Away from his daughter and back into hell.
Once inside the castle, Abhartach didn't hesitate. He led Áedán to the dining hall, sinking into his deformed chair at the head of the table with a smirk. He smacked his hand into the table once, a servant appearing before the sound had died away.
“Bring my son the meal he refused earlier. And be quick about it!”
Áedán stood pressed against the wall, not daring to approach the table, though he knew eventually he must. He was weak with that awful, unnatural hunger and his daughter’s voice still rang in his head.
It was sheer nerves rather than any pride that kept him from falling where he stood. His pride had drained away into the grass on that Ulster hill. His muscles were locked tight in terrified agony as he considered what came next. He couldn’t do this foul thing, couldn’t…
But when they led the woman before him again, and bound her to the table, the monster inside of him growled and salivated, clawing at his ribs, demanding to be let out at last. Siobhán turned her head to him, those soft brown eyes pleading once more.
Áedán was reminded forcibly of the first doe he had brought down. He had been, what? No more than twelve summers, maybe eleven… The arrow had missed the heart and his da had insisted he finish the job properly, pressing a dirk into his shaking hand and telling him to strike true and swift.
“Make it clean, son. Make an end.”
The animal’s eyes had looked into his just as Siobhán’s were, glassy with terror and panic, her breath coming swallow and fast, little gasping pants, twitching hooves in the grass of the forest, twitching limbs on the cold grey stone—
The chamber stretched impossibly, distorted as Áedán stepped forward, his boots dragging on the floor as Abhartach goaded him on with soft, hissing whispers. The demon fae’s red eyes glowed in the corner of Áedán’s wavering vision, his fists pounding the table. Siobhán struggled against her bonds, screaming as Áedán approached.
“Milord, milord, please…donna! Donna please—” But when his gaze fell over her face, her words sputtered and died, though her lips still trembled.
He stood over her, utterly still for one long breath, watching the brown eyes locked on his as he inhaled deeply. This was no animal, this was a girl he had danced with, one he had kissed and…
The smell of her was perfect, perfectly maddening and delicious. Need hovered over every inch of his skin like invisible fire, threatening to scorch his flesh from his bones if he didn’t give in. His eyes flickered to Abhartach and he saw Isleen again in the demon's arms.
The choice had already been made. With a sound between a growl and a sob, Áedán bent and ripped out Siobhán's throat with one desperate slash of his fangs.
Blood flew into the air in scarlet sheets that fell back with a splash, covering the stone table in pools of silken red. The light in the woman’s eyes flicked and died even as Abhartach’s eyes glowed brighter and brighter. A smile stretched his face from ear to ear as he leaned back in his twisted throne and laughed in utter satisfaction as he watched Áedán feed.
He had his heir, at last.
Chapter 18
Heather couldn't think. She paced from room to room in the abandoned house, trying to stave off a chill that had nothing to do with the falling temperature. Where had he gone? Ronan would be here soon surely, but what about Aidan?
Had her words ended everything between them?
No.
No. She would find him. Heather stopped pacing, her jaw set. She couldn't take the words back but she'd do something...anything to make him realize that her feelings didn't mean he had to leave. Almost running, she skittered through the dusty hallway and wrenched open the front door. Someone was in her way.
It was Bav, her hand raised to knock.
The two women stared at each other. Violet eyes locked on green. Heather let out a breath first.
"I'd invite you in, but I was just leaving."
"To look for Aidan?" Bav raised an eyebrow and Heather ached to wrap her hands around that white throat. "Ye wonna find him."
"Why? What have ye done to him now?"
Bav started, pulling back. "What has he told ye?"
Heather's eyes flashed. "What do you think? All your sick, stalker tendencies. Your obsession with him, the way you wouldn't leave him alone, no matter how many times he told you to! How you used his daughter to force him into becoming a vampire. How you ruined his fucking life. You may be a goddess, but really, you're just another psycho bitch!"
Bav slapped her straight across the face, knocking Heather sideways into the door frame. Her head rang, but she didn't register any pain.
