She would do what she could to help him heal from his own pain. She would do whatever he needed her to do. And for now, that was to continue to hold his hand and make sure he knew she was there.
Their father—Alatrom, he was called—sat behind a wide desk, the top of which was a mellow and warm wood. The office itself was mostly white, the decorations minimal and delicate; a slender vase in one corner, a painting of a sunset on the wall behind him, a pastel rug under their feet.
It all provided a stark contrast to the man who called this room his domain. His dark hair grayed at the temples, and his hands and face were gnarled from centuries in the sun and the salt-wind of the ocean. While his frame had begun to run to fat, he was still heavy with muscle.
He was an older and rougher version of Dub, frown included.
Bat smiled. She couldn’t help it. Was this her not-man in a millennia or two?
“Well now, and that’s a pretty sight,” Alatrom said.
Mell’s fingers tightened over hers and Bat returned the squeeze. She kept her smile in place; after all, there was no harm in exerting a little charm. There was no way she would fall for anything this monster said, not after she’d seen this darker side in her visions. “I am Bat,” she said.
“Bat.” Alatrom’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes.”
“Not heard much about you. Why don’t we visit for a bit?” He flicked a finger at the brothers. “You lot can wait outside.” He didn’t acknowledge Cuchi in any way.
“No,” Bat said.
“No?” He gave her a displeased frown—the same one Dub used. She suppressed the urge to laugh. If she told the oldest brother just how much his father reminded her of him, no doubt he would give her that same frown.
“There is no time. When everything is done, I may consider your request.” She had no intention of spending time alone with this not-man, but arguing over something so trivial was a waste of time.
“Realta…”
“Hush. Now is not the time to be distracted. All of you will need to take chill pills.”
Alatrom choked on nothing. It was satisfying to see. “I see…” he finally said. He tapped his desktop a few times. “Then just tell me why you’re here.”
“We—” Dub started.
“Not you,” his father cut in. “Her.”
Interesting. “Why?” she asked. She had a feeling his answer would be important to evaluating his true intentions. She opened her mind and senses, delving into his soul. She would need to recharge somehow after this, but she could push out enough power for this scan. This one was important.
“Because,” Alatrom was saying, “I know these boys, and they will twist their words to suit their own needs, even unconsciously. I want to hear it from you.”
Mell sucked in a breath, Dub let out a low rumble, and Shar grunted. Cuchi remained silent. No one was attacking them, and he was not part of this drama.
“Why do you think I will not twist my words as well?” she asked. She needed a little more time to dig into this Alatrom. “I am with them, after all.”
“Because you, Bat The Unifier, are a goddess who has set her own fate and made her own choices, and the last I heard, you were very passionate about a little subject called justice.” A smug look overtook his face. “You will tell it to me exactly as you see it. I can make my own decisions from there.”
She tilted her head. He knew much more about her than he’d earlier implied. However, she detected no corruption in him.
It was unexpected. In fact, his soul was cleaner than Meera’s, which was even more surprising. How could this man…? Had he tricked her senses somehow?
Do not doubt yourself. Those had been The Morrigan’s words. This not-man had a fairly clean soul, and he asked for the blunt truth. Should she give it?
Bat took a leap of faith—in herself.
“Balor seeks to come back.” She didn’t take her gaze from him for a moment.
Only the slightest widening of his eyes told her that this was not what he’d been expecting. It meant Balor had managed to keep the knowledge of his activities away from an otherwise well informed man. Balor’s resources were extensive and those he’d swayed to his side were extremely loyal. But at the same time, not all fae and immortals were aware of what was to come, and this cut down on the potential for additional chaos.
“Explain,” was all he said. He sat in his chair, his back straight and his palms now flat on the desk.
Such arrogance. Bat decided to let it go for now. “When Balor was slain in the battle of Mag Tuired, a portion of his soul escaped into an effigy.” She thinned her lips, thinking how to explain things. “You are aware that the pieces of a soul will always seek to be reunited?”
