Tara

by Jennifer Bene

  “Yes, I understand!”

  “Do you really?”

  “Do you?” He growled out the question, his temper rising again, but the man didn’t even seem bothered. In fact, he smiled a little as he glanced over at the two women who were still hugging tightly.

  The man took a deep breath and turned back towards him. “That beautiful woman over there is Neala, and she's Faeoihn too, and she's mine. I know better than anyone on this planet the position you're in.”

  “And who the hell are you?” Alaric met the man’s eyes, a vibrant green that seemed almost unreal.

  “My name is Kiernan.”

  “So you’re… what? A god?” He had meant the question seriously, but the hearty laughter that burst out of him distracted the two women for a moment and made heat rise to his cheeks.

  “No, I’m not enough of an asshole to be a god.” Kiernan grinned. “I’m Laochra. It’s probably best if you just think of me as the male version of what Tara is, just with very different rules. Less of a history lesson that way.”

  “Fine.” Alaric sighed and dropped into a chair, and Kiernan gestured at the other one as if he were asking permission. “Yeah, sit down.”

  “Thank you.” Kiernan tilted his head down as he took his seat, and then he leaned forward and took a slow breath. “So, like I was saying. I know the situation you’re in, I’m pretty much the only person on the planet who does right now, and I need you to tell me if you understand what it means that she is Faeoihn. That she has been what she is for a very long time.”

  “I accept her past.”

  “That's not enough. You need to understand that it's part of who she is, that she's going to wake up screaming and you're going to know why. That it's going to be because someone had their hands on her, a lot of someones, and that they hurt her. You're never going to be able to forget it, and you're always going to know that all of those masters touched her before you.” Kiernan’s voice was dark and low, too low for the girls to hear him, and Alaric was grateful for that even as his temper burned hotter.

  “What are you trying to do? Convince me to abandon her?” Alaric leaned back in his chair. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “I'm trying to get you to come to terms with this shit now, not later when it will hurt more, when it could devastate her. If you can't deal with what she is, you need to figure it out now.”

  “And do what?”

  “Leave her if you can't handle it.”

  “I'm not leaving her!” He raised his voice, and across the room Tara hissed, the bands lighting up on her wrists. Both her and the other woman raised their eyes to him. Kiernan waved at them, and then turned back with a glare.

  “Calm down before you hurt her, those bands are linked to you.”

  “Shit.” He ran a hand through his hair, watching as Tara sat on the couch with the other woman, and he muttered an apology under his breath as Kiernan sighed.

  “Just tell me… do you love her?”

  “I…” Alaric growled, running his hands over his face. “We've only known each other a few days.” It wasn’t that those words hadn’t knocked around in his head, they had, but he’d pushed them away. He didn’t want to scare her away, or ruin everything before they’d even had a moment to just be themselves. The ‘L’ word seemed a little too much, too fast, no matter what he was feeling.

  “Well, you two don't have the luxury of time. You either do or you don't.” Kiernan sat back in his seat, rapping his knuckles on the table. “Time to decide.”

  “Why the hell are you doing this?”

  “Because I almost lost Neala. I almost lost everything, and we’re trying to make sure that doesn’t happen to the two of you.”

  “Out of the goodness of your hearts?” Alaric arched an eyebrow.

  Another slow, wolfish smile spread over Kiernan’s lips. “Actually, it’s out of an oath to a very particular goddess who could snuff my life out with a snap of her fingers.” He shrugged. “So, do you love her?”

  Alaric waited for a moment, staring at the other man to see if anything would shift in his expression, any hint that he may be there to do them harm, but then he looked past him to where Tara and Neala were caught in intense conversation, and he knew. He’d already known. “Yes, I love her.”

  Kiernan nodded, looking at him with respect as he smiled. “Don't tell me, tell her.”

  “I never thought I'd see another one of us again.” Tara sniffled, leaning back from Neala, still in total disbelief.

  “I know, Tara, I really do. I only met Kiernan a little over a month ago, and it’s been… insane.” She smiled and Tara looked over at the tall man standing in front of Alaric.

