Earth's Hope

by Ann Gimpel

  “Always loved a rousing game of kickball.” Thor wrested his axe from Fionn and dropped it back into its sheath.

  “Excellent!” Odin kicked the still spurting, headless body, and turned to Fionn. “Summon fire. I will too and we’ll burn her. It won’t kill her, but it should move her out of the action for long enough to tackle the rest of her tribe.”

  Fionn dropped his warding to call mage fire. It burned blue and braided itself with Odin’s orange-colored flames. Thor chanted low in the Norsemen’s tongue, his hands extended toward the growing conflagration. As if they fed one another, the twin fires blazed upward forming an inferno. Majestron’s body bubbled and smoked, but didn’t turn to ash.

  “Better drop the head in too,” Odin instructed.

  Fionn trotted in a wide circle, hunting where it had landed. Black ichor smudged the ground, leading him right to it. He picked it up gingerly by the hair and Majestron’s blue eyes snapped open. Fionn froze.

  How was this even possible?

  Her wide, seductive mouth opened in a grin displaying vampiric fangs. “You haven’t won,” she said.

  Fionn had seen a lot in his long life, but having a severed head talk to him was so wrong it rattled his brain. Slowly, the head swung toward him, jaws snapping.

  “MacCumhaill!” Odin’s voice cut like a whip. “The fire. Her head goes in the fire.”

  “No shit!” Cursing in Gaelic, Fionn covered the distance to the flaming pyre and dropped Majestron’s head atop her body. That had been much too close a call. The bitch had hypnotized him because he dropped his guard, figuring she wasn’t a threat anymore. He pushed the creep-factor aside and kicked himself for being sloppy.

  Odin gripped Fionn’s shoulder. “She’s strong, that one.”

  Fionn watched as Majestron’s head moved incrementally toward her shoulders, sidling through the fire. He pointed. “What happens once she’s whole again?”

  “Won’t happen if we do this right.” Odin snapped a hand downward and a lightning bolt added juice to the blaze. After one more rocking push, the head fell to the side. Her eyes opened one last time and she bared her teeth at Fionn. “We are not done, Celt.”

  “The hell,” he snapped.

  “We’ll stay until the fire goes out,” Odin said.

  “You probably want to get back to that woman of yours,” Thor cut in. “Too bad the dragon made off with her before I got a good look. Loved all that red hair, though.”

  “Ye can love it from a distance.” Fionn looked from Odin to Thor. “Why didn’t Majestron’s blood affect you?”

  “She scratched me once when I got too close,” Thor said. “It was my own fault. I was slumming in the dungeons, and she bared her breasts.” He made a snorting noise. “Never seen a set like them before or since. I felt like I’d die if I couldn’t touch them.” He shrugged self-consciously. “I’d no sooner got my hands on her overheated flesh when she dug her nails into me. They must’ve been tipped with her own blood. I was unconscious for a long time. Months. One of our most competent healers dosed me with various combinations of herbs until she hit on one that neutralized the toxin.”

  “Once we found an antidote,” Odin picked up the tale, “we all took it as a precaution in case Majestron or Tokhots got loose.”

  “Majestron must not have known,” Fionn said, “or she wouldn’t have been so bold when we cornered her. She just assumed her blood would protect her.”

  “No way she could have known,” Thor concurred. “We never told her.” His head whipped around. “Goddammit! Who’s there? Show yourself.”

  Fionn twirled in the direction of Thor’s voice in time to see a slightly built man creep from behind a broad evergreen tree. Black hair fell untidily to the middle of his back, and he had the wide brown eyes of a frightened mouse. A quick scan told Fionn the man was human and didn’t appear to have any power at all. How had he escaped the Lemurians’ purge?

  “Who are you?” Fionn stepped into his path.

  The man raised a trembling hand and pointed at the smoking pyre. “Is she dead?”

  “Nay,” Fionn replied. “Ye canna kill those such as her. But it will be long afore she causes any more trouble. Who are you?”

  “Christian Jones. Her manservant.” He glanced nervously about. “If she’s not watching me, that means I can go home. My family must think I died.”

  “How long have you been here?” Thor asked.

  The man narrowed his eyes. “Better than ten years.”

