by Ann Gimpel
“Sorry, Rune.” She reached a hand to the wolf. “I’m pretty tapped out. Let me try that one again.”
The next ward was better. Not good enough for her to risk falling asleep, but… A crash sounded from above her. Then another, louder one. Something shattered. Rune’s hackles rose along his spine. His lips drew back in a snarl.
What the fuck is happening up there? A couple of weeks ago, she’d attempted to unravel the spell binding the two creatures in their caskets. Later, she’d realized it was fortunate she’d failed. Gwydion had figured out the couple were brother and sister, as well as Marta’s parents. Product of some macabre science experiment, they were human-Lemurian hybrids. Where they’d embraced Lemurian culture and were allied with the Old Ones, Marta had taken the opposite track. She’d been the one who’d ensorcelled her parents. Her journals suggested she hadn’t killed them outright because they were guardians of the gates between the worlds. Gates that had gotten kicked open the night Aislinn’s father was murdered high in the Bolivian Andes. If they closed, there might not be a way for the dark gods to return to their realms.
Aislinn shivered. The dark gods were so beautiful—and so sensual—they were nearly impossible to resist. She’d injured one of them, maybe even killed him, though Fionn and the other Celts thought otherwise. Unfortunately, her success meant they’d lost the element of surprise. The five other dark gods would be far more difficult to catch off guard. Hell, if what Fionn sensed under Taltos is accurate, they’re not even bothering to wait for us to attack. They’re coming after us.
Another crash. More breaking glass. A shout from Gwydion. Fear blasted through Aislinn, souring her stomach. She tasted bile in the back of her throat, but the adrenaline rush was welcome. It perked her up enough that she stopped feeling like an extra from Night of the Living Dead. She dropped the towel and robe to the floor and bent to rummage in Marta’s dressers for something to wear. She couldn’t bear the thought of putting her Taltos clothes back on. They still stank of reptile. Under the Old Ones’ layers of illusion to make them look human, they were nothing but large reptilian-esque creatures. They could marshal magic to alter their appearance, but not their smell.
Aislinn slipped into black sweatpants and a black sweatshirt. A thick pair of red woolen socks provided a buffer between her feet and all the holes in her boots. She made a knot out of her long, wet hair to keep it out of her face and let the ends trail down her back.
The racket upstairs hadn’t abated.
Aislinn stared at the door and muttered, “Should I?” Fionn obviously expected her to wait for him.
“What about all that talk between you two?” Rune asked.
“Huh?” She wrenched her concentration away from what sounded like heavyweights duking it out at Madison Square Garden.
The wolf padded over and shoved his head under her hand. “Remember? When you told him you wanted to be equal and all that.”
“You eavesdropped.”
The wolf made a snorting sound that could have been laughter. “You were right next to me. I have excellent hearing, so I did not need to eavesdrop. Besides, there are no secrets between bond mates.”
He’s right. I took a stand with Fionn about being included in everything, and here I am, hiding behind a door.
“Glad you see it that way.” If the wolf could have smirked, he would have.
“Awk. Get out of my head.”
A spate of desperate-sounding Gaelic rang out. She understood the language from her Irish mother. Fionn and Gwydion were losing ground. She turned to Rune. “Okay. We’re going up there. You will do exactly as I tell you. No heroics. And no taking off like you did in Taltos. Understand?”
He just looked at her, nostrils flared and tail high. “I will not make empty promises. I will do what I think needs doing. I am no one’s lackey. Not even yours, bond mate.”
Aislinn winced at the sarcasm. “Have it your way. Just try not to get sucked through a vortex into some other world.”
She laid a hand on the door and sent magic spinning outward until she felt Gwydion and Fionn. Woven into a complex pattern, their magic was clean. The other power made her suck in a breath. It was so murky and dark, she couldn’t recognize it, but it didn’t feel like the dark gods or the Old Ones. For a moment, her resolve faltered. What am I walking into? And what if Rune gets hurt…?
“Stop thinking.”
“Christ. You sound like Yoda.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. I loved Star Wars. Marta had me watch it with her on DVD.”