  “Did he save you?”

  “Yes. It didn't go that smoothly at first though… he's Laochra.”

  “What?” Tara almost jumped out of her seat, her cheeks flushing in anger as bitter memories surged, but Neala grabbed her arm and pulled her back down.

  “Listen. He sacrificed himself for me, Tara. He died saving me, freeing me, and Eltera herself brought him back. He's not what you remember from the battle. Or after.”

  “Eltera brought him back?” Those words took time to sink in, and then she gasped. “Wait, did you see her?”

  “Yes, I did. She came to me, she saved his life. Eltera is fighting for us, Tara. She wants us all to be safe, to be with someone who can handle the curse until we can be truly free.” Neala’s bright smile showed the kind of faith that Tara had lost long ago. “She brought Kiernan to me, and she brought us to you. I think she brought him to you as well, or I don't know why she'd bring us here now.”

  They both looked over at Alaric who was sitting at the table, glaring angrily across at Kiernan. She almost laughed, but, to be fair, Tara might have stabbed the Laochra if she were that close.

  No matter what her sister Faeoihn said about him.

  Turning back to Neala she shook her head. “But why would Eltera choose me above our other sisters? There have to be more of us out there. Plenty that are more deserving. I’ve – I have failed her miserably.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Neala… you don’t understand. I have fallen so far from what she meant us to be. I'm no warrior.” Tara clenched her hands into fists, emotion making her voice crack. “I’m nothing.”

  “Tara, none of us are what we once were.” Neala rested a hand on her arm, but the kindness made her stomach turn as centuries of pent-up guilt assailed her.

  “Then tell me, did you give yourself to your masters? Did you smile for them and obey their every whim? Did you?” She could see the answer in the other Faeoihn’s face before she even responded, and she only felt worse.

  “No,” Neala replied softly and looked at the floor.

  “See?” Tears burned her eyes as she brushed them harshly from her cheeks, feeling more like a whore than she ever had at the feet of a master. “Why would Eltera want to help me?”

  “Tara, I may not have given in, but my hands aren't clean.” Neala met her gaze again, her own pain evident. “I fought everything. I fought until I was bloody. I fought until my masters got so angry with me that they killed people I cared about because they wouldn't kill me. And you know what?”

  “What?” Tara felt desolate as she raised her eyes back to the woman who had been one of the strongest among them, one of their leaders.

  “It didn't change anything. They always got what they wanted. It was just worse.”

  “Does he know?” Tara nodded towards Kiernan, and Neala sighed.

  “About my past? He knows more than he'll even admit to me.” She shook her head, pushing her long, auburn hair back. “The Laochra have these discs of glass from Gormahn where they can observe us. He was assigned to observe me all this time. So, trust me, he knows.” The dark tone of her voice admitted more about the similarities of their pasts than words ever could.

  Tara was about to speak when her bands lit up, a bright arc of pain criss-crossing up her arms, and then
she looked up to see Kiernan wave at them, with Alaric looking guilty. She gave him a small smile, and then Neala reached for her hand, holding it tight. Swallowing, Tara thought over what Kiernan could have seen and it made her head shake. “So he knows, he knows everything, and he's still with you?”

  “He loves me, Tara.” She sighed and squeezed her hand. “You're going to have to decide if you're going to let your past affect your future, and whether or not Alaric is a part of it.”

  “Alaric already knows the part of my history that haunts me the most, and he's still here. He's defying the man who raised him just to be with me.”

  “Which brings me to my question for you – do you love him?” Neala held up a hand when Tara groaned. “You don't have to answer me, but you need to decide quickly and tell him if you haven’t.”

  With the gambit on the table Neala sat back, and Tara swallowed slowly. “Can I ask one more question?”

  “Of course, sister.”

  “How did you fall in love with a Laochra? I mean… I would have killed him on sight if I’d known.” Tara tilted her head and Neala grinned, the kind of wild smile she used to give on the battlefield.