Pushing herself back on her feet, Heather returned the favor. With interest. Like a gunshot, her hand cracked against the Bav's cheek. Green light hazed the air between them. The hair on Heather's arms went stiff and she braced herself.
Probably not such a hot idea, getting into a cat fight with goddess of death.
Fuck it. She'd be damned if she'd play nice with this monster after all she'd done to Aidan. She had completely forgotten that just a few short hours ago, she might have welcomed the sight of the goddess.
"Enough of this." Bav was breathing hard, her fiery hair wild around her white face. "I mean to save him this time, save him for real. Tha's the only reason I came here. Do ye want to help me or no'?"
Freezing in place, Heather looked Bav in the eye. "How can I trust you after all he told me of you?" Her body was vibrating with tension. Save him? What the fuck had the stupid ass gotten himself into now?
"Ye canna. But ye must. He is going to Abhartach as soon as the sun sets. He intends to force Abhartach into a vow and give him his in return. A vow he intends to protect ye, even though he knows it's likely hopeless. Aidan donna intend to ever see ye again."
Heather made a low sound of disbelief, but Bav wasn't finished.
"I believe ye will, because I believe the demon will find a way around any vow Aidan forces on him, tha' Abhartach will hunt ye down by any means he can. Just so he can punish Aidan more. Is tha' what ye wish, human? To see him tortured as ye were? Or… do ye remember how Aidan reacted when he saw what Abhartach did to ye? Remember what tha' did to him? Tell me, what do ye think it would do to him to such things done in front of his very eyes? Or worse."
Heather swayed, her fingers gripping the door as her mind went numb. What choice did she have?
"Okay, okay. Come in, damn you."
They sat across from each other in the ransacked living room. Both of them gingerly sitting on bits of scavenged furniture.
Bav spoke first. "Ye truly love him."
Heather nodded warily.
"Enough to die for him?"
"If there was no other choice, of course. But what are you talking about? Oh, god. You are just playing some sick game to get rid of me, aren't you? Aidan was right, I am so fucking naïve!" Heather half-rose from her perch. Bav waved a hand and an invisible force shoved Heather right back down.
"Sit, ye stupid mortal! 'Tis no' game I'm playing here. But ye may die, sure enough. So I must know, does yer nerve extend tha' far?"
Her hands twisted in her lap. It did. At least she hoped it did, but did you ever really knew what you were capable of until you actually had to do it?
Heather saw Aidan's hands, stroking her scars. For a second she almost felt his touch on her skin, gentle, almost reverent. So fucking strong and brave.
She raised her eyes to Bav's and nodded.
The goddess leaned back, biting her lip. Her expression had turned odd. "I confess myself curious. How do ye see this ending? Ye and Aidan? Do ye honestly think a happily ever after is possible—given what he is?"
Heather looked at her, wondering whether to answer. Or even if she could. There was no future between her and Aidan. There couldn't be.
Unless—
Heather spoke hesitatingly. "Ronan's curse was broken."
Bav sneered at the hope that must have shone in her eyes.
&
nbsp; “Vampirism is not a curse, stupid mortal. It canna be broken. Aidan is what he is and nothing can change tha' in any essential way. No' gods, or potions or love. If yer love depends on changing him, best leave him to his fate now." It was Bav's turn to get to her feet.
Heather shook her head. "No! Wait…please. It…that…it doesn't matter. Not about the love part anyway. I can't help that. As for our future… How the hell do I know?! From what you are saying, neither of us may have one anyway."
Bav slowly sat back down.
"'Tis a small chance, true. But…I believe you might be able to save him from Abhartach.”
Heather swallowed past the bitterness lining her throat. She had no reason to trust Bav’s words, but somehow she knew the goddess wasn’t lying. Despite her faults, Bav loved Aidan, in her own sick way.
“How?”
“Kill him. Kill Abhartach.”
She stared at the other woman, her mouth open.
Far from horrifying her, the thought was a tantalizing, irresistible one.
Kill the beast, kill the beast.
Torches and pitchforks danced in her head. Could it be possible or was Bav playing with her again?