Alatrom nodded, the movement sharp on his stiff neck.
She hesitated on the next part. The actual operation of the soul blades was a secret of the Celtic deities, and was not one for her to reveal on her own. Well, not any more than she had already let slip to her companions. Bat settled for the simplest explanation. “Well, that small piece of soul is allowing Balor to reach into the world and communicate with potential allies. He’s spent centuries wiggling onto people’s thoughts and souls. We know for a fact he has influenced a good portion of the Wild Hunt if not the whole of it, at least a few sluagh and Fir Bolg, a portion of the Fomoiri…” She took a breath and said the last. “And at least one of your own men, who is working behind your back.”
He scowled, but that was his only reaction. There was no surprise this time, only anger.
“Who?”
This time she did look to Dub, who nodded. “Scath,” she said. “You had put a scrying spell on the invitation sent to the pub for the clan gathering. There was a secondary spell laid in, allowing the caster to piggyback on the first spell. That caster was Scath.”
She gave him a moment to digest that information.
His gaze softened and focused over her shoulder. After a moment he rolled his shoulders and sat forward. “That proves nothing.”
“Except Balor acted upon information he could have only gained by spying through the invitation.”
“And how do you know I was not the one who acted upon that information?”
“I know,” she said simply, still following her instincts.
Flash. Alatrom stared down at a bloody and beaten Mell. He had named the boy himself. Mell, for he was the joy of the clan, had been from the hour of his birth. But Alatrom had found out the boy was not his son, and that joy turned to rage. He stared down at the all too fragile figure crumpled at his feet. Protectiveness warred with anger, and turned into something new. Determination. Mell was not his, no, but he would turn the boy into a proper Fomoiri. It was the only way to clean up the mess his wife had made…
Alatrom stared at her with wide eyes, his lips parted. “Why are there stars in her eyes?”
“Every damn time,” she heard Cuchi mutter. Bat could almost feel the guardi’s eye-roll.
Alatrom shook himself. “Let’s say I believe everything you’ve just said. Why are you here?”
Bat gave him a smile. She could not like this not-man, but now she could not bring herself to hate him. She had wanted to, but she kept finding pieces of her not-men in him. Dub’s grumpiness, Mell’s flirting and charm, and Shar’s protectiveness, even as warped as the last had become.
“We need a boat,” she finally said.
He let out a booming laugh. “Ah, now this, I understand. This is business.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And what will you give me in exchange?” He shook his head, his expression admonishing. “I don’t just give things away, girl. That’s not how it works around here.”
Mell stiffened and Shar moved to stand directly behind her, his heat pressing against her back.
Dub strode to his father’s desk and leaned forward, placing his palms flat on the surface. “I have let you have you fun, old man. But this stops here. You do not disrespect our goddess.”
Alatrom’s b
rows rose, the rest of his expression unfazed. “Your goddess? Does The Morrigan know about this? Last I heard, no one was allowed to worship—“
“She does.” Cuchi’s deep voice out through the room and halted the budding argument.
Everyone twisted their heads to look at him.
He shrugged. “The Morrigan is aware and she is making an exception for this case.” He rolled his eyes. “Can we get back to the negotiations now?”
It was Alatrom’s turn to shrug. “Of course. So, as I was saying, goddess, what will you give me?”
Dub’s eyes closed for a brief moment before popping open, determination written cleanly on his features. “I have something you’ve been looking for.” He reached for a small pouch on his belt.
Mell dropped her hand. “Dub, stop,” he said. His anger cut through the air like a blade, glanced over Bat, then was quickly subdued. The men jerked. Mell approached his father, his shoulders stiff and his hands loose at his sides. He was angry, yes, but he was controlling it. “You dare to ask a price for this? Fine.” He held his hand out and cream-colored card stock appeared in his fingers. He slammed it onto the desk. “Here is your price.”
