The Forgotten Trilogy

by Cecilia Randell

  “Never did understand why the restrictions were worse for the land-bound fae than for the Fomoiri,” the sluagh muttered.

  It was an opening, but a false one. At least the creature was beginning to speak.

  Mell sighed. “It’s because of mac Lir.” He cocked his head at Finn. “Who made the deal again? I don’t think it was the Crane clan. I would have remembered that. Was it the Bull clan?”

  “Elatha? Doubtful. You know he married into the de Danann. Cichol? Of the Hounds?” Finn mused.

  “No. They’re too tied to the land. Practically farmers these days, you know.”

  “That’s right. How they call themselves Fomoiri I don’t know.” Oh, he was starting to have too much fun with this. “Got to be Tethra then. The Lion clan, despite their names, have always had the deepest connection with the sea.”

  The shadows cleared around the sluagh, revealing its twisted figure. The wings were pulled back and bound in spelled ropes of leather, but that didn’t stop the creature from baring its fangs.

  Then, trembling, it opened its mouth wide, tongue flicking in agitated waves. Its head tipped back and it screamed.

  “Well, farking bollix and shite.” Finn didn’t move. He knew this spell. They wouldn’t be getting anything from the sluagh now. It was locked in the pain of its own mind. They’d have to call one of the druids from Dublin to untangle him. “Did you get anything before he went under?” he asked Mell.

  Mell’s gaze was glued to the shrieking sluagh, his face pale. “Strongest reactions were to the indirect mention of Scath, the north, and the Lion clan. Not Tethra, though, which was interesting. Nothing when my father was mentioned either.” He pulled in a slow breath, held it for a moment, and exhaled. “Mostly fear, but there was also anticipation when mac Lir came into the conversation.”

  “The island?”

  “Possibly. I suspect that particular god knows more of what’s going on than any of us.”

  “Would he help?”

  “Mac Lir?” Mell let out a scoffing laugh. “Only if he was bored and decided to play against himself.” A pause. “Which is not out of the realm of possibility. But he won’t answer to any of us land-bound Fomoiri.”

  There might be one person he would speak to. Finn hesitated, wary of even bringing up the possibility. But, it was a possibility, and as flippant as they all attempted to act, the return of Balor and gathering of the artifacts were heralds of death for many. You’ve already admonished the others for attempting to protect her. The self-admonishment did the trick and he forced his next words out. “He might take a call from Bat.”

  Mell opened his mouth, closed it, and bowed his head. “He might. But… let us see what we can glean from the other prisoners. And, later, my father. I can’t be certain yet, but I’m not sure the clan leaders are involved. When their names were mentioned, there was no fear, but there was a slight hint of contempt.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Finn rose and headed out the door, Mell a beat behind him. This information didn’t change their current strategy, but it did put them a step closer to knowing the players.

  At least I’m not hampered by “evidence” like the human guardi. While the Ceilte Guardi did follow many of the human procedures, it was mostly for the sake of organization, and allowing the fae clear rules to follow. And for their records, of course.

  In this instance, Mell’s impressions and Bat’s visions were enough for them to work on.

  He sighed. He’d have to write a report on this, wouldn’t he?

  They halted outside another of the interrogation rooms. “This one is the Fir Bolg, right?” Mell asked.

  Nearly wiped out in the early battles, the Fir Bolg tended to stick to the bogs and forests, just as the sluagh did. Like the Fomoiri, their powers were closer to the elements. But where the Fomoiri stuck to the seas, the Fir Bolg preferred the land.

  And they preferred blood.

  Finn keyed open the door and stepped inside. The immortal, nearly the size of Shar, was limp in his chair, mouth twisted into a grimace and eyes rolled back in his head. Without a word, Finn stepped back, nudging Mell back, and closed the door. “We’re not going to get anything more from them until the spell’s unraveled.”

  Mell hit the wall beside the door with the flat of his hand and tipped his head back. “Can’t Oisin do it?”

  “Not this one.” Finn wanted to hit the wall as well. But there was no use in that.