  Fionn blew out a breath. “I have bad news. Things have changed a lot since Majestron shanghaied you into her service.”

  “I’ll tell him what he needs to know,” Odin said. “Go find your woman.”

  “Best not to leave them alone for too long.” Thor laughed. “Women, they get ideas when you’re not there to correct them.”

  Fionn didn’t bother telling Thor just how headstrong and stubborn Aislinn could be. He walked to Odin and held out a hand. The Norse god clasped it. Then he did the same with Thor.

  “Three down and three to go,” Fionn said.

  “Aye,” Odin nodded, and his eyes lit with anticipation of battles to come. “See you on the borderworlds and we’ll knock out Perrikus and D’Chel.”

  “Surely once they’re out of the running, Adva will pack up shop,” Thor said

  “Love your confidence. I hope to hell you’re right.” Fionn clapped him on the back and summoned a teleport spell to take him home to Aislinn.

  Chapter Twenty

  Fionn aimed for his bedroom. Once the teleport spell spit him out, he glanced around, surprised to find his rooms empty. Where the hell was Aislinn? She had to be exhausted, so why wasn’t she in their bed? Sudden fear gripped him. Had something happened to Nidhogg en route? Too beat to do anything elegant, Fionn opened his mind seeking Aislinn’s energy. Relief weakened his knees when he located her easily. It still didn’t explain why she wasn’t in their bed, but at least she was close.

  He caught a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror and groaned. So much crud begrimed his face and streaked his hair, he barely recognized himself. He wrinkled his nose at a rank smell, and then realized it came from him.

  Makes sense. I reeked when I left here. No reason I’d smell any better now.

  Got to find Aislinn, then I’ll clean up.

  His bedchamber door crashed against its stops, and Gwydion, Arawn, and Bran rushed in.

  “Told you he was back,” Gwydion crowed and smoothed dark blue robes down his body. His blond hair was still damp from being washed.

  Bella flew through the door in their wake and latched onto Fionn’s shoulder where she pecked his head gently. He ruffled her feathers, happy to see her.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” she quorked.

  “Yeah.” Fionn turned to look at her. “Me too. Thanks for the welcome.”

  “Whew.” Arawn made a face at Fionn. “Ye’re pretty ripe.”

  “Never mind that,” Bran broke in. He and Arawn were still in battle leathers, but clean ones. “What happened? Nidhogg told us ye cornered Majestron Zalia.”

  “Where’s Aislinn?” Fionn asked.

  Gwydion trotted past him, staff clasped in one hand and his robe fluttering around his ankles. His perennially bare feet slapped the wooden floor once the warrior magician got near the door leading to a small patio. He crooked two fingers above one shoulder and Fionn followed him. Once they were outside, Gwydion pointed downward.

  Fionn trained his gaze in the indicated direction and smiled. Dewi lay curled in the grass bordering the manor house with her body splayed protectively around Aislinn. Nidhogg sat nearby, keeping watch over both of them with Rune by his side.

  Dewi must have sensed his presence because she glanced up and said, “I’ll let you know when she wakes. The child is exhausted. She was filthy, half-starved, and badly dehydrated when Nidhogg returned her to me.”

  Fionn opened his mouth to protest that Nidhogg had actually returned Aislinn to him, but he thought bet
ter of it. Dewi was grieving about not having her brood close to hand. If she wanted to transfer her maternal instincts to Aislinn, he wouldn’t stand in her way. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

  “You’re quite welcome.” The dragon winked lazily. “It will give you a chance to clean up. I can smell you from here.”

  Fionn rolled his eyes and walked back inside with Gwydion behind him. “Since everyone thinks I stink,” he said, “I’m going to draw a bath. I can wash up while I tell you what happened.”

  Arawn and Bran dragged chairs into the bathroom, and Gwydion commandeered the bath stool. All three listened without interruption as Fionn relayed what had transpired after Nidhogg left.

  “Ye say her head actually moved independent of her body?” Arawn made a sour face. “How unsettling.”

  “Even worse”—Fionn dipped his head backward and rinsed shampoo from his tangled hair—“was when she managed to hypnotize me with only her head.” He stood with water running down his body, stepped out of the bath, and grabbed a towel, which he wrapped around himself.

