“I’m Esther. Welcome, sister,” the woman said, holding out her hand and bowing when Neala took it.
“My name is Neala. And the term ‘sister’ is an odd choice, no? Unless my father had dalliances I was unaware of… and –” Neala tried to figure out how to word it discreetly – “at a young age?”
Esther threw her head back and laughed, her braids bouncing, and then reached up to wipe away a tear.
“Sister in our fight. You’re a Seeker – same as I once was. Very few of us are chosen, you know. It’s quite an honor,” Esther said, ushering Neala into a room that resembled a great hall of yore. One end was dominated by a massive stone fireplace with a long table, which could easily seat twenty, sitting before it. Neala’s stomach grumbled in response to the scent of heavy spice that wafted through the hall. It seemed Esther was a chef – and a good one, at that, if the heavenly smell was any indication.
“I’m sorry. I really have no idea what you’re talking about,” Neala said gently, understanding dawning that the poor woman must be addled. Though who was she to judge? If anyone asked her, she would swear she had just seen a group of men dissolve into silver puddles on the ground.
Esther shot Blake a disapproving look, but he just scowled from where he stood in front of the fireplace, stoking the embers.
“Your grandson,” Dagda said, “took it upon himself to ambush Neala in her place of business, leaving me no choice but to intervene using magick. Now our brethren are left to clean up the mess magickally and try to alter what people think they saw. Neala will still be missing, though, and I’m sure that without an explanation from her, there will be some questions. It’ll be best if you contact her employee to shut the shop down.”
Neala automatically reached for her purse and cell phone, then grimaced. She’d been abducted in what she’d been wearing at the time – which meant her purse was back in the shop, her hair was probably still in a hairnet, and her bright blue apron with the lace trim was still tied over her jeans and white shirt. Casually, she reached up to feel if the hairnet was still on her head.
Of course it was.
Neala grimaced and snatched it off, running a hand over her head to smooth any flyaway hair.
“I can’t exactly contact anyone when I don’t have a phone, nor do I know exactly where I am. Would it be so difficult for all of you to stop talking in riddles and fill a body in on just what in the hell is going on?”
Esther sighed and clucked her tongue, ushering Neala further into the house.
“I’m going to take her to wash up. You boys figure this out. When we’re back you’ll best be explaining all this to the poor lass.”
Neala followed Esther as she chattered her way through the great hall, pointing out various paintings and artifacts as she went. Shooting a glance over her shoulder, she met stormy grey eyes with an equally stormy scowl. Neala could swear she felt her blood heat when she looked at Dagda. The man should be on the back of a battle horse leading his clan into war – or in this era, perhaps astride a massive motorcycle, leading his gang into trouble. His eyes seemed to take her measure and find her lacking, but Neala couldn’t be sure what he thought. If ever there was a man who fit the saying ‘Still waters run deep...’ Dagda was like an enigmatic bear, deceptively quiet and deadly fierce.
“I’ll just be in the kitchen. You’re welcome to join me once you’ve freshened up,” Esther said, and pointed to where a pretty arched hallway wound away from the door to the washroom they stood in front of now.
“Thank you,” Neala said, and watched the tiny woman walk away. They clearly weren’t worried about keeping her captive or they wouldn’t have let her out of their sight with this diminutive woman, so Neala decided she would reserve judgment until someone was kind enough to fill her in.
Plus she was dying to get a taste of whatever was cooking in that kitchen and making her mouth water. She hurriedly tended to the necessities, then, with a quick sigh at the state of her hair, she unwound it from its braid, letting it hang loose around her shoulders so it could finish drying, having still been wet from her shower early this morning. That was the thing about thick hair – if she bound it up wet, it stayed damp all day long.
“Oh my,” Esther breathed when Neala joined her in the kitchen. The woman was standing on a small stepstool and cheerfully stirring a bright red pot of stew. “That’s a gorgeous head of hair you have on you. Dagda’s going to be enchanted when he sees it – if he isn’t already.”