“I thought vampires were damn near immortal. Abhartach, especially. He’s the first, the goddamn 'king'. Can anything really kill him?”
Bav’s smile was beautifully cruel. “Anything can be killed, even gods. Abhartach is a fae, when it all comes down to it. He's changed himself, yes. But his essential nature is still there. Hidden, but an innate part of him.
"Fae have weaknesses. They can be poisoned by iron and other kinds of metal.” She produced a thin, bronze-colored flask that glowed in the firelight like liquid gold.
“Tine airgid, or dimethylmercury, if you like. 'Tis a distilled form of mercury yer scientists would recognize as an extremely lethal poison to humans. It is even more effective at killing fae. A spoonful of this in his drink and he will die, sure enough. O' course, if ye splash so much as a drop on yourself, ye will die as well. Not tha' I care, but fair warning. I do want to avoid ye dying. At least no' before ye manage to poison him.”
Heather ignored this. “Why can’t you do it?”
Bav’s smile widened. “Even if I could get to Abhartach to let me into Du'n Dreach-Fhoula again, he would never be so careless as to take food or drink from my hand. But ye… ye’re a mortal, one he believes already broken. I have an idea that will distract him, allow ye to get close to him. Close enough to use the poison. I donna think it will occur to him that ye could be any kind of real threat. In fact, he would likely consider himself a coward for entertaining tha' notion with any seriousness.”
“Would he?” Heather’s voice was soft, for the first time not thinking of Aidan, but of the heinous things she had endured at the hands of that creature, that monster.
Of him having her staked to that awful table. His face when he cut her open again and again and told her she was nothing, just a bag of blood with a pretty covering. A smile nearly as cruel as Bav’s played at her lips. “Wouldn’t he just?”
The goddess ducked her head, but not before Heather caught the glitter of triumph in those emerald eyes. Bav probably didn’t expect her to get out of the Reeks alive, whatever she said. The goddess did seem to expect her to get to Abhartach, though.
That, Heather thought, was all that mattered.
Kill the beast.
"What's your plan?"
Aidan tossed and turned in the magnificent room Fand had seen him to. Blue was predominant theme. Here the color was celebrated in all its varying shades. The immense bed he was lying in was hung with gauzy sapphire silks. It was covered in the finest pale cornflower blue Irish linens, the mattress both soft and perfectly firm. Yet, he couldn't sleep.
Despite the stories, vampires didn't just pass out cold when the sun rose. They could be plagued by insomnia almost as easily as humans, giving the right provocation.
Aidan was feeling quare provoked tonight.
Not by the thoughts of torture though. Or of facing Abhartach, or of giving that bastard his knee again. It was thoughts of escape that plagued him and how once before he had slipped the noose that demon had fashioned for him and found safety for one he loved.
Finally the dim blue lights took him to the very memory he had been trying to dodge, his present mood mirroring his hopelessness then almost perfectly.
Uí Néill
899 A.D
Áedán ran through the hills without thought, even though he knew there was no escape.
Since Abhartach had found out of Isleen's existence and what she meant to him, Áedán had been subjected to a reign of horrific torment. It had only been a week, but given another, he was sure he would go mad.
Áedán wasn't quite sure he wasn't there already.
Stopping only when the ground ran out, he looked down. Waves crashed hundreds of feet below. Gods, had he run all the way to Aillte an Mhothair? He couldn't wrap his head around this new body. So far as he could tell, it never got sweaty or out of breath, rarely got tired or sore, and was always, eternally ravenous.
For a long moment Áedán stared at the rocks far below. Would that do it? He thought not. Aidan knew what would though. The sun.
Unfortunately, Abhartach had thought of that escape route already. He was watched constantly. Even now he had no doubt he was being tracked and would be forced back to the castle well before the sun could put in a welcome appearance.
Thrusting his hands into the pockets of his tunic in bitter frustration, he felt something small and hard. His fingers closed around the familiar shape of the shell Isleen had given him so long ago. Aidan pulled it from his pocket in wonder.