Alatrom looked down. Gold lettering winked back at him. “It’s the invitation to the gathering.”
“It is. It’s what you get in exchange.”
“I don’t understand.” There was a flash of something in the clan leader’s blue eyes, something that Bat might have called sorrow, but it was gone too quickly for her to be sure.
“I’m giving you a way to keep this clan from falling apart, if it hasn’t already.” Mell’s tone matched his posture, stiff and cold. “Use it to track Scath. Unless he’s here?”
“He’s not. He went out last night and hasn’t returned.”
Oh. Was he one of the people Con ate?
Mell smirked, as if he already knew what Alatrom’s answer would be. “Then use this as a way to find him. We reversed the scrying spell and linked it to the scryer. To Scath.” Mell nudged it with a finger. “See for yourself.”
Alatrom didn’t hesitate. It was another thing Bat could respect about him. He placed his hand flat over the luxurious paper.
Then his lips thinned to white lines and his face went red. “That bastard,” he growled out. He locked gazes with Mell, lapis blue and warm brown clashing together. “You’ll have the ship. I can’t give you my best, but it’ll be fast enough.” He stood, his color returning to normal as he scanned the five people in front of him before settling on Dub. “Did you keep up with your mariner’s classifications?”
“Well enough,” was the answer.
Alatrom grunted. “How many does it need to carry?”
The men hesitated. Bat did not, she had already made her decisions about this not-man. “About thirty-five.”
“Any of them know how to operate a boat or engine?”
That was not something she knew the answer to, and she looked to Dub.
“Probably. Either way, we’ll make do without the crew.”
“Huh. All right then. I’ll keep it small so it’s easy to manage. Quarters will be cramped, but since this isn’t a pleasure cruise…” He opened a drawer and picked up a phone. “Get the Blue Heron fueled and ready. You have one hour.” Hanging up, Alatrom turned to Dub. “You’ll get your boat.”
“Thank you.” The words sounded as though they would strangle the eldest brother on the way out.
Again, that flash of emotion appeared in Alatrom’s eyes, the ones that matched his eldest’s so well. He locked those eyes on Bat as though he wanted to say something, then turned back to Dub. “You keeping her?”
“Dammit Da,” Mell ground out. His hands curled into fists and trembled, though no stray cuts of anger leaked out. “Watch yer mouth.”
“Yes,” Shar said from behind her, speaking for the first time since they entered the room. One of his arms went around her middle and pulled her back into him. “She will be staying with us.”
Alatrom’s gaze went unfocused and then he nodded, as though coming to some kind of decision. “After this, do not bother to come back. I can’t have my clan known to have ties with an Egyptian deity, and I cannot have it known my sons are shacking up with her.” He glared at Dub. “Ye’r out.”
Shock replaced Dub’s frown and Shar’s arm dropped from around her. Mell’s shoulders sagged before tensing once again. The office seemed to darken even though nothing changed in the light atmosphere.
“You bastard,” Mell growled out as he lunged across the desk, catching his father with a powerful blow to the jaw. Papers, pens, and folders went flying as they crashed into the wall behind the desk.
Alatrom didn’t fight back. He took each punch until Dub and Shar finally recovered from their shock and pulled their brother off of their father.
“It’s enough, Mell,” Shar rumbled, his thick arm around his older brother’s neck. He tightened his hold just enough to keep Mell in place.
“Not enough,” Mell spit out. Anger slashed out from him once more, uncaring this time about what it hit. The blows weren’t physical but mental, and Bat flinched.
She started toward Mell as Dub spoke. “It is enough,” he said. He stood in front of Mell and grabbed his face, forcing his brother’s gaze to meet his. “It is enough. We have what we came for. And now it’s time to go.” Dub’s voice was low and even, as though he spoke to a wild animal that needed both coaxing and taming.