“Dagda… why?” Neala asked. She leaned against the counter, comfortable in the kitchen – any kitchen.
“Well, he’s your protector, dear. Sometimes the chemistry just works. And if you do come together – if it’s true you’re fated for each other – it’s for life and beyond,” Esther said.
Neala felt nerves trickle through her stomach.
“Then I’m sure that’s not the plan for us. I’ve other things to attend to – like running my business. And, since we’re on the topic, figuring out why I’ve been abducted in the middle of my morning shift. And… even more importantly, just what is in this stew? It smells divine.” Neala couldn’t help herself. She had a lot of questions, but inevitably, food always won out.
Esther laughed and scooped up a spoonful, which she handed carefully to Neala.
“It’s pho. I’ve been working my way through a new cookbook Blake brought me – it has recipes from around the world. I’m responsible for a large Sunday dinner for all the people who work my lands and we’ve all decided we want to become more cultured and worldly. Isn’t that a hoot? We’re starting with new cuisines. I cook a new meal and then one of the other women will read off facts on the country we’re dining from that night, and another will introduce a game or perhaps a famous story or song from that country. It’s really been a fun way to expand our knowledge.”
Completely charmed with Esther, Neala beamed at her.
“You’ve done a fabulous job with it. I’m certain this will be a hit.”
“Oh, good! I was just doing a test run today to make sure. Let’s bring it out to the boys and see if they’ve murdered each other yet.”
Instantly alarmed, Neala looked toward the great hall, where all was silent.
“Do you think they would?”
“Boys will be boys,” Esther chuckled and pulled a tray out. “Now, let’s fill these bowls.”
And so Neala found herself once again in a kitchen, in her comfort zone of feeding people, with no idea where she was.
Or even what she was anymore.
Chapter Seven
Dag watched Blake pace and said nothing, though a part of him wanted to drop the man on his head for the way he’d gone after Neala. It took quite a bit to make Dag boil over into rage, but he’d been decidedly close when Blake had slung Neala over his shoulder and stormed from the bakery.
Dagda had been conscious of his imposing size since his teen years, when a single punch during a typical teenage-boy argument had knocked the other lad out. His mother, disapproving as she was, had pulled him aside and roughly explained to him that he must change his expectations of others because he carried more power than most. And not just physically – the fae blood ran strong in him. It had come as no surprise to anyone when he’d been chosen as Na Cosantoir. Since that time, he’d worked tirelessly to hone his abilities, from strength to magicks, knowing that one day every ounce of his knowledge and skill would be called upon to protect his Seeker in his sworn duty to the Goddess Danu.
To have another protector step in and try to abduct his Seeker was unheard of. Dagda’s fists clenched again as his blood began to boil.
“Just what were you thinking ye’d be accomplishing by having off with Neala, then?” Dag asked, schooling himself to keep his voice calm. There was something about seeing another man’s hands on his Seeker that made him want to lock her away forever. As protectors and Seekers were typically not supposed to become romantically involved – though judging from Blake and Clare, that wasn’t alwa
ys the case – he didn’t want to examine his thoughts of jealousy overmuch. It was best he stayed in his role, honored the goddess, and finished his mission. Then he would be free to start his life for real, outside the boundaries of any expectations set upon him by his duties.
“Domnu has Clare. She was stolen in the middle of the night. From… my arms,” Blake’s voice cracked, and Dagda averted his eyes, pretending not to notice the shimmer of tears that the flames of the fire picked up. He gave Blake a moment to collect himself before clearing his throat.
“You’re certain it was Domnua?”
“I’m certain. I saw them. It was the first time I was unable to stop them. The magick was so dark – beyond any I’ve encountered – that I wasn’t able to do anything. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life. It happened instantaneously, too. She was there, then ripped from my arms and whisked out of sight.”
“How do you know the treasures have been stolen?” Dagda asked, turning once more to stand in front of the fire, studying the way the flames flipped and moved, a seductive dance all their own.