  “Then what’s next, oh Great Guardi Captain of mine?”

  “Brat.” Finn slapped the back of Mell’s head. “Are you saying now you’ll join up?”

  The teasing light left the younger man’s eyes. “Not a chance.”

  Finn sighed. He’d get Mell yet. The Fomoiri had too much passion inside him to remain hidden away for long. But the thing about immortals? They lived long, yes, but they also held onto things best left let go. He himself was no exception. He’d give Mell more time. “We get our not-so-secret hideout ready. Criedne will report to me once the scrying spell on the invitation is unraveled.”

  Mell bowed his head for a moment then lifted his gaze to meet Finn’s. There was an understanding there. This would not be so easy as they’d made it out to be in front of Bat. The sophistication and level of skill needed for the spells used surpassed the abilities of most in Connaught, and the fact the neutrals were being swayed…

  “We can do this, right?”

  Finn swallowed. “I have no doubts.”

  Mell nodded and set off down the corridor, no doubt in search of his brothers. Finn followed after, fully aware he’d just lied.

  Chapter 14

  Bastet,

  Oh! I just remembered. If you ever need to threaten an immortal of Ireland, tell them you need ingredients to make a koldala.

  It is a dish I made up, and you need an eye and a little finger to make it.

  I was simply trying to make a point, but they believed me!

  I think I have started new rumors of the savagery of the Egyptian gods.

  Bat, the goddess who apparently demands bloody sacrifices!

  BAT

  Bat, a slash of sunlight lying warm across her cheek, curled into the striped chair she’d claimed as her own in the little cottage. It was set at an angle near the fireplace, one of those cushioned and upholstered monstrosities that you could sink into. Coupled with a fuzzy blanket, her fuzzy socks, and a roaring fire, if it weren’t for the harp case propped against the hearth she could almost forget the reason they were camped out south of Sligo. That one object was enough of a reminder of the chaos she had found herself embroiled in. The shard was tucked away in a locked and warded box in a warded chest in Dub’s room, but Bat had insisted the harp remain with her, where she could keep an eye on it.

  The cottage wasn’t really that small. There were four bedrooms, an attic room, a fair-sized living area, and a decent kitchen. It was just that they were currently trying to fit nine people—well, eight people and a very energetic dog—in that space.

  Leaning her head back, her eyes slid closed, exhaustion overtaking her. What had she done that day? Not one thing except sit in this chair.

  And delve into the souls of every person who now temporarily called the cottage home, looking for traces of chaos or the seeds of corruption. She’d even searched the brothers, Finn, and Ailis. They’d insisted.

  It had taken a lot from her to do so many in so little time. Nearly all the power she’d accumulated over the last two months. Maybe she should go find one of the brothers and ask for an offering of some kind. Maybe a kiss. Or, she could find Finn. She was sure he would be accommodating. A sleepy smile pulled the corners of her lips up. It was certainly a good way to recharge. Maybe she should go find him…

  There was a scratching at one of the windows opposite her. “Shh, don’t wake her. Can’t ya see she’s bushed?”

  “I’m no’ making noise, ya are! And stop looking at her diddies. Tha’s no’ polite ta do wi’ a goddess.”

  �
�Tha’s no’ polite ta do wi’ anyone,” a third voice hissed.

  “Shh…”

  Bat pried her lids up. Her gaze landed on three pixies standing on the windowsill, on the other side of the glass.

  “Hush, ya, she’s spotted us.” A pink-haired and -winged pixie poked the one beside her, who was done all in shades of silver. The third, red from the tips of his hair to the toes on his feet, crossed his arms, huffed, and turned his back.

  “Ummm, hi,” Bat said. She really should work up some alarm, or at least startlement. But she was too tired… “How did you get in?”

  The pink one placed her hand on the glass. “We’re no’ in the house. But the angry one and the scholar, they set the outer wards on the other side of our home, so it’s more like we were always in. Ye’re Bat, aren’t ya? I’m Maire. I’ve heard of ya. Is it true ya found the cauldron but then it got nabbed? And ya have a piece of it? And the harp? Ye’ve played it? Will ya play for us? Is that it over by the hearth? Is Balor really trying ta come back? I never did like him. Made sport of hunting us, he did—”

  The red pixie spun around. “Hush ya. Lookit, she can barely keep her eyes open.”