Gods, where had that come from? He had thought it lost in his struggle with Bav on that fateful night. His eyes stung as he looked at it, tracing the delicate swoops with a trembling finger.
Far below, the waves seemed to gain force, beating against the foot of the cliffs. Something teased the back of his mind.
"'Tis for if yer lonely, Da…or if ye need help. Just whisper in it, and he'll come. He promised me."
Something fierce and wild grabbed his heart.
"Manannán mac Lir." Áedán whispered the name at first. Then shouted it wild desperation as the sea started to roar beneath him. "Manannán mac Lir!"
Abruptly, the rising wind quieted. The back of his neck prickled.
"I do believe she said 'whisper', O'Neill. There really is nae need to shout."
Trying to contain the hope that struggled in his heart, Aidan turned.
The god of sea stood there. He was huge. By any standard, Áedán was an unusually tall man. Manannán mac Lir dwarfed him. He had to be damme near seven feet high and broad as a thick tree. His hair was a wild reddish-brown, and he had eyes of green and blue and grey, all the colors of the sea together. Those eyes were taking his measure coolly.
If Áedán was any judge, he had been found sorely wanting. The god's nose wrinkled and he shifted his feet restlessly, the waters below echoing their master's agitation, slamming against the cliff side again with a bellowing roar.
"Well, be quick about it, man. Now tha' yer finally showing some sense, what would ye have me do? And use yer damme head, or I'll refuse ye.
"I only promised her help, no' the likes of ye. 'Tis only seeing as it were her as gave the trinket to ye, tha' I am here at all."
Áedán thought that a lie, or at least, an evasion. This god had shown far too much interest in Isleen. It was unlikely mac Lir was apathetic to the precarious position she was in now.
"Why?" The word burst from his mouth with conscious thought and once the dam broke he couldn't stop. "Why did ye give such power to her? She's just a child. A human child! Why did ye show herself to her? What is my daughter to the likes of ye, Manannán mac Lir?"
Those changeable eyes went pure green and for a horrible moment Aidan was reminded forcibly of Bav. Then the color muted, turning grey, calm and placid. "I donna rightly know. And I wouldna tell ye
if I did. All I'll be telling ye is this…it were naught but the call of her soul that drew me in, sweet and soft, like rain on the sea…"
The god shook his head roughly, as if regretting his words.
"I am nae my sister, so ease yer fears. There is nae harm in me for tha' child, O'Neill, no' now. Nae ever, ye ken?"
Áedán did. Perhaps foolishly, but he believed him. Relief made his knees weak.
"Then alls I ask of ye is this. Protect my daughter, mac Lir. Take her and her grandmother to Manx. Keep watch over them and donna let tha' creature known as Abhartach, or any tha' belong to him, near her. Ever. Can ye do tha'?"
"Aye." Despite his ready assent, the god looked as if Aidan's words had thrown him for a moment.
"What? If there's something yer no' telling me, if ye canna do this, fer god's sake—"
"Nae." Mac's voice cut him off, sure and steady as the tide. "I can do as ye ask. Ye have my word…and my vow tha' it will be so." The ground seemed to tremble far, far beneath Aidan's feet at the god's words. "'Tis only…I had thought ye'd ask me to help ye. To make ye human again or some such."
"And can ye do tha'?"
"Nae." Áedán must have only imagined that mac Lir's gaze softened for a moment. The god's eyes were cold as a north wind. "There is no' power in any realm tha' can give ye back what ye were."
Áedán nodded, even though the sea god's harsh words crushed that particular wisp of hope for good. His hope for his daughter, though, was soaring. It came crashing down at Mac's next words.
"Tell me, do ye mean to come to Manx yerself? Should ye become able to shed your master?"
Again, Áedán felt his measure being taken and this time it pissed him off. Not only because the god had called Abharatch his master. Rage sang through him down to his toes, it took all he had not to try and throw mac Lir off the cliff into his precious sea. His body shook, his muscles coiling and bunching with pain and rage.
Blood In Fire (Celtic Elementals Book 2) Page 29