  Bran bent and pulled the drain plug; the rank water gurgled as it left the tub. “I assumed ye werena saving it for aught.” The god of prophecy arched a brow in Fionn’s direction.

  “Thanks. I’m tired. ’Tis been a long couple of days.”

  “Aye”—Gwydion clasped his hands together in front of him—“but look at what we’ve accomplished.”

  “Time well spent,” Arawn agreed. “We turned what could have been a disaster into a victory, since it netted us Majestron Zalia.” He followed Fionn back to the bedroom. “Do ye think the Norse gods would share the formula that protects them from the dark ones’ poison blood?”

  “’Twould be convenient,” Bran agreed.

  Fionn pulled a pair of soft, stonewashed dungarees over his legs and tucked his cock out of the way to button them. He followed the pants with a faded sweatshirt emblazoned with Go Bears and set to work with magic and a comb untangling his hair. Because it would be easier seated, he carried a chair back from the bathroom and plopped onto it. Bella, who’d only reluctantly left his side while he was in the bath, took up residence in his lap.

  “Why do we need the formula?” Fionn countered. “Tokhots and Majestron are out of the way.”

  “For now, maybe”—Gwydion perched on the side of the bed—“but from the sound of Majestron’s body parts finding one another, I’m wondering just how long either she or Tokhots will remain sidelined. Or Slototh, for that matter.”

  “Mister Cheerful.” Fionn jabbed him with an elbow and went back to unsnarling his hair.

  “I prefer to label myself as Mister Practical.” Gwydion jabbed him back. “On a more serious note, I’m encouraged that fighting side by side with Odin and Thor went so well.”

  “Och aye, I was worried about it,” Bran said.

  “When do ye want to gather forces and leave for the borderworlds?” Gwydion asked.

  “We’d have been gone already were it not for the demon problem,” Arawn noted.

  “Mmph.” Fionn set his comb down. His hair was good enough. He’d braid it once it dried. “What was the casualty count?”

  “Ye mean from the demon skirmish?” Bran asked. When Fionn nodded, he steepled his fingers together and shut his eyes as he recalled numbers. “Eight humans died, and one bond animal. Around twenty were wounded badly enough we made an infirmary out of the ballroom on the second floor. It was nip and tuck with a couple, but all are recovering nicely.”

  Breath whistled from between Fionn’s clenched teeth. Their losses were worse than he’d anticipated—much worse. “We have to do a better job protecting them.”

  “I thought the same,” Gwydion said, “yet they dinna wish our help. When we were under attack, I offered to shore up wards I sensed werena strong, but they shooed me aside.”

  Bella tightened her talons where they dug into his thigh, but he didn’t chide her. Fionn rubbed the back of his neck and funneled magic to his right temple where a headache pounded. “Looks like we need another meeting. We shouldna need their permission to help them.”

  Gwydion rose to his feet and crossed his arms over his chest, leaving his staff propped against the bed. “When do we leave for the borderworlds?” he repeated. “Majestron will have a way to communicate with the others, and I fear they’ll whip up some unpleasant surprises if we leave them enough time.”

  Fionn’s eyes widened, and he pounded a fist into his open palm. “Goddess’s tits but I was stupid. Stupid.”

  “What did ye do this time?” Gwydion shot a bemused look his way.

  Fionn ignored the barb at the end of Gwydion’s comment. “When Majestron’s head and body were sitting in fire at our feet, Thor, Odin, and I discussed meeting up on the borderworlds.” He shot to his feet; the abrupt movement elicited an unhappy squawk from Bella, but Fionn was so annoyed with himself, his empty stomach twisted into a heaving knot of snakes.

  “For fuck’s sake, people engulfed in fire are supposed to be dead,” he sputtered, but his excuse sounded pathetic because he’d known she wasn’t. Holy crap, she’d even spoken to him from the fire, never mind nearly sinking her fangs into him while he held her head suspended by her hair.

  “’Tis unfortunate ye dinna keep your mouth shut,” Arawn said slowly, “but it simply means we leave sooner rather than later.”

  “The rest of us have had a spot of rest,” Gwydion said. “We’ll gather the humans and give them a pep talk on battle strategy.”

  “I’ll help,” Fionn muttered.

