Blood In Fire (Celtic Elementals Book 2)

by Heather R. Blair

  It had unnerved him a little. In the purple desert twilight she had looked eerily, almost heartbreakingly beautiful, and so very lost. He had reached out a hand and touched her thigh, wanting to bring her back from wherever she had gone. Heather had turned her head and smiled at him. Just like this, just for a moment.

  Before the mask had come back down.

  He could have sworn the soul he no longer possessed had let out a long-held breath at that smile. Later, he’d blamed that particular fancy on too much Yeats in his past and not enough goddamn whiskey in his present.

  Right now, it was hard as hell to deny the ache it had brought to his chest. For one moment he was torn between the need to pull her into his arms and the need to get the hell out. In the end, he did exactly what he had done in Istanbul, he leaned over and kissed her, soft and slow. He only pulled back when she would have reached for him.

  "Go back to sleep, ye damme woman."

  Heather smiled again, obviously not fully awake. She closed her eyes obediently and snuggled back under the bright, fluffy afghan. Aidan stood there for a minute, his hands clenched.

  Aye, no fucking problem at all.

  Bav stood outside the window of the Fitzpatrick home. Watching Aidan kiss the human woman through a gap in the curtains. Her eyes narrowed. She had only wanted a glimpse of Aidan before she left Ireland on her errand. This was more than she had bargained for.

  She hadn’t seriously thought the chit competition. If she had, she might have had second thoughts about messing with the woman’s car, slowing her down so that she would encounter Aidan again on that roadway.

  It had been necessary, she reminded herself. She had wanted to be sure he would have someone other than himself to watch out for when Abhartach found him. Someone who would push him to come back here, where he would be safe until she was ready to spring her trap. She knew the connection between Heather and Lacey, had known it all along, far before she pushed Aidan down that narrow street in Istanbul to the bar where Heather waited.

  Now, she wondered if she had made a serious misstep. Aidan hadn't gave two cents about any woman in ages. She'd had no reason to fear any change in his attitude with this one.

  But the look on his face as he stood up and left the room sent a hot stab of jealousy through her midsection. Turning away, Bav stalked under the rose trellis in the backyard and stared out at the distant gleam of Lough Gur. Had he ever looked at her like that? Had anyone?

  She closed her eyes, then opened them with a snap, touching her cheek in wonder. Staring down at the tear that glistened there in the rising moon. Her lips thinned.

  The glint of the Aine’s lake caught her attention again, reminding her of those who would apparently defy her. She drew her robe up, shutting out the pain and the loneliness. She would not fail again. It was too late to stop now, not when she was so close.

  She could deal with the human later.

  For now, she had much more important matters to deal with. Bav had made her overtures and been granted an audience, albeit an obviously reluctant one. In any other instance, that attitude would have infuriated her. This was an exception. She was prepared to do anything to get her way. Manannán mac Lir was definitely in her way, even if he didn’t know it yet.

  Or mayhap he did.

  Bav bit her lip as the worrisome thought snuck inside her.

  It was always wise to assume the god of the sea knew more than he let on. He was as changeable and tricky as the tides. She would have preferred to deal with any of the De Nanaan, even Lugh himself, rather than face Mac.

  Nothing worthwhile was ever easy. Or without a price. Bav wiped the last of the wetness from her cheeks and threw a bitter glance at the house behind her. Aidan was hers, even if he had always been too stubborn to realize it. Lifting her fingers, she sent a coil of green light through the window, smiling to herself as she felt the human woman stir uneasily in her sleep.

  At least she had her little pleasures.

  Bav was too distracted as she turned away to notice a curtain fly back in another room of the house, or the brown eyes that narrowed as they tracked her retreating form.

  Chapter 9

  Heather came awake at noon. Her sleep had been punctuated with nightmares all night, disturbing images of blood and the feel of cold stone against her bare skin.

  So cold—

  Shivers ran over the backs of her arms, even as she opened her eyes.