  Maire crossed her arms and pouted. “But Ciara knows her. Said we should help. So, here we are. Besides, ya just want ta look at her diddies some more.”

  The red one flared a bright orange. Blushing? And what were diddies…? The pixie’s gaze dropped to her chest.

  Oh. She nearly snorted, and would have if she had more energy. “I do not mind you helping, but I won’t be able to scan you today. Maybe you could come back tomorrow? The grumpy one has been very insistent that I not let in anyone who hasn’t been scanned. Or maybe he needs some help in the forge? He was doing quite a bit of grumbling about how rundown he’d let it get.”

  “Realta, who are you—?” Mell came in from the kitchen, a sandwich and some crisps set up on a plate. “What the hell? Where did they come from? And you! Show the goddess some respect and stop looking at her breasts.”

  Bat snorted. It was just too much.

  The red pixie humphed. “Why? You look at them. I’ve seen you. You sneak looks.”

  The silver one hit him. “Knock it off, Daire. And stop talking about them.”

  Daire spun on her. “Don’t look, don’t talk. Ye’re taking all the fun.”

  Mell strode to the window and pulled the curtains.

  “Hey!” three voices chorused.

  “So, you’re sneaking looks are you?” Bat teased Mell. They hadn’t even been here a full day, how many times had he looked that the pixies noticed?

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Of course. Who wouldn’t?” He held out the plate. “Here. You’ve worn yourself out. I told Dub we should have given you another day to recharge.”

  She popped a crisp into her mouth and chewed. They were the good ones, with the “BBQ” flavor. Her favorites.

  Speaking of, it had not been lost on her that almost every single one of her possessions had made it to her new room here, including her boots, her favorite scarves, and her fuzzy socks. Even the ones that had been in the laundry.

  Mel squeezed in between her chair and the hearth and sat, elbows propped on his knees. “How are you doing?”

  “You can’t tell?”

  His brows drew together and his gaze ran over her face. “Ye’re tired.”

  She didn’t bother answering that and bit into her sandwich. Mmmm… he’d put the salad cream on it…

  “Good?”

  She nodded and took another bite.

  “So, how are you doing?”

  She slowed in her chewing. How was she doing? Was there an easy answer? Did she have an answer? “I’m better,” she said through her bite. Then swallowed. “I mean, it is a relief to know the things that were being kept from me. And,” she peeked at him from the corner of her eye, “the kisses I am finally getting may be even more of a relief.” She held the sandwich a few inches from her mouth, waiting for his reaction.

  She was not disappointed. He didn’t hesitate. Half rising, he guided the sandwich away from her mouth and leaned into her, pressing teasing little kisses to the corner of her lips and then drifting in to capture her lips fully. That last kiss was brief, but the ball of anxious anticipation—the one that had had her insides acting like a chittering monkey—eased. A different anticipation took its place.

  She had her answer from him. He was willing to try, with her, with all of them.

  Now she just had to wrangle Dub’s attention…

  “Are you sure?” she asked, suddenly needing to hear the words from him. “You know that Finn and I…”

  “Yes. And yes.” He pulled back and pointed to her sandwich, now partially smushed between her fingers. “Eat.”

  She took another bite, watching him all the while. Strands of dark hair flopped over his forehead and he brushed them back. He really is very pretty. Maybe she shouldn’t think such a thing of the not-man. He wasn’t delicate, not at all. But, while all three brothers were attractive enough that they no doubt had plenty of women seeking them out before she came, Mell was… the work of art. The one you wanted to just stare at, he was so… pretty.

  His lips curled up. “What are you thinking?”

  She swallowed. “That this is a very good sandwich, and I am regaining my strength nicely, with the offerings of food and kisses.” Bat scooped up a couple crisps and shoved them in her mouth.