Blake dug in his pocket and held out a small scroll of paper, which Dagda took and unrolled, holding it up to the light.
It was only a matter of time
Before the treasures were mine
Perhaps you’ll find it a relief
To know the key is Clare’s belief.
“Not the most eloquent of poems,” Dagda remarked.
Blake snorted. “Domnu isn’t known for her brains,” he commented.
Dagda raised his eyes to the windows, where lightning shattered the sky in fury. “Wards are up?” he asked.
“Aye, the lands are protected. Strong magick here. Otherwise, I’d never be able to leave Esther on her own.”
“Speaking of…” Dag turned as he heard Neala’s peal of laughter, the sound rich and earthy, and now his fists clenched for a different reason. Her hair tumbled loose over her shoulders, the warm mahogany accented with deep red undertones picked up by the firelight. It was the type of hair that made a man want to bury his hands in it while he watched her writhe in ecstasy beneath him. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he cleared his mind of such images before moving forward to help the women with the dishes they carried.
“Go on, go.” Esther shooed him away. “I may be small, but I’m strong. Why don’t you pour us all a whiskey from the sideboard and we’ll have ourselves a nice chat.”
Dagda did as he was instructed, grateful for a moment to gather his thoughts and to remind himself, once again, that his was the most important mission of all. This was the end of a centuries-old curse – the very last leg of it – and it was entrusted to him to see that his Seeker found the treasure.
Or the fault would lie with him.
Chapter Eight
“Soooo…” Neala drew out the word once they were all seated in front of steaming bowls of pho. “While this is delightfully cozy and Esther is a supreme hostess, I’d be appreciating it if you could tell me what the he –” with a quick glance at Esther she amended the word – “heck is going on?”
“You really shouldn’t have gone after her like that, Blake,” Esther chided, and even Neala winced a little at the disappointment in her voice. “You know it’s best that these things happen in their own time.”
“There is no time. Clare’s been taken. All the treasures we found are lost to us again. We’re back to the beginning – even worse, as we’ve only got one Seeker, and a lazy one at that.” Blake gestured angrily at Neala.
“Excuse me? I’m not lazy. I run my arse off all day long at a business that I own, manage, and work endless hours in. You can call me a bitch if you want, but lazy I’ll not accept.”
“Well, is it too hard for you to see the signs that have been sent? Open your eyes, woman. The Danula have been trying to reach you,” Blake countered, his eyes dangerous over his bowl.
“Since I don’t know what a Danula is, I guess I can’t be accepting signs from one, now, can I?”
“If ye’d open your eyes once in a while, you’d have that answer,” Blake countered, and Neala was about to jump to her feet when Esther slammed her hand on the table, silencing them both. The only one who remained unperturbed was Dagda, who calmly spooned up pho and held his tongue.
“Blake. That’s enough. You’ll not be insulting a guest at my table. Now, from what I can gather, Clare’s missing, Neala needs to be brought up to speed, and Dagda is a man of few words,” Esther said.
Neala caught Dagda’s mouth quirking in a hint of a smile before he nodded once at Esther.
“Look, I’m sorry your girlfriend’s missing,” Neala said, deciding to smooth things over in order to get answers, “but I truly have no idea what you are talking about or who you are. If I’ve missed any signs, I’m sorry. My life is incredibly busy and I barely have downtime to check an email, let alone look for signs from something or someone that I don’t even know. I’m just buried… in fact, I need to hire more help. But what you did today was scary and awful, and I’m certain my customers were terrified.”
“We’ve taken care of that,” Dagda said, and saw Neala’s fair skin go even whiter.
“You’ve killed them?” Neala said, dropping her spoon into the pho, where it made a little plopping sound when it landed.
“What? No. We’ve used magick to amend their memories is all,” Blake said, shaking his head in disgust. “Don’t you know we’re the good guys?”
“No. I don’t know that. Because good guys don’t come running into a place of business, shatter my favorite mirror, and forcibly abduct me in front of my regular customers,” Neala said, each word dripping with venom.