“Gawk! Just stay out of my fucking head. I have enough to worry about without you picking up some stray thought and overreacting.”
She pulled her magic close. No point in protecting a room she was about to leave. The ward was easier to reassemble with just her and the wolf at its center. She drew in a deep breath, then another, and blew out any uncertainties standing in her way. The centering exercise had always worked for her. It muted any lingering reservations and helped her focus on staying strong.
No time like the present. Aislinn turned the knob as silently as she could and let herself into the carpeted hallway. The noise level doubled as soon as she opened the door. It sounded like she was underneath a bowling alley. Because she needed her hands to work magic, she wound a few tendrils of her warding in front of her ears to protect them. The staircase leading to the attic was directly across from the bedroom door. Light flashed from the stairwell. Rune’s warmth hugged her side. Even though he was being subtle about it, she felt him in her mind.
For a moment, she wished Arawn, Bran, and the dragon were there, and then she cleared her thoughts. Got to work with what I have. No point wasting energy wishing for the impossible. She waited for Rune to make a snarky comment about Dewi, but it didn’t come. Perhaps even the wolf understood that the dragon’s ancient power—never mind her extensive knowledge—would be useful right about now.
She crossed the hall and started up the stairs. Her mouth was dry. Sweat dripped down her sides, despite chilly air that was doing nothing but getting colder as she mounted the circular staircase. She slowed as she neared the top so she wouldn’t turn into an easy target and make things more difficult for Fionn and Gwydion. One more step, and I should be able to see something…
Rearing up on tiptoes, she peeked over the top riser. Gwydion was locked in combat with the thing that had been Marta’s mother. The hybrid’s long gray hair was wrapped around the mage’s throat. The woman had her teeth buried in his arm; she swiped at his eyes with her broken, yellowed nails. As Aislinn watched, horror turning her guts to water, the thing circled more hair around the master enchanter’s neck. The greasy strands seemed to have a life of their own.
Her gaze shifted to Fionn. Buck naked, his golden skin gleamed in light that emanated from the empty coffins. He and Marta’s father moved around one another warily. Magic flashed between them. From time to time, Fionn’s worried blue gaze swept toward Gwydion. Aislinn could tell he was trying to maneuver himself close enough to help, but the hybrid blocked him every time.
A gagging, wheezy sound came from the master enchanter. Aislinn pulled magic, intent on sending a killing blow at Marta’s mother. Something dark streaked past her. It took a moment to register that it was Rune. He launched himself at the hybrid, canines sinking into her neck.
An ungodly, high-pitched shriek filled the low-eaved room. Yellow ocher flowed from the hybrid. Gwydion, obviously recognizing opportunity, didn’t hesitate. With his hands freed from holding the hybrid, he pulled a knife from his dark blue robe and severed the hair that was choking him.
Aislinn felt Fionn’s disapproving gaze burn into her. She strode into the attic and threw him a defiant what are you going to do about it look before turning her attention to Rune. The hybrid writhed under him, but wasn’t anywhere close to dying. Since the wolf had severed her carotid artery, it didn’t make sense, unless…
“Aye,” Fionn panted, “ye canna kill these things. They died long ago
. The power filling them comes from the Old Ones.”
“But I thought Marta left them in suspended animation,” Aislinn said.
“Aye, and there is much we doona know, lass. Tell yon wolf to let go.” Gwydion’s voice was rough. “The problem was the hair. I have things under control.”
“Rune, to me.”
The wolf, looking immensely pleased with himself, sidestepped away from Marta’s mother. His snout dripping yellow gore, he trotted to Aislinn with his tail swishing from side to side. The hybrid made a hideous groaning noise and scrambled to her feet. The groan morphed into a shriek, and she hurled herself at Gwydion.
Aislinn wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she’d put on a coat. It was freezing in the attic. Her breath plumed in the air in front of her. “If we can’t kill them,” she asked, trying to keep her teeth from chattering, “how can we put them back to sleep?”
“If we knew that”—Fionn feinted left to avoid a jolt of magic—“doona ye think we would have done it afore now?”