  She let out a shriek as she saw three little faces staring down at her, two covered in golden curls, one in red. Colin and the twins jumped back at once, then dissolved into giggles on the floor next to the couch as Heather shot up. Her hair was in bushy tangles, bunching against her ears and neck. She ran her hands over it as she gave the tiny monsters a glare.

  “That was way too Paranormal Activity, for godsakes! Were you trying to do, give me a heart attack?”

  “What’s ‘Paranormal Activity’?” The twins cocked their heads in identical confusion, distinctly reminding her of The Shining.

  She was officially freaked the hell out.

  “It’s a movie about little demons, like you!” Heather shook her head, and poked both the girls into the stomach, making them giggle even more.

  “Maman sent us to wake ye up.” Colin grinned at her as the twins streaked off into the kitchen.

  “Consider me awake.” Heather grumbled as she leaned back into the couch, her heart still racing as she closed her gritty eyes.

  Nasty dreams, but they were fading so fast she couldn’t grab hold of them again. Not that she minded letting the slimy things go, she just wished they would take this sick feeling in her stomach with them.

  “…bangers and mash.”

  “Say what, evil spawn?” She opened her eyes a crack. Yep, the red-headed boy was still there. He was awfully cute to be such a pain.

  “I said, Maman kept some bangers and mash warm for ye.”

  “I hope that tastes better than it sounds. It is food, isn’t it?” She decided clarification was in order as Colin grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet.

  “Aye.” He smiled up at her again. “What else would it be?”

  She pinched his little nose instead of answering, thinking, the way your ‘maman’ feels about me, who the hell knows?

  When she entered the kitchen, Moiré positively beamed at her.

  “Awake at last, lassie! Come and get something in yer belly then.”

  Heather sat down at the table, firing a questioning glance at Lacey, who was sitting off to the side, curled up on the window seat that overlooked the backyard gardens.

  Lacey raised her mug of tea and smiled innocently. Heather frowned, which only made Lacey’s smile wider before she turned away to gaze out the window.

  Steam unfurled into the air as Moiré slapped down a plate in front of her hard enough to make Heather jump. The heavenly smell coming from it distracted her at once.

  Bangers and mash was apparently Irish for fat, juicy sausages and mashed potatoes slathered with brown gravy. Oh, boy. Her stomach had apparently recovered from that awful nightmare, because it was growling loudly enough to be embarrassing.

  "Thank you, it looks amazing."

  Moiré smiled and slipped into the seat opposite her. It was only after she'd bolted down the delicious food and two cups of tea, sweetened heavily—Heather was religiously refusing to consider what her trainer would have to say about a breakfast loaded with both fat and sugar—that she realized the kitchen was oddly quiet.

  She started to get up to rinse her plate at the sink, but Moiré beat her to it and returned to her seat before Heather could do more than blink. Lacey wouldn't quite look at her, she noticed with a sense of doom.

  Oh god, what now?

  "Soooo," Moiré's lips made the sound a long, drawn-out question as she considered Heather. Brown eyes had never looked so piercing as they did just now, boring into her over an incongruous cup of tea. "Lacey and young Chloe tell me ye are a model."

  "Yes, that's
right." Heather acknowledged warily, wondering where this was going.

  "And that ye were recently in Greece, is it?"

  She nodded, her eyes staying on Moiré with an effort. She wanted to glance at Lacey again. Not that the little shit was being any help.

  "Was tha' where ye met Aidan then?"

  Shit. Shit with a side of oh, fuck, here we go.

  "Um, well no. No, we met in Turkey. Istanbul, actually. I…ah, took a little break from the shoot."

  Moiré nodded in understanding. "What was he doing there?"

  Hmmm, this was not where she thought they had been heading. Thankfully. "Oh. I don't…I don't actually know, to tell you the truth."

  "I see." Moiré looked over at Lacey, who shrugged, as if to say, I told you so. Heather also shot her friend a hard look, but was distracted by Moiré tapping her hand. She brought her eyes back to the older woman. "Ye didna happen to see tha' red-headed woman, the one—"

  "Lacey explained who Bav is to me. And, no. I didn't see her. But I wasn't looking either."