“If I may interject,” Esther said, drawing the attention back to herself, “Blake’s not normally so careless and I’ve taught him to be respectful toward women. So, first he’ll be apologizing, and then we’ll tell you about the curse.”
Neala shivered at the word ‘curse,’ her eyes meeting Dagda’s across the table. The man was like a silent force of nature, his gaze steady, power emanating from him. Now she shivered for a very different reason.
“I apologize if I am distraught that the woman I love more than life itself was ripped from my arms in the middle of the night,” Blake said. “Perhaps I’ve been a bit overzealous in my need to find answers.”
Neala met his eyes. “You’ll be calling that an apology then? Sounds like it’s more about yourself than it is about me,” Neala said easily, spooning up more of the pho. It really was delicious. She’d have to get the name of the cookbook from Esther.
“I’m sorry I scared you and broke your mirror. Now, can we move on?” Blake bit out.
Neala sighed, waving her hand for him to continue. She was tired of discussing this anyway, because it still wasn’t giving her answers as to why she was sitting here on a rainy Tuesday afternoon, eating pho and drinking whiskey with strangers in an unknown location.
Neala cringed when the two men jumped to their feet and swiveled to look across the great hall, their hands automatically going to the knives they both wore at their belts. Nothing looked amiss to her.
“The wards sounded,” Esther explained.
“Wards?”
“Like a magickal security system,” Esther twinkled at her.
For a moment, Neala almost believed her. Surely, though, the darling old lady was just dotty. Or perhaps this was one of her more vivid dreams. Life had been catching up with her lately, and the stress was beginning to take its toll. Maybe she’d better schedule some time off when she woke up.
“It’s Bianca and Seamus,” Blake called from where he peered through the door, and Neala almost rolled her eyes.
“Oh good, a party,” she growled.
Esther laughed and stood. “I’ll just be getting a few more bowls.”
“Do you need help?”
“No, stay. Meet your new friends. As they will soon be your best of friends and very much needed on this journey,” Esther said, and then paused
, laying a hand on Neala’s shoulder. “I ask that you listen with an open mind. I know this sounds like we’re all nutters, and you might think you’re dreaming. But I can assure you: All of this is very real, deadly serious, and your help – help that only you can give – is desperately needed. We’re on your side, Neala.”
With that Esther trotted off, humming to herself, while Neala turned to greet the new arrivals, nerves pinging their way through her body. It felt like she was standing at a party where everyone was laughing at a joke she hadn’t heard the punch line to.
When a sunny blonde walked in and immediately clenched Blake in a hug, Neala crossed her arms and waited. Behind the blonde came a lanky red-headed man, all elbows and knees with a cool hipster street style, and he hugged Blake as well. They murmured together, huddled in front of the fire, shaking hands with Dagda.
Neala felt like a little kid who’d been left off the team and she wanted to shout at them to pay attention to her. Fed up with the lot of them, she sat back down and spooned up more pho. Why let good food go to waste?
“I’m sorry, that was incredibly rude of us.” The blonde, whom Neala assumed to be Bianca, materialized at her side, her expression contrite. “I’m Bianca, and that tall drink of water is my boyfriend, Seamus. I’m sorry we’re a bit late to the party. We’re here to help you on your quest – sent by the goddess Danu. We had some trouble locating you though, which I now realize is because our stubborn friend over here decided to take matters into his own hands. Can I just say that I am so sorry about that? I doubt he’s apologized. But I can imagine just how scary and traumatic this all was for you. I can’t promise that there won’t be more scary or traumatic days ahead, but I can promise you that Seamus and I will be with you the whole way to help.”
As introductions went, it was a hell of one, Neala thought, leaning back to gape at the blonde. Bianca was unwinding a scarf from around her throat and peeling off her jacket the entire time she burbled along, chattering about how concerned they were that she’d disappeared.
04 Sphere Song - The Isle of Destiny Page 3