of fear making her stomach tumble. Would they have survived the harsh winter? How many would be left for her to save?
To her surprise, when she reached the hilltop she spied a well-ordered collection of huts circled together around a large cooking area. Smoke drifted lazily from the center of each roof but no one appeared outside.
Unable to contain herself, Maeve ran down the hill, followed by Timor and Mellis, the two Kallisteans who had accompanied her. She stopped at the outer perimeter of the settlement and waved them back, drawing her sword.
A tall man with regal bearing emerged from the largest hut, stretching as if he had just woken. Lothar. Her brother, the chieftain she'd left in charge of her people during her absence.
Smiling at his obviously healthy appearance, she strode forward, dropping her sword to dangle at her side. He turned at her approach and began to call out a warning, then stopped, his mouth open in astonishment. He rushed to her, clasping her arms in a strong grip, shaking her as if he wasn't certain if she were real.
"They said you'd been lost to the Selkies," he said. He turned and called out, "Come, see your fallen queen. Maeve has returned to serve her people!"
Slowly the huts emptied of men, followed by women and only a handful of children, all girls, Maeve noted with surprise. The old ones were all gone; she had feared they might not survive the winter. But the men, her warriors, appeared hale and strong.
To her surprise, her people held back, not venturing farther than their doorways, staring and pointing at her and the two Kallista.
"Selkies," she heard the word whispered more than once, accompanied by fearful glances in their direction.
The Selkies were the ancient sea people who took the form of seals in the water and humans on land. They were known for their cunning, vicious ways, tricking real people out of their lands, their lives, their souls. And they could only be killed while in their human form.
"No, not Selkies," Maeve said, stepping into the center clearing and turning around so her people could see that she was whole, unharmed. "These are friends. They have come to offer their aid in our time of need. Together we will survive this never-ending winter."
Instead of cheers her words were received with frowns from the men and puzzled looks from the women.
Lothar waved two of the men over. "Take our guests and show them our hospitality. Ready a feast to welcome our queen," he instructed. "Maeve and I have much to discuss."
As he led Maeve into his hut she spied a young girl scurrying to hide beneath a pile of furs.
"Leave me," Lothar told the frightened girl, never using her name or looking her in the face. Maeve watched as the girl, barely ten but already showing faint signs of womanhood, raced from the hut.
Her stomach knotted as she spun to face her brother. "Why is that girl here in your quarters?"
He shrugged as if it were of little consequence. "All of us must learn to serve, for the good of all," he said, straightening to his full height and frowning down on her. "Even you, Maeve."
She grew rigid, her hand falling to clasp her sword. "How dare you speak to me that way."
Her voice was low, commanding. He took a step back
, regarding her as if coming to a decision.
"I am your queen. I know what is best for the good of all my people."
"Do you?" he asked, his voice neutral now. "I suppose so. Forgive me, my queen," he bowed his head, "it has been a long, bitter winter since you left us. Many have suffered, many have been lost."
"You and the other men look healthy. Have you found food?"
A sly smile flitted across his face. "We've made good use of the food provided. As you'll see at the feast."
Indeed as he spoke, a thick oily smell of roasting meat began to fill the hut. The Kallista ate no flesh, she'd become unaccustomed to the scent, and the smell made Maeve's stomach heave.
"There's no need for a feast. We need to pack–the Kallista have offered their hospitality to all. They've secret ways. More than I can explain now, but with their help we'll all live through this to see the sun again."
His chuckle surprised her. A harsh, brittle sound, it made the hackles on the back of her neck raise.
"The good of our people may not lie where you assume it does, Maeve. We've found new ways while you slept with the Selkies."
"I told you, they're not Selkies. They're men, just like you."
"No, not like me. And not men, not any more."
"What have you done?" she demanded as she ran to the door.
The stench of burning flesh grew. A large fire blazed in the cooking pit, arranged around it were the men, behind them were arrayed the women, some one to a man, a few men with two.
She barely recognized most of them, they appeared cowed, their shoulders hunched, heads hung. Except for a few who glared at her as if afraid that she'd returned to steal away what little they had left.
As she watched in horror, she saw one of the men tug his woman onto his lap and begin to drink from her breasts with the loud suckling noises of an animal. Suddenly she realized why there were no infants, no boys left alive. Any man-child might grow to challenge the warriors and any infants would need their mother's milk.