“You managed to with Bran and Arawn,” she began.
“Aye, but neither of them are here,” Gwydion spat, breathing hard. He and the undead thing circled one another. She seemed more aggressive than Fionn’s opponent. Muddy brown eyes gleamed with cunning intelligence as she tried to pin Gwydion into a corner.
“Lass,” he said, “try the unmaking spell. Do ye know it?”
She nodded. She’d used it a time or two to rid herself of small numbers of Bal’ta, apelike minions of the dark gods. Near as she could tell, it simply scattered living molecules to kingdom come. Except these weren’t living creatures. “Are you sure it will work?” she asked dubiously.
“With a few twists, mayhap,” Fionn answered. “We were close, but the female is strong. We thought she was bound, but she broke through. There are three of us now, though.” Coarse laughter burst from him, and he sent magic skimming toward the male hybrid. “The odds have improved.”
“Four,” Rune corrected.
Aislinn looked around for Bella, only just now realizing the bird’s absence. “Where’s—” she began.
“Asleep downstairs,” Fionn muttered. “I dinna wish to bring her into danger.” He looked pointedly at her for a second before returning his gaze to the hybrid, who was trying to run him through with a rusty saber, apparently having given up on magic for the moment. “At least she stayed put.”
“Only because you cast a spell over her,” Aislinn retorted tartly.
“Enough. We have bigger problems.” Fionn rolled his eyes and jumped out of the saber’s path.
Gwydion wove his hands in a complex pattern and chanted. A spell plaited itself around his opponent. Aislinn threw her magic into the mix and felt Fionn direct some as well. He couldn’t pull all his magic away from the fight. If he did, the creature would have him. As it was, a blast of power from the male hybrid—after the saber clattered to the attic floor—had been far too close for Aislinn’s comfort.
She dragged her concentration away from Fionn and poured everything she had into the unmaking spell. Rune chivvied the female hybrid and forced her to stay in the midst of the net working its way around her.
Gwydion’s expression was grim. The hard line of his jaw twitched as magic geysered from him. A wild, Celtic whoop filled the air. “Aye, a bit more and we’ll have this one corralled. I doona plan to make the same error we made last time.”
He tipped the writhing hybrid into one of the coffins. Aislinn raced forward and slammed the lid. The tenor of Gwydion’s chanting changed. While she didn’t recognize the incantation, Aislinn figured he was sealing the casket. Rune walked casually over to the coffin and lifted his leg. A stream of urine sprayed against the polished metal.
Gwydion brayed laughter. “Aye, and that will surely keep her contained if my magic should fail.”
“You’re welcome.” Rune sashayed to Aislinn’s side.
She turned her gaze to Fionn. He looked like the old world god he was, all hard muscled flesh, blue eyes glinting dangerously. “Well?” she asked Gwydion. “Are we ready to do the same thing again?”
“Eager one, aren’t ye?”
“Not particularly. I want to get this over with so I can get some sleep.” While she’d gotten used to killing, Aislinn had never reached the point where she actually enjoyed the process. Only the results.
“Nay, ye’re just wanting that one back in your arms. Can’t say as I blame you, lass.”
“Well…” She shot him a crooked smile. “Now that you mention it—”
“Would the two of you stop fucking nattering and help me?” Fionn sounded beleaguered. He jumped over another jolt of magic.
“Oh, I doona know.” Gwydion smiled broadly. “Mayhap, we’ll just leave you here while the lass and I—”
With a growl worthy of the wolf, Fionn loped away from his opponent and planted himself squarely in front of Gwydion. “Would ye now?” His gaze shot blue darts at the other mage.
“Fionn!” Aislinn screamed.
The creature launched itself at Fionn’s unprotected back. Rune hurled himself against the male hybrid, sank his teeth into its neck, and the two of them crashed to the floor. The hybrid put his hands around the wolf’s neck, trying to choke him.