Bat laid her hand on Mell’s arm and stroked. She didn’t try to say anything, but she hoped that her touch would help him regain his control. It took a few minutes, and in all that time none of the room’s occupants moved.
“Fine,” Mell finally said and rolled his shoulders against Shar’s hold. The giant hesitated only a moment then dropped his arm. Mell gathered Bat to him and held her close, burying his face in her hair. She slipped her arms around his middle and stroked his back. Twisting her head, she was able to catch sight of Alatrom from the corner of her eye. A look of… tenderness appeared through his forming bruises and split lip, before it was quickly wiped away.
Dub spoke from beside them. “We accept your terms, old man.”
“We are no longer part of the Crane Clan,” Shar added.
Bat’s hands stilled on Mell’s back as she realized what had just happened, what Alatrom had done.
He’d set them free. He had given them what they wanted. Everything they wanted.
Do the brothers realize what their father has just done? Do they realize it was for their sake, and not only for his own? Bat had no doubts that this was done for them. Oh, Alatrom had meant very word, he really didn’t want to be associated with an Egyptian goddess, even if it was a tenuous connection; but that was just his excuse.
He had done this because, despite everything, part of him still loved his sons.
Bat had no proof, nothing except the flickers of expression she had seen, her brief flash of vision, and her instincts.
She also knew she wasn’t wrong.
She twisted in Mell’s hold just enough to be able to catch Alatrom’s gaze once more. Then she nodded. It was an acknowledgement that at least one person knew the truth of what had just happened in this room.
Alatrom picked himself off the floor. “Well, and now that’s settled, I have business to attend to. Namely, the eradication of a traitor.” He strode for the door. “Ya can all see yerselves out. The boat’s up at the Keeley Docks. They’re expecting ya.” He hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll contact ya when Scath is taken care of.”
Then he was gone.
For some reason, there was a pressure behind Bat’s eyes and they burned.
Chapter 8
FINN
Finn sighed in the late morning sun. He was north of Londonderry now, somewhere along the coast on an uninhabited stretch of rocky shore. It was just his luck he’d been relegated to baby sitter for this next interlude in their quest for the cauldron, Tir Hudi, and stopping Balor.
Babysitti
ng. That’s exactly what he was doing—babysitting a group of fae who didn’t get along on the best of days. Without Bat around to focus their attention or pints of Guinness to mellow them, they’d reverted to throwing childish insults and sulking in their shadows.
The only ones not causing any trouble were the human, Old Mike, and Con—the latter was having too much fun watching the chaos.
“Look, death breath, I am not interested in your woe is me tale. I’m only here—“
“You’re only here because ya want to see what ya can get out of the goddess,” Meera cut off Carrig. “I know yer type, don’t think—“
A silver pixie hovered in front of Finn. “Does the goddess really have four men? Are ya really one of them?”
This one had been at the cottage with them, Finn thought her name was Taire. Before he could answer or wave her away, she jumped in again.
“I wish I could figure out to handle four men. The closest I’ve gotten was three, but two of them didn’t know about the others, and…”
Finn walked away only to be brought up by Ailis and Femi—one of the men of ba—squaring off. “Look,” Ailis said, exasperation coloring her voice. “I’m telling ya, it’s just dye. I’m no’ a mermaid! I don’t even know if mermaids have green hair.” Ailis threw her hands in the air.
“I just want a scale for my collection. All I ask is that, if time permits while we are on the boat, you transform and let me have one.” The man of ba’s brow was furrowed and his lips were pulled back in a terrifying grimace.
Ailis’s eyes widened and she twisted her head around, scanning over the assembled fae. No doubt looking for Saoirse to defend her innocence about being a mermaid.
Femi reached for Ailis’s hair and she slapped his hand away. He hissed.
“Enough,” Finn finally shouted. Everyone froze. He opened his mouth to say more when his phone rang. “Finally,” he muttered as he fished it from his pocket.
The Forgotten Trilogy Page 49