  “Oh, I did try to kill him at first. He refused to kill me, refused to even fight me really.” She took a deep breath, looking back at the man with a kind of love that was unmistakable. “But I spent time with him, I saw his kindness first hand. I saw the man underneath the circumstance. Does that make sense?”

  Tara smiled, letting her hair fall into her face as she thought about how Alaric had been sent to take her and deliver her, and he’d chosen not to. Chosen to defy Luca to choose her. “Yes, that actually makes a surprising amount of sense.”

  “Good. So, are you ready to talk to him?”

  She nodded and when they stood up the men did too. They met in the middle and Neala went to lean against Kiernan, leaving her a few feet away from Alaric. The look the Laochra gave Neala was pure, but she couldn’t avoid needling him. Tara crossed her arms and waited until he looked up at her. “So, Neala told me I’m not allowed to slit your throat.”

  Kiernan lifted his eyebrows. “That wouldn’t kill me, little Faeoihn.”

  “Oh, I know that, but it would hurt like a bitch wouldn’t it?” A grin spread over her lips, and Neala let out a loud laugh. Kiernan’s eyes went wide, but soon he was laughing too, and she decided to trust her sister’s assessment of the man.

  After all, none of them were what they had once been.

  Alaric glanced over at her, his brows drawn together, and she walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist as he pulled her against him. “I have to admit, I feel a bit out of my depth right now,” he whispered the words against her ear and she squeezed him back.

  “Would it help at all if I said I loved you?” She smiled as he leaned back, surprise dancing over his expression, but then he kissed her, hard. Their tongues clashed, and for a moment it was just the two of them. No other Faeoihn, no Laochra, no gods, no goddesses, no men chasing after them, no betrayals from loved ones – just them – and it was perfect. Alaric held her tight against him, and as she was pressed against the hard muscle of his chest she was reminded of how strong he was, how smart, how confident he was in the midst of a fight. Breaking the kiss he stared into her eyes.

  “I love you, too. So much.” He leaned his forehead against hers for a moment, and then he turned away, gesturing at Kiernan and Neala. “So, is this like meeting your family?”

  “It’s like meeting my sister, and apparently my brother-in-law.”

  “Trust me, meeting the mother is a lot scarier,” Kiernan spoke quietly and Neala shoved him.

  “Eltera is the goddess who made us, and she brought us all together, so you should be polite.” Neala glanced at Kiernan who seemed to decide to keep his mouth shut.

  “Tara told me about her already, and she also said that some other asshole god cursed her.”

  “Gormahn,” Neala filled in for him.

  “Yeah, the asshole god? He’s the one who made me.” Kiernan waved a hand as Neala reached into a bag they had brought and pulled out a stone knife. It took Tara barely a second to recognize it.

  “Whoa, wait a minute. Why do you have that?”

  Neala ignored her and looked at Alaric. “You said you love Tara, right?”

  “Stop, Neala.” Tara tried to step forward, but Alaric held on to her.

  “What’s going on?” Alaric asked, and Kiernan crossed his arms behind Neala, staying silent.

  “Alaric, just look at me. Do you love Tara?” Neala asked.

  “Yes.” He nodded, and Tara chewed on her bottom lip as she watched the exchange.

  “Would you do anything for her?”

  “Neala…” Tara stepped forward, pulling away from Alaric, but the other Faeoihn held her hand out to stop her.

  “Let him answer.”

  “Yes, I’d do anything for her.”

  “Wonderful! Then we’re going to make an offering to Eltera.” Neala smiled, but Tara shook her head, pushing Alaric back from them.

  “No! Are you insane, Neala? He’s mortal! He’s never worshipped Eltera! Who’s to say she would bring him back?” Tara placed herself between Alaric and the others and shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

  “Tara, if it will help -” Alaric started to speak and she rounded on him.

  “She wants to slit your throat, Alaric! That won’t help!”

  “Don’t be dramatic, Tara. I’m not slitting his throat, we just need some blood.” Neala rolled her eyes and crouched down on the floor. From out of the bag came a stone bowl, about six inches across, and a few inches deep, covered in faded carvings.

  “How much blood?” Tara asked, doubt tainting her voice.