  I was too distracted by Aidan trying to screw my brains out every other minute to worry about a goddess I didn't even know existed at that point.

  For some reason, Heather didn't feel the need to add that bit aloud.

  Moiré wrinkled her nose, gazing at Lacey fondly for a minute before turning back to Heather.

  "Aye, tha's good then. I am sure Lacey explained as best she can. But ye've want of an Irish woman to give you the truth of what tha'one is."

  "Please, I don't…" Heather hesitated, not wanting to piss this woman off, not when they were talking without any 'warnings' and 'to be clears' so far, but she had to make something clear. "I don't want to know anything else about Aidan's past unless he decides to tell me himself. It's not that I'm not curious or anything. It's just…well, I gather he has some bad things buried there…and it just doesn’t seem right."

  Moiré's eyes seemed to gain a good deal of warmth and this time she squeezed Heather's hand before picking back up her tea. "Aye, it wouldna be. But 'tis not Aidan's past I wanna tell ye of. 'Tis only a wee bit of Bav's."

  Heather's head straightened. "Why should I care about her?" Lacey made a snorting sound and Heather glared at her. "I know the two of them have a past together, okay? I'm not stupid, but I hardly think it has anything to do with me."

  "Donna ya?" Moiré's tone was amused, but somehow sadly so. "Well, I donna mean to frighten ye, but I doubt Bav would agree. She was here last night and unless I am much mistaken, she was watching Aidan."

  "What?" Okay, that was way creepy. Aidan had a goddess stalker. Ew!

  "I think she was watching ye, as well. She dinna look happy when she left. Canna ye…well, canna ye think of anything she might have seen tha' might have made her…angry?" Moiré asked delicately, but with that unnervingly frank gaze.

  "I was half asleep, but… yeah, I'm pretty sure he kissed me before he went to bed. Just a kiss." She said the last a bit defensively, knowing Moiré had reason to doubt her on that score.

  Moiré seemed satisfied with her answer.

  "Tha' mighta been enough. If...," but Moiré caught herself, looking out the window toward the rose trellis, seemingly lost in thought.

  "C'mon, if Bav hangs around watching Aidan all the time, she has seen him kiss other women…."

  Both Moiré and Lacey chuckled and Heather rolled her eyes. "Okay, kissed and a lot more. Duh. And which again…can I just say 'ew!? She doesn't bother with any of his other…ahh, liasons, right?"

  Moiré shook her head. "Nae, no' tha' I am aware of anyway."

  "So, why the hell would it bother her anymore now, with me?"

  "Why indeed?" Moiré murmured gazing into her tea. She didn't answer her own question, only lifted her head and sighed. "It may have more to do with Bav herself than ye. Bav has…well, she has a bit of history with warriors like Aidan."

  Oh goodie, a slutty, stalker goddess. Heather resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was also intrigued by the word 'warrior'. Aidan all badass with a big sword and kicking ass?

  Yum.

  "What kind of history?"

  "The bloody kind." Moiré sighed. "She isn't the goddess of death for nothing, Heather. She's cruel, but I think…I think what drives tha' cruelty is really her need for love. She wants love so badly, but it n'ver goes right, no' matter what she does."

  "Hey now, do you want to be making me feel sorry for her? 'Cause you kind of are."

  "Nae. Donna feel sorry for her. She'd use tha' against ye in a heartbeat. Just try and understand her, is all. Understand tha' desperation. She killed her last lover, as good as, anyway. And with Aidan…well, I'll keep me mouth shut on the details of tha' mess.

  "But ye can see well enough tha' she's obsessed with him. As is Abhartach." The older woman shuddered. "Between the two of them, well, I canna say I am no' a mite worried about ye, lass."

  Heather gave the woman a suspicious look over the table.

  Moiré smiled.

  "Aye, 'tis the truth. I willna say sorry for the things I said afore, for I meant them, true as true. But donna think me cruel. I just love Aidan very much. And I donna want to see him hurt anymore. 'Tis god's own truth, I donna think he'd survive much more."