Not waiting for the two Celtic gods, who seemed engaged in a testosterone-laden standoff, Aislinn sent killing magic spinning toward the hybrid. To hell with trying to corral the damned thing. It was going to kill her wolf if she didn’t do something. Running wide open, she hit what was left of Marta’s father with all she had. He didn’t so much as blink. She pulled the knife she always carried in a sheath strapped around her waist and rushed the creature, stabbing his hands. That got his attention. The chokehold on Rune loosened. Aislinn drew fire from the earth and funneled it so the hybrid’s flesh began to smoke and then burn.
A putrid smell filled the room, but the damned thing’s hands fell away from the wolf.
“Rune. Get up.”
He just lay there. Aislinn dragged him a few feet from the hybrid, who seemed focused on his melting flesh. “Do something,” she shrieked at Fionn and Gwydion. “I’ve got my hands full.” She’d just sent her magic into Rune to find out what was wrong so she could Heal him, when she felt Fionn and Gwydion’s magic build.
“Take care of yon wolf, lass. We will finish this,” Fionn cried.
Their magic flowed around her. She sat next to Rune, infusing Healing magic to repair the wounded places in his neck. The injury wasn’t too serious. Some lacerated tissues and torn blood vessels. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the time wargs had attacked him and torn out his throat. That was when she’d discovered she could Heal with magic.
Yeah, it was the first time in a long time I cared enough about someone that I wanted them to live.
She withdrew her magic about the same time she heard the second casket lid clank shut. The wolf stirred beneath her hands, and then lurched to his feet. “Ssssh, it’s all right, Rune. You can lie back down.”
He sank to a shaky sit, panting.
Aislinn rolled to her hands and knees and then got up. She was so tired, she was surprised she didn’t collapse next to her wolf. Her head spun crazily, and she shifted from foot to foot, trying to find a balance point.
Arms closed around her from behind. “Mo croi.” Fionn’s voice was soft. “Ye were supposed to stay below.”
“Aye, and had I done that,” she returned, aping Tara’s brogue, “ye might be the Old Ones’ prisoner now.” Her eyes narrowed and she returned to her usual English. “Once they had you, they’d have come back for me.”
“Over my dead body,” Rune growled, having found his voice again.
“Well, and none of that happened.” Gwydion spoke with a brisk asperity that revealed how drained he was.
“Do you think the gates are still open?” Aislinn looked from one to the other of the Celts.
Fionn shrugged. “I doona see why they should not be.”
“We did change the quali
ty of the spell binding these two,” Gwydion pointed out.
“Okay, next question. Do you think Slototh went back to wherever he came from after I, ah, wounded him?”
Another shrug. “We doona know that, either, lass. The dark gods are nearly impossible to kill. As the god of filth and all that’s discarded, Slototh would be particularly difficult to do away with, since he could hide behind all the memories he’s stolen.”
Her gaze sought Gwydion. He nodded agreement and mimicked Fionn’s shrug.
“Christ, what good are the two of you?” she blurted before dropping her head into her hands. “Ach, sorry. It’s just, I’m so tired I can barely see, let alone think straight.”
She looked up in time to see something subtle pass between Fionn and Gwydion. Though she couldn’t quite interpret it, it alarmed her.
Fionn herded her toward the stairs. Rune shambled to his feet and took his place on her other side.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To bed, leannán.”
“The trouble’s not over, is it?” She stopped and turned, locking gazes with him.
“Nay, lass. Not now. Mayhap not for a verra long time ahead, but ye need rest. And food once ye are rested.”
“Aye.” Gwydion’s voice sounded from behind her. “Despite Fionn trying to shield you, ye were a great help here. Yon wolf, too. We need your magic. Ye must care for yourself so it is available to us.”
She felt Rune preening in her mind and sent loving thoughts his way. He was so brave and so selfless, it made her feel petty by comparison. “I’m lucky to have you.” She buried her hand in his fur.
“Yes,” he agreed, “you are.”
She would have laughed, but she was too wiped out.
Sandwiched between wolf and lover, Aislinn found her way back down the stairs. She didn’t even remember crawling into bed.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Wake up!” Dewi’s mind voice blasted Aislinn out of a deep sleep.