  “What else?”

  He could probably sense her lie. Or, her reluctance more like. “Ummm… you are very pretty.”

  “Pretty?”

  A smile threatened, and she did her best to keep her expression serious. “Yes. Like one of those sculptures by the Greek man.”

  “Which Greek guy?”

  She took another bite. Which Greek guy? There had been so many, and most of them sculpted pretty men, come to think of it. “All of them?” she finally said.

  He chuckled and shook his head, watching her. Bat continued eating her sandwich. It was very much like their meals back at the pub, except now she got kisses and touches and, hopefully, more.

  She liked this much better.

  “I really am sorry,” Mell finally said. He guided the sandwich from her lips to the plate, then claimed her hands in his. “We didn’t mean to leave you alone like that. It was just… The same day Shar asked you to stay, Dub had an encounter with Scath and set up the meeting.” He searched her face, gaze intent. “And we were only just coming to realize we all felt more for you than friendship. I…” He swallowed.

  Bat kept her gaze level on his.

  “Dub had wanted to send you away until we settled things with the clan. I’m not sure he would have actually done it, but he… he wanted to be able to start fresh. I’m not sure how much you know about the clan systems of Ireland, but a man’s brooch is important. And a clan leader’s brooch is even more so. Without that, he may as well have lost his identity.

  “Our father lost his in the last battle between the Fomoiri and the sidhe. He had a replica made, and managed to glamour it sufficiently that the duplicity was hidden from everyone but Scath. Even mother never knew. Dub found out a few centuries ago, and latched onto the idea of finding it. At first I think he wanted to use it to take over the clan.” Mell’s gaze searched her face, his brows pinched. “Not now. We’re using it to petition for secession, as leverage for permission to form our own clan. Or, that was the plan. Now, we may have to use it to gain the cooperation of the clan against Balor.” He fell into silence, shadows flitting over his eyes.

  “I knew some of this,” she said. “I knew the brooch was important, and that there was a plan. Thank you for telling me the all of it.”

  Mell’s lips quirked up into a not-quite-smile and gave her a small shake of his head. “Let me finish before you start throwing reassurances and forgiveness around as though you’re a pixie with an abundance of happy-dust.” He took a breath. “Back to two months ago. Dub was probably already plotting ways to kidnap you ba
ck to Ireland as soon as we’d broken free. I was the one who said you needed to stay. But I was also the one who insisted we not begin anything with you, not right away. I…”

  Bat laid a hand against his cheek, the stubble pricking her fingers. “We can talk about this after, you know.”

  He shook his head. “No, we can’t. Because we don’t know how ‘this’ will go.” The shadows were back in his eyes and his mouth pinched. His emotions were locked down tight, though, nothing leaking through. “I hurt you. We hurt you.”

  “That was never your intention.” She ran her thumb once more over his cheek then pulled back.

  “And now ye’re trying to comfort me, who should be comforting you.” Mell gave her a crooked grin. “But I’ll take it. Now.” He paused. “Are you really all right?”

  “You can’t tell?” she asked again.

  He tapped her forehead. “Too much going on up here right now. And, as you said, ye’re tired.”

  “Truth? I’m still angry, but it’s… muffled. Or, not muffled, but not important right now. Not with everything we have to solve. I’ve come to a few decisions over the last couple of days. I’m not going anywhere, and I plan to fight for what I want—which is all four of you. And, I’ll tell you something I probably shouldn’t. It’s something I said to Finn earlier, when he came to find me in the garden. It was about chances.” She shoved a few crisps around on her plate. “I told him that I would give you all the chances you needed. All of you.”

  “That…”

  “I heard another word recently. ‘Pushover.’ I am probably acting like one of those at the moment.” She set the plate on a small side table then buried her hands in the fuzzy-blanket. “But I do not really care. As you said, we do not know how this will end. I am well aware of that. If, when this is over, my anger is not gone, I will find a curse to lay upon you three, or maybe I will take an eye here and a little finger there, and make koldala.”

  He jerked back. “That was real?”