  “Nay.” Gwydion nailed him with his blue gaze. “Ye’ll sleep a spell and have a meal. We need you at full power, not barely functioning.”

  “I am not barely functioning,” Fionn growled, and then understood he wouldn’t have underestimated Majestron, spilling information in front of her, if he hadn’t spent the hours before in a pitched battle to seal demons back in Hell. “Never mind,” he muttered. “Point taken.”

  “We’ll do all the spade work,” Gwydion said, “including sending Nidhogg back to Asgard to let them know our timetable.”

  Fionn glanced out a window, but it was so overcast it was impossible to find the sun. “What time is it?”

  “Midafternoon,” Bran said.

  “We’ll leave tomorrow at dawn,” Arawn announced.

  “Do ye think it wise to wait that long?” Fionn asked.

  “It will take us that long to get everyone whipped into shape,” the god of the dead said grimly. “I doona wish to drag human corpses back from the borderworlds, and we canna leave them there.”

  Something bright tugged at the edges of Fionn’s weakened magic. Aislinn. Her energy was on the move. When she waltzed through the door seconds later, he understood how badly depleted he was. She’d obviously been on her way upstairs for several minutes before he felt her psychic emanations. He opened his arms and she dove into them.

  Gwydion cleared his throat. “We’ll be leaving now,” he said, and he, Bran, and Arawn walked out the door.

  For long moments Fionn and Aislinn just held each other. She felt so good in his arms he almost couldn’t believe she was real, and they were together again. “I was so afraid I’d lost you,” he murmured against her hair. “When I teleported to the ground and couldn’t find you, I wanted to tear the world stem to stern. And when I cobbled together what must have happened…” He let his words trail off. “I’ve never felt so helpless.”

  “You found me.” She tilted her head back and met his gaze, her golden eyes sheened with tears. “How’d you do that? Dewi snatched me from Nidhogg the moment we got here, stripped my clothes off, and gave me a steam bath. Then she forced food and water and mead into me until I was afraid I’d puke it all back up, and wouldn’t let me ask any questions.”

  “Why not?”

  “She said I’d been upset enough.”

  “Och, leannán, she’s compensating for not having her younglings.”

  Aislinn hissed out a breath. “I know
that, but I don’t need another mother, particularly when Dewi and the one I had hated each another. You still haven’t told me how you found Rune and me.”

  “Nidhogg took me to Asgard. Odin knew where the dark gods’ fortresses were located. They’d only built three. Of those, only one was still standing.” He traced the line of her high cheekbones with his thumb. “When we got to where I was convinced you had to be, and I couldna sense ye anywhere, I panicked.”

  “I was underground, warded, and scared shitless Majestron would figure it out. Except she never did.”

  “I begged the goddess to watch over you.” Fionn tightened his hold on her and kissed her forehead. “Mayhap she heard me.”

  * * * *

  Rune trotted through the room’s still open door and nudged the back of Aislinn’s leg. Bella cawed a greeting and fluttered to his back.

  The wolf pressed his snout into Aislinn’s side and said, “They tell me we’re leaving soon. I need to hunt.”

  She let go of Fionn and hunkered next to her wolf. “I never got a chance to thank you properly for taking care of me.”

  He solemnly licked her chin. “That’s what bondmates do,” he informed her. “We make sure we don’t die.”

  Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest at the thought of losing her wonderful wolf. “No,” she said, her throat thick with emotion, “we don’t die. Be careful hunting. Stay inside Fionn’s wards.”

  He licked her again. “Promise.”

  “I’m going too,” Bella said.

  Aislinn watched Rune trot out the door with Bella on his back and then moved to close it. She took in dark smudges beneath Fionn’s eyes and a whole new network of fine lines radiating from them. “You haven’t slept since before the demon battle, have you?”

  “Nay, lass, but just looking at you is all I need to revive me.”

  A soft smile curved her lips. God but she loved him. “That’s sweet and romantic, but I could have sworn I heard Gwydion telling you to rest.”

  “Ye have ears like a lynx since he said that afore ye entered the room.”

  Aislinn cocked her head to one side. “Maybe I sat outside for a bit, listening. It’s amazing what I learn that way. I even heard about what you did to Majestron Zalia. When I asked Nidhogg, he didn’t know.”