  Neala paused. “I don’t know, Eltera isn’t exactly clear when she sends messages.”

  “Or subtle…” Kiernan muttered.

  “Here, Alaric, why don’t you sit on the couch and we’ll do this with the coffee table.” Neala gestured towards it and Alaric held onto Tara’s hand as he pulled her forward. Fear was making her heart race, but she let him lead her.

  “Shouldn’t we have black cloaks on, and some people chanting? I don’t think violin music is traditional for rituals with gods.” Alaric laughed and Tara smiled at the fact that he was able to keep his humor in the face of something like this, but Neala just shrugged.

  “If it will make you feel better I’m sure Tara could find some chanting music online.”

  “Did you guys have chanting when you did this?” Alaric asked as he sat down, and Tara sat down next to him with a quiet laugh.

  “Actually, I was in a forest, and it was pretty quiet when my father slit my throat.”

  “Same,” Neala glanced up as she slid a kitchen towel down under the bowl and laid the stone knife next to it.

  “I was farming when the asshole god stabbed me in the hand with a cursed stick from the Ebon Oak, but, no, I didn’t have chanting either.” Kiernan held up his left hand where a dark tattoo seemed to spring from his palm and slide up his arm under his sleeve.

  “Alright then, so, no chanting.” Alaric nodded and started to roll up his sleeves, but Tara just felt sick.

  “Are you sure Eltera told you to do this, Neala?”

  “She’s been sending us stuff for days about you two, why would she send the bowl and the knife if it wasn’t for Alaric?” Neala reached over and squeezed her hand. “She brought Kiernan back, protected him, for me. What makes you think she wouldn’t do the same for you and Alaric?”

  “Because I hadn’t prayed to her in centuries before today. I’ve cursed her name more often than I’ve praised it in the last millennium.” Tara felt guilt rack her, but Neala just squeezed her hand tighter.

  “Now might be a good time to pray to her again.” In a flash Neala had hauled Alaric’s arm over the bowl and sliced it open just above his wrist. He let out a quick shout before his teeth clenched tight, his knuckles turning white as his hand balled into a fi
st, but Neala held him steady over the bowl as blood poured from his arm.

  “What the fuck, Neala? Why didn’t you warn him?”

  “It would have hurt worse if he’d tensed.” Neala eased her grip on his wrist. “Will you keep your arm over the bowl, Alaric?”

  “Yes. I will.” A serious determination had taken over his face, and when he turned to look at her he actually smiled. “Like I said, I’ll do anything for Tara.”

  “Dammit, Neala. He doesn’t heal like we do.” Tara shifted closer to him, rubbing his back as her stomach tightened into knots.

  “You have to trust in Eltera. Pray.” Neala and Kiernan sat down on the floor on the other side of the table. “We’re here with you.”

  “How are you, dolcezza?” Alaric looked over at her and he already seemed a little pale, but she smiled at his nickname for her.

  “I’m good, how are you feeling, sweetheart? You’re the one with his arm slit open.”

  He laughed and braced his other arm on the table to keep the bleeding one over the bowl. “Oh, I feel great. Never really put much stock in the idea that the old gods required blood, but you learn something new every day, right?”

  “Right.” She kissed him gently, and then leaned her head against his shoulder, watching as his blood steadily ran into the bowl, dark red. Swallowing, Tara thought of how she’d reached out to Eltera minutes before Kiernan and Neala had arrived. For the first time in a long time, she had prayed, and as she looked up at her sister and the man she loved, it seemed that her prayer had been answered.

  Now, she just had to hope Eltera would listen twice in one evening.

  The room was uncomfortably quiet other than the music from Tara’s iPod on the dock. A series of songs in strings, and he couldn’t name a single one of them. None of the others were speaking, and even Tara had her eyes closed tight.

  They were praying for him, to a goddess he hadn’t even known existed three days before. Part of him wondered if his own faith mattered. He hadn’t been to church since he was a boy, and Luca had been pretty clear on his opinions of the existence of higher powers – but now Alaric was face to face with the evidence that something else existed. Something greater than all of them.