  Heather cleared her throat, glancing at Lacey, who was shaking her head desperately, but Heather ignored her. "Why would you think I'd do that…hurt him? Have you 'seen' something? Lacey explained a little about your sight."

  "Oy, did she then?" Moiré gave Lacey's red face a fondly amused look, before turning back to Heather. She hesitated for the barest second and then said, "Nae, 'tis naught to do with the sight."

  Both Lacey and Heather's expressions must have showed their confusion, because Moiré gave them a sad look before she got up. "'Tis naught more than the way he looks at ye, lass. Just tha'. If ye knew Aidan as I do…tha' would be enough."

  "Why? How does he look at me?"

  Moiré's spine stiffened but she didn't turn back around. For a moment, Heather didn't think she would answer at all. "If ye canna see it for yerself, 'tis not my business to explain it."

  "Oh please, you're… you're letting your imagination run away with you." Her heart was pounding in her chest, but Heather said the words anyway. She couldn't help it, she was pissed, not to mention damn sick of being warned away from Aidan. And, no, it didn't matter that her own instincts were telling her the same, she told herself stubbornly. That was her business.

  Everyone else needed to butt the hell out.

  Lacey gasped and Moiré whirled around. She stepped across the kitchen until she was nose to nose with Heather, her voice almost harsh.

  "I am doing nae such thing, lass. 'Tis only tha' I see a softening in him when he's around ye, a gentling tha' was no' there before. I have nae seen tha' in him since….

  "Aye, well. It scares me, it does. Right down to me bones. If ye had a brain in yer pretty head, it would scare ye, too. Bad things happen when tha' lad lets his guard down. Terrible bad things."

  In the library, Aidan stirred in his sleep, uneasy as memories turned into dreams and dreams into familiar nightmares…

  He stood on the hill of Cooley, feeling shivers dance down his spine as he put a hand on the oak that grew there. Almost he could fancy he saw streaks of unnatural darkness streaking the bark near the base.

  Streaks that could have been hero’s blood…

  Áedán smiled at this folly, though he couldn’t quite shake the tingle of magic in the air. Not that he wanted to. He may not be a child any longer, but he loved the old tales still.

  He was well on his way to fulfilling his childhood dream of becoming a warrior. At ten and four summers, he was very tall for his age. A whole hand taller than most of the boys at the keep. Granted he was thin as a willow reed, but he was strong and had proved it over and over again. There was none of the others as could best him at wrestling, even the boys much heavier than he could never pin him, at least for long.

  “A damme eel is tha'
one!” They would complain when paired off with Áedán. He was also tops in sword and hand to hand. He wasn’t much of an archer, he admitted fairly. But those who lead had no need of the bow.

  He would lead. As his uncle, Ruad had once led. As his own da would lead.

  In the summer his father had been named king in Ailech. Áedán's father's given name was Niall. He had been named for their legendary ancestor, Niall of the Red Hand, or Niall of the Nine Hostages, depending on your preferred legend.

  The current king was usually called Eirnin, though. A childhood nickname that had stuck, because like his son after him, young Niall had been a fierce wrestler. So fierce his opponents said he had arms of iron. Hence, he became Eirnin, the Gaelic word for iron.

  Áedán had never been so proud of his father as on that blissful morning when the torc had been placed around his throat, flashing in the first rays of the sun on Litha, the summer solstice.

  He knew things would change now, had indeed already changed. Like this visit to Connaught. His father was a believer in uniting the clans, though some had said it couldn’t be done. But the battle of Dublin when Áedán had been no more than a suckling babe had lifted many people’s hopes. Together, bands of Connaught, Uí Néill and Uliad warriors had driven the Norseman back and retaken the city once more. Could there be a true high king in Tara once more?

  Could it even be him one day?

  His cheeks colored at the bold thought, but not in shame at his pride. In excitement. He had seen how his Da had cajoled and stirred the men of Bréifne, one of the holds they had visited in Connaught.

  They had not obtained an oath from the lord of Bréifne, but Áedán had no doubt that his father would, given time. Aligned with all of Connaught, and Uí Néill and Leinster already behind them, then Uliad nearly there…the dream could be so close.